#rue's ocs : soft character

[nonbitenary]

will I ever post a completed story in full? probably not! have another gratuitous vore scene!

the giant vampire pred and his partner have names now, Campbell and Rue

content: soft vore, vampire pred, swallowing, unwilling prey, implied fatal, size difference

The human squirmed desperately, having almost vanished entirely between Campbell's lips now. She could feel the warmth of his tongue sliding over her, rubbing and pushing, felt the hot dark of his gullet looming deep behind her. He moaned as she felt her head slipping between the soft plush of his lips.

"Almost gone," Rue purred, wiggling their fingers in a cheery wave goodbye. "This is the last anyone will ever see of you. Just the cute little lump you'll make as you go down my boyfriend's throat."

Fuck, the human thought as the soft plush of the vampire's greedy lips passed fully over her. This was it. She was really about to be eaten.

Campbell seemed content to take his time with her, though. Once she was sealed inside his mouth, he pushed her tiny body effortlessly around with his tongue, sucking gently on her, toying with her happily. Saliva gushed and swirled eagerly, and the human knew just how easily it would guide her down into Campbell's throat, wet and slick and helpless to the coming swallow, like everyone that had gone before her. She clung wildly to hope, even though she already knew she'd be ending her day as a churning meal in a giant vampire's stomach. The tongue shoved her firmly to the roof of the mouth and muscles squeezed in the dark behind her as Campbell swallowed his excess saliva. She yelped in fear, convinced for an instant she was about to be sucked down too, then the mouth around her stilled.

A rumble of laughter vibrated all around her from Campbell, but the human sobbed in momentary relief - she hadn't been ingested. She heard a deep, horrible gurgle from the direction of Campbell's gullet. His stomach was already so full. She still had a chance to escape, no matter how slim…

The thought had barely crossed her mind before Campbell's tongue rolled with startling power and she was sliding backwards feet-first, being shoved directly for the sucking recesses of the throat. She reached out with a frantic cry and somehow managed to latch into Campbell's teeth.

Campbell swallowed, then blinked in surprise. He'd expected to be rewarded by the feel of his snack sliding down his throat, but she'd managed to hold herself back. Impressive.

The human panted, knowing if she'd been just a second too late she would now be slithering down Campbell's throat to join the rest of his and Rue's unfortunate victims as breakfast. Campbell tipped his head back and opened up wide; the human's blood ran cold despite the crowding heat of Campbell's maw.

She was hanging directly above the vampire's gullet now, ready to slip straight in the moment her grip let up. It twitched eagerly, ready and waiting to take her delicious little body in. They both knew there was nowhere for his unfortunate snack to go but straight down. Somewhere deep below her, she heard the unthinkable gurgling of a very busy stomach. His sharp fangs framed the glow of the outside world.

"No," she gasped out. "Please, I'm begging you, don't swallow me! I'm not food! I'll do anything you want, just don't eat me!"

A smile tugged at Campbell's lips as he waited for his well-earned food to falter, craving the feel of her form slipping down inside him. His tongue glided up underneath her, keen to help her grip loosen, and he could feel the hammering beat of her terrified pulse. She was such a delicious, tender little creature. His stomach deserved her.

The human was weak. The human was exhausted. Campbell's tongue was working at her so delicately, but with an unmistakable mission. Her grip on his teeth couldn't hold forever, and the second it let up… down she'd go, drawn straight into a one-way trip to the vampire's stomach. She imagined how tight and hot and crushing the path down that gullet must be.

His teeth were slippery. Her grasp slid. Her fingers screamed with agony.

Glck, the gullet in question said, imploring her to give herself up so its owner could have her for his breakfast.

"I don't want to go," she cried out in a final attempt to bargain for her life. "Please, I'm not ready to die. You've eaten so many people already, and there's still so much I can offer besides a snack! There's still so much I can do outside your stomach!"

Campbell wasn't sure this was true. Right then, he wanted nothing more than feel her little body gliding down his throat in a luxurious gulp. He was in no position to respond, however.

"But think of what you can do inside his stomach!" Rue beamed. "You lucky thing. Pleasing him. Filling him. Massaging him. Come on, down you go! Your life means nothing here, so the least you can do is head on into that throat and add yourself to his meal."

Against her will, the human dropped. She was relinquished instantly to the slick warmth of the vampire's mouth, her body sliding rapidly down his quivering tongue. She felt her legs slip down into his sucking gullet, felt herself disappear easily past her hips. Campbell's throat convulsed in a reflexive swallow, greedily gathering her in.

Campbell kept his head tilted back, his eyes closed in climbing pleasure as he felt his prey's hands grappling at the back of his tongue, uselessly trying to keep her from disappearing into his hungry throat. He relished the feel of her sinking down at last, nothing at all standing in the way of his blissful final gulp.

Campbell closed his mouth and swallowed deeply. The pulls of his delighted throat took her at last, engulfing her whole and shrieking. Powerful muscles massaged her downwards, her body crushed tight as she travelled down Campbell's esophagus.

Finally, he had consumed her, devoured her, made her his meal. Ahead, she heard the deadly gurgle of the giant vampire's waiting stomach, which was already churning hard. His heartbeat thudded with deafening excitement as she passed it. He was thrilled to have claimed her at last. His tasty little prize: her life.

"No!" she screamed, and forced her arms outward in a desperate attempt to slow her descent, to save herself, to fight back, begging any god that would hear her to stop her trip down Campbell's uncompromising throat before it was too late. "Somebody help! Please! PLEASE!"

The slick muscles surrounding her continued to funnel her downwards and deeper towards Campbell's digestive system, and the only response to her cries for help was the expectant gurgle of his deadly, inevitable stomach. She couldn't die like this! She wasn't just food! She didn't want to end her life churning away in some vampire's stomach!

Campbell licked his lips, relaxing as he felt the frightened bulge rolling down his throat, sinking helplessly deeper and deeper, en route to his stomach. He gave her another gentle gulp to help her along, already enjoying the soothing motions of the prey struggling deep in his belly, and knowing she would push a good meal into a fantastic one.

The human screamed in fear and pain as another gulp rippled violently around her, sending her down with new momentum, the muscles of Campbell's esophagus crushing and slick. She cried out in terror, begging, screaming, pleading, her fingers dragging as she slid down the vampire's throat. She knew she was fast approaching his belly now, which was presently groaning in anticipation and its already-started work on the other unfortunate humans he'd gobbled down. Terrible gurgles and glorps grew louder and closer and the terrified wails and screams of Campbell's soon-to-be breakfast filled her ears until it was all she could hear.

There was nothing left for the human to do but scream as well, as she travelled down, down, down inside the wonderfully full predator, towards her fate as a churning meal.

The human slid inside Campbell's stomach.

"Ah," he sighed, laying a gentle hand on his stuffed tummy, giving it a satisfied pat. "She was really determined not to go down."

"Silly girl," Rue chuckled.

[nyxedpages]

Zhang Hua, known as Lia Zhang. 22. She/Her. Reserved for Luna. Bisexual. Rebellio-born. Neutral Supporter. Born in Beijing, China. Raised in multiple countries. Currently living in Los Angeles for university. Nepo baby, but chooses to be private about her life and only lets people know limited information about her. Professional photographer, university graduate.

Lia Zhang is a calm girl who doesn't usually lose her temper. It takes a lot to hurt her, but she'll never hold a grudge - unless it's seriously bad. Lia's father, Kija, and her stepmother, Ivona, were major celebrities until their group disbanded and left the public eye. Lia has two sisters, an older stepsister called Yasmin, and a younger half-sister called Muna, that she loves more than anything, though she doesn't see them a lot due to them all choosing different countries for university. Her best friend is Evelyn Lindeay, or Evie Lindeay (or Evie Chen when in China). She's been friends with Evie since childhood, though she left for university whilst Evie stayed in Romania.

[voidsdamned]

Wicked Natures - The Ghoul/OC (Female Character) Chapter Eight

Summary: Bounty hunters are frequent customers at Mulholland's Saloon, and Rue's taken quite a shine to one gunslinger in particular: a cantankerous, old Ghoul in a tattered duster. Witness her unabashedly lust after him in all his irradiated glory (as we are all currently doing), as well as navigate the precarious relationship she unfortunately has with local law enforcement.

Minors, do not interact.

Content Warnings: just porn, some sweetness, biting, blood, swearing, dirty talk, light bondage, cock-warming, oral, self-stimulation, and overstimulation.

Enjoy.

Chapter Eight: Mighty Fine

It’s deeply shameful on Rue’s part, but somewhere between lipstick getting and leaving Mulholland’s, she forgot the Ghoul was coming over. So, her surprise and delight –the happy, little gasp– are truly honest when she opens her front door to find him posted on her couch, casually reclined with legs wonderfully spread. She just barely remembers to shut and lock her door because her first instinct is to run at him and straddle. But no. She keeps her cool –for the moment– greeting him with a beaming smile and a, “Hey you,” as she hangs up her bag. Then she goes to light the small lamp on the kitchen table, as the night is a little too dark. She won’t be able to properly see the lovely, rough edges of his face without it.

The room flickers with muted light; Rue blows out the match she used. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seein’ ya in here. Makes me want to do a lil’ dance. I know that’s goofy, but… it’s just nice.” She goes to him, sitting herself neatly upon his lap and sighs a soft, pleased sound when a hand greets her waist and the other travels up, between, her thighs. “How do ya manage to get in anyway?”

“I’ve had plenty of time to learn to pick a lock.” The hand at her waist trails up. Down. The one between her legs squeezes at the meat of her thighs. His eyes lazily run up her, fixing on her breasts before finding her lips. Her eyes. It’s such an intense perusal, intimate yet lazy in its way. “You get what I want?”

Rue just wants to reach for him, to cup his radiation-warped cheek in her hands. Brush fingertips against scar tissue and hollows. But she’s gathered he doesn’t like to be touched, so she keeps her hands to herself no matter how horribly the desire to caress and love seizes her. She busies herself by reaching down the front of her blouse to retrieve the lipstick stashed in her bra.

“’Course I did.” She taps it to her lips. “Hope it’s the shade ya have in mind.”

Another firm squeeze that has shivers going up her spine, and the way his fingers on her waist tap and press into her… fuck. She’s already so screwed, in a pent-up, devastating way. Her mouth goes dry when he purrs, “Put it on for me.”

Rue needs a mirror. There’s one in the bathroom, but she doesn’t want to get up. She doesn’t want those hands to leave her, to interrupt the resplendent touch. “I want to,” she murmurs, “but I love the way you’re touchin’ me right now. …Will ya do it just like this again when I get back?”

The bounty hunter’s hands still for a heartbeat. The gaze that shifts between her lips and breasts finds her eyes again. He looks a bit annoyed. “Why ya gotta get up?”

“I’ll make a mess without a mirror.”

“But I wanna watch ya put it on.”

“Ooh.” Rue likes that. “I think I got a hand mirror in my dresser….”

“Fetch,” he orders, hands slowly falling away. “Your seat’ll still be here when ya get back.”

Rue reluctantly stands, her only consolation the way he squeezes her ass before she walks away. Otherwise, she feels cold without his hands on her. Longing. She’s quick about going through her dresser until she finds the metal-framed, squared-away hand mirror. Immediately, without closing the drawers, she goes back to her Ghoul and reclaims her seat. Those hands come back, and Rue wants to melt when she feels his touch ever more acutely without the leather of his gloves muffling sensations.

She swears softly, eyes fluttering shut, “Ya made it better somehow.”

He tells her to, “Hush and put that lipstick on.”

Rue complies, all warm and fluttering inside as she pops the lid off the stick. She holds the mirror steady, and her hands have a surgeon’s precision, a fluidity, as she swipes the ruby red on her upper lip. The bottom. She rubs them together, letting them come apart with an audible pop that has his hands curling into her softness (and she’s quite certain she feels him stiffening beneath her). She represses the quiver and turns her head this way and that, inspecting and touching up just a little bit.

She’s made to stop, a rough hand grabbing her chin and making her look to the Ghoul before he’s turning her face further to the right. “Who did this?” His finger taps on a spot on her cheek she didn’t realize had gone so tender.

She winces; his hold eases but doesn’t release.

“Umm… Adel? I think.” Rue almost goes to gnawing at her lip but remembers she just applied lipstick. She sets it and the mirror on the couch cushion. “It’s… when I get real mad, I get foggy, and I know she made me mad.”

The Ghoul makes a “tsk” sound, hand dropping. “Think I’ll shoot her.”

Rue pulls in a surprised, delighted breath. “You’d kill her for me?”

Whiskey eyes roll. “It’s for me, honey. I’m the only one that gets to mark ya up.”

He’s going to make her blush. “I feel so special.”

Another roll of the eyes. “How’d she even piss you off? I been tryin’ since I met ya, but now I know it just turns you on.”

Rue tries –and fails– not to cackle at that. But it’s short-lived, clamped down on with a smile that goes brighter when she notes the handsome half-smile hanging on his own lips. “I can’t get mad at such a handsome face –a weakness of mine.”

A third, highly-exaggerated roll of the eyes. “Full. Of. Shit.”

“I’m gonna start chargin’ ya a cap a piece for those.” Rue leans in towards the Ghoul, kissing gently at the mouth that still holds a crooked smile. “I think I’ll convince ya one day –that I mean it. If I had it my way, you’re the only one who’d be touchin’ me ever.”

Her lips find his neck, pressing another soft kiss there. His mouth is against her ear, nipping, drawl gruff and slow, “Get on your knees.”

Rue, scattered and tingling after such a small bite, whimpers and grapples for her focus. Keeps herself from ripping off the clothes Lara so kindly allowed her to borrow. She obeys, slipping off his lap and into the space between his leg. She tries to touch his glorious thighs, but he stops her with a “tsk” (maybe she should start charging him for those, too), his hands capturing hers and binding them before she can blink.

She wants to touch him badly but knows they aren’t there yet. And that’s okay. She’s patient. She’ll make sure he never wants another’s hands on him once he finally lets her loose.

But for now, the knot is as tight as it normally is, and Rue is left to watch with a watering mouth as the Ghoul undoes his belt buckle languidly, unhurried. As he pushes fabric aside, letting his ghoulish member spring free at full, proud attention.

Rue’s breathing is shallow, ragged, as she watches him stroke slow and steady. She could do that for him. She could make him feel so good if he would only let her.

“You look like you’re starvin’, darlin,” he murmurs, the hand not stroking his cock tips her chin up.

She meets his gaze only to leisurely lick at her lips. “Y’know I wanna eat ya up.” And Rue can’t help but notice the way his cock twitches at her saying so. “I’d have you for every meal.”

The hand at her chin pulls her closer. The curl of his lips is dangerous, hungry. “Eat up, sweet.”

Rue doesn’t need anything more than the invitation. She is starving, her whole body craving the Ghoul and only her mouth so lucky to receive him (for the moment). And she’s going to give him what he desires, his fantasy. He might gag her a dozen times, but she’s going to leave that ruby-red ring around the base of his cock. It is her sole mission.

She works steadily towards her goal, taking more and more of him into her mouth, his swears and deep intakes of breath, the purred, “Oh, honey, that’s it,” offering her so much good encouragement. She’ll take him all the way. Even when she’s gagging and tears dampen her eyes, leaving wet tracks down her cheeks. Even when she’s forgetting to breathe. Even when he makes her so stupidly, dizzily horny when his hand grasps her pony-tail and uses it to guide her further and further down on him as his hips rut upwards.

An upward drive of his hips times up just right with a downward dip of her head, and Rue’s nose brushes against rough skin. It feels like victory (even though her throat feels raw and abused, and she’s pretty sure she’s all red-eyed and sniffly). She holds him right there, lapping at his length with her tongue and swallowing around him. His grunt and gasp are musical praise. The minute buck of his hips so very gratifying. The fucking groan he gives. How that fist in her hair tightens and tugs as he comes down her throat.

Rue is warm, hot, burning. She’s soaked for the second time this night, head swimming as she slowly licks and sucks her way off his pulsing cock.

“You can’t be doin’ that,” his voice is so breathy, gasping. Growling. But he doesn’t remove her. “Too sweet, too sore. Fuck.”

She comes off him with a pop, smile such a satisfied thing. “But isn’t that so good?” She dips forward, kissing his cum-leaking tip, licking lazy and slow. His whole body shakes, and his head falls back, grip in her hair falling away. “Ya make me feel that all the time. …How’s that red look?”

Rue can see it plainly, brilliantly, from her vantage, and the red coiling ‘round him brings her a surge of pride. The Ghoul’s head raises; his eyes drop. That crooked, lovely smirk quirks ruined lips. “Mighty fine.”

She tuts. “C’mon now. I did good work.”

“Ya did,” he agrees. “And as a reward, I’ll let ya make me cum again.”

Rue laughs. “What an honour.”

Still grinning at her, the Ghoul beckons for her to stand. “Get them clothes off.”

Rue pops to her feet and holds her bound hands out. “Can’t get the top off with tied-up hands, and I don’t think ya wanna wait the hour it takes me to get outta these.”

She supposes it’s easier for him to cut them than untie them, as he suddenly has a knife in hand (and, fuck, is it hot how quick he is with it) and cuts the ropes. Rue wants to be just as quick with ditching her clothes, but something about the way the Ghoul watches her has her wanting to go slow. Maybe not make a show out of it, but some anticipation is nice. He seems to like this look on her, and she should let him enjoy it.

She bends to take off her boots despite being fully able to just kick them off. And when she goes to take off the trousers, she’s slow with the three buttons fastening them closed. She shimmies her way out of them, letting them slip down her legs and pool around her feet before lightly stepping from them. Firm, insistent fingers find her as she pulls the top over her head, dragging across the fabric of her underthings. Dipping in between.

Rue wishes she could feel that forever: that glancing, first touch. The immediate delight. The spark of fire. She wishes she could begin and end everyday with him petting her.

A deep chuckle rattles out of the Ghoul, his fingers slipping passed the thin barrier of her underwear. She shivers. “You’ve soaked these.”

Rue knows it and has no shame. The shirt joins the trousers on the floor. “It’s you, sweet. All you.”

The Ghoul wets his lips with his tongue, fingers petting and prodding. Plunging. Rue’s breath goes tight, out of her. Her legs shake, and she desperately needs something to cling to, but she keeps herself upright. Keeps on with her task, reminding herself to breathe as she slowly unhooks her bra and lets it slip off her shoulders. The Ghoul’s unpreoccupied hand immediately cups her right breast, fondling slow and firm. Rue can’t help the needy sounds from escaping despite how ardently she tries to keep it together.

“D-Do ya want me to keep the ribbon on?” she manages to ask, biting back a moan when he rolls her nipple between thumb and pointer finger. She's a finger curl away from straddling him, from driving her body against his. Riding him until the sun comes up. 

“Naw.” The Ghoul’s hands slip away; Rue wants to cry. “I got an idea for it.” He stands, hand reaching for the ribbon in her hair and pulling it free. He falls back onto the couch and takes her hands, using the blue length of silky fabric to bind her hands back together. Then his hands go to inch her drawers down.

His mouth gets so dangerously close to her lower, she can feel his breath fanning over her mound, between her legs. And suddenly those delightfully abrasive lips are against her thigh. His mouth opens, a hot wet, lick trailing. Punctuated by a rough bite that has Rue squeaking, panting, and a, “Fuck-goddamn-shit-fuck-damn-fuck-fuck-fuck,” hissing through her lips.

His laughter is wicked and his grin wolfish when he retracts his mouth. There’s a redness to his lips, a wound left in the wake of him. It’s small. He just broke the skin. But it smarts, and Rue’s trembling, all her nerves alight. Her brain is fuzzy and foggy and dumb with desire. She wants another one of those. She wants his mouth on her cunt.

But he’s giving orders as her panties hit the floor. “I wantcha on my lap, facin’ away from me. Once you’re sittin’, you’re not to move.”

Rue nods, eager to comply and easily slipping into the position he wants. She straddles him in the reverse, her knees planted on either side of his thighs. One of his hands grabs her by the waist, and a brief glance down shows her that the other holds his cock, pumping it slow as she sinks down bit-by-bit.

It’s a delicious sensation, filling and stretching and honey-sweet. Rue moans and pants with each inch gained, trembling and near-lightheaded when she finally settles upon his lap. He fills her to the brim. Warms her core. Drives her crazy. She feels just about drunk.

And then both of those strong, large, rough hands are on her waist, petting. Squeezing. Wiggling her until she somehow sinks just a little lower. It’s white-hot. Everything. It’s a struggle to keep still, and ultimately, she fails to. She’s completely aquiver, and she can feel the way she squeezes around him. But she can’t help that –surely, he realizes she can’t help that.

“Quit that shiverin’,” he growls, fingers digging in. “Still, darlin’. Real still.”

“It’s so hard. You feel so good.” Rue squeezes her eyes shut. She holds her breath, willing herself to stillness. To relax and loosen despite being taught as fence wire. “Fuck, ya feel good.” Her eyes part a sliver, not that she can see him. “How long on the clock?”

“Three minutes, but it starts over if ya move.”

Rue makes a “psh” sound. “Just three? That’s easy.”

The Ghoul hums, a curious sound. “Is it?” His hands go back to rubbing, dragging. Dipping down to press at a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves.

That’s it for her –all it takes to have her shuddering and hips bucking weakly.

His voice is a breathy growl. His grip tight, forcing her hips to cease. “I set the bar so low ‘cause you’re the wriggliest lay I’ve ever had. I’m not sure ya can even make it a minute. Already havin’ to start over.”

“I-I’m sensitive,” Rue’s indignant explanation wavers, legs shaking when his teeth find her shoulder and bite down. “And that’s not fair.”

“’Course it is.” His tongue drags across the spot he bit. “Game’s gotta have a bit of challenge to it.”

Rue gnaws her lips gently. Shit, if he noticed that he probably started the count over…. How in the hell does she know what counts or not? “Does me talkin’ start the count over? My lips are movin’. And my chest moves when I breathe.”

“It’s more along the lines of cunt squeezin’ or your body quiverin’,” he murmurs before biting her again in a new spot, fingers rubbing a deliberate circle within the same instant. “Mostly ‘cause I like to hear the nasty shit that slips outta them pretty lips.”

She can’t hold herself still –can’t even hope to. She thought she was tougher than this, but her easily excitable body is fully betraying her. She breathes out slow, trying to steady herself. “We… hm… we actually might be here for a while.”

“I ain’t got nothin’ better to do,” the Ghoul says factually, piteously. “I got all the time in the world.”

“All your doin’ is sittin’ there, though,” she mumbles, paying close attention to her breathing –to everything else aside from the substantial cock threatening her sanity. “I’m absolutely full of ya, and when I start thinkin’ ‘bout ya, I get in a bad way, and my body moves whether I say it can or not. And I can’t not be thinkin’ ‘bout ya when you’re fuckin’ hollowin’ me out.”

The Ghoul groans, a sound that doesn’t quite leave his throat, and Rue feels his cock twitch inside her. It has her seeing stars –feeling their warmth, all liquid and melty. It’s wonderful, but it’s horrible, because she doesn’t know that she can win this game. That she can sit here all night, feeling him but not feeling him. The way his scarred-up cock strokes against her insides as he fucks her silly. The maddening tempo, roughness, of each thrust.... Just thinking about it has Rue drawn taught, body clenching around the Ghoul despite her. And what does that get her? Another pulse, another flash of stars. Another shiver and moan.

Her head hangs, a pitiful, “Your dick keeps twitchin’,” whining out of her.

The bounty hunter chuckles, the vibrations of it soaking into her back. “Awe, that’s the sorriest I’ve ever heard ya.” The fingers resting against her nerves twitch, press; she pants, trying not to jerk or wiggle. She fails. “Back to one, sweetheart.”

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleve-.”

“Nuh-uh.” He fucking pinches, and she almost comes off his lap, only held in place by his iron grip. “That feels like cheatin’ to me.”

Rue, doing her best not to move a single, goddamn muscle, gives a desperate laugh. “And what you’re doin’ ain’t?”

“Ain’t no rules for me, pumpkin.” Again, he’s so factual. Obviously, there aren’t any rules for him. She’s so silly for thinking that. “I get to play with ya however I want, and you just get to take it.”

Rue stamps down on her shiver. “That’s hot.” She pulls in the deepest, most determined of breaths. Her brow and jaw setting in a look of seriousness she knows must be comically out of place on her. “…Y’know what I’m gonna have to do, right?”

He sounds amused. “What’s that?”

The answer is yap, but it is a very specific kind of yapping she does. It’s a solid three minutes of filth, of her explaining in graphic –perhaps nonsensical– detail what his dick feels like inside her: the stretch, the heat, the fantastic sense of fullness. The ridges. The goddamn, fucking ridges. When he finally fucks her, it’s going to feel like lightning bolts. How is she supposed to keep her composure? How does he keep his composure? She has to feel good, too, doesn’t she? She knows she’s soft. Warm and sweet. Tight and wet. She knows she’s wet. She can feel it. Every time his fingers so much as twitch, she thinks she must go to dripping. Does he remember biting her thigh? She does. She’s thinking about that a lot, and how she really would like one on her other thigh to match. And if he’s going to have his mouth down there… well, his tongue slipping into the folds of her, pressing into her center, is a nice thought. His hands do magic, but fuck, she needs to know what his tongue can do. Can’t he show her one day?

And all the while, the Ghoul’s hold tightens. His cock throbs. He lavishes her neck and shoulders with brutal affection. Hand fondling breasts or fingers intermittently torturing her in the best kind of way. But Rue holds still. She focuses on the way her words sound and how they feel on her tongue. How out of breath she is. She pretends the Ghoul isn’t there even though he so painfully is.

“That’s three minutes,” Rue murmurs, mid-way through telling him the night he up-and-dusted on her she still got off to him. “That has to be three minutes.”

“Well passed it,” the statement is a growl against her neck. “But I wantcha to finish your story.”

Rue’s eyes roll, from the timber of his voice and his foot-dragging. “It’s just ‘bout me touchin’ myself.”

“Show me how ya did it.”

“Ooh.” Heat flares through Rue. “Want me to turn around or…?”

“I want it just like this, sweetheart.” The hand which teases her lower slips away, coming back with that hand mirror she’d set aside. “This is such a good angle.”

He’s quick at finding the right angle: that illicit view of her so snug on his cock, dripping like she knew she was. Her eyes go half-lidded. Her breathing so shallow. Her lips and throat so dry when she says, “We look so pretty put together.”

All he does is bite her on the spot where neck and shoulder run together, demanding, “Show me.”

The tone and bite have Rue shivering, her bound hands hurrying to do as instructed as she breathes out an obedient, “Yessir.”

Rue knows what she likes, exactly how to move her fingers. The pressure. The tempo. How her hips like to rock minutely, and it does feel like lightning bolts race through her at just that bit of motion. The shifting pressure of the Ghoul’s cock and the way he throbs. She’s aching and tender, and honestly, not very far off from everything the Ghoul has done to her –and keeps doing to her, moaning at the sight of her pleasuring herself and petting wherever he can with his free hand).

And watching herself… it’s ridiculously arousing. Lewd. The way her fingers work in the slick mess of her. The motion of her hips. The Ghoul’s cock, spearing through her.

Rue’s head falls back with a low moan. She’s so close to something grand, a taught wire ready to snap.

“Come for me,” the Ghoul coaxes. “I wanna feel them walls tight around me.”

Rue does, whole body shivering as the coil wound tight within her snaps. Bright white and glaring, sharp and beautiful. She needs something to squeeze, to bury her teeth into, to-.

The Ghoul is moving, the mirror dropping (she thinks she hears a crack through the buzzing in her ears), and he’s holding her tight, taking her down. They fall to their sides, one hand taking the place of her own and the other grasping at her knee, pulling it to her chest. His arm hooks under her thigh, holding it in place.

He pulls back and strokes deep, fingers rubbing in harsh circles on a sensitive bundle of nerves. Rue’s cry is sharp, torn out of her. Because that is lighting, crackles and sparks and racing heat. Every bit of her body prickling and bright as he fucks her through her orgasm and into overstimulation.

“That’s it. Lemme hear ya. Ya always take it so good,” his voice is as ragged as Rue feels. “That cunt of yours grips like a vice, like you’re suckin’ me all over again…. Beggin’ me to fill ya up. Fuck ya stupid. Is that what you want, Rue? Ya wanna be fucked-out and drippin’?”

Rue moans, not sure she can string together anything resembling a sentence, not even a simple, "Fuck yes," when he's fucking her so savagely. Touching her so remorselessly. Using her goddamn name like that. Everything that comes out of her is a pant, cry, or moan. A reedy, high, pathetic sound. She nods helplessly, sucking his fingers when he orders her to and taking all of him like the good girl she is. Writhing as his dick pulses, as his hips snap unsteadily but still so deep-reaching. So shattering. And so, so warm when he spills within her, deep and plenty. It has Rue melting, soaring. Buzzing and hazy as his teeth scrape against well-loved flesh.

The grip on her leg falls away, and she can’t keep the shaky thing upright. She can barely keep herself in the present. Her brain and body are running away from her. But the hand on her hip is warm and rough and lovely. Rue’s focus snags on it, the weight of it. Like it’s settled, and he’s not about to pull away. She doesn’t want him to. He’s so sound and warm against her, and Rue basks in it for a long, few minutes until her breathing steadies and her body stops thrumming.

“Which one of us do ya think talks dirtier?” she asks, voice so soft. So satisfied. She grins when easy laughter rumbles through her like distant thunder. “I think it’s me.”

“Might be,” he admits. “You got a… way of describin’ things. Never had someone compare my dick to lightnin’ before.”

“It’s a real flatterin’ compliment if you’re worried.”

He scoffs, his breath tickling at her neck and raising goosebumps. “Ain’t worried ‘bout nothin’. Not with the way you cry out and beg for me.”

Rue sighs, a forlorn sound. “If only you’d give me a name to beg to….”

“Nah.” The Ghoul moves, slowly pulling himself out of her. Rue shivers with the motion of it, like she’s receiving muted shocks of electricity. But then she’s empty. Missing the way he fills her already and the hand that was once so warm against her hip. It’s still close, but it’s more concerned with undoing the weakly-knotted ribbon she could probably get out of herself in about five minutes. “You can just call me ‘lightnin’.”

Rue laughs, rubbing at her wrists as they come free, and then turning to face the Ghoul. His eyes are half-lidded, regarding her curiously with a barely-there quirk at the corner of his mouth. His hat fell off at some point, allowing her to see more of the scar tissue that seems to comprise his entirety.

For a moment, she has to fight the desire to reach up and pet him, to run her fingers from temple to jaw.

She stamps on the desire with a tempting, “But wouldn’t it sound so sweet to hear me say it? All breathy and wantin’. Askin’ ya, by name, to fuck me. To fill me.”

The tip of the gunslinger’s tongue sweeps across his lips, wetting them. He tells her to, “Quit that.”

“Make me.”

With a roll of his eyes, the Ghoul promptly pushes her off the couch.

[braveclementine]

The Ultimatum

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs, which consist of Penny Fury, Elizabeth Nelson, Elijah Chan, Katya Venice, Violetta Moscow, Lan Le, Josh, Trang Tien, Ahni Jallow, Mai Ito, and Ghaida Kashual as well as other OCs that will come up throughout the story.

Penny woke up against Rhodey and peered down at the still sleeping man, smiling a little to herself. She kissed his cheek and rolled out of bed, walking over to his closet to find something to wear. 

She pulled on one of his navy blue t-shirts before hearing him stir behind her. 

"There's girl clothes in the bottom drawer if you need them." His voice croaked out, the sounds of sheets being thrown off of him. 

Penny turned to see him stretching, watching her as he yawned, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet, stumbling to the bathroom. 

She found the drawer and pulled on a pair of white short shorts. 

Once Rhodey got dressed, the two of them headed downstairs to breakfast, finding the room already crowded. Plenty of food had been made by Wanda, Elizabeth, and Ahni, the dishes filling the counters like a buffet style bar. 

Everyone from last night was there. Heimdall was standing in the corner, burping Mateo. Fandral was playing with Chamber while feeding him. Shuri was holding Rue, cooing to her and making soft noises. Kisa was giggling as Loki and Quil made faces at her while she was in Elijahs' arms. Andres was in Gamora's arms while Mai fed her. Like always, Anastasia was in Natasha's arms. 

Ghaida, Thor, and Carol were feeding Parvati and Padme in their high chairs while they fussed, not actually wanting to eat. Valentine was with T'Challa and Nebula while Long was with Clint and Lan, Katya having finished feeding him. 

Daisy was squealing as Tony tossed her up in the air while Trang watched with an exasperated look on her face, looking like she wanted to rap Tony over the head with a wooden spoon. Penny noticed then that Trang had bandages around her head and wondered what she had done. Stephen was also hovering around her. Steve was helping Vision and Sif feed Billy and Tommy. 

Like always, seeing all of the children being taken care of warmed Penny's heart. She approached Fandral to greet Chamber with a good morning kiss, the Asgardian man handing their son over. 

She sat between Okoye and Pietro, Pietro deciding it was his job to make Chamber- and Penny- laugh while they ate. Okoye was making it her job that Chamber ate without getting food down his front- an impossible task. 

As the breakfast was coming to a close, dishes being put in the sink, Elizabeth asked everyone if she could talk to them for a few minutes. 

Penny looked over at her. She looked nervous, her eyes darting between all of them. Once everyone had settled back down, she started. 

"Obviously last night came to a shock to all of us." Her eyes flickered to Heimdall. "Almost all of us." 

She paused, looking down at her hands as she pressed her palms together. "I know a lot of you probably wonder what's going on in my head. How I feel." She looked up at them. "I feel the same as I did before. . . at least about you guys. But. . . I need some time." 

She raised a hand as Tony looked like he was going to say something. 

"The thing is, even though I'm sure of how I feel about you guys. . . I have no idea of who I really am. I have all of these memories, but it still feels like my life was cut up in sections. Like these different parts of my life all belonged to someone else. I need to figure out myself before I can be with anyone. And. . . and for that I need to go home." 

Penny glanced at Elijah, who didn't seem surprised by this proclamation. In fact, none of them did and she realized- she didn't either. This made complete sense and Penny had known from the first day she arrived at the tower that Elizabeth had been homesick then. Of course she wanted to go back now. 

"And. . . I need to do it alone." Elizabeth finished, looking back down at her hands. She fidgeted a little. "I would like to bring the kids with me, if that's okay. Obviously, I'll make sure that you guys see them and all that, I would never dream of keeping them away from you, but I also need them with me-" 

"Okay." Bucky and Heimdall said at the same time. 

"Of course." Elijah whispered softly. 

She breathed out and nodded. 

"Can we go with you?" Katya asked, looking down at her hands. "I mean, obviously we'd leave you be when we get there. . . but I want to see my family too Elizabeth." 

Here, Elizabeth's lips twitched into a smile, "It's not like I own Ohio Kat. Of course you can see your family, you don't need my permission. And of course, if any of you wanted to go with them, that's also fine of course. But I just need my time." 

"Agreed." Vision nodded, which did surprise Penny. 

"Of course." Steve murmured. 

"I. . ." Here Elizabeth looked guilty and looked between Fury, Rhodey, T'Challa, Bucky, and Sam. "No matter if I'm ready or not, when I near my due date, I will come back. No matter what. But I'm sorry that- I mean if you want me to wai-" 

"No." Penny's father interrupted whatever Elizabeth was going to say. "Babydoll, please take your time. As long as I'm there for the birth of the kids, everythings' okay. I just want you to get better and I know the rest of us feel the same." 

Penny was a little amused with her father. It definitely didn't leave the other four any room to argue against him. 

Elizabeth was silent again for a moment before her eyes flicked over to her friends, "Look. Whatever past we have behind us. . . if you-" 

"You're stupid." Ghaida said in an almost fond voice before Elizabeth could even say what she wanted to say. Penny didn't blame Elizabeth for looking taken aback. 

"Huh?" Clint voiced everyone elses' confusion. 

Ghaida rolled her eyes and Steve shifted in his seat. "Elizabeth believes that we were just her friends because of her mother. You should be a little smarter than that Eliza. You're our sister and we love you just as such. Nothing changes that." 

Elizabeth smiled a little and shrugged, "Wasn't always the smartest." 

"Still aren't." Trang quipped, before hugging her from behind. 

"And. . ." Elizabeth hesitated again, looking at Heimdall and then Wanda. "Being the Goddess of love. . . I don't suppose I've used my powers there, have I? Was Riri right, or half right?" 

"About what?" Riri asked, confused, while also looking guilty at the same time. Elizabeth addressed her. 

"When you said that maybe the Avengers were under a love spell. . . maybe I did do that." Elizabeth said uncertainly. "And maybe that's why I was always pursued by everyone. I mean, even my own step-mother wanted me for herself and killed my dad over it. . . me." Her face paled. Her eyes flicked over at Bucky, who was rigid in his seat. "And maybe that's why I could break through the soldier-" 

"No." Heimdall answered for her. "Your powers don't work like that. No one you've met in your entire life has ever been under any sort of love magic. Anyone in this room and out of it that has loved you or does love you, does it of their own accord." 

Penny could see how relieved Elizabeth looked with this information. 

"And, lastly." Elizabeth said softly, looking at Loki. "Last year around this same time you mentioned a bonding ceremony, something that would marry all of us. Some of us said that we needed time. I still need time but. . ." 

She broke off and Elijah touched her shoulder. She breathed out, closing her eyes, "The thing is, I'm selfish. I don't want to lose any of you." She opened her eyes, scanning the room. "But I will, because of how slowly I age." She gripped Elijahs' hand suddenly, as though she needed something to ground herself. "Loki, Thor, Hogun, Fandral, Volstagg, Sif, Heimdall, Steve, Bucky, Nick, Vision, Bruce, Natasha, Ghaida, myself, maybe Stephen. . . we're all going to live for a really long time." 

"Loki will outlive you two." She said, gesturing to Tony and Stephen, "Unless Stephen manages to keep himself alive with dark magic like the Ancient one. Bucky and Steve will outlive Sam. Thor will outlive Penny. Nick will outlive Penny and Maria and Phil. Vision will outlive Wanda. I'll. . . I'll. . ." She swallowed, unable to continue. 

"My point is, that this ceremony Loki suggested will tie us in with their life lines." Elizabeth said, staring at Loki, "right?" 

"Yes." Loki murmured. 

The room was silent for a moment before Elizabeth continued again, "I'm not pressuring anyone into it, I don't even really want to hear an answer right now. I just thought we should have time to think about it and when I come back. . . maybe we could have another discussion." 

"I think that sounds good." Lan said, looking over at Katya. 

"Okay that was that." Elizabeth said, quickly sitting back from the table as though hoping she would disappear from view. 

"I just have a question." Tony said, looking at Heimdall. "Everything that you chose to make happen. . . did it really need to happen?" 

Heimdall nodded to Wanda and closed his eyes. Wanda stood up, walking over to him, putting her hands near the sides of his head and a similar holographic cloud, not unlike the one that had shown Elizabeth's memories appeared in the middle of the table. 

"There were some, of course, that went very similarly, but with more death." Heimdall said slowly. Penny watched as Lan, Mai, Ahni, Josh, and Jay were all killed. Katya gasped out loud while Mai flinched, wrapping her arms around Ahni. 

"And others. . ." Heimdall drifted off. 

This vision showed Howard Stark in the car with the little Elizabeth, but this time pulling up to a mansion. Time skipped a little as Tony was born very soon after and soon went from being her little brother, to being her older brother. 

When Howard and Maria were killed in the car accident, Elizabeth took over Stark industries while Tony continued on being more like a playboy. And so Elizabeth was the one who ended up in Afghanistan. Elizabeth was the one that became the first Iron Woman. 

Loki eventually came to Earth and recognized Elizabeth immediately, who introduced him to Tony. When Killian came however in the future, Tony died. 

"Oh." Stephen whispered, flinching a little. 

"There are many futures like that." Heimdall said with a slow nod, the cloud disappearing. "Ones where you all died, ones where she died. This was the safest one, only one death." 

"Jays." Trang whispered softly. 

Heimdall looked at her. "I'm sorry Trang. There were no futures like this one if Jay stayed alive. You would give birth to Daisy and he would have you give her up to Tony because she was not his daughter. I couldn't let that happen to you or Tony or Daisy." 

Trang nodded, tears coming to her eyes. 

"There were more complicated ones." Heimdall continued. "Ones where some of you got sent back in time. There was another that was a desperate attempt done by your mother where you got sent into another universe on a dinosaur island. Just about everyone died in that world." 

"You're joking." Rhodey said, raising an eyebrow. 

Heimdall just looked at him. 

"Okay, not joking." Rhodey muttered. 

"What's a dinosaur?" Volstagg asked, still eating sausages. 

No one answered him. 

"So this was the only path." Steve clarified. 

"In my mind." Heimdall answered. 

"I would agree." Ghaida nodded. 

There was silence in the kitchen. 

"I think now would be a good time to tell you guys something." Her father said, stepping forwards. 

"What?" Tony asked grouchily. 

"With this information, you have to promise not to kill the prisoner that is being moved here today." Fury said, crossing his arms over his chest. That got everyone's attention. 

"No!" Ghaida suddenly gasped, eyes orange, snapping her head towards Penny's father. "What were you thinking?" 

Elizabeth had suddenly gone very pale, standing up, clutching the counter for support. 

"When I saw what happened in Elizabeth's memories." Her father started slowly, looking only at Elizabeth. "I knew I had to admit that he was alive. He'll be a prisoner here, have his own cell. No one will know he is here, Stark will see to that. He's. . . well your way of getting your anger out. Which is why you won't kill him. Because he doesn't deserve death." 

"Who did you bring here?" Natasha asked in a deadly quiet voice. 

"Pierce." Elizabeth choked out. 

Bucky shot to his feet, Steve right after him, pulling Bucky into his arms. "Buck!" 

"Where is he?" Bucky snarled, thrashing in Steve's arms. Thor was immediately there with Heimdall, the three huge men trying to keep him down. 

Bruce immediately relinquished Valentine from his arms. T'Challa wrapped his arms around him, hugging him so that Bruce would keep the hulk in. 

Penny felt her own rage, finding herself on her feet, wanting to find Pierce and stab him through the neck. 

"Loki." Her father addressed the furious God. "I want a spell done on him. A healing one. So he can be harmed over and over again." 

Loki's blue eyes glittered and a cruel smirk came over his face. "Consider it already done." 

"I want to talk to him first." Elizabeth's voice rang out over the commotion in the kitchen. It calmed Bucky down at the very least. 

"Elizabeth." Steve started, worry lacing his voice. 

"Please? Where is he?" Elizabeth asked quietly. 

"He's down under the tower." Fury replied. "Floor zero."

Tony huffed, not knowing that Fury had known about that floor and exchanged a look with Trang. 

Elizabeth swept from the room to the elevator. 

Bucky lunged out of Steve's arms, racing for the same elevator, Steve and Sam taking off after him. Loki was quick to follow after that. Penny shook her head, looking over at her father. "Why?" 

"Because he needs to feel pain." Her father answered. "And here's a whole group, more than willing, to give it to him."

[gallantblade]

🌸 🌿 🌺 🍄 🌲

🌸 "Fae System" came from a discord username we were using for a while. We wanted something that worked as a personal name (Fae) and as a system name (Fae System), so that other people could use it like a personal name for us without it sounding clunky.

🌿 After knowing some plural systems for a bit, I went "wait a minute, I think some of my OCs aren't just OCs" and then suddenly I was a plural system.

🌺 Through the discord server of a webcomic we follow, El Goonish Shive. I can't necessarily recommend the server, but we ABSOLUTELY can recommend the comic.

🍄 We have a few "soft" plural headcanons where we think plurality could be a neat lens to examine a character through, or we think the character has a sort of fractured identity that could be interpreted as plurality, but we don't have any "hard" plural headcanons where it's the primary way we think of the character.

Susan Pompoms (yes that's her last name) from El Goonish Shive has some very plural-y conversations with herself.

Elliot Dunkel, also from EGS, has some magically induced personality shifts that come with his magic that comes across as VERY plural.

Homura Akemi is like four or five different characters hiding in a trenchcoat, and the Wraith Arc manga establishes Homulilly as an entity that exists within Homura even before her full transformation into a Witch.

This has some pretty plural implications for the rest of the magical girls in PMMM as well but that's not explored nearly as much as Homura's identity issues. Someday we want to write the "Sayaka has a dissociative disorder" fanfiction we have in our head, but who knows when that'll be.

Tamari from Qualia Automata has SOMETHING going on, but we're not sure if it would be more accurate to describe it as plurality or something like schizophrenia.

Rue/Kraehe from Princess Tutu could be interpreted as a plural system through most of the show, but it seems like by the end of it the distinction between the two is resolved.

🌲 We've caught flak for this in the past, and it's pretty self-indulgent given we have a Chara fictive, but we really like the Chara/Frisk(/Player) system in Undertale. Treating Chara as "the evil alter" flattens their character really badly and I'm glad the fandom has moved away from that sort of interpretation.

[clever-and-unique-name]

9, 14 and 18?

Thank you so much, Mika! <3

9. If you have OCs(original characters), do your parts have any influence on them? Alternatively, if you’re creative in general, do they have any influence?

Hahaaa, so there are some pretty blatant parts-posing-as-OCs over on our artblog @chimeric-art . Those "characters" feel like, hmm, the difference between a puppet and a stuffed animal. The parts who have OCs reflecting them can "step into" the character and have fine control over how the character talks, reacts to things, moves...they just feel more "alive" to me. Whereas the purely OC-characters feel flatter, less fluid, a bit clunkier. Things I have to purposefully move rather than things that move themselves.

Reki -> [Rain] Astrid -> [Astrid] (...obviously) Mal -> [Malva] Kestrel -> [Amelie]

14. Who’s the part that is most likely to deal with high-stress situations first?

Depends on the kind of situation! With interpersonal stress it's typically it's Abel, she kind of slams down in front of us like a granite wall. With handling literal life-or-death emergencies at work, it's typically Work Part. With handling potentially physically dangerous situations (which are thankfully few and far between these days,) typically Tristan.

18. Are there any reoccurring themes or symbolism in your system? Would you like to share about it?

Hmm wings are a big one for us. I find it difficult to explain the symbolism itself, so I'll talk about the parts who are winged or wing-adjacent. (Also this got long so it's going under a readmore.)

Rin is our youngest, she's very cheerful and spirited, and also very attached to our family. She seems to only have only good memories of childhood. Her wings now reflect her favorite bird, which is a blue jay, but they were white initially.

Mal has giant black feathered wings, which he uses to guard, shelter, and comfort other parts. They exude warmth and are very soft, but the color initially marked him as something sinful or "bad."

Iris has alabaster-white wings which are somehow cold and hard, like a stone angel statue. She does not wear them often; something about them weighing her down as more of a burden than anything else.

Rue has scarring on her shoulderblades where wings occasionally attempt to grow, but Rue herself will tear them out. Her feathers are mottled grey and black.

Reki is wing-adjacent, and symbolically has either small, soft grey feathered wings or delicate black bat wings.

Astrid is wing-adjacent and willingly renounced her wings, opting instead to have her fiery magic.

Kestrel is wing-adjacent, and is mostly fond of the feathers of birds-of-prey. She cannot fathom claiming wings of her own, despite her name.

[jasmariswonderland]

OC Inspiration Part 20 ~ Florine

The template for this meme can be found here.

I’ve been gradually filling these out with my ocs and now I’m sharing inspiration for my newest RSA OC Florine!

Top Left And Right ~ Now, Florine is directly twisted from Prince Florian but she also shares a lot in common with Snow White. For many reasons I won’t get into here, I don’t really think Neige works well as a twist of Snow White but incidentally seems to have a lot in common with the prince as we see him in the film. Florine however has a lot of both character's qualities in her; she’s a hopeless romantic like Florian but also very sweet and thoughtful like Snow White.

Center Right And Bottom Left~ Strelitzia from Kingdom Hearts and Fluttershy were also big inspirations for Florine’s personality. They’re all very shy and soft spoken and in Strelitzia’s case, is secretly pining for another person but is too afraid to approach them. In Strelitzia's case, sadly, she is mu*dered before she has a chance to express her true feelings. But in Florine’s case, she see’s that Neige is in love with another girl and it isn’t until Danica’s intervention that she finally works up the courage to approach him. 

Bottom Right ~ I also see a lot of similarities between Florine and Ahiru, particularly with her dynamic with Danica being similar to Ahiru’s dynamic with Rue. Though I think Florine and Danica are have slightly more friendly relationship. 

[bobubbler]

I have been tryin watercolor lately

Too bad my camera quality sucks fyxyfufugivigivi

[ame-fanapprentice]

“As long as you'd do the same for me” 

((big soft pillow pile tonight I see~ (・ω・) Rue belongs to @lemonlavender-tea!!))

[fatalitysficbakery]

𓆰♥︎𓆪 Fatality’s Fic Bakery Masterlist; Multifandomed & OC Menu Updated 12•30•23 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ A Multifandom blog, that caters to less represented. Mainly black women but other poc and minorities as well.

↳ CHECK THE RULE LIST. Highly important to check my rule post before requesting ANYTHING.

↳ ❦ Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu ❦.

↳ ❦ Fatalitysficbakery rules + drabble menu ❦.

↳ ❦ Fatalitysficbakery requests guidelines menu ❦.

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𓆰♡︎𓆪 Welcome To The Bakery 𓆰♡︎𓆪

series (☀︎︎) oneshots (☦︎︎) smut (✞)

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𓆰♥︎𓆪 First Kill Menu 𓆰♥︎𓆪

↳ Talia Burns.

coming soon!!

↳ Calliope “Cal” Burns.

Runaways. (☦︎︎-☹︎-☻︎) x Black Fem!Reader

Warnings; Mentions of abuse, manipulation, favoritism, etc.

Synopsis; You and Cal have had enough.

↳ Next Ep; Not Giving In. (☀︎︎-☹︎-☻︎) (coming soon!!)

warnings: violence, blood, character death.

synopsis: talia and margot set out to find you and Cal.

↳ Elinor Fairmont.

coming soon!!

↳ Juliette Fairmont.

coming soon!!

↳ Margot Fairmont.

coming soon!!

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𓆰♡︎𓆪 Euphoria Menu 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Rue Bennet/Zendaya Coleman.

The End Of An Era. (Ep. 1) (☀︎︎ - ☹︎ - ☻︎) x Black Fem!Reader

Warnings; Sapphic BS.

Synopsis; I could feel your love fading.

↳ Leslie Bennet/Nika King.

coming soon!!

↳ Maddy Perez.

coming soon!!

↳ Lexi Howard/Maude Apatow.

coming soon!!

↳ Jules Vaughn.

coming soon!!

↳ Gia Bennet.

coming soon!!

↳ Faye/Chloe Cherry.

coming soon!!

↳ Cassie Howard.

coming soon!!

↳ Fezco.

coming soon!!

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𓆰♥︎𓆪 In The Heights Menu 𓆰♥︎𓆪

↳ Nina Rosario

coming soon!!

↳ Vanessa.

coming soon!!

↳ Usnavi De La Vega.

Ghosts Of A Lover Unknown (☦︎︎ - ☾ - ☹︎) x Latina Fem!Y/n

Warnings; very very sad usnavi, worried sonny, insomnia, hints of past life themes, if everything is in italics, it means it’s a flashback!, open ended (interpretation is up to you).

Synopsis; #3 “If our empty bedroom bothers you so much maybe try sleeping in it one day, Blank”.

Nina’s Little Sister (☦︎︎ - ☾ - ☻︎) x Afro-Latina Fem!Y/n

warnings: none. fluffy bullshit.

synopsis: 11. “d-did it hurt when heaven fell? I mean- when you…fuck. Anyway, i’m blank and that was humiliating. let’s start over”?

↳ Benny.

coming soon!!

↳ Sonny De La Vega.

Nose Goes. (☦︎︎ - ☾ - ☻︎) x Afro-Latina Fem!Y/n

Warnings: So sweet it gives cavities.

Synopsis; #13 “Baking Gone Wrong”.

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𓆰♥︎𓆪 Supernatural Menu 𓆰♥︎𓆪

↳ Charlie Bradbury.

coming soon!!

↳ Sam Winchester.

Siri Play Hot N Cold By Katy Perry. (☦︎︎ - ☹︎-ish - ☻︎ - ✞) x Black Fem!Y/n

Warnings; Siren!Reader. Murderous kids, demons n shit, hungry!cas, man starved!sam, woman dehydrated!reader, basically woman sam!reader, over it!dean, needy sex, straight to the point, soft love making.

Synopsis; You and the Winchester brothers have been friends and partners for years, especially you and Sam— You’ve been their hand to hold and guide through the supernatural world since you’re apart of it. You and Sam have loved each other since forever, in secret of course. After a big blowout between the two of you, Dean is fed up and sends you both on a mission…Alone. Will years of pent up frustration and hidden love finally be revealed?

↳ Dean Winchester.

coming soon!!

↳ Castiel “Cas”.

coming soon!!

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𓆰♥︎𓆪 Girl From Nowhere Menu 𓆰♥︎𓆪

↳ Nanno.

coming soon!!

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

𓆰♡︎𓆪 Heathers Menu 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Jason “J.D” Dean.

coming soon!!

↳ Vanessa Sawyer.

coming soon!!

↳ Heather Chandler.

coming soon!!

↳ Heather Mcnamara.

coming soon!!

↳ Heather Duke.

coming soon!!

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𓆰♥︎𓆪 Original Character/Side Fics Menu 𓆰♥︎𓆪

↳ Selina Di’ortéz

coming soon!!

↳ Azael Di’ortéz

coming soon!!

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𓆰♡︎𓆪 DC 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Harley Quinn (Harleen Quinzel)

coming soon!!

↳ Poison Ivy (Pamela Isley).

coming soon!!

↳ Catwoman (Selina Kyle).

How Familiar A Face. Selina Kyle (☦︎︎ - ☹︎ - ✞ - ☻︎) x Black Fem!Y/n (Aka Dré’s Birthday Fic)

Warnings: childhood friends to lovers, pup!y/n, kitty!selina, sub!y/n, dom!selina, brat/brat tamer, sexual harassment, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, overstimulation, oral, degradation, praise, dumbification, size kink, yandere themes, slight noncon/dubcon, sadism/masochism, blood kink, knife kink, pain kink, tears of…well, you be the judge, oh and fingering :)

Synopsis: selina hates playing hero but she doesn’t mind it. what happens when she has to save a familiar face from a group of men?

Confessions Of Sin. Selina Kyle (☦︎︎ - ✞ - sprinkle of - ☹︎ - ☻︎) x Black Fem!Y/n (aka dre’s second annual birthday fic.)

warnings: vampire!selina, hybrid!y/n (wolf/witch), g!p (selina), degradation, stalking, slight dub-con, mating, sadism, masochism, mommy kink, slight!puppy play, intercourse, slight fingering.

synopsis: she’s been watching you.

Empty Planet. Selina Kyle (☦︎︎ - ✞ - (???) - ☻︎ - ☹︎) x Black Fem!Y/n

warnings: slight religious trauma, end of the world au, grief, death, apocalypse, oral (reader!receiving), tribbing, soft dom!selina, sub!y/n, depression mentions, sweet sapphic bs.

synopsis: opposite lifestyles lead two people together in a time of crisis.

↳ Starfire (Koriand’r).

coming soon!!

↳ Raven.

coming soon!!

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will be making a part two to this list.

This List will be updated regularly as I go on. Enjoy the baked goods in Fatality’s Fic Bakery! 🥖🥐🥯🍞🥨🥮🧁🍧🍨🍯

[voidsdamned]

Wicked Natures - The Ghoul/OC (Female Character) Chapter Four

Summary: Bounty hunters are frequent customers at Mulholland's Saloon, and Rue's taken quite a shine to one gunslinger in particular: a cantankerous, old Ghoul in a tattered duster. Witness her unabashedly lust after him in all his irradiated glory (as we are all currently doing), as well as navigate the precarious relationship she unfortunately has with local law enforcement.

Minors, do not interact.

Content Warnings: it's spicy, babes. Mentions of violence. Blood. Swearing. Drinking. Mentions of prostitution. Light bondage. Overstimulation. Save a horse; ride a cowboy.

Enjoy.

Chapter Four: Trigger Shy

Rue never really knows what time it is –what day it might be. All her days and nights blur together in a muddled mess of ripped fishnets, glistening liquor bottles, and her lumpy couch. She operates on the position of the sun and the trickle of tables into Mulholland’s. She knows it’s Thursday when Mrs. Ira Jean comes to Dust with brahmin goods to sell and the rancher stops by to give Rue a bottle of milk or bit of cheese –a nice cut of meat, if she’s lucky. It’s either Sunday or Tuesday if Jimmie Boone rolls in with a fresh supply of moonshine.

Mrs. Ira Jean was in town the day Deck left, and she’s back again today. Rue knows she has a week to her vacation from the man left, and while it has felt like a weight has lifted from her shoulders without him around, she hasn’t gotten much of a break. Mulholland’s has been busy, slammed to the rafters, and there's not been a night Rue hasn’t left the saloon feeling like walking death.

Tonight is particularly hellish. The crowds are never thinning, Rina and Yumi are sick, and none of the other girls are particularly good at serving. Rue has to pick up their slack and most of their tables, because they can’t wrap their heads around tending to more than two at once. She might as well just be running the bar by herself.

Normally, she likes it when it’s so busy. She gets pulled in and can’t think of anything except her work. Time moves fast. But people are being bastards tonight. They’re having to wait longer for drinks. They keep getting the wrong drinks. They can’t find a seat. They don’t want Tam to suck their dicks –she’s just not very good at it. They need the professionals to get back upstairs.

It’s all complaints, red faces, propositions, and pure stupidity. So much of it that Rue’s smile becomes strained and wobbly, but she keeps it in place. She keeps her shit together, even when Hal decides to push closing time back. Tables keeps trickling in; he just can’t pass up the caps.

By the time Rue is allowed to shuffle out of Mulholland’s, she’s feeling particularly out of it. Her brain is fried, her dogs are barking, and her back hurts. She wishes she could pull her damn spine out, crack it like a whip a few times, and then put it back –she feels like that might do something for it. It would also be lovely if she had someone sweet at home that would rub her feet for her, but she knows she’ll have to do that for herself if she wants it (and it won’t hit the same).

Her couch is going to feel great, though, lumpy as it is. She can think of nothing else other than sinking into its misshapen embrace as she winds her way home.

Until a pathetic, injured whine and mumble tickle at her ears. Rue pauses, head turning in the sound’s direction where the night-dark alley wedged between Shade and Sundries and Doc Nguyen’s yawns open. She listens intently, certain she hears very quiet sniffling.

“Hello?” she calls softly, peering close and taking a few steps into the alley. The whine greets her ears again, along with a sad, little, “It hurts.”

The cry pulls at her heartstrings, pulls her down the alley where her eyes pick all around her until she finds a body half-hanging out of a dumpster. Her chest goes tight at the sight of it, especially so when she realizes it’s Artie Merlowe with his clothes all ripped and whimpers soft like a kicked pup.

“Oh, Artie.” Rue immediately tries to help him out of the dumpster, lifting his upper half to find a bruised face, blood-dripping nose, and tears streaming from his hooded eyes. And Rue burns up with rage over it.

Artie might not be all the way there, but he’s probably the sweetest man in all of Dust. He doesn’t fool with anyone unless they fool with him first, mostly just doing his own thing all day (and that own thing is usually picking up garbage and spinning around a flagpole). He’s never weird or rude to Rue –to anyone. He just talks about war sometimes, that’s all. He was NCR, just like her Pa.

“Who did this to you?”

A whimper. A sniff. A shrug. “I dunno. Didn’t recognize ‘em.”

Out-of-towners, probably. Nobody here woulda messed with him.

Rue breathes a sharp, angry breath, and then pulls in a deep one to hold. With all her might, she pulls at Artie, dragging him out of the dumpster and to his feet. He’s shaking so bad, she ends up having to support him else he’d just fall to the ground. Lucky for her, he’s on the scrawnier side.

“Whoever they were, I hope all their teeth fall out ‘cept one –and that it always gives ‘em a toothache.”

Artie just sniffs again.

Rue sighs, gets a better grip, and offers him a soothing smile. “Let’s getcha cleaned up, Artie.”

He nods, and she helps him along, murmuring assurances when he gets to shaking.

It takes a while to get him to her home, but eventually, she spies oaks and moonlit blue. She gets Artie onto the porch, using the doorframe to keep him upright until she gets the door open and him through it. Then she's making towards the couch.

Only for her to realize someone’s already melted into it: a dastardly Ghoul all cast in shadows, reclining spread-legged. Waiting for her. His bowed head tips up at her entrance, cocking curiously to the side.

Rue gasps in pure delight, the exhaustion of the day and even the injured man hanging on her disappearing from her mind. The widest of grins blooms on her lips. “You came to visit me!”

He doesn’t return the smile. In fact, his expression is thin-lipped and stern, dark eyes pinned on Artie. Flatly, he comments, “Looks like ya already got some company.”

“Yeah, this is Artie,” Rue explains, still smiling like the fool she is as she hauls him to the kitchen table. “Let me tend to him, and then you’ll have my full attention. Promise.”

She gently sits Artie on one of the wobbly kitchen chairs, lighting a small oil lamp as he settles. It spills out dim, mellow orange, giving her just enough light to work with. She turns to the sink, hoping the water is running so she doesn’t have to go pump any. It takes a minute, but soon water comes trickling out. She wets a rag and starts dabbing blood off Artie’s face.

“What happened to him?”

Rue didn’t realize the Ghoul had moved until he speaks from her elbow. She cuts him a quick glance and smile, but he’s looking at Artie, eyes narrowed.

“I think some out-of-towners got him –left him in a dumpster. No one in Dust would lay a hand on Artie.”

“His nose is broke,” the Ghoul casually points out.

Rue hadn’t realized it, but indeed, Artie’s nose is looking pretty crooked. She clicks her tongue. “Can I getcha a drink, Artie?”

“Are you ‘bout to hurt me?”

“A little.”

He pulls in a tight breath, his entirety trembling. “Yeah.”

Rue turns to her favourite Ghoul. “Thirsty?”

“Parched.”

Back to the kitchenette, Rue rummages until she finds a half-full bottle of rum and three stout tumblers. She pours two fingers in each glass. The Ghoul downs his rum almost as soon as the glass touches his hand, and then goes for the bottle to drink from directly.

Rue and Artie are nowhere near as quick as the Ghoul when it comes to downing the rum. Artie shows much hesitance, the shaken man admitting he doesn’t really drink. Rue says she doesn’t either, but they’ll be just fine together. On the count of three, she throws back the rum, and Artie hurries to mimic her. He coughs up a storm but drains his glass.

Rue gives him a pat on the back, telling him he did good. She needs him to do good again. To which she plucks the bottle of rum from the Ghoul’s hands to pour her and Artie another two fingers. He snatches it right back once she’s finished, and on another count to three, the rum burns its way down their gullets.

“We’ll let you sit with that for a minute,” she tells Artie, reclaiming her rag to get back to cleaning. “Then it’ll be a quick pinch and a change of clothes, and you’ll be golden.”

He bobs his head helplessly. “Yes’m.”

“You’re coddlin’ too much,” the Ghoul grumbles around the rum bottle.

She smiles softly at Artie as she wipes away the last of the blood. “Everyone needs some coddlin’ now and again.” She glances over her shoulder, grin gone roguish as she gives him an up-down. “You’re next on my list.”

The Ghoul snorts, but his gaze catches on her lips. Holding there. He licks his own, and she can’t help but bounce her legs as she tries to shush the little giggle trying to pass her lips. It’s sabotaged, turned into a surprised gasp, by the Ghoul reaching out fast as lightning to grab hold of Artie’s nose. He pinches and twists with no care or consideration.

Artie’s nose pops, and he groans, eyes fluttering. He goes limp in the chair, and Rue hurries to steady him so he doesn’t fall out on the floor. “Sorry, Artie, my friend here is ornery and impatient.”

“Ain’t your friend,” insists the Ghoul.

“Oh, I think we’re halfway there, at least.” She spares him a wink. “You’re just bein’ a hardass ‘bout it.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. Rue considers that a victory.

“I’m tired, Rue.” Artie’s quiet voice has her attention right back on the hurt man. He’s holding himself up now, eyes blinking heavily. His nose isn’t crooked anymore. “And warm.”

She pops to her feet, hurrying over to her wardrobe to hunt down some of her old working clothes. They’ll fit Artie probably as good as his current ones. “That’s the rum. Your nose hurt?”

“Don’t really feel it no more.”

“That’s the rum,” says the Ghoul, polishing off the bottle.

Rue finds what she’s looking for. “Need help with these clothes, Artie, or can ya manage?”

His answer is slow. “I… erm… yeah.”

That doesn’t really answer Rue’s question, but his actions do when she stands before him and he makes nary a move. She just smiles, strips him down, and dresses him right back up. “I’ll get these washed and patched for ya. And I’ll let ya keep these if ya like ‘em. I don’t really need ranchin’ clothes anymore.”

Artie starts sniffling again, but for an entirely new reason that briefly surprises Rue. “Still hate that about Yuri. He was a good man. So was Bram.”

Rue pauses, not remembering the last time she heard someone speak the names of her Pa and the foreman she had a brief fling with. It's a bit of a kick to the gut -a firm squeeze at her heart- but she shakes off the sensations. Artie speaks the truth, and she has to agree, “They really were. And I know Pa appreciated your help 'round the ranch.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

She sighs softly, squeezing the man’s shoulder before she hefts him to his feet again. “It’s okay. I don’t know that we could’ve gotten ‘em out even with a dozen extra hands.”

Not to mention they were already dead before the fire…. But ya don’t need to worry yourself with that, Artie.

It’s not hard getting Artie in bed, and he’s out like a light seconds after his thin frame hits the mattress. Rue pulls the sheets over him, making sure he’s tucked and sound before her attention turns fully to the bounty hunter. He’s moved back to the couch. She joins him there, getting all nice and comfortable and trying not to stare at the space between his legs.

“You been thinkin’ ‘bout me, hm?” she asks, a certain smugness dripping from every, single syllable. She already knows the answer is a yes. He wouldn’t be here otherwise.

“Wipe that shit-eatin’ grin off your face.”

Rue leans in, ghosting that shit-eating grin along his neck. “Wipe it off for me.”

He turns his face to her, whiskey-brown eyes glinting in the low-light. There’s a heat there, a fixation on her lips. His rum-tinged breath tickles at her skin. “I’m considerin’ it.”

“Why consider? Why not just go for it?”

He laughs, a low, dark sound that has her skin prickling. Toes curling. “You want it too bad.”

Rue leans in closer, trailing her lips lightly across his. “I’m just tryin’ to make myself clear. You keep thinkin’ I got ulterior motives, so I gotta double-down on my horniness to get through to ya.”

The Ghoul nips at her bottom lip, quick. Harsh. But he keeps playing games and talking too much. “Gotta say, sugar, I’m a bit surprised you’re still down so bad. Thought ya woulda wised up after I left ya tied up.”

Rue licks the spot on her mouth he bit, not tasting blood. Not yet anyway. She will if that’s how he goes about kisses. “Only thing that chafed me ‘bout that whole interaction was the rope –and I got out it in an hour.”

“I’ll have to tie you up tighter.”

“Promises, promises.” Rue sighs dramatically, leaning away from him and back into the couch. “I’m startin’ to wonder what you’re here for. Thought I was gonna get… how’d you put it? …Wrecked?” She sighs. “Didn’t think you’d be so trigger shy, darlin’.”

Those were the right words. The Ghoul is suddenly atop her, pushing her down into the cushions and his tongue down her throat. A fist curling in the roots of her hair, and his other hand trapping her hands above her head. Her surprise is there and gone in a heartbeat, and she’s thrumming from her head to her toes in eagerness. In want. She sucks his tongue. She licks the inside of his lips. She kisses him deep and dizzy when he allows for it.

His kisses are the kind that bruise, forceful and hungry with barely a chance at reprieve. Laced with bites that draw sharp breaths. Whenever he does pull away, it’s with a tug at her hair so he can expose her neck and give it the same, uncompromising attention.

The Ghoul growls against her skin, “Ain’t trigger shy, darlin’.”  He punctuates the statement with a vicious bite on her shoulder that has the sorriest, breathiest yelp escaping her lips.

But she grins. “I know it. You just like teasin’ me.”

He laughs, deep and husky, tongue brushing against the spot he just bit. Rue wonders, briefly, if he broke the skin. “You think ya know what I like?”

Rue nods, confident, and grinds her body upwards into his. He ruts against her, driving her back down into the cushions. Her mind spins. Her entirety burns. She wants that again and again –without his trousers and her skirt in the way. She hooks a leg around his, needing a better feel.

“Control, obviously. Roughness. I think ya want me beggin’. And, honey, I’ll beg. But you gotta make me. Make me shake and whimper and cry and plead.”

The Ghoul says something into her shoulder that she doesn’t catch, but his hips do a lot more talking. His clothed strokes press into her center, firm and slow, but then he’s pulling away (already she wants to beg him to come back and keep at it). He stays atop her, pinning her down with his thighs. And what a blessing that is to see, to experience. She wants to bite those thighs. Ride them. She’s sopping in seconds.

“That’s easy, sweetheart.” Devilishness crooks his lips, and she watches in anticipation as he brings out a short length of rope from the inside of his duster. “Shirt off. Bra off. Hands above your head.”

Rue complies, wiggling out of both. Her hands go above her head. “Yes sir.”

He ties them tight, ordering her to keep them in place. For her to keep listening so good. He might actually fuck her this time if she behaves.

Just him saying that has her biting her lips to keep in a small, pleading sound. Her whole body shivers.

He tweaks her left nipple harsh, eliciting a gasp instead. She tries not to wiggle when he rolls it between his thumb and pointer finger so maddeningly slow –or when he grasps her left breast in its entirety, the cool leather of his gloves chilling her. The Ghoul repeats the same process on her right, and Rue isn’t successful at keeping herself from wiggling and whimpering, from rubbing her thighs together.

The Ghoul grinds down, head dipping. The rough skin of his lips ghosts against her chest before his teeth bite down with a viciousness. All of Rue’s nerves light up; her back arches off the couch. She doesn’t even understand the sounds she initially makes, but when he pulls back only to do it again, she squeaks out a series of, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” as tears prick her eyes.

“That’s it,” the Ghoul purrs, pulling back to gaze down at her with a crooked grin. A hand runs back through her hair, pulling her head to one side. She looks up at him with half-lidded eyes, panting with warmth trickling down her cheeks. He swears. “You’ve got no right lookin’ this good.”

Rue’s shaky grin stretches. “Flatterer.”

Whiskey-brown eyes roll. His free hand roams down her chest and torso, pressing at her soft spots. Pinching. Teasing. Groping. Grasping. An insane mix of pain and pleasure. She watches his scarred face, the fire in his eyes and the complete attention he pays to wherever his hands work. The touch, the focus, the clear approval of what he sees, and the way his cock presses against her, it’s all so wildly arousing to Rue. It’s been years since someone looked at her this way, touched her in the way she desires. It’s especially sweet after he’d neglected her in their first encounter.

If she could change one thing, though, it would be the gloves. They’re fucking sexy, obviously, but she wants to feel his scarred-up skin along hers unfettered.

“W-would you t-take –ah, fuck– take off the gloves?” she asks of the gunslinger, voice wobbly and hitching. “Pretty please? I wanna…. Goddamn…. I wanna feel ‘em –your hands. P-Please.”

The Ghoul makes a thoughtful sound as he pulls his hands away from her all together. She desperately wants them back.

Her body shakes. She whimpers a, “Please?”

“Fuckin’ hell.” It’s a delicious groan, accompanied by a twitch of his cock that pulls another pathetic sound from her lips. “Only ‘cause you’re bein’ so good.”

The gloves come off, revealing long, thick fingers. Rue pants and shivers when they touch her. The coarseness of them is exactly what she wanted, adding another layer of sensation to every touch.

She sighs out an incredibly contented, “Beautiful,” eyes fluttering shut.

Fingers tug at her hair and scalp; he growls out an, “Eyes open. On me.”

She parts them, and then her lips when he presses two fingers to them. She sucks them slow, tongue running the length of them. The Ghoul swears again, his thumb tracing against her bottom lip before his hands disappear. The pressure of his body on hers pulls away as well, and Rue wiggles like crazy, begging pathetically for him to please, please keep touching her. To let her touch him.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” his chuckle is sonorous, gravelly, as his hands go to his belt and trousers. “You’re gonna get your fill of me.”

Rue quiets and licks her lips, hopping to it when he orders, in a quick succession, “Skirt off. Panties off. On your knees.” And he points to the spot at his feet, a clear indication as to where she’s supposed to go.

Rue manages to wiggle out of both, placing herself before him as he frees his magnificent self from the confines of his trousers. Her head rushes and whirs, once more imagining how goddamn good he’s going to feel. And he better let her feel. Some other part of her brain might burn out if he up and dusts on her again.

“Mouth open. Tongue out.”

She complies with eagerness and ease, hips rolling into nothing when the head of his cock taps her tongue and grazes her lips. She waits for an order. He only raises a hairless brow at her. It reads to her as an invitation to do what she likes. A desire to see what she’ll do.

Rue licks the underneath of his length, firmly. Repetitively. He bucks gently, pleasured moan soft. She keeps up the administrations for just a few seconds longer before her tongue flits across the slit of him and her head dips forward.

She devours the Ghoul as if she hasn’t had a proper meal in weeks, drawing forth a litany of swears and a, “Goddamnit it, girl. You sure are workin’ for it, huh?” Both his hands fist in the back of her hair.

She nods to the best of her ability, drawing her bound hands up sneakily so she can touch herself. She is exactly as wet as she thought she was, making it so easy to slip her fingers inside. She pleases herself as she pleases him, softly moaning around the length of him. He bucks into her mouth, deeper and deeper, holding her head in place or pulling it forward to swallow down more of him. But he doesn't let her go on for too long (with a bit of self-satisfaction, Rue thinks he probably can't). The Ghoul pulls her head back, pulls himself from her mouth, and his grip on her head eases. Slips away.

A hand slips down to her chin, squeezing her face firmly before he sits back on the couch. He orders her to get on her feet.

Rue draws herself upright, body taking to trembling in anticipation.

The gunslinger’s hands reach out, grasping Rue by the waist to drag her closer. His thumbs press into the softness of her, rubbing circles.

“Leg up.”

She follows orders, right leg lifting and her foot resting on the cushion right beside his thigh, leaving her very much exposed. She holds his gaze, feeling his hand move slowly down. Teasing. Maddening. Mean -so, so, so mean when he barely brushes the tips of those delightful digits against where she needs him.

Eyes half-lidded, body wound tight, she bids him to, “Please, touch me,” in a hushed, silky voice.

Another feather-light touch has her whimpering, trembling, and then his fingers are there, curling and trailing. Pressing into her. Rubbing deliberate circles that have her legs buckling and eyes rolling. He never looks away from her for a second, whiskey eyes firm and burning into her. Then his fingers come back slick and glistening, and he smirks at the sight.

“You’re a mess, sweetheart,” he tuts, but his tone is of complete approval.

Rue is. She really is. She’s hot, bothered, and aching, attention completely on him and the way he sucks her slick off his fingers. The sight has her fingers curling into her palms, nails biting into her flesh. She wants him to fuck her ‘til she doesn’t remember who she is or what planet she’s on.

She tells him so.

He nods thoughtfully, fingers trailing over tender flesh before he pinches her harshly. Holds. Rue groans and swears, legs quaking. She can feel her heartbeat between her legs.

“I think I will.”

 But he makes no moves to draw her forward or bend her over. He keeps teasing the most sensitive parts of her, rubbing roughly at her clit or fucking her with his splendid fingers.

Rue’s head lolls. Her breath becomes hard to find. Every cell of her is scattered and thrumming. Sweet and sensitive. Her legs are weak, her focus on keeping them beneath her and the building pleasure, white-hot in the pit of her.

Pleas tumble from her, beseeching the Ghoul for more. For reprieve and release.

It steals her breath away when it hits, when she crests that wave. Stars flash behind her eyelids, and her quaking legs start to give. But hands draw her forward, guiding her to straddle the Ghoul’s lap. She’s incredibly sensitive, and he’s rock hard. Just the feel of him pressed against her has Rue gasping and swearing, muttering obscenities. Sweetly painful. Too much and everything she wants.

Rue realizes the Ghoul speaks to her, giving her orders she can only halfway understand. He wants her tied hands and arms draped over his shoulders. She complies, slowly and shakily, eyes closed as she tries like hell to catch her breath and regain her sense.

She laughs, eyes parting a sliver to look down into his hazy, heated eyes. “You’re good with your hands. Fuckin’ fantastic with ‘em.”

“You got a foul mouth,” he tells her, but he seems to like that with the way the corner of his mouth quirks. “And a soppin’ wet cunt that I’m about to ruin.”

The Ghoul thrusts into her, hard, fast, and mercilessly –all stretch and friction and madness. Every inch of him all at once. Rue’s head falls back, her crying out in pain and pleasure. Swearing. Begging. Panting. She’s oversensitive. Overstimulated. Over the moon. She keeps trying to catch her breath, rein herself back in. Come back down to earth. Every time she thinks she has a scrap of her sense, he hits the spot that undoes her all over again. But she has to drive him wild, too. She wants him undone and fucked-out and cursing or praising her name –if he even fucking knows it.

Rue finds her breath, her rhythm. She rides him, hips rolling in time with his adamant thrusts, managing not to cling to him so pitifully. She smiles at him, the way he watches her, and brings her lips to his. She kisses him with a fervor, gasping and licking into his mouth. Biting back when he bites at her.

His voice is husky, strained, as he tells her how tight and hot and dripping she is. How fucking insane she is –her body and movements. He’s going to fuck her ‘til she begs him to stop –‘til her legs don’t work. Until he’s satisfied that she’s learned her lesson, and he’ll teach it to her again and again if he has to. And then he’s fucking her harder, grip tightening and not faltering a bit as he turns them, rutting her into the cushions.

Rue, briefly, goes out of her mind. The change in position, the way he angles his hips, hits deeper. Horribly sweeter. She loses her breath and composure, and she comes again. It’s more intense the second time, a bang and a bright-white shock that has her holding tight to the Ghoul, shaking, and making the most ridiculous sounds she’s ever heard.

He doesn’t stop. He holds her tighter, not letting her move as she trembles through aftershocks –she hasn’t ever felt aftershocks like this. At all, maybe? Fuck. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything except raw, tingling nerves and sharp spikes of electricity. Friction and force and a Ghoul who really is trying to wreck and ruin her. But she loves it. Even when it is too much and she doesn’t think she can handle another merciless stroke.

Rue presses her mouth to the Ghoul’s ear, and she tells him filthy things. Her perversion punctuated by pants, whimpers, and pathetic sounds she can’t even recognize. He’s fucking her good. Just the way she wants –in ways she didn’t know she wanted. If this is what it means to be ruined, he can ruin her any-fucking-time. She’ll give him a goddamn key.

“You’re a fuckin’ maniac,” the Ghoul’s voice is ragged, savage, all breath and growl. “Fuck.” His fingers dig in harsh where he holds her, his strokes becoming erratic and sloppy. His hips snap a final time, burrowing in deep. Unheeding swears fall from his mouth, hitting against her skin, his teeth grazing. And is that her name scattered in there?

She’s not certain. She’s gone again. For a solid minute or two, she’s not aware of a single thing except how lit up and bright and on fire her body is. Warm. Tired. Sore. Vibrating. Undone. She’s not even aware of the Ghoul moving until he’s pulling himself out of her, leaving her empty and shaking. A pressure leaves her wrists, and they fall above her head.

Rue blinks, gaze focusing on the Ghoul who was absolutely everything she wanted him to be.

“I liked that,” she tells him, winded. “I’d like it again sometime soon. Several times…. Hey. Was that my name? I didn’t think ya knew my name.”

The Ghoul –on his feet, tucking himself away and straightening his ensemble– makes a “psh” sound. “You’ve fuckin’ told me it a dozen times.”

“I didn’t think ya listened –remembered.” Rue tries to prop herself up on her elbows, but her arms are as weak as her legs feel. She laughs at herself. “What’s your name? You’ve never told me –and I would’ve remembered! I want to use it.”

“Nah. You can just keep callin’ me, ‘beautiful, fuckin’ bastard’.”

Rue laughs. “Is that what I said?”

“Among other things.”

She shakes her head –at him and herself– and sighs, satisfied for now. “I’ll get it out of ya.”

“Doubt it.” The beautiful, fuckin’ bastard taps at Rue’s legs. She gets the hint and draws them in, giving him the space to fall back onto the cushions without crushing her legs.

She warns, “I’m persistent.”

“You’re… somethin’.” His head tips back, and his eyes close. He breathes deep.

“A maniac.”

Rue watches the grin curve his lips. “Shut your mouth. Tryin’ to rest my eyes a spell.”

She smiles to herself, leaving him be. He put in some damn fine work and deserves a little shut eye, and goddamnit, so does she. She worked a longer than average shift, half-carried Artie across town, doctored him, and then rode a cowboy. Then the cowboy fucking rode her, and that was pure magic. ...That’s a full night after a full, damn day.

Loosing a long sigh, Rue snuggles into her couch, eyes slipping shut. The tired staved off by the excitement of the night comes creeping back up on her, doubled now with her illicit activities. Her entire body is heavy and warm and increasingly further and further away from her.

“If ya wake up ‘fore me,” she mumbles, words slipping sleepily together, “will ya put my skirt over me? I don’t want Artie seein’ my bits, and I… I can’t get dressed. Don’t wanna either.”

The answer she receives is a sharp smack on the ass that briefly lights up all her nerves and a grumbled, grumpy, “Hush.”

Rue’s last thought before she drifts off is how she would like a few more of those.

[braveclementine]

I'm Running Out of Chapter Names

Warnings: 18+readersonly, pet names, oral, daddy kink, smut, lots of angst, fluff

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs, which consist of Penny Fury, Elizabeth Nelson, Elijah Chan, Katya Venice, Violetta Moscow, Lan Le, Josh, Trang Tien, Ahni Jallow, Mai Ito, and Ghaida Kashual as well as other OCs that will come up throughout the story.

Ghaida in her bridesmaid dress at Elizabeth and Elijahs' wedding. 

🫔👩‍🎓 şŤㄖℝү 😱🥗

"Tony." Trang whined, pushing away the man hovering constantly by her side. "I'm pregnant, not handicapped or dying. I need my work space."

"Sorry." Tony retreated like a puppy with his tail between his legs, hovering at a much better distance, "I'm just worried."

"Yes, and I love that about you, but I'm fine. The lil' baby is fine. We're all fine. Now go back to your work bubs." Trang smirked, pushing her glasses up on her nose, turning back to her new project.

They were new arrows for Clint, Katya, and Kate. Inspired by Elizabeth's water, any person hit with them would turn into a cube of ice. But there were still a few kinks that had to be worked out with the firing of the tips.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty? Maybe you shouldn't be on your feet right now." Tony fretted, pacing a little.

Trang put the arrows down, turned, and walked over to Tony. She pushed him down into his chair and straddled him. Bruce looked up from his work and started to watch.

"Tony." Trang said in a warning voice. She wrapped her hand tightly around his tie. "You really, really need to be a good boy, okay?"

"Yep." Tony piped out, wrapping his arms around her waist, leaning forwards to kiss along her collarbone.

"You're being bad." But Trang laughed as he tickled her lightly, hugging him tightly. "Damnit Tony."

"I'm gonna tell Cap you said a bad word." Tony said gleefully, standing up with her in his arms, kissing her again, and then putting her down on her feet, "I am sorry about the hovering. I'm just excited."

"I know." Trang said softly, cupping his face and rubbing her thumb against his cheek. "I'm excited too Tony, but I didn't want a baby to change the way you treat me. That's all. I'm fine. Nothing's changed."

"You're gonna be a mom." Tony whispered against her hair. "Of my child. God I fucking love you."

Trang smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Now go work Tony."

"Yes momma." Tony kissed the top of her head and went back to his work station.

Bruce chuckled and went back to work as well. Trang winked at him, "Love you too Bruce."

Bruce laughed louder now and said, "Love you too Trang. I sort've love you Tony."

"Hey, feelings mutual man." Tony smirked, clapping the other male scientist on the back.

And behind the corner of the wall, a young African American girl clenched her fists in jealousy.

❌🥿 𝕡Ỗｖ 𝐜ⓗÃή𝓰ε 🦔🔭

"You're getting so big." Steve whispered. Penny was laying in his bed, the two of them alone together as Steve ran the fetoscope across her stomach, the two of them looking at the rather large baby inside of her now. "Aww he's so cute."

They didn't know the gender yet, being only roughly five-ish months now and not wanting to know until he or she was birthed. Penny still wasn't sure with names. Names were such a big responsibility. I mean, she would literally give this baby a name of which they would be called for the rest of their lives.

"Does he hurt you at all?" Steve asked in worry. "Rue kicked Elizabeth really hard when she was inside her womb. I'm sure mine will do the same."

"He doesn't kick to much." Penny said, which was true. "He's very calm so far. I'm sure later he'll kick though. But it's okay. Plus, Rue had to share room with Kisa and Mateo. This little one gets all of the room to himself." She giggled and Steve chuckled.

"I love you." Steve sighed in content, running his lips across her bump now. He kissed there sweetly and when Penny let out a soft, breathy moan, Steve smirked. He kissed lower, before slowly undoing the button of her jeans. He looked up at her through his lashes and Penny whimpered.

"You in the mood sweetheart?" Steve asked softly, slowly pulling the jeans off.

"Fuck yes." Penny fell back into the pillows as he started to touch her against her lacey lingerie.

"How do you want me to be tonight?" Steve whispered against her baby bump, kissing the mounded skin sweetly. "Demanding, sweet, loving, harsh? I don't know how you're body is feeling today so I need you to tell me."

"I want. . . a mix of sweet and demanding." Penny whispered. "I want to follow your orders, but I also need the motions to be. . . gentle today."

"Good girl. You're so good for me." Steve hummed, kissing up her thigh now, before licking a stripe through her pulsing cunt. She whined right then and there, already turned on immensely. "Oh Steve!"

"Yes, moan my name cookie." Steve mumbled against her pussy, nipping at her clit now, his large hands clenched tightly on her thighs. "I want to hear you scream when you let go now, okay? I want you to scream my name so loudly that Sammy can hear you from the roof and Bruce can hear you from the lab. Scream cookie."

His fingers pushed into her pussy, curling on her g-spot almost instantly and she arched off the bed, screaming his name till her voice felt hoarse. Black spots danced in front of her eyes and she collapsed back down on the bed, panting.

Steve hovered over her, his face amused. "Oh sweetheart. I haven't even touched you with my cock yet. If that's how you react with my fingers. . . oh cookie."

Penelope whimpered, reaching for Steve with her hands, "Please Captain? I want you inside of me."

Steve teased her clit a little longer between her fingers before he lifted her hips up. "Yes, I want to be inside of you too sweetheart. God you have such a pretty pussy. She feels like silk around me." He pushed inside, groaning, tossing his head back. "Oh you're so perfect."

"Yes." Penny sighed in pleasure, closing her eyes, tilting her head against the pillow. "Oh Stevie, that feels so so good."

"Good." Steve whispered sweetly, laying over her a little more, causing a little more pleasure. "I'm gonna roll over now, okay?"

Penny hummed and Steve rolled over so that she was now over him, sinking down on his cock a little more. Steve grabbed fistfuls of each cheek, squeezing, massaging, then spanking her a little bit. "You're gonna let me know if I spank you to hard, right cookie?" Steve asked, breathless as he continued to cup and clap her cheeks.

"Of course daddy." Penny moaned out without thinking.

Steve slapped her ass a little harder, "Daddy huh?"

Penny looked down and blushed heavily. "I- Tony-"

"No, no, don't make excuses." Steve smirked now. "It's been a while since someones called me daddy in bed." He thrusted a little harder now and Penny moaned loudly at the pleasurable feeling. "And I am gonna be a daddy aren't I? Oh yes, you can call me that again. Go on, scream it." Steve's eyes twinkled with mischief.

Steve rocked her against his hips and Penny moaned as his length stretched her walls different ways as she was rocked against him. "Oh fuck! Fuck! St- Daddy!" She collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily as her body spasmed over his.

"Oh fuck." Steve shouted, cock twitching inside of her at the nickname. "Shit cookie. Oh!" He spilled into her almost immediately, burying his face in her neck.

The two of them recovered after a moment and Steve groaned, lifting her off of him slowly. "Shit sweetheart, did I hurt you?" He asked, touching her burning ass. "Shit!" he sat up, looking panicked.

Penny quickly grabbed his arm. "It felt amazing Steve. It didn't hurt at all, I swear. I loved it."

Steve relaxed, dipping down to capture her lips. She kissed back fiercely, wishing she had more strength to take control of the kiss. Steve pulled away slowly. "Do you want me to run you a bath or do you just want me to grab you a washcloth?"

"Washcloth." Penny mumbled, snuggling against him, wrapping her limbs around him like an octopus. "Already sleepy."

"Sleep cookie." Steve kissed the side of her head and smiled as she fell asleep.

🐾😨 ℙσ𝐯 ᑕħ𝒶ⓝＧє 🔬🥘

"Hey Elijah?" Elizabeth asked quietly. He paused, not having seen her where she was sitting, looking out the window of her bedroom at New York. He walked over to where she was, sitting down next to her.

"Yes, Milady?"

"The others are all pregnant, right?" She asked, looking over at him now. "Like, they got pregnant at the same time?"

"Yes. Loki and Thor did a fertility spell. I guess it was only supposed to be for Trang but. . . well I'm not sure how it traveled. But yes, everyone is pregnant from it." Elijah said. He smiled a little. "Natasha is probably happiest of them all. She couldn't have kids before."

Elizabeth nodded and then asked, "Was this before I died?"

He sucked in his breath and then said slowly, "Yes. Yes, they conceived before. . . but they didn't find out until a few weeks ago."

"That's why I'm not pregnant." Elizabeth sighed. "I lost my baby when I died, didn't I?"

"We don't know that you were pregnant." Elijah said. "There is always a-"

"Don't lie." Elizabeth sighed. "Every woman in this building is pregnant, even ones that couldn't have children because their reproductive organs were taken out, or had their tubes tied like Sharon."

Elijah blinked, "Run that last bit by me again? You know Sharon?"

"No her name was in the book. I don't really know who she is though." Elizabeth responded.

"Ah, you've been reading Ghaida's book." He murmured.

"Yeah. It's interesting." Elizabeth shrugged. She was quiet for a moment and then said, "So I had to be. Whose child was he?"

Elijah sighed, "Do you really want to know?"

"I have to." Elizabeth said.

"I don't know." Elijah said. "But Viden knows. . . if you ask him. If you really want to know. But Elizabeth. . . if you look into this. . . you're going to be upset. And make sure before you ask that you know you can handle the answer."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed- not the golden colour that Ghaida's did- but a lime green colour. And then the tears started to spill.

🐉🤼‍♂️ ⓅỖ𝐯 𝓒ⓗᗩｎｇє ⭕️🩹

Penelope was a little sore when she sat down and ate her dinner. Steve kept smirking when she would occasionally shift around in her seat. She kept playfully glaring at him.

Elijah seemed upset over something, looking down at his food and not really eating it. She wished that she could comfort him, but no one was interacting with him as he had asked not to be. So she wouldn't push his boundaries.

Sam and Bucky were on one side of the dinner table, laughing with Clint and Rhodey as they drank and told jokes.

Elizabeth suddenly came in, making a beeline straight for Sam. She just climbed on his lap, burying her face into his shirt, and burst into quiet tears. Everyone stared at her in surprise. Penny wasn't sure that she had seen Elizabeth with anyone so affectionately before since the. . . accident except for Elijah. Oh and Bucky one day but she hadn't been well that day.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?" Sam asked, trying to pull her back a little to see her face.

"I'm sorry." She hiccupped softly, but wouldn't lift her head.

Everyone then looked, bewildered, at Elijah. Penny saw he just looked even more depressed than before, glumly just staring at Elizabeth's back. He caught Penny's eye and sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"She asked Viden whose child she was pregnant with before she died." Elijah whispered quietly, as though hoping Elizabeth wouldn't hear.

Steve got up, moving over to put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Twins." Elijah muttered. "One each."

Penny didn't look over at the super soldiers, not wanting to see any of their pain on their faces. But she couldn't help it, and peaked. Sam, Bucky, and Steve all looked like their hearts had just broken, and they probably had.

"I'm sorry." Elizabeth whimpered again.

Sam stood up, carrying her in his arms and the four of them left the room. Penny got up too and went over to Elijah. She put her hand lightly on top of his. He turned his hand upwards to lace their fingers together, but didn't look at her.

"Are you okay?"

"I feel helpless." He sighed. "I can't do anything to help her. I can't. . . I don't know. I can't reverse time."

"How'd she find out anyways?" Penny asked.

"She just put two and two together. Everyone being pregnant including Natasha meant she should've been pregnant. But the date was before the death. . . so she kind've knew. And now she's also connected to Viden so. . . " Elijah shrugged. He glanced over at her, "Do you want to stay in my room tonight?"

Penny smiled a little. "Sure."

He led her to a different room that was very clearly Elijah's. Posters of different parts of Hong Kong, glass frames that held different bird feathers- each one clearly labelled. There was a small bookcase that had mostly bird books on it, also small figurines of carved birds. There was a pair of binoculars on the shelf, along with two different kinds of cameras.

There was a map of the world up against another wall, different coloured push pins in it, with small labels of which birds he hadn't seen yet and where they were. There was a large binder that was open to a page. There were polaroid pictures in it, of birds he had caught in the wild. There were also sketch books lined neatly in a box, loose scraps of paper showing pencil drawings of birds.

Penny looked over at Elijah. The slightly awkward way of which he was standing, as though waiting for a judgment call meant that she was probably one of the few people to ever be in his room.

"So you like birds?" Penny teased, carefully turning a page in the binder. There was a small journal beside it, listing all sorts of attributes for different birds. What they ate, scientific names, where they lived, what their nests looked like, their predators, their different colours, even strange put together words for what their different calls sounded like.

"I love them. Have, ever since I was a little boy." Elijah said quietly. "There's something about being in the sky, being free. Without being in an airplane or an Iron man suit. I sort've get to experience it. Mai did, Elizabeth can sort've, Katya and Sam also sort've. But Lan. . . Lan had it. His descriptions were amazing, the way he described flying. Sometimes. . . I wish I could fly like that."

Penny looked over at him, "Do you ever wish that you could just. . . fly away?"

Elijah looked up at the ceiling and Penny glanced up. The ceiling had been painted to look almost 3-D. With blue sky and white fluffy clouds that looked as though you could actually go behind them. "Steve did them." Elijah said when he saw Penny had looked up too. "For me." He sat down on his bed.

"There were times I did wish I could fly away from everything. But it wouldn't solve anything." Elijah said. "And are things difficult now? Yes. But weren't they always? Yes. And do I love the people closest to me enough that I wouldn't fly even if I could? Yes."

He lifted his shirt up over his head, tossing it in the hamper. It was the second time that Penny had seen him bare and she looked at the cheetah tattoo that was sprawled across his chest. He touched it unconsciously. "I love her, you know. More than anything in the world. She's so. . . confused. And hurt. She can't understand her emotions and even when she does she doesn't know why she feels a certain way. And I can't help her. Not really."

"Are you. . . upset that she's turned to others?"

"No." Elijah said firmly. "But I'm upset that she doesn't understand that things that happen to her, aren't her fault. That losing the twins in her wasn't her fault. She had no idea she was pregnant, had no idea she was going to die. I should've kept her home. I should've. . ."

"How were you supposed to know?" Penny asked, sitting next to him. "She didn't know, you didn't know. The only one that would know is Ghaida and she didn't ask. She didn't think to ask. You say Elizabeth shouldn't blame herself, but neither should you."

"I'm supposed to protect her."

"You're supposed to love her." Penny corrected. "But you can't shelter her every step of the way either."

Elijah was quiet for a moment and then said, "It didn't stop there. Her asking Viden about what she lost. She asked about her past. Kept asking and asking. She found out about the rapes and she's just. . ." He broke. Sobbing into his hands.

Penny pulled him into her, letting him cry into her. "I can't. . . I don't know how to do this! It wasn't supposed to be me!"

"It's okay." Penny whispered softly, both startled and sad as he cried in her arms. Even when he lost his best friends, lost Elizabeth, he hadn't broken down like this. His tears had been stoic, had been silent. Now he was like a child, unable to stop the waterfall. "It's okay."

"I'm not supposed to be alive." Elijah sobbed. "It was supposed to be Lan. It was. . . "

Penny hugged him tightly, just holding him until he'd worn himself out. When he had, he sat up, clearing his throat, scooching off the bed and going to the bathroom. When he came back, she saw he had washed his face with a washcloth.

He cleared his throat again, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize." Penny said softly, reaching out hesitantly to touch the ends of his hair. He leaned into her touch and she cupped his face, "Elijah, you're human. You're allowed to feel this way, you're allowed to show your emotions this way."

"I'm supposed to be a man." Elijah sighed. "The strong one. How can I be that, do that, when I break down like that? That's not who I am, human or not."

Penny smiled a little in understanding. "It shows you care about her. It shows that you do love her more than anyone else in your life. It's okay Elijah, I'm not going to judge you or think less of you because you showed emotions."

Elijah looked at her then, "You know that when I say I love Elizabeth more than anything in the world, I still love you too right? It doesn't mean-"

"Elijah." Penny put her hand over his. "I know that. We can't love everyone equally, we're always going to have favorites. I mean. . . okay don't tell them I said this but I love both Violetta and Katya. . . but I love Violetta more. But I still love Katya, you know?"

"Exactly." Elijah said softly and then started to smirk, "I know who you love the most though."

"Who?" Penny said, smirking because he was never going to guess it. The one she loved the most, the one at the top of her list was someone she almost never got to sleep with. But she loved him the most.

"Rhodey." Elijah smirked, opening his eyes to see the stunned look on her face, "Am I right?"

"H-how- no way- how did you-" Penny blushed bright red.

Elijah chuckled, "I admit, it was a bit surprising considering the two of you don't interact to much. But I have a few guesses. One, I think he reminds you of the character that your father has. Some of the same personality traits. Two, he's extremely sweet. He's really your ideal lover based on your type. And three, you're attracted to African American men first. So him, Sam, Heimdall, and T'Challa are all at the top of your list. And I bet if you'd known Josh a little longer he would have climbed up there as well."

Penny's face was burning as he said all of this and she covered her face with her hands, "Oh God, am I really that obvious?"

"No. I don't think Rhodey knows, whether that's good or bad news to you. I'm just extremely observant." Elijah said. He paused and then added, "I also went to college for psychology so there's that."

Penny laughed nervously. "I just, I did think it was a little weird, loving Rhodey the most when I barely interacted with him."

"You're not weird, it's not weird." Elijah reassured her, turning off the light and covering both of them with the sheets. "And listen, if you want more time with Rhodey, his Wednesdays and Sundays are always free. I can even help you out."

Penny buried her face into his chest. "What if he doesn't like me like that though?"

Elijah snorted, "Then he's a dumbass."

"I think he likes Elizabeth better." Penny said uncertainly.

"So? Who cares?" Elijah asked and then chuckled, "It's not like he's your only man Penelope. But if it makes you feel any better, he really does like you. He has been looking for more time to spend with you, he just has been busy with the army. Same with Stephen and the Sanctorum. Want my advice? Tomorrow is Wednesday, so spend it with Rhodey. And when Stephen gets back from his mission, go spend some time with him. I think you'll feel better about everything."

"You should be a psychologist." Penny muttered.

"Good to know." Elijah laughed, putting his arm around her, holding her to him. "Goodnight sunshine."

"Good night hotstuff." Penny smirked into his chest.

"Oh you're definitely paying for that nickname later." Elijah whispered and Penny shivered as she fell asleep.

🫕🦷 ᑭ𝑜𝕍 ｃĦ𝔸ηĞⒺ 🛫🩺

Sams' heart was hurting. A lot.

He, Steve, and Bucky had retired back to Steve's room- which at this point was basically all three of them room- and he was rocking back and forth with Elizabeth in his arms. She wasn't exactly sobbing, though sometimes as she tried to speak, the crying would make it incomprehensible to hear her through her hics.

"Sugar." He whispered softly, "Sugar please look at me."

Elizabeth looked at him with watery eyes. Steve and Bucky sat on either side of him, both looking lost and concerned. Neither of them knowing how to help.

"Please tell me why you're so upset." Sam whispered. He could understand, to an extent. That she had been pregnant with twins. One his, one Buckys. But to apologize to him? And it wasn't like it was her fault she had been killed. No one had known she was pregnant and she hadn't been the only one. Mai had been pregnant too, with Visions child and she was still dead.

"B-because I- I lost y- your child." Elizabeth hiccupped, not crying at the moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't- I didn't- I didn't-"

"Doll." Bucky whispered softly, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Doll calm down. It's. . . it's not your fault. It's okay, alright? We're not mad at you because you didn't do anything. It's not like you wanted to die. And you didn't know you were pregnant."

Sam had stilled and Elizabeth was now rocking back and forth herself, looking uncertain. "B-But I lost them. I'm sorry!"

She dissolved into tears again. Sam noticed she couldn't even look at Steve and Sam gave Steve a raised eyebrow. Steve moved then, taking Elizabeth out of his arms. Steve curled Elizabeth into his chest, smoothing her hair back from his face. "I'm sorry." Elizabeth whimpered out, covering her eyes with her fists. "I'm sorry."

"Cookie." Steve whispered softly. "Why won't you look at me?"

"I don't want you to be mad at me. I'm so sorry." Elizabeth wailed. "I didn't want to lose the children."

"God cookie, I know that." Steve said softly. "Cookie, please look at me."

Her red eyes burned his heart. He inhaled deeply and cupped her face, "You're scared of me."

She shook her head vehemently, squeezing her eyes shut.

Sam exchanged a look with Bucky, who just looked lost.

Slowly, Steve asked, "Did Ghaida's book tell you that I would be mad at you?"

Elizabeth hesitated and then nodded, "I-It- the book- it had a page about s-someone named Sharon C-Carter. And that the two of y-you were having a baby. And you were mad at h-her because she l-lost it. A-A-And I don't want you to be-be-be mad a-a-a-a-t me for l-losing J-J-James and S-s-s-Sams' kids." Her sobs were frantic so that she could barely get the last few words out.

Steve sweetly kissed her cheek slowly and said, "I will never be mad at you cookie. Sharon was different. . . she didn't lose my child, like the way you did. You didn't mean it. You didn't know you were pregnant or you would have protected them and stayed home. You didn't mean to die and lose them. Yours was an accident. But Sharon's was on purpose."

"She killed her child?" Elizabeth's eyes went round with fear, shrinking down a little.

"Not in the way you're probably thinking." Bucky said quickly. "The child wasn't born yet, she was still in Sharon's womb. But there's this thing now that's called abortion. And it's where a woman can go in and the doctor will. . . well I'll skip the gruesome parts, but ultimately it kills the baby inside."

Elizabeth's eyes startled the three of them as they went from brown to a flat lime green. She said softly, "Planned Parenthood was a clinic established in black communities by Margaret Singer in 1916 in New York as part of the Ku Klux Klan to try and stop the black population from growing. Abortion is considered healthcare and is pushed by Feminists to encourage women to climb the corporate ladder." She blinked, her eyes returning to brown.

"Sounds about right." Sam muttered darkly.

"Why do your eyes turn green?" Bucky asked in interest, hoping to turn conversation to a lighter topic. And also if Elizabeth was distracted, she wouldn't be upset anymore.

"Viden said that every human has an aurora around them that we can't see." Elizabeth said, Buckys' wishes coming true as she was almost smiling now. "And that aurora would be our scent if we could do magic. And my scent is lime, so my eyes turn the colour of limes. Ghaida's eyes turn gold because her scent is oranges."

"Interesting." Steve looked dumbstruck. "Although I don't understand the magic part."

"It's based on a book series called The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel. Or really, the author got the idea from Viden. He was. . . an auraling." Elizabeth said softly, eyes fluttering as she started to feel fatigued. All of the crying had clearly tuckered her out.

"Do you want to stay with us tonight?" Steve asked softly.

Elizabeth hesitated, hands clutching the front of Steve's shirt, "You're not. . . you're not-"

"I know this could be to soon." Steve whispered softly, cupping her cheek, "Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, maybe it's to soon, maybe I'll scare you away. . . but I'm not mad Elizabeth. I. . . I love you. And I know that you barely know me, I get that. But you're so sweet and I know your past self and I know you're beating yourself up over something you can't control, something that you can't blame yourself before. And I want to reassure you that I will never be mad at you, never hate you, because I love you."

Bucky's eyes were wide behind Elizabeth's back and Sam had frozen like a deer in headlights. Steve's heart immediately started pounding in his chest at their reactions. He felt that he had said the wrong thing now.

Slowly, Elizabeth whispered, "I liked hearing you say that. It made me. . . happy."

Steve relaxed, feeling like he'd just had a rush and now he had come down from it. He tilted her chin towards him. "Doll, may I kiss you?"

Elizabeth didn't answer, leaning forwards and kissing him first, her eyes closed. He kissed her gently, tasting lime on her lips and he nearly chuckled. He pulled away slowly, not wanting to overwhelm or push her.

"I- I think I love you too." Elizabeth whispered, though she looked uncertain. "But I- I'm not sure about my emotions. I don't always. . ."

"It's okay." Steve interrupted calmly. "You don't have to worry about that cookie. Just let me love you and if you ever feel the same, then you can let me know. But you don't have to push it. I don't ever want to make you unhappy."

Elizabeth slowly got off of him, looking at Bucky. "Can I- May I kiss. . . you?"

"Of course doll." Bucky smiled, gently cupping her cheek. Steve relaxed into the pillows as they both kissed. Bucky sucked on her bottom lip a little, before releasing her and she looked a little dazed as she pulled away.

Elizabeth turned to Sam, blushing now, "Sammy?"

"Yes sugar?"

"Is it okay if I. . . are you alright if I kiss you too?"

"More than alright sugar." Sam grinned, closing his eyes as he felt her soft lips against his. She kissed him a little longer than the other two, now that she was a little more confident, although she was still blushing like fire as she pulled away.

Then she climbed under the covers, clutching tightly to Steve and Sam's shirts with her hands, her leg resting against Bucky.

Steve and Sam cuddled her as Bucky got out of bed, turning off the light, and then laying down by her legs.

"Good night Sugar."

"Good night Sammy. Good night James. Good night Stevie." Elizabeth mumbled sleepily.

"Good night doll." Bucky and Steve replied together, and then the four of them fell asleep. 

[pleasejustfuckinghugme]

Forever

episode one pt. one (word count: 928)

jacobs!oc x fezco

warnings: mentions of abuse and attempted rape, crude language

none of these characters are my own except for my oc

i saw a fic where the italics were rue’s narration so i stole that idea. credits to whoever came up with that. please send good vibes because i am new and have no clue what i’m doing lol

Nancy’s relationship with her brother was complicated. They didn’t talk often. If you were to ask their friends the two simply avoided each other at all costs. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence in the Jacobs’ household; Nate and his father got along just fine, and most likely said about two words to each other a week. But when the twins did talk to each other, if you were in the room, you had a front row ticket to a UFC match. Growing up among the same people for eighteen years of your life allows you to learn a couple of things, and I know that all the times that Nate, Nancy , and their father spent with each other, tiptoeing around secret romances and conflicting morals was never going to get a happy ending. At some point, the thinning ice that the Jacobs family treaded on was bound to break.

The cool breeze was refreshing as Nancy rode her bike down the slick, black pavement. Her hair flew behind her, still tangled and sticking up on the back of her scalp, and the dark circles under her eyes were in stark contrast to her bright green orbs. The wind was nipping at her skin, and it caused her nose to turn a light shade of pink.

Up ahead, a tiny gas station peaked from over the trees, and her heart began to beat just a little faster in her chest. Maybe she shouldn’t have come; this really was not a good idea. But she knew what Aaron was like when he didn’t get his drugs, and she refused to let herself deal with his bullshit during her final weekend before school started back up. Now she was here, at the renowned gas station, to buy drugs. Not how she thought her Saturday morning would go.

When she skidded to a stop in front of the store, she noticed a man sitting in the garage. He hadn’t seen her, his eyes focused on the phone in his hand. Taking her headphones out of her ears, she wandered over to him. Her hands were damp, and she rubbed the sweat off on her oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she croaked, before clearing her throat. “Fezco, right?” She glanced over to him but still trained her eyes on her fingers which fumbled with the hem of her shirt. He looked up at her, cool blue eyes tracing down her frame. This caused her to become even more self conscious; in her haste to get out of the house, she hadn’t even brushed her hair, and she still wore her pajamas.

“Yeah,” he replied coolly. His eyes locked on hers when she finally looked at him again. “What d’ya need, kid?”

“I’m, uh, looking for Ashtray?” she replied.

“He in da back over there.” Fezco pointed into the small gas station over by the drinks. As Nancy turned around to leave, his voice stopped her. “What ya need to see him for?”

This question caused her eyebrows to furrow as she turned to face him again. Why else would she be needing to see the ten year old except for some weed or whatever? When their pupils met, the man cocked up an eyebrow, clearly amused by the shocked expression on her face.

“Kid you ain’t in trouble I was jus’ wonderin’,” he said. “I ain’t ever seen you buyin’ drugs before. Jus’ Nate.”

Nancy rolled her eyes at that. Nate wasn’t exactly addicted to drugs like Aaron, but he was still a douche about every other week when he didn’t get his dose of weed. She knew that he would most likely throw a hissy fit if he knew she was at the station buying drugs, so she quickly mumbled to Fez, “Hey, please don't tell him I was here.”

The man laughed, eyes never leaving her figure.

His amused demeanor caused Nancy to shift uncomfortably on her feet. She could feel her cheeks starting to heat up, and she held her head down trying to hide it from him.

“Look, um,” she stuttered out. Her hands dug down into her pockets, and she fumbled out a crumpled up sticky note. She opened it up and handed it to him. “My other brother just wants me to get this stuff for him. I really don’t know what any of it means.”

Fezco stood up and shuffled over to her, taking the note. He nodded his head, looking up at her again. “Lemme get this stuff for ya, stay there.”

About five minutes later he came back out of the building, holding a plastic grocery bag in his hands. “Here ya go. Ya got da money for it?”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Nancy handed it over to him and apologized.

“Nah, you good, kid,” he reassured.

They looked at each other for a moment, and Nancy could feel her heart racing in her chest from his eyes gazing straight into hers. She knew that he was very handsome, he held a soft look on his face at all times which complemented his baby blue eyes. Rue talked about him quite often, and from what Nancy had heard, he was a sweet guy. Drugs were just his way of surviving after dropping out of high school. She gave him a soft smile, blood rushing to her cheeks when he returned it.

“Thank you, for this,” she held up the bag. “You saved my ass.”

He snorted, “No problem. I’ll see ya around?”

“Yeah,” she smiled at him again, hopping on top of her bike and riding away.

[ashengrottoes]

so uh. ships for my ocs huh

i’ve been sort of stewing on these for a while because i dunno. i just didn’t want to say anything bc im an idiot but all i can say is that these weren’t. supposed to happen. i just kind of toss ocs places and see what happens and then maybe somewhere along the way it hits me that uh. maybe there’s something else going on here. they’re with canon characters and somehow i dont think it’ll be surprising which ones they are considering my biases are p clear. so here’s some sketches and a bit of exposition to kind of explain things and describe the relationship itself. yeah. so here goes.

This is likely going to be a lot of exposition so i’m gonna put all of it below the cut. Don’t like this sort of thing? Just keep scrolling thanks. also the images are sketches because im tired leave me alone

Larghetta and Azul

Legit. How. How the fuck. I mean I know y’all are experienced with Azul’s behavior but Larg is very close to being a pretty drastic opposite considering he’s pretty restrained and usually does not like being touched (I personally view Azul as a very hands-on/touchy-feely person). They’re both pretty smart so I kind of saw them butting heads over a fair bit of stuff but also having a degree of respect for one another?? Especially considering they’re coworkers. But I guess nOT so here’s this. Where do I start. Ah yes. It legit took Azul like. Four months to properly ask Larghetta out because he does that thing where he skirts around the point and Larghetta is romantically stupid so you need to be straight to the point with him about this kind of stuff or he’ll miss it entirely. It was bad. The eels had fun making fun of Azul. After the fact they’re.....surprisingly soft?? Larg still shows absolutely no mercy during work hours but afterwards he’s fine with some quiet time with cuddles and maybe some tea or coffee. Gives his attention whore of a boyfriend the attention he wants through a lot of verbal affection and maybe a few kisses. Azul is a lot more physical because he just likes touching and doing things like playing with Larg’s hair and hugging onto him. Sneak-attack hugs/kisses are a thing with these two, as well as kind of cute notes with doodles handed off between classes and some sappy texts. It’s a kind of love through really enjoying each other’s company and being able to do things like discuss all sorts of stuff in depth.

As a funny side-note when Larg off-handedly mentioned he had a boyfriend for the first time, people automatically assumed that the boyfriend was Jade. It surprised a lot of people when they found out it was Azul.

Rue and Jade

This one is a little bit more understandable, but Rue was really just supposed to be everyone’s mom and not actually have any sort of romantic fixings on anyone. Unfortunately for me I forgot Jade is also mom and as a result these two ended up on sort of the same wavelength. This has resulted in awkward mutual feelings for one another but neither acting of them because of the seemingly inevitable idea that Rue will eventually have to return home. They don’t talk about that fact either. They just sit down and talk about random things or talk about plants and definitely try to ignore the fact that they’d like to be more than friends. floyd hates this and likes to accuse of them of “eating face” when all they’re going is having a conversation over tea.

Well. That’s all of this. Idk you’re welcome to ask about it more if you wish?? Just be courteous, ect thanks.

[notasapleasure]

Lymond fic: Quaint mirrors and perspectives

For WIP Wednesday...I am pleased to announce I have one fewer WIP!

Setting: Post-Checkmate, broadly the same headcanons as the last fic I wrote, but it doesn’t deal with stuff that happened in Checkmate at all, so spoiler-free Characters: Francis Crawford, Philippa Somerville, Kuzúm, OCs (Crawford children) Relationships: Francis/Philippa, with parental fluff Rating: G Wordcount: 2,505 (this is short for me...)

Minor angst leads to father/daughter bonding.

---

One wing of the family clustered at the top of the stone steps, facing into the swirling, playful spring wind. The other group gathered around their horses, checking girths and saddlebags, ensuring that nothing and no one had been left behind. Philippa was already mounted on the stout-boned cob she favoured, the blue veil of her headdress caught by the breeze and returning the waves of Sibylla, Richard and his family. She watched her husband pace between the other mounts like the commander of armies he had been, arraying his troops.

Francis stroked the flanks of horses and the heads of children as he circled them. His fine, long hands, yellow-pale from the chill air, closed flapping buckles and tightened cords on caps and sleeves.

Without need of Francis's help, Kuzúm mounted with a bound, swinging his long, silk-hosed leg over the back of his horse and looking up to smile with immediate pride at Sibylla. His close-cropped golden hair shone like an August stubble field, and Philippa sighed at the girlish sweep of his nose and his round cheeks. He looked more like his mother than his father, and it made her rue that girl's fate - Kuzúm fast approached the age at which she had died.

Still Philippa would always think of him as hers, even though his background grew clearer each day, so she could no longer even imagine he was Francis's. And despite it all - the stop and start of family life - stolen and replaced, saved, abandoned and saved again - he was a sweet boy, retiring and soft-spoken, if sometimes uncertain. He was, without fault, kind to the other children, and he worked diligently to master interests that did not always come easily to him. He had a place in their family that would never be taken from him.

Francis now hoisted their eldest, Diccon, to his saddle and checked his stirrups and spurs, a hand on his son's knee as he spoke smilingly up to him. Their ash blond hair was pushed across their pale brows by the wind and for a moment Philippa thought they made a strange mirror of one another: Francis's innocent smile and Diccon's small frown of concentration. Both turned to her suddenly, and she knew she was being spoken of when grins flashed beneath round brown eyes and heavy-lidded blue alike.

Next, Francis turned to the smallest, Gideon, who was only just out of his dresses and sat on the grass plucking at the new breeches his Auntie Mariotta had stitched for him. Francis offered him an open palm and Gideon took it with two greedy hands, pulling himself to his feet with the unsteady, ungainly slowness of the very old and the very young. His father walked him patiently to his own pony and raised him, his feet cycling in the air, up above the saddle and down. Here, Francis took extra care arranging the small boy's hands on the reins, settling his feet in the stirrups and securing the padded cap on his head. He brought Gideon's pony to Philippa and passed the lead-rein to her hands.

"How is she?" Philippa nodded her chin at the last of their party, the girl Sibyl, who stood despondent and shy by her own steed.

"She'll ride with me," Francis told her.

The worry in his voice was a subtle, thrumming thing, but Philippa heard it and felt it wound her own heart as surely as Sibyl's mood wounded Francis. She stroked his cheek and he raised his face to her. "It's probably nothing, my dear. You know how hurt she is when the cat won't play with her or the ducks aren't on the pond as they should be. The ride will soon bring her cheer."

Francis smiled for her, but his eyes did not seem to believe the gesture of his lips. "We shall see."

Philippa bent to kiss him, a lingering thing that said all it ever needed to: come home quickly, come home safely. I love you. Riding together or apart, it always meant the same thing: it was a silent vow they renewed on every journey. Francis's cold hands, one covering her own fingers, the other on her cheek, slipping behind hair and headdress and collar, tightened in response.

She watched him walk back to Sibyl, drawing himself into a heroic swagger for her sake: sapphire hose and feathered cap gleaming beneath the bright sky, arms swinging before he brought his palms together to rouse enthusiasm.

Their daughter had been thoughtful and silent all morning, drawn inward and disinterested in all but when they were going home. Philippa was inclined to let her have her space, suspecting a minor disappointment that could be aired more comfortably at home. But Francis could not tolerate these quiet phases: they made anxiety itch across his thoughts, they made him impatient with the need to find out what must be done, how it could be helped. He would cheer Sibyl on the ride or Philippa would have to deal with them both on the homecoming.

-

Francis returned to where Sibyl waited with her pony, her fingers toying among the clumps of its messy mane. She summoned a bonny smile for him, dimples punctuating her smooth cheeks, but the effort to dispel her wistful mood could not fool her father. Too well did he know that expression.

Better practiced at hiding his unease, Francis returned her smile and gave her pony's white blaze a stroke. "Shall you leave your palfreye and lepe vpon a stede covered in maile, lady?"

Sibyl looked up at her father's mount and her eyes went round. "Can I ride her, Da? Really?"

"If you'll consent for me to ride pillion - I don't think your young Djinn would appreciate taking my grand heft in return."

Sibyll nodded solemnly up at him, but a new sparkle of excitement had entered into her eyes. She hoisted her golden skirts and scampered over to Francis's mare, a long-legged dark bay who had to curve her proud neck and lower her nose to let the girl stroke it. Podargos had a velveteen muzzle, pink as Sibyl's round cheeks, and it wrinkled inquisitively at her touch.

Kuzúm took Djinn's reins from the man who had raised him, who had saved him, and he smiled at Francis's word of gratitude.

Francis arranged a roll of cloth across the pommel of Podargos's saddle and set Sibyl upon it, her heels kicking at the air above the animal's shoulder blades. He pulled himself up afterwards with leather squeaking and buckles jangling and called to Philippa to ride on. He wrapped his arms protectively about his daughter's body and smiled at the feeling of her head rocking against his chest.

In front of them Kuzúm and Diccon rode side-by-side, chatting in their high, melodious voices. Sibyl held the reins in her small fists and looked about herself in the early part of the journey, searching for the source of birdsong in hedgerows and trees, chattering about the names of the hills they passed and what they meant. Francis answered her questions and contributed to her stories, quietly, contentedly, waiting until her pride allowed her to mention what had been troubling her.

Sibyl at last fell silent as they travelled through a blustery valley, tucking her chin into her fur collar. Francis's long fingers swept around the edges of her bonnet, capturing the stray buttermilk curls that straggled free and pressing them beneath her cap. He hummed a song that was snatched away almost immediately by the wind; Sibyl only really recognised its refrain because of the way the sound vibrated between them, through his sternum and ribs against her back.

Finally, when she thought he might hear her but no one else would, she turned her face up to her father. The underside of his chin glittered with blond stubble in shallow dimple and shadowed hollows.

"Da?"

"Mm?" he said lightly, his lips curving as he bowed to plant a kiss on her upturned forehead.

"I think I did something wrong."

His smile did not falter, and his eyes were the same changeable blue as the sky above. Sibyl knew he could get angry - he got angry with muddy men in their courtyard, with men bearing parchment and messages, with the mention of certain names - like Lennox. When he was angry he went as pale as milk, cold as Jack Frost on the windowpanes. He wasn't angry now, but still she hesitated.

"Tell me, Sibyl sage, I shall not betray your confidence," he spoke softly, his head bent to her, his arms about her, like he was a great tree enfolding her small form, or a bird mantling protectively over its nest. Beneath them, Podargos glided along in her steady gait, her withers rippling beneath Sibyl's hands, her mane ready for her worrying fingers to wind in.

Sibyl chewed her lip. "I made Mamó unhappy. And Uncle Richard."

He blinked. "I don't believe it," he said, but his voice slipped away in the wind.

She nodded confirmation, her eyes round and very clear blue. "Yes. I did. They were very sad to see me. I saw Mamó cry."

Francis's expression seemed to move beyond his control then, a tingling shock spreading through his features. He looked up at the others riding ahead and reined Podargos to a halt before meeting Sibyl's eyes again. His smile was uneven and he could not hide the slight trembling in his body from her. "Mamó was not sad to see you, daughter. She was full of cheer - it has been so long since our last visit."

"She looked at me and I made her sad," Sibyl asserted. Her lozenge-shaped face was rounded by the white cotton cap, cheeks protruding pink in the wind, freckled nose pale and mouth serious.

He studied her stubborn gaze, the lines at his eyes creasing with rueful emotion. It would not be shut down, this concern of hers, and he must tell her that she had done no wrong. But his jaw worked silently for longer than he intended, and he was sorry to leave her staring up at him, waiting for him to speak some words of relief.

"That was not your fault, my love," Francis swallowed and raised his head to let the wind dry the film on his eyes. He blinked at the group of riders ahead and urged Podargos to move off again, lest the distance between them and the rest of the family grow too great.

His arms tightened on her frame and he scanned the countryside for the words he wanted. "Sibyl, do you know that your Uncle Richard and I once had a sister at home with us?"

She had a clear view of the feeling that tightened and moved in his throat, and the taut notes of his voice made her sombre and reverent. She shook her head and he felt it against his arm and body.

He sighed. "I had two sisters, in fact. But I must tell you about the one who grew up here at Midculter. My bonny baby sister."

He took one hand from the reins and looked down at Sibyl with an expression very similar to the one her Mamó and her Uncle had worn, and she quailed a little with worry until he made his grin broad and tapped her nose with a cold finger. "My little sister Eloise had a wee button nose." He stroked her brow with his thumb. "She was terrible serious. But her laugh was like blackbird song when it was won. And Richard and I competed to win it from her every day."

Sibyl's bow-curved lips pressed into a determined, encouraging smile. There was more he was going to tell her, but his silence now seemed to invite her, wanting to be tested like a deep well wants to be tested - to have its secrets gauged by falling pebbles.

"Eloise is a pretty name," she said quietly.

"Yes," Francis agreed. "When she laughed her cheeks dimpled," he pressed his finger into Sibyl's cheek gently. "And she had blue eyes and yellow hair." He sighed and looked up, and again Sibyl saw him struggle between speech and silence. "She'd cheer the storms off the seas and - " he swallowed whatever else he had been about to say. "And we all miss her very much."

Sibyl leaned against him and released one of her fists from the reins to force her little hand into his. "What happened to her, Da?"

"She died when she was quite young. An accident of war."

It was Sibyl's turn to sigh as Francis bent over her one more, stretching his lips to her forehead. "Your Ma never knew her, nor did Auntie. But Mamó and Richard remember her very well - and I suspect that they remembered her more clearly when they saw you today, my dear."

Sibyl stared ahead, her pensive frown aimed at Podargos's flickering black ears. After a while, she took a deep breath, expanding in her father's hold. "If...if it makes them sad, why don't we colour my hair like you did when you went to the Queen's party?"

Francis's brows flew up and he bit back a disbelieving chuckle: he had not been at the Queen's party with soot in his hair and Spanish fashions on his body. The disguise had been for a different journey entirely. But, he reflected, it was a relief that Sibyl remembered the lie.

"Eloise's loss makes them sad. But your presence brings them joy, Sibyl. Do not confuse the two."

They rode in silence, Francis listening to Sibyl's breath and Sibyl thinking on this new information. Eventually she stretched her face up towards him again, a plea in her eyes.

"Da?"

Francis's heart turned in his chest. He looked at her candid blue eyes and he knew that he would give her anything she asked for, without thought or hesitation.

"Can we go faster?"

A grin blossomed on his face. He drew the reins tight and gripped her close to him. Podargos straightened her neck as she felt her rider adjust his seat: legs lengthening, weight settling. At the softest command she floated, feather-like, into a long-paced canter. Sibyl shrieked with laughing glee, her father wrapped tight about her as they sped past the boys and their mounts, spraying clods of mud in their wake.

Philippa watched them thunder past, Francis's black cloak and lemon-yellow hair whipping in the wind, Sibyl's golden skirts sparkling like a lady's kerchief on her champion's saddle. The melancholy had passed, then. She smiled crookedly at the sight of them slowing and wheeling about at a junction on the road, Podargos's hooves crunching on gravel as she tossed her head. The joyful voice of Philippa and Francis's daughter rippled across the air, mingling with the hard-won sound of Francis's own incautious glee. It sounded, to Philippa, like nothing less than home.

[pikablob]

Fic Masterpost

It’s been a while since I did one of these, so here’s my so-far posted list of all my fics. Enjoy!

Owl House:

We’re Family Now (T, Luz & Eda & King, Nonbinary Luz, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Adoption, tw: NBphobia) “When Luz's mother refuses to accept her for who she is, Eda and King become the family she desperately needs.”

All The Little Lights (G, Luz/Willow, Soft Fluff, gift for @witchesbeforewizards) “After a long day of school, Willow finds a surprise visitor waiting for her.”

Bruises (T, Amity & Lilith, Hurt/Comfort, Adoption, tw: Child Abuse, Description of Bruises) “When she discovers the abuse Amity's suffering at home, Lilith steps in to give her apprentice the loving household she deserves.”

Camp Camp:

I’ve Had Worse (T, David & Max, Dadvid, AU after S01 E03, Hurt/Comfort, tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Injury) “While trapped in bed due to his injuries from the Woodscouts, Max is forced to confront some of his buried weaknesses in the form of a worried David.”

Nightmare Hour (G, David & Gwen & Max, Gwen/David, Dadvid & Gwenmom, Hurt/Comfort, gift for @maxunwelll, tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nightmares) “Unable to sleep after a particularly bad nightmare, Max finds comfort in David & Gwen.”

Port in a Storm (G, David & Gwen & Max & Nikki, Dadvid & Gwenmom, Hurt/Comfort, Adoption, tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse & Neglect) “Tired of her mom neglecting her, Nikki runs away to the one family she knows that care about her; David & Gwen.”

Borderlands (Maya & Ava Series):

More Than An Apprentice (G, Maya & Ava, AU after Invasion of Privacy, Hurt/Comfort, Adoption) “Ever since her diary was read live on air, Ava has been hiding away in her room; Maya goes to try and offer her apprentice some comfort.”

In The Aftermath (G, Maya & Ava, AU after Beneath the Meridian, Direct Sequel to More Than An Apprentice, Hurt/Comfort) “Maya survives having her powers drained; she finds Ava waiting for her when she wakes up.”

Halcyon Days (T, Maya & Ava, AU (vaguely post-canon), Direct Sequel to In The Aftermath, Hurt/Comfort, tw: Discussion of Death) “The last of Ava's deepest secrets come out during a stop-over on a backwater planet.”

Red Dead Redemption:

Regarding ‘Jack Callaghan’ (G, Jack & OC, Jack & the Van Der Linde Gang, John/Arthur, Abigail/Sadie, Post-Canon, AU Everyone Lives, WW1 setting, POV Outsider) “In the lull between battles on the Western Front, a young man sends a letter home detailing the unusal friend he has made; a mysterious young man from Valentine by the name of 'Jack Callaghan'.”

Shoot Fellas As Needs Shooting (T, Arthur & Hosea, AU during Blessed are the Meek?, Arthur Kills Micah, tw: Graphic Violence, Character Death) ““It was point-blank. The volcanic pistol roared with fury and spat death." Arthur makes a decision in Strawberry.”

Other:

KND: Insubordination (T, Kids Next Door, Rachel/Fanny, AU (ignores the series finale), Sector Z recommissioned, Hurt/Comfort, tw: Brief Mention of Blood) “Jealousy can be a powerful force; but when it drives Fanny Fulbright to desertion during a high-risk mission to restore Sector Z, she finds herself dangerously close to losing both those who she cares about and her beloved position in the KND for good.”

First Night Jitters (G, Star Wars, Rey/Rose, AU (ignores The Last Jedi onwards), Soft Fluff, Meet-Cute) “Spending her first night on D'Qar, Rey struggles to sleep. Luckily, she's not the only one awake late.”

Nos (T, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Mai & Ozai, Mai & Ukano, Post-Smoke and Shadow, Stealth Crossover, set in my Multiverse crossover continuity, tw: Non-Graphic Violence) “Stripped of his bending and imprisoned for his crimes, Ozai receives an offer from an unexpected visitor.”

The Cruel Wars (M, Hunger Games, Prim/Rue, AU - Rue won the Hunger Games, Angsty Hurt/Comfort, War, tw: Graphic Description of Injuries) “In the burning ruins of District 2, Prim is forced to confront the girl who took her sister from her.”

The Custody Contract (G, A Hat In Time, Snatcher & Hat Kid, Dadtcher, AU - Hat Kid Never Left, Hurt/Comfort, Adoption) “He never expected to care about her, but after finding out how alone Hat Kid really is Snatcher can't help stepping in.”

Orange Fabric (G, Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker, Link & Aryll, Gender Non-Conforming Link, Family Fluff) “Link is scared to be himself; Aryll just wants her big brother to be happy.”

Hand In Hand (G, Hilda the Series, Hilda/Frida, Marra Frida AU, Hurt/Comfort, Reconcilliation, Fluff, gift for @dailywoodman) “Weeks after Frida cut ties with her friends, choosing to hang out with Kelly instead, Hilda receives a surprise visitor.”

Sleep on the Floor (T, Folgers Commercial, Brother/Sister, Romantic Fluff, Running Away Together, tw: Consensual Incest) “”Brother?” He looks down; she isn’t smiling anymore. He squeezes her hand again, offering gentle reassurance. She takes a deep breath. “Take me with you? When you go back?”“

I’m Here (G, Klaus 2019, Jesper & Margu, Jesper & Alva & Klaus, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Adoption, Minor Character Death, tw: Discussion of Death) “Two days after the worst storm in Smeerensburg's living memory, Jesper finds a distraught child waiting for him on the post office porch.”

You Came For Me (T, Game of Thrones, Davos & Shireen, AU - Shireen Lives, Hurt/Comfort, tw: Brief Mention of Blood) “But none of that mattered anymore. Stannis and his army and his crown and the witch he’d let influence him could all go to the Seven Hells and take his title of the King’s Hand with them. What mattered now was Shireen.“

I Can Hope How This Will End (T, His Dark Materials, Lee & Lyra & Roger, AU during S01 E08 (Happy Ending), Hurt/Comfort, Adoption, tw: Character Death, Mild Blood) “Lee arrives just before Roger can be intercised, and everything changes.”

Eat You Alive (G, Nighlights (Lorena Alvarez), Sandy & Morfie, Hurt/Comfort, Reconcilliation) “Weeks after their first encounter, Sandy runs into Morfie again, only to realise they have a lot more in common than she first thought.”

The Offworlder (G, Steven Universe, Steven & Blue Pearl, AU - 2nd Gem War, Post-Canon) “On a backwater planet, years after the end of the Second Gem War, a familiar stranger wanders in to Blue Pearl's store.”

Hideaway (T, Wonder Park, Percy Jackson & the Olympians, Spirited Away, June Bailey & Sally Jackson, June Bailey & Haku, AU - Sally Jackson runs a Space B&B and adopts a lot of children, Hurt/Comfort, Adoption, Sickfic, set in my Multiverse crossover continuity, tw: Illness, Discussion of Death) “Lost and alone, June came to the interdimensional station of Argo seeking a fresh start. But after some run-ins with a well-meaning local woman and her adoptive children, she finds the family she's been missing for so long.”

Fallout Equestria: Due North (M, My Little Pony (Fallout: Equestria), OC & OC, Adventure, Found Family, Human-In-Equestria, Incomplete, tw: Graphic Violence, Character Death, Mention of Rape) “After his brother disappears, an Enclave technician finds himself lost in the Wasteland with a foal and a human child to protect and only one aim; reach the Crystal Empire.” - DISCLAMER: I wrote this a long time ago during my edgy teen phase, so I can’t in good faith recommend it. I’m including it here for completeness more than anything else.