#like looking at a bird of prey directly head on
Note
I adored smartest! Scratched an itch I didn’t know I had for Steve. Can’t stop thinking of him seeing someone trying to flirt with his tutor and getting possessive and dragging her down the nearest dark alley to prove no one could make her dumb like he can.
Smartest - Part 2
King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader
Read Part 1
Warning: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, mutual masturbation, semi public sex / PIV sex / unprotected sex, teasing, power dynamics, King!Steve is a dick and is his own warning (but goes through angst here???)
Steve isn’t really sure what he assumed would happen after he’d been hooking up with his tutor for a while. There had been absolutely no forethought to the initial act, and the fact that you had been into him enough to let him keep fucking you during each session - well Steve Harrington isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, of course.
But he certainly hadn’t anticipated how the attention would affect how you carry yourself. In the halls. In class. In the stands during pep rallies. Walking through the diner or at the movies. Whenever Steve sees you out and about in Hawkins now, he can’t help but blink and do a double take.
You stand up straighter. You smile brighter. You make eye contact with the people around you. Your clothes are a little more relaxed, opting for flouncier skirts and fun tops rather than cardigans and your usual buttoned up, structured dresses.
To Steve, of course, the change seems motivated by him. And, to be fair, he was sort of the catalyst. He couldn’t possibly know that really you’ve started to come into your own, not because of Steve’s attention itself, but because of the way it allowed you to dismiss the fears you’d had of your own undesirability. The King of Hawkins High wanted you. You’re pretty sure it’s just as a steady fuck buddy, but still. You’d gone from scared to look boys in the eye to being very aware of the fact that you walking through the Harrington’s front door with your books and notes had a pretty much Pavlovian effect of Steve’s cock. He was basically hard fifteen minutes into any tutoring session these days.
It’s not that Steve’s attention has validated you, per se. It’s more that it has made you realize how silly men are. How easy and one track minded they can be. Its almost silly to think how starved you had been for approval and how sure you’d been that your status as an A+ goody goody made you untouchable. That was clearly, judging by the bruises Steve left on your thighs each week, not the case. The whole thing has made you ten times less nervous in his presence. And if you don’t have to be nervous around the King, it essentially means that you’re more at ease everywhere.
At first this change in you intrigues Steve. He truly had never really given you much thought prior to the start of your dalliance. Sure you were pretty…in a stuffy, academic, good girl type of way. But he was always a bird of prey, looking for shiny, garish, colorful and shapely things to catch his eye.
So the day you show up to his place in a tight skirt and a fashionable off the shoulder blouse that bares your collar bones and exposes cleavage, Steve’s eyes practically pop out of his head.
“Well hello,” he says directly to your tits. You roll your eyes and step around him into the house.
“Hi, Steve,” you reply, walking towards the dining room where you usually have your sessions. Steve jogs up behind you and grabs you at the waist, turning you back to him.
“Not in there. Let’s study in my room.”
“Why?” you ask, confused by the sudden change.
“Well, my parents are home,” Steve elaborates. Heat fills you as you realize what he means, but you cock your head to the side, waiting for him to say it. Steve rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “So we can’t…have fun in the dining room.”
“I’m here to tutor you, Steve. So I guess it’s okay if we can’t have fun,” you say with a shrug. You can’t suppress your smile though and Steve’s smile widens. A few weeks ago you would have stuttered and gone shy but immediately compliant, hoping to please him. This was new.
“Yeah but what about when I get an answer right?” Steve asks, stepping forward and lifting his hand so he can play with the hem of your shirt. “You know I need positive reinforcement.”
You do your best to hide your swallow at the memory of how you had sucked his cock after you’d cajoled him into memorizing his flash cards. Even more heat courses through your body but you look up at him defiantly.
“I brought a packet of gold stars. You like stickers, Steve?”
Your answer catches him off guard and he lets out a bark of a laugh. There’s a triumphant fanfare ringing in your ears at the fact that you are able to make Steve laugh like that. Organically and not part of any of kind of show or flirtation or charm offensive.
“I do like stickers…” he says, his hand dipping under the hem of your top and splaying out over the bare skin of your waist. “But I think this body might motivate me better.”
Your breath catches in your throat at that. His heavy eye contact leaves you nowhere to run. Not that you’d ever run from Steve. He’s a magnet pulling you in regardless of distance or context.
But he’s also made the vital mistake of showing his hand. He wants something from you, too. This isn’t a one way serving pity situation. You might be dumb with his cock in you, but before it gets to that point you’re still the smartest girl in Hawkins. So you use this information to your advantage.
You take his hand and walk him up the stairs (a bold move that he didn’t see coming and which makes him immediately rock hard as he watches your ass away ahead of him up the steps).
You’re the one who closes the door. He locks it.
You end up getting Steve to complete all of his homework…by himself. With motivation in the form of a game where you give him a sticker after he completes each assignment and he gets to decide which body part of yours it goes on. By the end of the afternoon you’re naked on his bed, a sticker on each of your tits, each of your ass cheeks, your bellybutton, and your lower abdomen. By the end of the session his head is squeezed between your thighs, his hands roaming and roving to squeeze each soft piece of flesh he’d bedazzled with his gold stars of favor.
So yeah. At first your increased confidence was something Steve found pretty fucking hot.
But as time went on, he began to realize that your confidence didn’t begin and end with him. He started seeing you around in school more. It’s not that you had somehow increased the amount of times you cross his path in a day, exactly. More that you used to melt into the background a bit more. He’d notice you only if you were right in front of him shyly waving. He’d wave back dutifully at his tutor, sometimes throwing you a bone in the form of a wink, lazily enjoying the way it would so obviously throw you into a tailspin with virtually no effort on his part.
Now you’re somehow everywhere all at once. And not only are you noticeable in the crowd - you stand out from it. Your hair is more stylish, your clothes are unapologetically patterned and colored and fit you in ways his hands envy. Your smile is brighter than the god damn fluorescents above. And now Steve is the one who has to maneuver to catch your eye. Because you’re always talking to people these days, it seems. And a lot of those people are guys, Steve notices begrudgingly.
You stand with your back against a locker, your books pulled to your chest as your arms wrap around them, a smile on your face that is definitely not worth the lame ass comment said by the dumb jock standing before you. Steve pauses at the water fountain where he’d been bending when he’d turned his head and saw you. So clearly the recipient of some football player’s attention.
And boy do you glow under attention.
That week when you arrive at his house to tutor him, Steve tries to charm you again into simply fucking outright. Again, you coyly dance around it, making him work for it. He ends up losing his patience and crowding you in the kitchen when you get up for a snack.
“Steve! I’m trying to—!” You’re squealing but he swallows it up as he takes the coke can out of your hand and blindly moves it away from you, his mouth already hot on yours.
Before you can register what’s happening, Steve’s hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter and pushed his way between your spread legs.
“What?” Steve asks, pulling away and feigning nonchalance as if he hadn’t just manhandled you and mauled you with his lips. “You said we could have a snack break.” He slides a hand down to cup your pussy through your skirt. He pets at the place over your clit. “This is my snack.”
What would have once rendered you speechless makes you roll your eyes.
“I’m actually hungry, Steve.”
Steve gives you a lopsided grin and drops his hand on his hard on, evident and swell in the confines of his jeans.
“Got a snack for you right here.”
You laugh at that and Steve feels something akin to pride zing through him. But it’s not exactly like pride, an emotion he knows well. No, it’s something different. Warmer.
“As much as I do enjoy that particular snack, Harrington, I don’t think your cum will satiate me.”
“Fuck. Dirty talk and big words like ‘satiate’.” Steve pretends to feel faint with a hand on his forehead. “You really have this hot smart girl thing figured out.”
You shake your head at him but smile, and Steve hates the fact that it’s your smile that makes him even harder.
He also hates the fact that fifteen minutes later he finds himself sliding into a booth at the local diner rather than sliding himself into your sweet pussy.
You’d cajoled him into taking you for a real meal since there was nothing to eat at his place. And no, you’d continued to argue. His cock was not a balanced meal.
His hand had been on your thigh for half of the drive to the diner before he realized, like ice water down his back, that the whole situation reeked of a date. He’d pulled his hand back over to clutch at the steering wheel with a double grip, eyes flitting to you anxiously. However you seemed not to notice, looking instead out the window pleasantly.
As he’d parked Steve had made a mental note to reel in the PDA. He didn’t want you thinking this was more than it was. More than a weekly fuck session between two consenting people. One of whom used to have the upper hand and one of whom…had the sexiest smile with lips that looked sinful wrapped around a stripped straw and cheeks that hollowed sexually as they sucked—
Fuck.
Steve Harrington was in trouble.
The meal went by quickly, and over time you were able to pull him from his rattled internal monologue, stealing his fries and teasing him for getting in trouble in class earlier in the day. Steve throws a fry at you and nudges your foot with his under the table. You laugh. His stomach flips. His palm itches so he drops it under the table and rubs it against the denim on his thigh.
When the waitress comes with the check, you bound to the bathroom and Steve gets a minute to get his shit together.
He’s Steve fucking Harrington. Supreme stud of Hawkins High. Another girl every week (although if he was counting, which he wasn’t, it had been a few weeks since he’d reracked his rotation). He fishes his wallet out of his too-tight jeans and drops down some bills.
“Thanks, handsome.”
Steve looks up, expecting to see you but instead realizing it had come from the waitress who he’d forgotten was standing there. She’s a pretty thing, maybe a year or two older. He’s seen her working here before and he lets his eyes roam over her figure unabashedly. Her uniform isn’t zipped up all the way in the front, leaving exposed a generous swell of cleavage and her waist flares out into a voluptuous set of hips. She taps a manicured nail on her order pad, patiently waiting for him to finish oogling her. She’s a hot girl and he’s a hot guy. She knows this dance and so does Steve. When he drags his eyes up from her tits to her face, she looks expectant.
This is the part where he chats her up. Where he compliments her - or cuts her down a bit in a boyish, redeemable way - and then asks her out. He’s supposed to give her his million watt rich boy smile, run a hand through his hair, and turn on the charm.
She’s expecting it. He’s expecting it of himself.
But instead, all he can manage is a nod and a tight smile. He watches the waitress’s brows raise and her smile fall a bit. But then she’s simply picking up the money and walking away. Steve has a moment of panic as his eyes drop to watch the sway of her ass as she retreats. What the fuck is wrong with him? He could have been tucked away in his car with that hot woman, spanking that ass within the hour.
Instead he’s still tucked away in a booth at a diner her didn’t want to go to, still painfully hard without an outlet in sight.
Which is when he hears your laugher ring out, causing said hard cock to twitch. Steve turns quickly to find you standing by the entrance to the bathroom, cornered by yet another football player.
He sees red. The way you’re leaning up against the wall is a mirror image to when he’d seen you receive attention earlier in the week by your locker. You gaze up at the football player with a smile that Steve realizes he’d assumed was only meant for him. It boils his blood to think that the smile you’d bestowed on him so dutifully, so loyally, was just your smile. A thing to be handed out like some cheap party favor to any Tom, Dick, or Harry.
Steve can’t know - especially from a distance - that you really are only humoring this guy. If one looked closer they could never mistake the tight lipped, emotionless nicety on your face for the radiant, full bodied smile you reserved for Steve. You’d gotten cornered by the jock on your way back to the bathroom, and you’d been trying to politely extricate yourself from his lukewarm advances for a few minutes now.
He was rambling about his car and the upgrades he’d gotten done to it when suddenly a pair of big hands land heavy on your shoulder.
“Babe, I paid the check. Let’s get out of here.”
You whip your head around to find Steve behind you, though his gaze is placed firmly on the football player. Though they aren’t the same in width, Steve’s got the guy beat in height, and he uses it to his advantage by standing up straight and puffing his chest a bit.
“Harrington,” the jock chokes out. In the Hawkins hierarchy, the basketball team is more successful than the football team by a long shot, so a certain amount of deference is expected for the king of the court, even from fellow athletes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…is this your girl?”
Steve feels you go rigid under his hold. Your eyes flash up to his but he doesn’t meet yours.
“Don’t you have a playbook to memorize?” Steve asks coolly. He pulls lightly and your back presses against his chest. “If I remember football season right, I’d say it’s gonna take you till fall and then some. Better get back to it.”
You try to laugh his comment off and put a hand on the bicep of your would-be suitor.
“Steve, this is—,”
“Mr. Irrelevant,” Steve completes for you, smoothly using both an insult and a football pun.
The jock stutters another apology before ambling back to his friends. You don’t have time to question Steve because his arm is suddenly around you, pulling you with him out the door.
The two of you walk briskly to his car, and only when you reach the passenger door do you finally regain your powers of speech.
“What was that in there, Steve?” you ask quietly. Your hand is on the door handle but you remain motionless.
“What? I told you, I don’t like football players,” Steve says with a shrug, yanking open the driver side door and dropping into his seat. You climb in carefully and watch him as he violently pulls on his seatbelt.
“Why?”
“Because they’re a bunch of meat heads and it’s a sport revolving around how many concussions they can rack up—,”
“No, Steve,” you interrupt gently, your hand dropping on his knee. “Why were you acting…possessive?”
Steve’s skin burns through his jeans where your hand touches him. He stares at it for a second before looking up, agitated.
“Well excuse me for saving you. I thought you’d be thanking me for getting that guy to stop drooling on you.”
His words sting and you wince. Steve even winces a bit, having not intended to sound so forceful. You shrug.
“He was only being nice.”
Steve let’s out a humorless laugh.
“That wasn’t being nice. That was undressing you with his eyes. That was trying to get you to let him feel you up under the bleachers. Nice is—,”
“Nice is flirting with your tutor to get her to do your homework?”
Steve freezes before he can turn the key in the ignition. He looks over to find that you’re staring blankly out the windshield. Your arms are hugging you, like you’re trying to comfort yourself.
“That’s not…”
“Nice is fucking her when you’re bored? Your little prescheduled sex appointment?”
Steve’s defenses raise and he unbuckles his seatbelt so he can turn more fully to you.
“Hey wait, that’s—,”
“That’s exactly what this is. I haven’t misunderstood that, Steve,” you say, finally turning the full force of your earnest gaze on him. “Have you?”
Steve blinks at you slowly. Completely unsure about what’s going on and how the night has taken this turn.
He’s even more bewildered when you suddenly move to climb into the back seat.
“What are you doing?” he asks, surprised and leaning over to watch you lay yourself down on the seat.
“You wanted to fuck me earlier. So do it.”
Steve feels like you’ve slapped him in the face. Your stare is cool and you begin to unbutton your blouse. Panic rises inside of him and his head whirls around.
“Here? Someone could see,” Steve argues. They are in the back corner of the parking lot, but it’s a parking lot nonetheless, illuminated by one sole street lamp. You shrug.
“The windows are tinted, aren’t they?”
Steve can’t begin to comprehend the conflict coursing through his veins. Of course the windows are tinted. Almost illegally so. He knows that because he’s fucked countless girls in the back seat of his car. Hadn’t he even just thought about fucking that waitress in his car only minutes ago?
But with you…
He’s thrown off by the urge he has to cover your breasts with his hands when you peel back your top. Not even to touch you but just to keep you from being seen by others.
Why does he fucking care?
King Steve had fucked at every party he’d ever been to - sometimes even in rooms with no doors or up against the back of a house with people nearby on a porch. He’d never once had a conscience about it. As long as the girl was down, he was ready to go.
So why is it different now, with you stripping in his back seat and staring at him with big doe eyes?
“Come on. Don’t make me get started by myself,” you say teasingly. You’re clearly trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. Steve swallows hard.
“You wouldn’t.”
You quirk an eyebrow at him and lift the hem of your skirt. You’re wearing a lacy scrap of panties that match your bra. Definitely a far cry from the sensible underwear you’d been wearing the first time he’d seduced you.
“Try me.”
And despite the confusion and warning bells going off in his head, Steve’s clambering into the back seat in seconds. He’s on top of you, hips shoved between your thighs and big hands on your wrists, pinning them above your head against the inside of the car door.
“That’s more like it,” you coo, smiling a dazzling smile up at him. It thrills him and upsets him and makes him frustrated all at once, and since he doesn’t know how to express that with words he does it physically. His mouth drops to your neck so he can pull a sizable amount of flesh between his lips and suck. Hard. You gasp and arch up into him, giving him the perfect opportunity to switch your wrists into a single handed grip so he can move the other hand down to grope at your breasts. Instead of covering them and hiding them, he rips down your bra, letting your breasts spill from the cups.
Steve bites a bruising trail down from your neck to your cleavage, sucking harder than he ever has before.
“Trying to be cute, huh?” he growls against your skin. You laugh breathlessly, wrists straining against his hold.
“Yeah. ‘s it working?”
That makes Steve strangle a laugh but it still frustrates him. You’ve somehow still got the upper hand here. Even though you’re below him and your body is at his mercy. When did the tables turn so fully?
So he sits up abruptly, leaving you laying back, legs still open wide around his hips, his spit still drying around the new bruises sucked to your neck. You’re motionless for a second before leaning up on your elbows to look at him, dazed.
“I’m a little unconvinced,” Steve says with a shrug. A frown filters over your features. You watch as he smooths his hands up and down your thighs, looking at your panty-clad center appraisingly.
“What are you unconvinced about?” you ask. Steve draws a line with his index finger over the length of the waistband of your panties.
“That you really want it bad enough.”
Frustration flickers in your eyes.
“Want what?” you ask, playing along. Steve drops one hand to the bulge in his jeans.
“This cock.”
You roll your eyes and sit up higher.
“Of course I want—,”
“I’m not sure, baby. You were gonna touch yourself back here. Maybe I should have let you handle it.” His actions contradict his words as one hand rubs slow circles right at the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Your eyebrows knit together.
“No, I want you,” you reply, almost petulantly.
There it is.
This is what Steve needed.
But he shakes his head. Now that he’s got you back on the line he’s going to enjoy this to the fullest.
“Maybe you had the right idea,” he says, leaning back a bit against the opposite door. The backs of your thighs still rest on the tops of his, and with one hand still heavy on you, his free hand pops open the button of his jeans. You feel the slide of his zipper rush down your spine.
When Steve pulls his cock out and begins to stroke it, you feel your stomach drop and your mouth water. He’s watching you as he does it. Eyes darting from your breasts almost spilling out of the cups of your bra to the wet spot in the center of your panties. It makes you hot. It turns you on in a way that’s almost painful to watch the flushed fat head of his cock disappear and reappear in the grip of his fist.
“I’m…I’m right here,” you mutter. Steve grins and takes his hand from his cock and slides it confidently under the elastic hem of your panties.
“Yeah, you are.”
The intrusion of his fingers is sudden and sure and you gasp at the feeling of them sliding through your slick. He swirls a few circles around your tensing hole before sliding up to press circles into your clit. You drop back down off your elbows and let out a satisfied moan at the stimulation you’d craved.
But then…he’s pulling his hand back, allowing the elastic of your panties to snap back on you with a sting. You sit up again fast and watch as he takes the wetness he’d gathered from you to make the glide of his hand on his cock more smooth. Your jaw drops.
“Thanks, baby,” Steve says with a wink.
“Steve, what?!”
He shrugs.
“I would’ve asked you to spit in my hand but I didn’t think you would since you’re having an attitude.”
That. That struck exactly the nerve he thought it would. Your jaw sets and your eyes flash. Scooting back a bit so you, too, can lean on the inside of the door closest to you, you drop your legs open wider, well aware of the way Steve’s attention immediately drops to them.
“You’re not very nice, Steve Harrington,” you say quietly. Both of your hands move to squeeze at your own breasts and you arch into your own touch. Steve chuckles at that, eyes on your hands.
“And you’re nice even when you’re pissed apparently,” he says dismissively. Your frown deepens as you pull your bra down to expose you fully. Steve’s face goes blank, like you hoped.
“Fuck you,” you respond, just as quiet as before. Steve’s eyes remain glazed, hand moving faster on his cock, but he gives a lopsided grin.
“There she is. Feisty.”
The interior of the car has started to heat up. The humid smell of sex fills the air, though you’d prefer actually having sex. He’s been pushing it tonight, but you really can’t help the way you feel watching his big hand move on his even bigger cock. It should be inside you. This is the day of your tutoring session. The one day of the week that almost guaranteed you had his attention. Every other day, King Steve belonged to Hawkins. He was a heartthrob and a hometown hero. Probably inside of a different girl each night of the weekend (though you try not to think of that because it’s gross).
But on tutoring days it’s just you. So the fact that he’s choosing to touch himself rather than fill you has you feeling petty. It makes you redouble your efforts. You pinch one of your nipples and let out a heady, performative sigh, all while your other hand moves down and shoves inside your panties. You trace the same path Steve did, circling your hole and then your clit. Getting yourself nice and worked up with your eyes glued on the way Steve drags his hand over his throbbing dick.
Steve is mesmerized, as seems evident by the way he’s stopped talking to watch you. To hear you.
When you push two fingers inside of yourself, you let out an indulgent moan that causes Steve’s hips to buck into his hand. Your thighs quiver where they remain stretched out around his legs.
You drop your other hand down into your stretched out panties to play with your clit while you continue thrusting fingers in and out of yourself - that’s when Steve loses it.
“Show me,” he says gruffly, eyes ripping from the space between your legs to look up at you blearily.
“You’re literally watching me right now,” you laugh, breathless. Steve shakes his head and reaches out to tug on the edge of your panties.
“Get this shit out of the way.”
Now it’s your turn to shake your head.
“Nope. You had your chance with my pussy. You wanted your hand.”
The filthy words coming from you almost makes his eyes roll back in his head. He grunts and continues fisting his cock, but he looks more frustrated now.
Unfortunately there’s something of a Pavlovian response in your body at the sight of his aggression. Whether you like it or not, your burgeoning sexuality had crackled into being under the hands of Steve Harrington, and Steve being Steve is what gets you going.
Unlucky for you and the upper hand you’re trying to cling to, Steve can tell. Back to back weeks of fucking the same person will do that to you, apparently.
“You’re close.” It’s more accusation than observation.
You want to disagree but your fingers speed up on your clit and you widen your legs even more, looking to build pressure.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Fuck.” Steve slows his hand on his cock, breathing deeply and placing a laser focus on your hands in your panties. “Bet you’re getting tight around those fingers, huh?”
“Yeah,” you nod, eyes closing and head thrown back against the door. “Really tight…”
Steve let’s out an uncharacteristically pathetic moan. The thrill of it causes your core to contract even tighter.
“Bet you wish I was sucking those tits right now,” Steve remarks, replaying in his head all the times he’d made you cum lately. You lift up to look at him with stern hooded eyes and pull one of your hands from your panties. With a pointed look you raise your fingers to your mouth, lick them wetly, and then bring them down to play with your nipple. Your hips buck into your other hand and Steve loses his fucking mind.
“Alright, that’s fucking it,” he says, launching himself forward. He’s on you in the blink of an eye, hitching your legs up and around his hips, dropping so that his elbows cage you in on either side of your head. The length of his cock slides parallel to your entrance with a wet sound, pushing your pussy lips apart.
“Finally,” you moan petulantly. And that’s all the consent Steve needs to reach down and line himself up so he can thrust into you.
Things get hot and hazy after that. Your fingers thread into his hair and pull hard at the roots. Steve’s tongue and teeth are everywhere, but especially on your pulse point and on the peaks of your breasts.
The slap of skin on skin fills the interior of the car, rivaled only by your shared panting.
Steve shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t be such a relief to sink into your body, like it’s a home he’s been waiting to return to. Your nails biting into his back through his shirt shouldn’t feel like heaven and your little mewls and gasps shouldn’t be an angel’s chorus. He’s not even fucking religious, so what’s with the holy comparisons?
“Oh Steve. Fuck,” you whisper moan right into his ear. Steve slides a hand under you to push your lower back up, giving your hips a tilt that lets him hit deeper.
“It’s good, yeah?” he asks. It’s a question but it’s cocky. You bite his earlobe and clench around him.
“I don’t know, is it?”
“Fucking Christ.”
Yeah. Steve Harrington is seeing god in the back seat of his car in a diner parking lot.
~*~
It takes a minute for you both to catch your breath when you’re done. Sweat and cum and words left unsaid create a film over the two of you which makes it hard to breathe.
Eventually Steve helps you climb back into the front seat before hoping behind the wheel himself to bring you back to the empty Harrington house. Upon arriving, Steve puts the car in park and turns to you, intent on speaking though he’s not sure what he plans to say. You, however, give him no such chance to figure it out as you bound out of the car and up the path to the front door. Steve catches up to let you in.
It’s later than it usually is when you wrap up your tutoring sessions. Steve has to turn on lamps as he follows you through the dark foyer and into the dining room where he finds you already grabbing your things and packing your bag up, half hidden in shadow.
“We didn’t finish the work,” he says quietly. Some what dumbly. You hoist your bag over your shoulder and give him a smile that deep down he knows he doesn’t deserve.
“Yeah. Looks like we’ll have to finish another time.”
When you start for the door, moving at a brisk pace, Steve stumbles after you.
You’re over the threshold and making your way to your car, glowing in the yellow light of the porch lamp before Steve can blurt out.
“When?”
God, he does sound fucking dumb.
And you. You turn and give him one last smile. Looking so put together. So smart.
“That’s up to you, Steve,” you say with a shrug, opening your car door. “You let me know.”
And with that, you get in your car and drive away. Leaving Steve standing alone on his porch with his thoughts.
~*~
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Ahhh originally had no intention of writing a part two and then this happened. Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think and thanks for reading!!
#king!steve harrington#king!steve harrington smut#steve harrington smut#king!steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#stranger things smut
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Bird of Prey - Chapter 1 : The Hunt
Bird of Prey masterlist
Chapter summary: About to finish off your latest target, you are interrupted by a figure you haven't seen in centuries.
Rating: Mature - Minors DNI
Warnings: Story-typical violence, blood.
Word count: 0.8k
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The wind assaulted your eyes and throat as you crossed frozen streams and jumped over fallen trees. You almost had him, you could almost smell his fear as you followed in his footprints. It had been days since you’d gotten a true moment of rest and you wouldn’t let it go to waste. The early morning rays shone through the high branches of the trees, guiding your steps towards your objective. He wouldn’t escape, not now.
Ice surrounded you, under your feet, covering the trees, and even pearling at your eyelashes. Oh, how you hated the cold. Had it been the Winter court you’d have kept quiet your inner monologue of constant complaining about the weather, but in the Night court this was just inconvenient. You already didn’t want to be here, the borders were too well guarded and the money was never worth the risk, but this evasive target had decided to jump from border to border hoping you would lose his scent. You didn’t of course, but the effort was admirable.
You slid under a rotting trunk, emerging into a small clearing. The ground was soft with snow, the air cold and biting, but the only thing on your mind was the figure ahead of you. A large boulder of a man, a logger they’d told you. More strength in one arm that you probably had in your entire body, but it was worthless. You didn’t need strength when you had speed and no one could ever outrun you. No one ever did.
He looked over his shoulder to gauge the distance between the two of you at the sound of your footsteps. His eyes widened and he hesitated, stumbling slightly. A mistake, and it would be his last. You gave a forceful push to catch up with him, using his temporary loss of balance to grapple directly onto his neck and try to force him to tumble to the side. You didn’t wish to break his neck but he sure seemed to think so, as he immediately tightened his entire torso and head, rolling forwards to try to shove you off him with his body weight. So he was strong and knew a thing or two about fighting. Interesting.
You let go and tucked yourself into a tight side roll to his left to avoid crushing the wings you held tightly against your back, and immediately leapt into a crouching position. He quickly got up as well, disoriented for a moment. Weeks of being stalked through the woods with absolutely no knowledge about surviving in the wilderness seemed to have taken a toll on him. While the wait made the entire situation longer than you deemed necessary, it did have its perks. Still, you preferred your usual method. Ambushing a target, doing a quick and clean job, leaving within a single moment. Just like a raptor captures a mouse, and it was always more satisfying. They didn’t call you the Bird of Prey for nothing.
The second the man got his bearings, he took a sloppy fighting stance and started sprinting in your direction, clearly intending to somehow overpower you with brute force. His arms almost flailed by his side as he wobbled on his feet. “When was the last time he even ate?”, you thought. No matter, just another detail that solidified your already guaranteed win.
He didn’t even get in reach of you before you were ducking behind him, solidly tripping him on the way and jumping knee first onto his back. The man went down with a wheezing “oomph”, but you didn’t let him take a single breath before you had his arms crossed and shoved under your knees, one hand keeping them still and the other bringing a blade to his throat. For a moment, stillness and almost perfect silence. The only soundtrack to his death would be the early morning birds and the crackling of thawing ice.
You didn’t play with your kills. You may be efficient at your job, but you were not cruel. As you went to finish the job, he let out a “WAIT!” that held your hand still. He didn’t struggle but opened his mouth to talk again. You cut him off.
“Anything you want to say?’, you said, “I urge you to consider your last words carefully – you only get to say them once, after all.”
Again, a beat of silence, only broken by the slow drip of blood from where you’d already made superficial contact with the skin.
You sighed, wanting to finally end this contract and go home, but a cold pressure at the nape of your neck, probably quite similar to what the logger underneath you felt at his throat at this very moment, gave you pause. Your peripheral vision swarmed in unnatural darkness as you inhaled a sharp breath.
A deep, smooth voice rang close to your right ear:
“How about you tell me yours?”
Tell me what you think, i always appreciate constructive criticism!
Fair warning that this is my second langage and I don't have a beta reader - I'm just trying my best. If you spot any mistakes/problems, I'd love to hear about it!
Chapters will be longer for the next couple of parts, theyre already in the works. This is just the set up to the start of the story, there's a long list of events they'll have to deal with, just you wait.
Banner created by the amazing @saradika!
Taglist: @sapphenaa
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In honor of your Bangathon, I spun the wheel 🤣
So we have froggy style with *drum roll* none other than our warm, feral racoon man Dieter Bravo. And we just need that sultry foul mouth.
I'm so excited for all the drabble that are going to come of this.
Lovely Britt! It is the penultimate day of the Bangathon and I've thrown all my rules out the window. Dieter double feature, absolutely obliterating my word count, and I'm having way too much fun with it. Let's get froggy with our raccoon boy!
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader
Position: Froggy Style
Word Count: 2656 (it's 12:45am, there are no gods, no one can save me)
Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), PiV sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, public sex, sex parties, mentions of fetish play.
Notes: This idea came to me in a dream and I had to write it, word count be damned! Technically I'm spoiling the ending with just the pairing, but I'm sure you would have guessed it instantly either way. Let's go!
“This is a little too Eyes Wide Shut for me,” you tell your friend Ana as she urges you through the front door of a Hollywood mansion. Your voice is muffled by the mask you wear, black lace molded to look like a cat. Only your eyes are visible, held on with a thick ribbon tied behind your head. Ana is sporting a rabbit mask, maybe a little on the nose for the occasion but you could appreciate the honesty.
“Then why did you accept my invitation?” she asks, all smug grace and poise in the skimpy red dress she matched to her disguise. You’re more akin to a kitten, steps uncertain and timid as you take in the room and all its inhabitants.
It had been too tempting, one of Ana’s fellow actors inviting her out to a “masquerade.” When she saw your eyes widen, heat rising in your cheeks, she made a phone call and extended your own invitation. It would have been rude to deny. But now, co-mingling with people who would never know you in the outside world, it all feels like a bad idea.
Men and women alike are masked, some more on display than others. One fox woman is in barely-there lingerie, a falcon man in low-slung gray sweatpants and nothing else. Your skin tingles in anticipation, the long black dress hugging your form a comfort against the tickle of eyes.
“If you get cold feet, just leave before the selection,” Ana says, stepping away from you to grab a couple glasses of champagne. You’re about to question how you’ll drink it when you see golden straws circling the lip.
“They thought of everything,” you murmur, eliciting a chuckle from her.
“Anything catch your eye?” she says salaciously, and you bat her away before surveying the room. Many wolves and lions, a few birds of prey, some dog masks that look suspiciously close to fetish gear. Bodies of all types, but nothing that stood out enough to make you salivate.
“We’ll see,” you say as a chime sounds and the crowd moves deeper into the house. Ana walks next to you, head turning to take in the potentials. You keep yours tilted up, admiring the fresco on the ceiling and trying to ground yourself.
“It’s a pretty good replica, but the real thing is better,” says a deep male voice next to your shoulder.
“The blue is really vibrant,” you reply, “Looks like they followed traditional techniques.”
“Only the best for our esteemed hosts,” he muses, making a smile come to your hidden lips.
“Not a fan?” you tease, an entryway coming into view.
“I would never say an unkind word about those that invite me in their home,” the man says with faux adoration, “but yes, they're extremely tacky and most of their art is fake.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laugh, turning to see who’s speaking but no one is directly behind you anymore. He must have melted into the crowd. You’re about to ask Ana if she saw him when you come to a bottleneck, two darkly dressed attendants speaking to each guest.
“Are you open to being chosen tonight?” the bright-eyed woman to your right says, holding out a red string bracelet. You swallow hard.
“Yes.”
She affixes the string around your wrist, letting you enter the open courtyard. Silver stars twinkle in the indigo sky, braziers lit around the room offering warmth and golden light. A group of guests, mostly male-presenting, gather in the middle of the courtyard. Around the peripheries, mixed company lounge on crisp white couches in various poses of seduction. You settle on one, letting Ana wander away.
Once guests stopped filing in, another chime sounds and the group begins thinning out. Some remain, nodding to companions or conversing. The majority wander the perimeter, extending hands or sitting beside their choices.
Anxiety wells in your throat. What was someone supposed to choose you for? You’re among the Hollywood twelves, smuggled in by your connections. What would they want with your cheap dress and cheaper tastes? What could they judge from a glance?
Suddenly, there’s a hand extended before you.
“Would you care to be chosen, gatita?”
The voice is familiar, the same man from before. Putting visuals to him is more powerful than you thought. He’s in silk pajamas, white and tan with beautiful renditions of bare-branched trees poking up from red and green brush. You even spy some hunting dogs pointing at invisible prey. Covering his face is a brass-colored raccoon mask, tied with red ribbon. His eyes are dark pools behind it, a halo of wild chocolate curls framing the edges. As much as you want to laugh at the raccoon mask, something about it on this man curls excitement in your stomach. It reminds you less of cute animal videos you send to your friends, more of glittering eyes in the dead of night, and the fear of a vicious bite.
You extend your hand, and his palm is soft and large under yours. “Can it be…private?” you ask, already glimpsing the bold undressing of some guests, others watching on.
“As the lady wishes,” he concedes, leading you away from the crowd. As you ascend a set of stairs, you converse again.
“Why do the hosts have so much fake artwork?”
He snorts, keeping your hand in his.
“Because it’s expected. Big house has to be full of priceless art. But you can’t have priceless art in every house, so you compromise. Say it’s on loan, from a museum, from a friend. A grand lie they all pretend to believe.”
“And what’s in your house?” you ask, reaching the top of the stairs. He pauses, eyes roaming you appreciatively.
“Knew I picked a clever one,” he says, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. “Only originals. My own.” He leads you around a catwalk and down a hall with several doors.
“So you’re an artist?” you ask, stroking your thumb along his. It makes him squeeze your hand back.
“Among other things,” he murmurs before stopping in front of a door with a tag hanging off the handle. Pocketing it, he enters the bedroom, locking the door behind you.
It’s too lavish, an abundance of velvet and ruffles that makes you smirk at the raccoon’s earlier comments. He steps in and stands at the foot of the bed, waiting for you to follow. The bravery you’d mustered earlier evaporates when the door shuts, and now you hover by the edge of the bed.
“Gatita, if this isn’t what you want, I’ll leave. It’s only fun if we’re both having it.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head, stepping closer. His hands come up to smooth over your arms, moving to cup the back of your neck. Tugging you into his broad chest, his fingers find your zip and pull it ever so slightly.
“Would you like to know what I want to do to you?” he breathes in your ear, and you manage a weak yes before he starts unzipping your dress tooth by tooth.
“I’m going to remove this dress, and tease your nipples through your bra before taking it off - one handed, of course. Then I’ll lay you back and pleasure your pretty pussy with my fingers until you’re begging for my cock. Once you’re ready to explode I’ll join you in the bed and put you on all fours so I can hit deep and hard inside you. Make you cum on my dick once, then do it again. Maybe even get you to squirt if you’ve never done that. After all that, if you’re very good for me, I’ll keep making you cum all night. How does that sound?”
Could you actually orgasm from his voice alone? You sincerely worry you will as your dress slips to the floor, leaving you in your prettiest lingerie pressed against his intoxicating silks.
“What about the masks?” you manage to get out, the stiff covering starting to itch against your overheated face.
“Let’s leave them on for now. The mystery is half the fun,” he says, hands sliding up to cup your breasts and thumb lightly at your peaked nipples. You gasp, letting your head roll back.
“Oh, gatita, I’ll make you feel so good tonight.”
True to his word, the raccoon touches and teases you within an inch of your sanity, talented fingers caressing every erogenous zone until you’re aching and shaking with need. You swear if he even circles your clit once you’ll cum so hard you’ll need an ambulance. Want and desire burns hot in your veins, hands searching for his skin and only getting small touches. The caress of your fingers along the open expanse of his chest. Fingers entwining as he presses you down into the mattress. The skin across his lower back. He keeps just far enough away to tease, but always close enough to work you to dizzying heights.
“Please,” you whimper after the umpteenth time he’s worked you up and stopped before you could crest. Tilting his head, he leaves another featherlight touch over your clit.
“Ask me for it,” he gruffs out, voice even deeper with desire. “Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to be inside you.”
The words tumble out of your lips. “Please fuck me, please, any way you want. I need to feel you inside me, need to cum around you. You’ll feel so good, I’ll make you feel so good…” You could beg for hours more but he’s turning you over and moving you up the bed, settling on his knees behind you. Tugging your hips, he lifts you to crouch, hands on the bed and feet planted under bent knees. The position is new to you, but the control you feel like this, hearing the condom wrapper rip and the pops of the last few buttons on his shirt, is thick in your veins.
“Tilt your hips,” he orders, and you arch your back to offer your needy cunt to him. He stretched you well on his fingers, but just the snug fit of his head pressing inside you widens your eyes.
“Fuck, you’re big,” you gasp, earning a soothing stroke over your hips.
“Sure know how to make my cock even harder, gatita. Say it again.”
You whine through your teeth as he sinks further in, stroking two fingers over your clit.
‘“Fuck, you’re so big, my pussy’s full of you, I don’t know how it’s gonna fit inside me but fuck, I want it.” The end rushes out as he shallowly fucks into you, letting you adjust to his girth.
“Oh gatita, don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” he promises, rolling his hips even deeper. Your arms shake with the effort of holding yourself up, mask hot and sticky with sweat as you pant into the fabric. You want nothing more than to rip it off and let him devour you, whoever he may be.
Finally, he’s fully seated and you’re delirious with how stuffed you are. One slow stroke out makes you grip the sheets, waiting for him to fill you again.
He's not making you wait any longer. The pace is firm, steady to start, working you around his cock and soaking him with your arousal. Your calves begin to burn but you pay no mind, instead using the leverage to push back against him. He groans at this, helping guide your hips with his hot touch.
“Fuck, your pussy is goddamn divine, squeezing me so tight. I’m gonna make you cum around me and then I’ll give you what you deserve.” Your head spins as he speeds up, every thrust angled right into your g-spot with mind-blowing accuracy. Gathering slick from your dripping cunt, he circles your clit steadily as you clamp down on him, the precipice of your orgasm right at your fingertips.
“Oh fuck I’m cumming,” you squeak before your knees give out, arms buckling as you tumble into the pillows with every nerve ending singing his praises. He’s firm behind you, murmuring how good of a girl you are, how good you’re cumming on him, how hard he has to try not to cum yet. The praise melts you down into barely perceiving a world outside the pleasures of your body.
Once the aftershocks subside, your cunt even tighter around his throbbing cock, the man speaks.
“That was so good, gatita. Now hold on.” At that he begins well and truly fucking you, deep and fast with snarls dripped onto your skin. You half expect to feel a bite, but only his fingers dig in to your thighs to keep you pressed tight against him. You let him use your pussy, content just to feel him pulse inside, when his fingers return to your clit.
“Did you think I was done with this?” he pants, teasing the sensitive bud from overstimulation back to drenching pleasure as he coaxes another orgasm to the surface. “Together this time, on five, four, three…”
You can’t believe this man is going to orchestrate your orgasm, but just as he’s nearing one you feel the telltale tingle erupt into molten fire filling your lungs with a wild shout. He’s shouting too, buried in your cunt and shuddering. It takes long minutes for you both to catch your breaths, white spots dancing around the edge of your vision. Finally he eases out, tugging your knees back to lay you down. You welcome the change, body relaxing as you hear him throw out the condom and return with tissues.
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” you say, still a little loopy from all the endorphins flooding your brain. The raccoon man chuckles as you turn and sit up, admiring him standing in those designer pajamas, bottoms pulled up but top still open. Your mind wanders to kissing every inch of his chest, sucking a hickey into his collarbone. A small fear in your chest, unknown even to you, falls away.
“I’d like to take the mask off,” you say, looking up at the raccoon man. His hands falter, coming to his waist and tapping nervously.
“Are you sure?” he asks, trepidation in his voice. You nod.
“It’s okay, I’m a nobody,” you say, hands on the ribbon behind your head.
“I’m not,” he says quietly, stilling your motions. He’s turning away from you, tense and anxious. You know the feeling.
“You don’t have to. I won’t ask you to. But I'm okay with you knowing me.” You tug at the ribbons and let the cat mask fall away. You skin can finally breathe, making you sigh in relief. The raccoon’s eyes snap to you, and all the hard lines of his body soften.
“You’re...more beautiful than I hoped,” he says, awe in his voice. It makes your skin heat up again, a shy smile fighting on your face. It was kind of sweet, the idea that this stranger would know you for only this night, and that it could be your secret. Even your face would be his and his alone.
Then his hands lift to the back of his head, and the racoon mask comes away in his palms.
A blink. Then two. Then shock paints your face.
Did Dieter fucking Bravo just ruin your pussy?
But he’s kneeling on the bed and kissing you breathless, tearing the rest of his clothes off, and you remember the night’s still very young.
Maybe you could share a few more secrets.
END
LJ’s Bangathon 2023
#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x female reader#the bubble fanfiction#the bubble fic#prolix fics
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Did you get a request? It's an one shot for Astarion to react to gn crush who would always help him if they can but always refuse to repayed in any way whether it's money or anything else. Thanks!
For this request, I decided to simply make a part 2 of my OS - Astarion x Gn druid reader : On your skin (pt 1). I thought it was a good fit for this idea! Enjoy! ♥
OS - Astarion x Gn druid reader : On your skin (Pt 2).
You and your companions had been at Baldur's Gate for a few days now. You'd never really enjoyed life in the city, and certainly not here, where you could feel the poison spreading through the ground and into every living creature around you. Trees were dying, wild animals were fleeing, birds were silent.
During a seemingly routine patrol along the banks of the Chionthar River, you were ambushed by some disciples of Bhaal, the Lord of Murder. They outnumbered your group and seemed more dangerous every time. Since the death of Ketheric Thorm, Orin the Red had been tracking you like a predator watching and playing with its prey. The disciples under her command would do anything to spill your blood. Just as one of Bhaal's assassins dashed towards Astarion, dagger raised, you lifted your arm to imprison him with vines that you conjured up from the ground with your magic.
"Astarion, look out!" you cried.
You couldn't see if the enemy had managed to hit Astarion, for your attention was immediately diverted by another one who threw himself at you. You barely had time to drop ice spikes on him, which pierced his body from all sides, his knife merely grazing your cheek. As his lifeless body collapsed heavily at your feet, you looked towards Astarion, who had just thrust his blade into the heart of the man you had imprisoned earlier in your vines. Karlach and Lae'zel slaughtered the last ones who resisted them. Silence fell around you, it was finally over. You drew a breath and made the climbing plants disappear with a wave of your hand.
"'Is everyone alright?" you asked, wiping the blood from your cheek.
"Affirmative, soldier," Karlach replied.
"Tsk. Orin's tracking us like wild fowl, I cannot wait to give her a taste of my blade." added Lae'zel.
"Let's get back to camp" you announced.
Astarion seemed far too quiet for you. You still had enough strength left to open a portal leading directly to camp. Lae'zel and Karlach stepped through, soon followed by Astarion and you. A step through and you found yourself facing the campfire in the center of the old barn. Your eyes hovered over your three companions standing beside you. Karlach had a few scratches but didn't seem to be suffering, Lae'zel had superficial wounds that still merited some treatment, and Astarion seemed to be fine - well, he seemed elsewhere.
You thanked Halsin and Shadowheart, who had come to treat the wounded. You chose to treat your wounds alone with your own ointments and elixirs. As you headed for your tent, footsteps behind you made you turn around. It was Astarion.
"Are you wounded?" you asked, worried.
"Well.. Yes," he sighed, pouting.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"For nothing in the world would I miss an opportunity to be healed by my favorite druid." he grinned, winking.
You sighed at his words. Despite his smile, you noticed his discomfort, you tried to examine him carefully and found the source of his pain, a cut on the inside of his arm. The blood dripping from it blended in with the dark fabric of his outfit. You let him into your tent, your little sanctuary had become very familiar to him. This time, however, he didn't sit, he stood. You approached him and started undoing the buttons on his jacket, then on the shirt underneath. You could feel his gaze scrutinizing your every move, but you remained focused. You were imperturbable, especially when it came to treating wounds. You slid your hands under the fabric and against his skin, the contrast of his icy skin against yours always surprised you. You slid the garment as gently as possible.
"This is getting ridiculous,' finally said Astarion.
"What's that?" you asked without understanding and without taking your eyes off his wound. The blade had ripped his skin, but if care was taken, it would heal properly.
"This. You keep helping me, at the risk of getting yourself hurt. This is ridiculous."
"It's not ridiculous, the situation was under control," you replied. It wasn't totally true, though; you'd just been lucky and had a good reflex.
You grabbed a wooden bowl containing a mixture of weavemoss and mugwort bundle that would stop the bleeding. Your touch and the coolness of the mixture made him shiver, its effect was immediate, the blood stopped. You wrapped the wound in a clean bandage then you finally looked at him. His scarlet eyes never left your face.
"Your compulsive kindness sickens me," continued Astarion. "I am forever in your debt, and I do not know how to repay it. Tell me what you want. Tell me what to do."
You kept staring at him, completely stunned by his words, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. For him, pure altruism didn't exist. Life was just a succession of exchanges or debts that absolutely had to be repaid. You wanted him to see beyond that.
"I don't want anything in return, Astarion. Why is it so hard for you to understand that I'm doing this because I care about you?" you replied. "I simply don't want to lose you"
Astarion seemed genuinely troubled by your words. You'd never been false to him. You cared about this vampire spawn. You'd shared many moments together, but the ones you preferred, apart from the nights spent by his side, were when you treated his scars or healed his wounds. These were intimate moments, that you cherished because they allowed you to discover his vulnerability. The same vulnerability you were seeing at that very moment. He allowed himself to emerge from the darkness of his past that threatened to envelop him to stand in the light beside you.
"It is even more annoying." he sighed. He moved his hand over your cheek, sliding his thumb over the dried blood that had drained from your cut. "But I rather like that idea, that you care about me."
.。・゜・。..。・゜・。..。・゜・。..。・゜・。..。・゜・。..。・゜
i'm not totally satisfied with what I've written but thank you for reading it, feel free to check out my other writings on Astarion! ♥︎♥︎
Astarion x gn reader : On your skin (pt 1)
Astarion x gn reader : A thousand thanks
Astarion x gn reader : No place for love
Fic : Astarion x Fem! bard Tav : Fruit of the Poisonned Tree
#romance#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate astarion#astarion vampire#baldur's gate iii#astarion x gn reader#bg3 astarion#astarion ancunin#tav#baldurs gate#astarion bg3#astarion my beloved#baldurs gate tav#bg3 companions
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Chained
Author’s Note: This is Joth’s first fic! I hope you enjoy it :D Next
Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts
Warnings: mild body horror, ask me to tag
Summary: You meet your newest foster. He’s grumpy and injured.
"He's not… The most friendly…" Lieutenant Ollias started, the Ultramarine's hands at his side as he shifted awkwardly on his feet, looking down at you, a worried frown furrowing his brows.
You look at the Astartes he's referring to. He's a Chaos Space marine - and from his colorations, he's a World Eater. You can see the Nails buried into his skull, and he's growling at you - with both the mouth that is likely fused to the armor he's still wearing, as well as the secondary mouth on his chest, needle-sharp teeth snapping in warning at you. You had been fostering feral Chaos Space Marines for some time, and had dealt with initially hostile Chaos Marines in the past. With your years of experience, you make sure to shove the initial, instinctual panic of seeing such a large, powerful and hostile being in the furthest corners of your heart. "You don't say." You hum, going for a light-hearted tease back, managing to smile. "Is there a particular reason he's been restrained like this?"
The Chaos Space Marine's growls intensified as Ollias spoke explained "We found him while out on patrol. He was covered - and still is - in the gore of several animals. When we tried to speak with him, he attacked us. So we restrained him and brought him back to the base. When we had the apothecaries look him over, we found out that he's got several injuries - which explains the additional hostility. There's only so much room we have on the base… And if you're willing to foster him as he heals up, we're hoping that he'll agree to the Nail Removal surgery."
You hum again in thought, looking at the still snarling Chaos Space Marine over thoughtfully, and address him directly "Do you understand this language? Or do you only speak whichever Space Languages you know?" Some of the aggression might be indignance that he's not being included in the conversation. You knew it would piss you off if you were being talked at and around by a Known Enemy and Some Random Stranger.
The World Eater growls again at you before rumbling out "I speak little. Understand more. You think to handle me, human?" He bared both sets of teeth at you, as a clear threat display.
You were entirely unimpressed by his posturing. "Would you rather heal up chained to the wall and being lectured by Ultramarines all day and all night long?" You liked Ultramarines, but most Chaos Astartes really didn't.
"What is… Fostering?" The World Eater asked after several seconds of internal contemplation, head tilting a little as he asked.
"You would live with me, in my home and recover. We'd interact with each other at your pace. You'd have your own rooms and be able to come and go as you please - as long as you come back to my home every night and don't maim, kill or harm other sentient beings. If you want to go hunting, or need to spar, I know of several Astartes-grade sparring facilities that host both loyalist and Chaos marines. I also know of several nearby parks that stock prey for hunting. Both terrestrial and aquatic-based prey. They also semi-regularly release flight-based prey, but those are on special days, so that the birds don't escape and mess with the local ecosystem. You'd stay with me until the fostering period was up and you've fully healed from your injuries."
"And after? What then?" The World Eater inquired, his helmeted gaze focused firmly on you.
"You'd be free to do whatever you wanted - short of random murder and other illegal things." You explain honestly. You wouldn't be surprised if some marines did do illegal things after they were fostered, but that wasn't anything you could prove… And honestly, as long as they weren't hurting anyone without their explicit consent, it was none of your business. "I know that there are several Chaos Warbands in the area, who might be willing to take in a new member, or you can wander around on your own. Those are just a couple of options for you."
"If this is a trick, I will kill you." The World Eater threatened.
This was far from the first time that you'd been threatened by a potential foster. Chaos Space marines were a heavily traumatized lot, and many expected treachery and duplicity at every turn. It was one of the challenges of fostering Chaos Marines that you'd long grown used to. You knew that patience and showing that you were someone trustworthy, someone who wouldn't turn on them, they tended to open up to you, at least a little. "I understand that." Reassuring him that you meant no harm, that you weren't trying to trick him was unlikely to help. Especially while pinned to the wall of an Ultramarine base and unable to move. "Do you want to come with me? If we don't click as foster people, I know several others who'd be happy to take you in who have different set-ups and fostering styles."
The World Eater seemed to mull over your words as he tried to glare the Ultramarine lieutenant into submission. He eventually answered with a quiet "I go with you, little human."
You smile warmly and nod "Alright. Lieutenant Ollias, how do we get him down from the wall?" You also tell the World Eater your name, inviting him to use it to call for you, if he wanted to.
He just grins down at you and says "I'll keep that in mind, little human~" as Ollias pressed a button, undoing the World Eater's restraints.
For a moment, it seemed as if the World Eater was about to lunge for the lieutenant, but he seemed to reassess. He walked over to you, helmet tilted downward to keep you in his sight line "Let's go. Too many corpse-worshippers here. Bleh."
That was also something that the Chaos Marines accused the loyalists of. You never could get them to explain what that meant. "Alright then. Are you hungry? I've got some snacks in my bag, as well as water, if you're thirsty."
"Food? Yes! Food is yes." The World Eater trilled, moving closer to you as you lead him out of the base.
You smile as you pull out a bag of jerky and an astartes-sized water bottle out of your bag, tearing open the bag "Here you go! Beef jerky - I've been told it tastes like dried Grox - whatever that is."
He carefully took the bag of jerky from your hands and shoved it - plastic and everything - into the mouth on his chest, barely chewing it before swallowing. The water bottle followed after. You weren't surprised that he'd eaten the packaging, as other Chaos Space Marines had done that before, and had been fine. You figure it might be some sort of mind-trip thing they try to pull. You blink as you see a flash of movement behind your newest foster, noticing for the first time that this World Eater also had a tail - which was wagging ever so slightly. "More!… Please?" The World Eater asked, looking down at you hopefully. "No food while captured…" He said sorrowfully, a low whine leaving him.
"I've got a couple more snacks, and we can stop by a fast food place on our way home. What do you like to eat?" You ask, wanting to know more about your foster - and to know what you should stock your fridge with.
"I like food. Anything I can eat is good." The World Eater answers after several seconds of thinking "Rations are… bland. But I will eat whatever. Jerky good!"
This answer is also unsurprising, though you suspect as he gets to know the cuisines available to him, and the fact that there's quite a bit of fresh food available, his answer will likely change. "Alright, let's hit up a fast food place and order a bunch of things off the menu. I bet you can eat a lot, yeah?"
The World Eater nods, tail wagging faster.
#warhammer 40k#space marine husbandry sentience#space marine husbandry#my writing#oc: joth#reader insert#world eater#ultramarine#oc: Ollias#cw: body horror
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Volume One, Chapter 3
“I know what I have to do.”
The Labyrinth seemed to have extended itself throughout the entire maze, twisting its formerly logical and patterned architecture into an incomprehensible display of chaos. The six girls and Kyubey stuck together as they dived deeper into the madness surrounding them. A sudden noise from the bushes startled Twilight.
“Ah-!”
The others followed her gaze. Applejack reloaded her musket, ready to attack.
“Stay back, y’all. I got this.”
“No way!” Rainbow Dash quickly shoved the other girl aside, almost causing her to misfire. “You had the last one, this one’s all mine!”
“Rainbow, don’t you dare-!”
Before she could finish giving her words of advice, Rainbow Dash was already advancing towards the unknown creature. With a pirouette in the air and a landing kick, she tore down the leaves to find a small winged monster biting her leg, as if it had been waiting for her to attack.
“Ack! What the what? Get off me!” She violently shook it around, but the creature only tightened its grip.
Applejack regained her composure.
“Don’t move, I’ll handle it!”
“DON’T MOVE?! Easy for you to say! Do you want this thing to gobble me up?!” Rainbow whined as she kept stumbling around, fighting off the familiar.
“If you keep hoppin’ like that, I’ll end up shooting your leg off!”
“I didn’t ask for your help!”
Retaining balance for a split second, Rainbow Dash slit through the monster with her blade. It let out a tiny shriek as it dissolved onto the ground.
“There, see? Easy as pie!” She dusted off her hands in a confident manner, But Fluttershy couldn’t help but point out;
“Rainbow… the bite mark…”
“Huh?”
She looked down at her legs, but it was too late. Small vines had sprouted from the injury, lifting her upside down.
“Woah!”
“Rainbow!” Yelled Twilight.
“I’m fine, I’ll handle it!” She looked at the nervous newbie. “Go on without me!”
“Are you sure…?”
“Yeah!”
“I’ll stay here and help you…” Fluttershy offered. “It’s probably safer if I don’t go close to the witch anyway.”
Applejack nodded and turned to the rest of the group.
“Let’s get goin’!”
The remaining four girls wandered deeper into the Labyrinth, Kyubey strutting close after them. The presence of magic became stronger and stronger…
A loud cackle echoed through the surroundings.
“The witch!” shouted Rarity.
“It knows we’re here!” Kyubey warned.
Descending from the skies, a snake-like monster plunged directly towards them.
“Look out!”
Applejack shot the witch’s head, diverging it’s route and causing it to crash. The monster groaned horrifically as it tried to get back up.
“Oh no, you don’t!”
With the snap of a finger, Rarity chained the monster down with silk threads.
“Pinkie!”
“You got it!” She giggled, raising her weapon towards the witch.
“It’s… PARTY TIME!”
A loud cannon shot followed by a loud explosion fired onto the head of the monster. But when the smoke cleared…
“That thing…” Rarity murmured.
Twilight readjusted her glasses to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.
“It’s still… alive?”
Almost as if it were mocking them, the witch let out an even louder laughter, and proceeded to dive towards the girls.
“Stay back!”
Twilight brought out her shield, and with her magic, summoned a barrier to block the enemy’s path. Moving too fast to stop now, it crashed like a bird against a glass window, disorientedly shaking on the ground.
At that moment, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy walked in.
“Are you guys okaaay?!” shouted the magical girl.
Her voice brought the witch back to its senses, and as it laid eyes on easy human prey, the creature advanced towards the poor girl, trapping her with its tail before she could react.
“Aaaahhh!!!!” she wailed.
“Fluttershy!”
The witch shook her around with a mocking chortle. Rainbow Dash, furious, leaped into the air.
“Give me back my friend!”
She slashed the witch’s tail, causing Fluttershy to fall. Rainbow quickly caught her and safely landed back on ground. The witch, however, howled in pain, now directing its attention to the offender. Once again, Applejack threw it off it’s balance with a gunshot to the head.
“That thing’s skull’s as tough as a darn boulder! We oughta get it from somewhere else!”
“Maybe you’re just not very good at aiming!” Rainbow Dash shouted as she ran back and forth dodging the witch’s attacks.
“What’d you say?!” She shot again as if trying to prove a point.
“Stop it, you two.” Rarity intervened. “Can’t you see you’re falling under its influence? Keep it together!”
As each one of them launched attacks from their side of the battlefield, Fluttershy desperately attempted to crawl away from the fight, sobbing.
“Fluttershy! Are you okay?” Kyubey ran to her aid.
“Please… Make it stop… I’m so… scared…”
“It’s no use.” The small fairy shook its head. “With the way they are now, these five can never hope to defeat Unausgeglichenheit.”
“Unaus… What?”
“The witch of Discord thrives on the disharmony of others. If they keep fighting each other, they’ll just die. You’d better leave if you don’t want to end up like that too.”
“What? No! I can’t just let them die!” She quickly sat up. “Kyubey… How do I help them?”
The Incubator stared deeply into her eyes.
“If you’re ready… I know there’s something you truly wish for, isn’t there? You haven’t had the courage to say it yet, but deep within your heart… You know what you have to do.”
A cold drop of sweat slid down her cheek.
Fluttershy remembered all of those days when Rianbow Dash angrily came to her about another fight with Applejack. All the conflicts she had to fix for her. All the arguments, all the yelling… It made her friend miserable, and it made her miserable. She always wanted to help, but never knew how.
But now, not only could she relieve that pain, but she could also save her best friend’s life.
As a child, Rainbow Dash was the one who stood up and saved her.
Now, it was her turn.
The spark of determination ignited within her very soul.
“Kyubey… I wish… I wish my friends would stop fighting all the time.”
In the battlefield, Unausgeglichenheit spun and dived in for another attack. The magical girls were already exhausted, having used up a considerable amount of their power. Twilight struggled to lift her shield again, but a flying spark emerged within the darkness and knocked the witch back against a wall, wailing in agony.
The girls looked for the source of their saving grace, and were shocked to lay eyes on none other than…
“Fluttershy!” They all exclaimed.
But Fluttershy wasn’t looking at them. Her eyes dead set on the witch, who, despite struggling, picked herself up again.
She moved her sights to Rainbow Dash.
“Rainbow! Please, stop being so stubborn! I know you want to prove yourself, but this a deadly battle, not a sports competition! Please, let us protect you!”
A pink thread appeared connecting their hearts.
“And, Applejack… You don’t have to fight for all of us! We’re your friends, you can rely on us as much as we can rely on you!”
Another thread sprung to life.
“Twilight,” This time, she reached out her hand. “I know you’re scared. Believe me, I am too. But when you have friends fighting by your side, I promise you’ll feel invincible!”
Fluttershy’s words consumed her entire body. As she took her hand, Twilight felt like they were one. Her other hand was grabbed by Rarity, and Pinkie joined in on the other side.
All together, the six magical girls united to deal a final blow.
Fluttershy held onto Twilight’s hand, as the two of them floated forward. With a magical synergy flowing through them, they knew exactly what they had to do.
“Connect!”
Their intertwined hands shaped a fusion of their weapons - A giant slingshot. The remaining girls channeled their own magic to help them increase their power.
“March Equinox!” The two of them said in sync, as if an instinct long dormant had finally awoken inside them.
A beam of light traveled directly towards the witch, who shrieked and crawled desperately, but to no avail.
In a blinding ignition, the witch eroded into nothingness. The labyrinth around them began to crumble, and soon, nothing was left but a small, black egg.
A magical girl’s most prized possession.
A Grief Seed.
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Folks, I have tracked down another Owl!
[ID: A Short-eared Owl sits on top of a wooden post at dusk. They stand about a foot tall, with rounded body and head, oval face, and no visible ear tufts. Their feathers are a lovely pattern of brown, tan, and cream, with white and tan face feathers radiating from a hooked black beak. They are staring directly into the camera with two large honey-colored eyes, rimmed in black feathers reminiscent of smoky eyeliner. End ID]
It was just about dusk at Goose Pond, and we were slowly driving down a road to the north of the pond, scanning the power poles and fields in the failing light. I'm driving, and I've got my friend in the passenger seat, the person who first got me into birding. I had seen reports of a pair of Short-eared Owls in the area, our last target bird on an afternoon of exploring Madison's lakes and fields. I had read that, unlike other Owls, Short-eared are known for coming out to hunt before sunset. She says there's something just over the horizon out her window, so I stop and we both get binoculars on it. I say, "It's owl-shaped! That has to be it!"
[ID: The Short-eared Owl sits on the same wooden post, looking left into the sunset. Just one eye is visible in profile, illuminated by the fading horizon. End ID]
The Owl is heading back the way we came, and I take just a single burst with the camera before swinging the car around. Then my friend sees a second one following it! One of them must have seen something because it lands in the field, while the other one heads off over the horizon. Once I have the car pointing the right direction, the first Owl takes off again and lands on the nest box in the pictures.
[ID: The Short-eared Owl sits on the same post and stares intently at the ground. Perhaps they see something to pounce on? End ID]
The next box is right by the road, so we start creeping up close. The Owl seems totally unbothered by our presence and just sits, patiently scanning the field. We creep closer, get a few more pictures, creep closer, get a few more, until we're like 25 yards away. By then we're close enough that the ID is unmistakable. Look at that makeup!
[The Short-eared Owl flies into the distance, headed away from the camera. Their wings are outstretched, gently riding the wind as they scan the field below for prey. End ID]
The Owl probably sat on the nest box for 15 minutes or more. Meanwhile, some other birders have pulled up behind us, clearly here to do the same thing. Not long after they show up, the Owl takes off again! This time we get to see them hunting up close. They clearly spotted something and dove down to catch it. I am not sure if they were successful, but they took off after a few minutes and continued flying lazily around the field, looking for more snacks. We stayed to watch the hunt until the sun had sunk below the horizon and the light began to fail, then made our way back down the road toward home. Hope you catch your fill, little friend!
[ID: The Short-eared Owl flies low over the field, with the sunset lighting up their silhouette from behind. They are a small figure in the lower third of the shot, with a background of brown grasses, evergreen trees, and blazing orange sky above. End ID]
#bird photography#birding#photography#bird#birds#birdblr#birdlife#birdwatching#original photography#original photography on tumblr#owl#short eared owl#style influencer#beautiful eyes#can you believe this guy just wakes up looking like that?
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Clove: Part 17 - The Pit
Good news! I have finished my danny phantom fanfic so I can move Clove to the more active position in my writing rotation. So, this story will progress much faster (think one or two pieces of clove writing per week)
Masterlist
Part 16
Content: Fae whumpers, vampire whumpee, collared and bound, manhandling, lacerations around the mouth
........................................................
Ephraim sat against the cold pillar, arms wrapped around knees and his head down, toes curled into the strange grass. He shivered as the fog twisted around him, dampening his clothing and hair, leaving him to grow cold. He hadn’t thought about much of anything for the past few hours. What was there to think about? How he failed, again? Goldenrod gone into the mists of the fae wilds just like Benny? Ephraim’s own impending death?
Goldenrod had been so scared. Ephraim tried to keep his eyes wide open, staring at his tattered pants, because if he closed his eyes the only clear thought he would have would be the image of Goldenrod’s wide, fearful eyes.
Ephraim felt as though the fog had entered in through his ears and left him quiet and damp and miserable inside there too.
He hugged his knees closer, shifting his head for the hundredth time trying to get the collar to stop from cutting into his jaw. He had checked the collar earlier. No openings, no seam lines, nothing. Same with the chain. He was well and truly trapped.
A sudden wind picked up through the fog, chilling Ephraim so thoroughly he couldn’t help but gasp and it took him a moment to look up, shivering.
The fog was blowing back and away from him, showing him more of the cold, dreary landscape. There were no trees or buildings, just rolling blue hills as far as he was able to see.
Well, there was something else. Three figures striding towards him.
He should stand up, meet his death face to face, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand and expose himself to even more of that cold, cruel wind.
The three fae approached, chatting with one another and laughing. The leader looked to be the shortest, gossamer wings glimmering as though there were sunlight shining down on them. He was beautiful in the way that vampires were supposed to be, but didn’t quite manage, ethereal and uncanny.
The one walking on his right had an extra pair of arms, several fox tails waving around behind her, while the third looked like a bird of prey, his arms and wings the same limb and his face shaping into a beak which clacked gently as he spoke.
Ephraim could hear them speaking with one another, laughing softly, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying, their voices warbling and unclear to him.
Ephriam twitched when they looked directly at him, their gazes becoming something sharp and hungry.
“Oh, sweetheart!” the shortest called in a singsong voice, finally making sense to him. “Did you get lost?”
Ephraim shook his head a little.
“Foolish, then,” the bird of prey said. “To come here so boldly.”
“No,” Ephraim said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “There was a man I was following. He has my…. My son.”
“Son? Not fledgling?” the shortest asked, wings flickering. “Stealing children now, are we, experiment?”
He reached out a hand and Ephraim heard the chain come out of the stone. He tried to scramble to his feet, but the chain moved too quickly, jerking him forward to land sprawled at the feet of the three fae, the chain held in the shortest’s hand. The three of them laughed as he caught his breath, his chest aching with the impact.
“It’s funny every time,” the bird fae said, his beak clacking sharply, causing Ephraim to flinch as he started to get up.
The four armed fae put a foot on his back, keeping him from rising as his control over his breathing left him, tearing at the grass as adrenaline spiking in his tired, cold system.
“Tough luck about your son,” she said, crouching and grabbing his wrists. He yelled as she repositioned his arms behind his back, the chain forming solidly around them to hold them there. “We don’t allow freaks of nature to wander around our wilds, though,” she whispered.
She lifted Ephraim, putting him solidly on his feet before pushing him forward.
“Please, wait!” Ephraim said desperately as the three fae closed around him, dragging and pushing him forward. “Please! I have to save him! Jack’s going to-”
The four armed fae grabbed him by the hair, wrenching his head back as though he were a doll with no resisting force.
He cried out in pain, arched awkwardly as he tried to reach with hands bound behind his back to push her off.
“Shut it, vampire,” she hissed before releasing him, watching him stumble before grabbing him by the back of his tattered shirt to control him better.
The fog vanished before the three fae as they walked, and the low, rolling hills suddenly fell away.
There was a pit in the fog. It stretched on and on, blocks of reddish granite dotting the edge in intervals until it all disappeared into the mist.
And in the pit…..
There had been stories that things did not decay in the fae wilds. Not unless acted upon by an outside source. There were hundreds of bodies in the pit, all with gaping wounds in their chests, mouth open and bloody, fangs ripped out, all of them as fresh and pristine as the day they died, horror frozen on their dead faces.
A horrified sob ripped out of Ephraim as he searched the faces, looking for Benjamin’s. Is this what happened to his fledgling?
Before he could find anything, the four armed fae threw him down, back against the stone before grabbing him with all four hands to make sure he was laying flat on it.
“Give me the stake, Jokel,” she said to the bird fae, who reached into his bag to do so as Ephraim writhed, the chains digging into his wrists and back.
“Hold on,” the shortest fae said, sounding offended. “I want his fangs.”
The four armed fae huffed as the fae with gossamer wings stepped forward, his robes sweeping over the grass like a hiss of death.
He grabbed Ephraim’s jaw, despite Ephraim’s vain attempts to avoid his hand. His fingers were sharp, and cut shallow lines in Ephraim’s jaw and lips as he pried the vampire’s mouth open.
Ephraim stopped struggling as the sharp claws forced their way into his mouth, heavy on his tongue and gums. He closed his eyes tight, whimpering as he waited for the fae to take his fangs, mentally preparing himself for the sharp and terrible pain that was sure to come, but a silence fell, heavy and long.
He cracked an eye open to find all three of the fae staring at him.
The gossamer fae ran a thumb over his broken fang. “You’ve bitten something you shouldn’t have. What did you fight, vampire?”
The gossamer fae removed his fingers from Ephraim’s mouth and Ephraim licked his bloody lips quickly and nervously. “Fae,” he croaked. He was dead anyways. And if they did decide to torture him, perhaps that would provide him with an opportunity of escape. ”About half a century ago, I think.”
The fae all shared a look before sharp eyes turned to him again. “Where.”
“Quiet Brook,” Ephraim replied in a shaky tone.
That got a reaction. The four armed fae released him immediately like he’d burned her, and the bird and gossamer fae looked faintly disappointed.
“Right,” the gossamer fae sighed. “You’d better not be lying. The queen will want to meet you.”
“Queen? I don’t have time for that! I have to-”
Jokel grabbed him by the chain, close to the collar, and forced him up. “You have an audience with the queen. You will do as we say, and you might even live.”
Ephraim swallowed hard and nodded against the collar, holding his breath as it crushed his windpipe slightly. The pain didn’t really matter. He could barely feel it through the confusion, relief, and fear.
“Just our luck,” the gossamer fae sighed as Jokel released Ephraim’s collar and they all watched him stumble to keep upright. “I really wanted a couple more fangs for my collection.”
“How are you coming along with that, Kortop?” the four armed fae asked, walking beside him as Jokel took charge of walking Ephraim forward, much more gently now.
“Oh, I’m getting close. I want to have it done by the harvest festivals so I can wear them all out and about. It’s going to look incredible when it’s finished, but I think I might have to go vampire hunting if I want it done on time.”
“A trip to the human realm doesn’t sound too bad,” the four armed fae said thoughtfully. “I’d like to come if you do go.”
“Of course! We’ll make a vacation of it. Jokel, are you interested?”
“Not really.”
“Spoil sport.”
Ephraim looked back over his shoulder at the pit, blood dripping down and along his chin in cold, windswept lines. There were so many dead vampires there. So many slain when they could have just been sent back. But how many vampires avoided the pit for much worse fates in the courts?
Ephraim couldn’t stop shivering. He wished so badly to go home, to be in the garden, to hold Goldenrod. He wished it so badly his chest hurt and his eyes burned. He lowered his head, fighting back tears as he was escorted through the cold hills of the fae wilds.
Part 18
Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff @honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs @pigeonwhumps @mj-or-say10 @percy-frayer
#whump#whump writing#clove#vampire whumpee#fae whumpers#collared and bound#manhandling#lacerations#Ephraim#Hehehehehehe#I'm excited to get this arc rolling!#I've been daydreaming this scene for a hot minute#This is all so fun!
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Sorry I'm normal and perk up like a cat hearing a bird at any mention of Sunwish. (NOTE - need to think about 🧶 anon's ask some more rotate it in my head but i do concur largely and also am a little insane about it. Holding hands and skipping and singing tralala together as Sun & Scorch apologists respectively & wielder of them all)
IN FOCUS THOUGH. Ohh... I have to wonder about Sun and Morning's relationship. Sun wasn't amongst those openly mourning Morning, to my memory, but I have to think. I have to wonder. Morningbloom was strict and a good kitsitter; Sunwish was righteous and a good listener. Morningbloom was 19 moons when Sunwish was 12 moons - feasibly someone Sun would've looked up to, as an older warrior apprentice then warrior. Morningbloom was the first cat - the only cat, according to my notes - to die directly under Sunwish's paws as the clan's sole medic. (Nettlestem was found dead, I believe? Mauled on a walk.) (Though you COULD speculate she might've been found alive for drama, if you want - probably a case of Sun being in the wrong place, not having the right herbs, or just not being able to repair that kind of damage. Either way, she mourns her.) I have to wonder.
Did Sunwish aspire to be like Morningbloom, of who we saw little, but seemed a respectable warrior? Did Morningbloom appreciate Sunwish's company while she was in the medicine den with a broken spine; did she think her hard-headed righteousness was cute? Did Sunwish appreciate Morningbloom's, prickly* though she could be? For some reason Morning gives me the vibe of someone who's just nice company in general, good to sit with. Heart-rendingly, I can't help but wonder - if Morningbloom was a good kitsitter, Sunwish a good listener, did she tell her about the little cats she'd looked out for before** in those nights she was stuck on bedrest? Reminiscing, maybe laughing off some of Sunwish's dread at the prospect of having to see to some arrive safely someday as the clan's medic, smiling around some casual reassurance. Did Sunwish believe it? Did Morningbloom?
Did she still, as she laid dying under her paws?
[1/2] (- 🐈⬛)
THIS IS MAKING ME SO UNWELL WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN WTFFFFFFFFF
just. first of all. the final painful edition fucking FLOORED me. i literally stopped and put my head in my hands physically what the FUUUUCK thats so fucked up wtf. holy shit and that just makes me wonder if Oaktuft ever knew that Scorchstar was the one that killed Sunwish. and if they would have felt guilty about it. AUGH???
Morningbloom and Sunwish. oh fuuuck they are making me feel ILL. because i can look back at my drawings fairly easily i can tell you that Sunwish was NOT one of the cats to mourn Morningbloom but i am completely disregarding this bc like. could you fucking imagine. Morningbloom spent all those moons in the medicine den healing her broken spine. they HAD to have talked a bit, maybe even been friends? a little? and yeah Morningbloom grew a little crush on her but WHAT IF. Sunwish finally let slip how much she hated being a medicine cat. and Morningbloom promised once she got better she would teach Sunwish some battle moves or hunting moves. and maybe she DID. maybe the two of them in their spare time went out on faux patrols like Sunwish was a real warrior. maybe Morningbloom was the one to cheer when Sunwish caught her first prey. do you think that Sunwish would have finally grown some hope about her situation, and dreamed that one day she might be a warrior? do you think that when Morningbloom died, her hopes did too?
another thing you're right about is Morningbloom fr has haunted the narrative SO much. arguably more than any other clan founder??? i mean. Scorchstar, Nettlestem, Oaktuft, they were all old and relatively fulfilled when they died. Wildfang didn't really have time to leave an impact on the clan. Sunwish is obviously another story but MORNINGBLOOM. even though she died on only like moon 25 you can FEEL her impact through the story. she's haunting it. imagine how Sunwish felt. even if there WAS nothing she could do, i bet thats not what she told herself. hell, I bet that's not even what Scorchstar told her. even if Morningbloom's ghost didn't really haunt her. maybe all the sleepless nights... idk. i have thoughts.
but FUCK when Sunwish died????? and Morningbloom is like. There. yknow. the physical manifestation of your failure at the one duty you were permitted to do. the only path you were allowed to follow. the death on your paws. standing right in front of you and smiling???? unreal. i bet the first words out of Morning's mouth were assurances that it wasn't Sunwish's fault, it was never Sunwish's fault.
do you think they spend their free time in Starclan practicing hunting moves?
#fallenasks#black cat anon#sunwish#IM SO UNWELLLLL#and youre SO right about sunwish having that autistic swagger too. who says she wasn't grieving maybe she just shows it differently huh.#ever think about that?#this lives in my head now btw. everything you say about sunwish is so unbelievably correct
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Returning the Favor
Word count: 2,690 || It's on AO3!
Summary: When you help a fae, you are owed a favor of equal value. And fae do not forget their debts. Patton always just wanted to help, with no strings attached. That isn't how it works and maybe he's grateful for that, in hindsight.
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Chapter 1: Kind
[Prologue]
Janus’ heart pounded in his skull, a steady reprimand for the situation he’d gotten himself into. How could he have been so stupid? He’d allowed himself to get separated from his attendant, foolishly thinking he could handle an outing on his own. How quickly circumstances had gone awry.
He pulled for the eighteenth time in vain against the spider web, and only seemed to get more of himself stuck in the sticky cross-strands circling the connectors of the web. It really was just bad luck: the young fae had been distracted trying to hide from a hawk overhead and, of course, the first bush he ducked into had a near-invisible massive spider web.
He’d flown into it at full speed, and the recoil of it had gotten his limbs tangled in the fine threads. His poor wings had it the worst, as he’d made the mistake of trying to flap on instinct to get free and only pinned them directly into it. He had no leverage to push off of the web and he didn’t particularly want to deal with a pissed-off hungry spider. A shadow fell over him and he had to wonder if his luck truly sucked so much that the bird had actually found him.
“Oh! You’re– You’re not a butterfly.”
Janus blinked and found himself looking up, perplexed and dreading at the young voice…two giant blue eyes on a round freckled face stared down at him, a half-done flower crown carefully clutched in the hand sticking over the bush. Janus’ eyes narrowed. A human was the last thing he needed to get involved.
“Away with you! Leave, I don’t want your involvement.”
“But aren’t you stuck? I can help, I won’t hurt you.” the human replied, walking around the bush and kneeling behind Janus, which was unnerving.
Janus scowled, trying to keep eyes on the human despite being trapped on his front. He renewed his struggle but all it was doing was making him tired. “I said I do not need it.”
The human sat back with a worried expression, but their big hands made no move to grab Janus. “Okay. I’ll make sure you get out safely, though.”
Janus craned his neck to squint at them unhappily, but they seemed intent on just keeping watch for the spider that was surely around. Janus scowled to himself, humiliated as his pulling and twisting did nothing to improve the situation. No matter how he tugged or tried to rip his arms free, the strands stuck to him. It was all he could do to not get his head stuck too.
He grunted in frustration, silently cursing this human for bearing witness to his vulnerable moment as he was quickly tiring but refused to stop on principle with the large, wide eyes occasionally turning on him with what couldn’t be worry. No, it was likely pity, as he struggled like a mere insect waiting to die as nature intended for small creatures like him: victim of his size and bad luck. He gritted his teeth, refusing to succumb to the hot frustration behind gold eyes.
The human suddenly squealed in alarm as the spider crawled down the web towards its net’s prey. “Careful!! It’s coming! Oooh– please—“
Janus flinched as he saw the massive spider crawl out onto the web. He struggled futilely to get a hand free as panic got to him. “Okay! O-Okay, get me– oof!”
Janus felt a gentle pinch of his sides and felt himself get pulled up. The web tore away easily, though he was still covered in it as he found himself in the human’s loose fist.
The child scampered back from the bush with the fairy cupped in their palm, looking around frantically for where the spider had fallen when he’d torn its web. He shuddered, trying to shove it from his mind after checking around for a long moment. He then looked down at the web-covered fae he’d saved and tried not to think about the web now stuck to his hands as a result.
“Are you okay?”
Janus ignored the question, electing instead to keep swiping at his arms and legs as he hopelessly tried to get the webbing off of him. It wasn’t so much too strong for his pulling as it was sticky, just getting more onto his hands as he knelt trying to get it off of him.
The human let him stay in his palm as he watched, and Janus did not like being gawked at. If his wings weren’t still covered and weighed down by the webbing, he’d have already tried to take off. But he was rather grounded as he worried how he was going to reach and clean them himself.
He frowned up at the human after a moment, more wary than upset. He’d accepted help without asking the conditions. It was foolish to let himself. “And what would you ask of me after doing such a priceless favor?”
He hoped it was just that, a favor. He knew how valuable his kind were to humans in the trade for magic items. He didn’t know if a child would grasp the sort of value he had. Stars, even he didn’t know. Only his mother and caretakers had warned him of such things while venturing out, that humans weren’t to be trusted as they’d take him regardless of his age. He was just an object to them and now he’d gotten himself at the mercy of one. Maybe he should have taken his chances with the spider. If he got back home, his mother would surely never let him leave the kingdom again.
If he called for help, he wondered if Emile would hear him. Would that only alert the human to more fae for the taking? He didn’t want to drag Emile into this, but he now wanted the teacher here to get him out safely. Emile would be upset if he just allowed himself to be taken for his sake, though. He’d know what to do and say to appease the human.
But while Janus had been spiraling down those thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the human shifting until he felt his stomach drop.
He looked around in a panic as the human stood, the slightly crushed flower crown hanging in the crook of his arm as he focused on cupping Janus securely. “Um. I ask if you need some water to help get the strings off?” he answered a bit unsurely.
Janus blinked, staring blankly until he remembered the last thing he’d said.
The fairy made an unamused face, but the human seemed entirely genuine. Janus shifted uneasily but knew that it would help. Still, he wasn’t keen on wracking up more unpayable debts. But how else would he get back to flying? And the longer his large wings were covered in the spider silk, the harder they’d be to clean.
“Why?” he demanded, eyes narrowed. “So you can take me to the other humans that sent you and sell me??”
The other looked startled. “Wha– no! No, I didn’t even know you weren’t a butterfly,” he defended. “I really thought you were a poor swallowtail that got trapped. H-How else are you gonna get home?”
Janus studied him for a long moment, making the human squirm a little. “…okay.” he sighed, covering his face. “But don’t take me far!”
The other child perked up and nodded quickly, his caramel curls bouncing off his head with each nod. “No problem! There’s a stream right over here.”
The tiny fae grimaced. He already knew that, as it was the very one he’d run into minutes before. Emile was probably losing his mind on the other bank with worry. “Silly mortal. I cannot cross running water, let alone get in it. It is a wretched barrier to my kind.”
Blue-eyes looked perplexed. “How did you cross it in the first place, then? Did you fly really high?”
Janus sighed. “Of course not, that wouldn’t work. I…I rode a turtle swimming across.” he admitted, embarrassed. And admittedly he hadn’t thought it through until he was halfway across. If that turtle had decided to duck under...
“Oh. You’re stuck over here?” the larger child asked, something like sympathy in his tone that made Janus bristle a little.
“I just wanted to see what was on this side because I’ve never been, and I can find my own way back! And I’ll be cleaning my own wings, so you can keep your huge human hands to yourself.”
He chose not to acknowledge that he was already in the human’s palm, because then he’d be reminded of the little power he truly had. But maybe he could trick the human into not realizing that. At that, he added, “And I don’t even know your name.”
Even as they talked the human child still had been walking and stopped at the stream. He knelt beside it, looking across curiously before down at his passenger now only in one hand.
The child tilted his head, then opened his mouth eagerly before pausing. “My Ma says I shouldn’t give strangers my name,” he said apologetically and Jan smirked if only to hide his nerves and rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I bet she did, then. Still, I should call you something.”
The human thought for a moment, looking at the abandoned wildflower crown to his right. “You can…call me Blue? Like Bluebell— my family calls me that sometimes,” he explained, hoping that would work.
Janus sensed no lie and he acquiesced. Not hard to see where they’d gotten that.
“What can I call you?” Blue questioned, eagerly leaning forward some.
The young fae folded his arms and shook his head. “I did not agree to an exchange.” he deflected, and Blue wilted.
“Oh. I suppose that’s true,” he replied, rubbing his arm awkwardly.
Jan eyed him for a long moment. “You can call me Jay.”
The human’s eyes widened and just as fast he shifted back to beaming.
“Okay, Jay! Aw, it’s like the bird, right? That’s a little funny,” he giggled. “Blue and Jay. Blue Jay~”
Jan shook his head at the antics. “Alright, Blue. Tell me what exactly your reasoning was for bringing me here?”
Blue set him down beside him. “I’m gonna help you clean off so you can fly and then I can get you back home across the river,” he explained before grinning. “No strings attached!”
Jay didn’t look particularly pleased. “I already said I did not want you to help with my wings,” he said, the black and yellow wings fluttering anxiously behind him as he tried very hard to not let them close on each other.
Blue nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t have to! Trust me, I have an idea.”
Janus eyed the human and then the stream. “I cannot trust one of the same who have harmed my kind for centuries, no matter how naive. You will be just like them one day.”
“I refuse to be.” Blue insisted, not even wavering at the accusation while reaching into the water with cupped hands. “I can't prove it now but I can help you. If you let me,” he said, gazing over at Jan as he offered the carefully captured water to the fairy. “Just flap your wings in the water and the web should come loose.”
Jan stared up at him as if trying to find the answers written in the tan freckles splattered across Blue’s face. “Why would you just help me for nothing?”
“Because you need it. And I can give it. That’s enough reason to help. You don’t have to do anything but maybe trust me a little bit. It’s just like…like a favor. I don’t need anything back.”
Janus stepped closer, then looked down at the lightly dripping pool of water in Blue’s palms. He wouldn’t be able to fly until his wings dried, but he already couldn’t do that anyway. He wouldn't be any more at the human’s mercy than he was now unless the human planned on getting him sick. The idea was outlandish even to him.
He set his hand gently on Blue’s index finger. “…okay.”
Jay ended up sitting together with Blue for over an hour, after having dipped his wings into the water and to his relief, making them easier to clean. He didn’t like his wings being wet, but it would not damage them. They talked while Janus sunned for a bit, hesitantly at first then more at ease as it became clear Blue was keeping to his word.
The sun was getting lower in the sky and Blue set down the small flower crown he’d been painstakingly weaving out of a bunch of tiny purple wildflowers they’d found nearby. Blue offered it to Janus, who had been watching curiously as the human struggled with large fingers to not crush the plants as he worked. The fairy took it gingerly, then peered up at Blue curiously.
“You wear it! If you want to. It’s a flower crown.” he explained, and Janus’s eyes widened. How had this human even known?
Janus looked down at it, before carefully setting it on his head and Blue looked delighted. “Aw, purple looks lovely on you!” he giggled happily, and Janus’s wings fluttered unconsciously.
Blue beamed before looking around, then down at his companion again. “Your wings look like they’re all dry, can you fly yet?”
Janus blinked, looking back at them. He flapped testingly for any extra water weight and was able to get off the ground with no problem. He smiled lightly, nodding. “They’re dry,” he confirmed. “I could get home.”
Blue nodded back and stood, offering Janus his palms. “Let’s get you across, then. We don’t want your family being any more worried.”
Blue took him to a shallow, narrow part of the stream not too far down and carried Jay back across, simple as that. It stunned Jay how easy it really was.
He looked back at Blue and gave him a bow as he hovered, intrigued by this strange human he would never run into again. Blue waved and did not follow as Jay zipped off to find his distraught mentor for the scolding of a lifetime.
A favor.
Such a simple phrase for something that was so valuable that he could not repay with anything he had to offer. Considering what could have happened had Blue not intervened, it was a life-debt. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Blue had chosen not to bind him to the deed and yet it felt like something he couldn’t be released from so easily, beyond the laws of magic and hospitality and dealings.
He’d never heard of a human-like that before. And he couldn’t stop thinking about them long after he’d made it safely back home.
He set the flower crown on his intricately carved toadstool table beside his bed. It would stay preserved, as bright as the day it was created, forever. It was a reminder. A fitting symbol of a debt that was not something he could truly even repay, he knew, but that didn’t mean the opportunity would never arise.
He went to sleep, with many questions and thoughts on the boy who had helped a fae for nothing in return and, not one to accept things for free, wondered if he really would continue to hold those beliefs or grow up to regret having not taken advantage of his finding as a foolish young one. Janus wondered if he himself would, in a swapped scenario. It only made Blue’s actions that much more perplexing. Maybe he could ask Emile. Maybe he would understand it after some years: this level of thoughtless selflessness.
He concluded it just had to be that the boy hadn’t understood what kind of offer he’d had. Janus figured he’d gotten very lucky for that: as the crown prince, he had much to lose being captured by humans.
But the kind eyes and the easy conversation were hard to consolidate with simple ignorance. He would find out what it really was, someday.
((Thank you for reading!))
#sanders sides#patton sanders#janus sanders#ts patton#ts sides#ts janus#tss fanfic#sanders sides fic#how do i tag this on tumblr omg#my writing#returning the favor AU
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mary shelley eat your heart out
it is a halloween miracle and i finished werewolf!dabi
warnings: monsterfucking, knotting, biting, stalking, predator/prey i guess
word count: ~2.1k
Rain drizzles down in a soft fog, leaving crystalline droplets on the tips of your lashes and the outer surface of your jacket. Even still, you can’t stop now, you’ve come too far. You don’t mean to pry, but you have to know where he goes every month. He knows you’re desperate to know what he’s up to, but he so carefully dodges your every inquiry.
This time he crept out before the light of day had even broken, but you were ready. Carefully throughout the day, you ducked and wove your way after him, all the way here, to the treeline of an incredibly dense, thickly misted forest.
Six feet into the trees, you can’t see more than a few feet in front of you, and Dabi knows where he’s going, while you do not. Did he go left at this tree? Or was it that one? You’ve passed this patch of mushrooms already! Within moments, you’re hopelessly lost. You try not to let yourself panic. Is that mist on your skin or a sheen of cold sweat?
Without another idea of how to proceed, you stop right where you are to carefully consider your next move. That’s when you hear it, soft, but unmistakable footsteps. They stop when your head swivels around, trying to find the source. The last thing you need is to be eaten by a wild animal right now, and god only knows what’s out there with you. You’re going to need to find your way back to where you started, that’s all. Backtracking should be easy.
Backtracking is not easy when every tree, rock, and puddle looks exactly the same. It feels like you’ve been walking for hours, despite the light never changing from a dimly misted twilight. Every step, you’re accompanied by those footsteps, but every time you try to find them, they evade you.
Eventually, you have to stop and rest. For a few moments, you’re surrounded by the quiet sounds of the forest, and then a twig cracks loudly, a few yards behind you. You whip around, but there’s nothing there. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. More acutely than ever, you can feel yourself being watched. Being preyed on. The thought comes unbidden to your mind, but once it’s there, you can’t shake it. Perhaps now is a good time to get moving. You should try to find your way out before it gets dark. If it get’s dark…
It should be dark by now. You’re bone tired. The snapping twigs are closer and closer to you, but when you look; nothing. Whatever is stalking you, it’s taunting you; letting you know that it could get you whenever it wants. It just doesn’t want to yet.
Just when you feel like you can’t go any farther, there’s a bright spot in the trees up ahead, like the underbrush disperses. The edge of the forest! With hope comes a burst of strength, enough to get you to jog directly into a clearing. It’s not the edge of the forest, but there is a small, dilapidated structure off to one side. It seems to be an old shack, but it’s in poor condition, offering only the barest protection from the elements. It’s better than resting in the open, though. At least there’s a wall behind your back to protect you from whatever is toying with you. If you settle yourself in this corner just so, it could almost be cozy. You just can’t fall asleep. Easy. Stay awake.
Stay awake.
stay...
awake…
Time is indistinguishable when you’re startled awake by a loud noise. Before you’re fully awake, it comes again, a BANG on the wall of the shack. The sky is the same ambiguous grey, but it must have been a while. Your bones creak as you force them from their resting position, trying to get to your feet as quickly as possible. Another BANG. You can’t take this anymore!
“What do you want from me?!” you scream, hands balled into fists at your side, eyes shut tight, as if not seeing what’s coming for you will save you. As suddenly as the banging starts, the whole forest goes deathly quiet. Not even the flutter of birds or rustle of leaves dares interfere.
You see the barest flicker of movement before you’re pinned against the wall, your attacker in just enough shadow to obscure them. “Do you regret coming here, yet?”
Wait.
You know that voice.
It’s rough, and gravelly, but unmistakable. “Dabi?” your voice trembles, as if you can’t believe it enough to say it with confidence. Instead of answering, he growls, one hand (why don’t you recall his hands being this big?) wrapping dangerously around your throat.
“I asked you a question,” he growls, teeth glinting in the dim light (you know those weren’t that big the last time you saw him).
Your heart races. He feels the spasm of your throat as you swallow thickly, but your answer stays stuck on your tongue. Your face heats, as does your lower belly. You quickly press your legs together, as if to contain yourself.
“Oh,” Dabi finally lets the light fall on himself, revealing the monster he’s become; huge and hulking, covered in coarse hair except where his scars peek through. It has him looking decidedly mangy. Why do you feel this way? “You like this.” His tongue drags over his sharp sharp fangs in a way that shouldn’t be so enticing. “I knew I liked you for a reason.” This time, his tongue drags over your jaw, hot and rough, all the way to your ear.
You really thought you were going to scream, but the moan that escapes you is decidedly unafraid. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you manage to ask between gasping breaths. Why can’t you catch your breath?
“Most people don’t react quite like this,” the hand not around your throat traces its way between your legs. Without thinking about it, you shuffle your feet apart, desperate for his touch. “But if I’d known you were such a freak,” a squeeze of his hand on your throat stoppers the protest bubbling up, “I’d’ve done this sooner.” With no more than a grunt of effort, Dabi shreds your clothing. If his body wasn’t throwing off such feverish heat, you’d be worried about hypothermia, but as it is, your chest feels hot to the touch, twitching with the pounding of your heart.
Sharp teeth graze over your pulse, making it skip a beat. “Don’t be shy, now. Say it.”
“I-” Is he really going to make you say it? You can barely think over the roaring of blood in your ears.
“Say it,” you can’t stop your whole body from shivering when he growls in your ear, low and harsh.
“Fuck, I love it!” you yelp, head twisting to show more of your neck. Your eagerness should embarrass you, but you’re so far past that, still high on adrenaline and the euphoria of relief knowing the thing hunting you the whole time was just Dabi. The sudden deluge of neurotransmitters makes your brain go haywire. All you can think about is his (huge) hands on your skin. His (sharp) teeth against your throat, but not digging in. Why not? Oh please.
You don’t realize you’ve actually started pleading aloud until you hear Dabi chuckle. “Desperate little thing, aren’t you?” You whimper and nod. Maybe if you’re good, he’ll give you what you really want. “Show me,” he guides your hand to your dripping cunt. Claws. Your full body shivers in pleasure. Biting your lip, you slide two, three fingers into yourself. How are you supposed to prepare for - Dabi ruts against your hip, oh god - for that with just your own fingers? But as you get more and more excited, your worries slip into the background. Who can think with those claws pricking into their hips; where Dabi’s kneading to keep his hands busy. All he wants is to fuck you, but he can’t hurt you. He’s a monster, but your monster.
“I want you, please, I’m ready,” you whimper.
“You sure?” His claws dig deeper into your flesh. He almost can’t bear the thought of you saying no; his patience reaching its very limits.
"Yes, yes," you insist. You're probably ready. Patience has never been your strong suit, either.
You don’t balk when the oversized tip of Dabi’s cock stretches you even more than you were anticipating. It stings, but no more than the continuous nipping of his teeth on your skin; a hot, hazy pleasure-pain that blindsides you. The sound that leaves you is animalistic enough to perk Dabi’s ears. He really really regrets not letting you in on his dirty little secret sooner. You’re more receptive than he could have ever dared to hope. He is never ever going to let you go. The urge to bite, to mark, to claim gets stronger and stronger, and yet he resists; not for anything as silly as a werewolf’s curse (it’s not that easy to pass it on), but because he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop; to maintain control of himself; of his strength. You’re so fragile.
Even as Dabi contemplates how easily he could snap your delicate little spinal column, you are writhing; grunting with effort to take more of his monstrous cock inside of you. It’s too much and not enough. You need to be closer. You want to be full of him. Body and mind (and heart if you could stand the thought). You bury your face in his chest, relishing the uneven prickle of hair therein. “Fuck, you’ll be the death of me,” he pants. He can’t help himself. He thrusts his hips sharply against yours, burying several inches all at once. It takes your breath away. “Tell me you can take it,” he growls.
“I can take it!” You squall, brows pinching together in an effort to hold onto what seems to be your very sanity. You can take it. You want more of it, and attempt to say as much, but every time you open your mouth, your moans carry your sentences into incoherency.
Luckily, Dabi needs no further encouragement to push his hips against yours, grinding as much of himself into you as possible. You can feel him in your throat, and you finally brush against satisfaction. “Yes,” you breathe. He’s not even sure you’re aware you’re still talking. Your eyes are deliciously glassy; tears gathering along your lashline from the overwhelm of pleasure. He can’t help but lap them up when they finally spill over; long, rough tongue scraping over your cheekbones at regular intervals. It doesn’t take long for the spot to get raw; another layer of sensation in the cacophony.
His pubic bone crashes against your clit over and over with near-bruising force, and as he nears his release, those thrusts become shorter and shorter, until he’s simply grinding against you, whimpering faintly in your ear. That’s when you really feel it for the first time - his knot - a faint burning stretch just inside the tight grip of your sucking cunt. The stretch becomes overwhelming within a matter of moments, eliciting a high whine from the back of your throat; another animal sound Dabi might just get addicted to. He presses kisses all over your face like soft rainfall. You pull him close, pressing your lips to his in a blind bid for comfort. “Taking it so - fuck - so good,” he nuzzles into your neck and purrs in your ear. “I’ve got you. Just take it, baby.” he presses into you harder, grinding against your clit until you can’t catch your breath. You let yourself surrender to your orgasm, clutching at him desperately and yowling your satisfaction.
The hot, wet vice of your pussy suddenly pulses and throbs and Dabi can’t stop himself from finally cumming with a howl of his own. You’re perfect as you harmonize with him. His tongue hangs out as he pants to catch his breath; knot nestled firmly inside you. As you come down from your own high, the stinging stretch mellows into a dull, pleasant throb of thorough fullness. You’re suddenly exhausted, nuzzling into his chest with your eyes closed. “Don’t fall asleep on me yet.”
“Why not?” It’s not quite a whine, but it’s close.
“Do you think I sleep here? There’s a house nearby I crash in. What do you take me for?” If he wasn’t so satisfied, he might be offended by how little you think of him. The nerve. He doesn’t even know how you found this damn ramshackle thing. You truly have no sense of direction. It was fun to follow you in your endless circles. Could be funny to make you lead the way back.
“I dunno. Maybe.”
“You’re insufferable.” he tells you despite the fact that he’s picking you up to cradle you close to his chest. He can berate you when you’re warm and dry.
#dabi x reader#bnha smut#mha smut#i fucking love spooky season#pardon my i mean i love fucking spooky season#plot twist it was actually both
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Voretober 29 - Hazard
Length: 1900 words
Vore type: M/M, oral vore
Fandom: None
Other info: willing prey, feral snake pred, implied digestion
Summary: A snake tries to nap on a golf course, and, somehow, gets a meal out of it.
Ssint wiggled his long, sinuous body, burying himself just a bit deeper in the sand. He had been hesitant to leave the safety of the woods, but the pit of sand, located fortuitously amid an otherwise uniform space of gentle, rolling green hills, was a warm and welcome change from the cool shade of the surrounding forest. And luckily, neither hungry harpy willing to risk their life nor passing dragon appeared in the sky as he'd made his move. He flicked his tongue out; his surroundings were strangely sterile of rodents and birds, but the scent of humans and their ilk was thick, along with metal. Of no matter; Ssint would simply have to stay aware of their movements.
…well, somewhat aware. He was pretty well-hidden, he had to admit, his golden-brown hide against the yellow-white sand. And with the pleasant heat, it was sorely tempting to nap so soon on finding his new spot. The serpent yawned, stretching his jaws and setting his lower ones back into place against each other-
Before he could finish closing them, something small and hard flew directly into his throat, its speed forcing it easily a foot deep. Ssint drew his head back - partly from the blow, but also in panic. Was he under attack? Was that just a small, very stupid bird? His forked tongue shot out again, wiggling up and down, as he tasted for any useful differences. In his mouth, a somewhat grassy taste had appeared, likely with the strange object. And the scent of humans - no, human and catfolk - grew stronger.
Ssint lowered his head when he realized what that meant; unfortunately, he did so right as an orange, striped cat lady appeared over the hill, along with a human man in strange, checker-patterned attire. The tiger pointed at him, and with growing dread, Ssint watched as they approached.
They stopped at the border to the sandy area, and from his hiding-place just barely covered by the sand, Ssint saw that the tiger, rather than being nude, wore a dress patterned like her fur would be, and the human wielded a thin, metal club. Did he intend to use that on him? He could only catch snippets of their whispered conversation:
"Just … two stroke …" the catfolk led.
"Nonsense … need to find … hidden."
"Do you not see the snake?!" she hissed, louder than the rest.
"Oh … idea," the human whispered back before taking a step forward. In a more audible voice, he addressed Ssint. "Excuse me, my good snake. Did you happen to see where my ball landed? It flew this way, but I lost sight of it over the green."
Ssint briefly debated pretending he didn't hear them, or that he didn't exist, but they definitely knew he was there. So, he raised his head out of the sand, shaking the grains off. "Er, I don't think so? What did it look like?"
The man held the fingers in his free hand apart a small amount - a similar size to the thing that had intruded on his throat. "It would've been about this big, white, covered in dimples. Going moderately quick, if I may toot my own horn."
"Hard to the touch?"
The tiger stared at her companion in disbelief. "You hit him?!" she said, exasperated.
"It's not like I was aiming for the sand trap!" he replied. This seemed to mollify her as he turned back to Ssint. "Er, yes. I'm terribly sorry; I hope I didn't strike anything vital?"
"Not… really?" The snake undulated his body, this time ascending from his hiding place; the tiger's eyes widened, and she took a step back. He gestured with the tip of his tail to a spot just before his stomach. "It went pretty directly down my throat, feels like it's around here."
"…I don't suppose you could give it back?" the man asked.
The catfolk tugged at his arm. "Just drop a new one and take the penalty! Before this snake… I dunno, but he's big!"
Ssint shook his head. "The ball's not big enough."
"C'mon, Rin, you know I always play it where it lies if possible," he remarked to the tiger, then addressed Ssint again, "could I follow it down and try to knock it out from there?"
Ssint looked him over. He'd eaten bigger without problem. But… "Disgorging meals is pretty uncomfortable, and really time-consuming to do safely, and I suspect miss… Rin? would want me to do that for you. So I'd rather not."
"I could treat you to a bigger meal after," the man said, at the same time Rin replied, "no, you can keep him."
This startled both Ssint and the man, but the tiger ignored the snake and stared her friend back down with a level gaze. "I still want to go to the party after this. So, Ter, mister "the recall ball is too expensive," you can either take the penalty strokes or pay for a rez, because I'm not waiting for you to go in and out of a giant snake just for the possibility of saving one stroke on a game we're playing for fun." Her tail lashed behind her, and Ssint swore she started to bear her fangs more as she continued.
Ter pulled a watch from his pocket, then nodded. "Rin, you're absolutely right. You did say you wanted to finish up for that, and I lost track of time. Though, er, could we pick this game up another day, maybe even tomorrow?"
Rin brightened. "Yes! Great! Good idea, let's just start on this hole next time, and-"
"Wonderful!" The man handed Rin the metal club, hopped down into the sandy pit, and approached Ssint's head. "Mind if I get my head and hands in last? I figure I'll have to do this like billiards." He lifted one foot out of his shoes and held it out to the snake.
"What?!" Rin shouted in disbelief. Ssint, operating largely on automatic instinct, swirled around Ter and lifted him in a couple powerful coils. It wasn't until he had the man all but immobilized and inches from his jaws that he paused and looked at the two. Ter, looking over Ssint's coils, nodded. Rin, however, had one hand against her face. "Rilla's whiskers… fine. Be my guest."
Ssint opened wide and guided the man's feet and ankles directly into his throat. He tasted of sand and sweat and cotton, or at least his clothes did. It was an odd experience. Not from the taste - a number of other humans, and even an elf once, had wandered from the grassy area into the forest, and from there into Ssint's jaws - but from his utter lack of struggling even while he still breathed. Or, near lack of struggling, but even still, Ter only pulled at his arms; his spine and legs stayed relatively very still. Ssint worked his jaws further up the human's legs, his lower jaw stretching to accommodate the growing thickness.
"Uh, good snake, would you mind freeing my arms? I'd like them over my head," Ter requested. For any fighting prey, Ssint would have immediately squeezed him harder, possibly even crushing the bones in his arms and ribs. But Ter… wanted to be eaten, for some reason. Another swallow carried his snout up to Ter's hips. The snake loosened his grip, before his own throat pulled the human's hands in and trapped them there.
The man yanked one arm up, then the other, and struggled no more. His rear slid easily past the snake's jaws, and just like that, Ssint had over half of him. The snake unwound all but one loop around Ter's upper arms, and ate faster; he was confident he was safe, but that was no reason to dawdle when there was food to be had. More and more of his scales stretched to allow his meal's body deeper, and Ter wore a flesh lined, yellow-scaled suit up to his chest, then his neck. Ssint freed his arms from the last loop, and confined much more of him in his gullet.
As the taste of Ter's hair laid across Ssint's tongue, the human called out to Rin, "pass me the club, would you? Don't think I can grab it from inside." The tiger passed him the tool, and his next words were for Ssint, "swallow away, good snake! But, if you wouldn't mind keeping your body straight and mouth open, that would make things easier."
Arms, of course, were not that difficult to swallow, nor the even thinner club; as the metal slid into the snake's throat, Ssint took the time to readjust his lower jaw once again. And then, with a final swallow, the outside world couldn't see the man or his club, except for as a lumpy bulge in his neck, and soon his stomach. Intentionally or not, Rin verified this fact by peering into Ssint's still-open mouth. "Yep, there he goes. Silly man."
She stood and stretched, then walked over to where Ter had stopped moving deeper. With a curled finger, so as not to scratch him, she prodded the snake's thickened gut. "This is beyond stupid, I hope you know."
"Ah-hah!" Ter exlaimed, albeit muffled by the layers of muscle, scale, and fat around him. Ssint felt him move around inside - again, it wasn't strange for struggles to be weak, but it was odd for them to not be struggles. After another brief moment of stillness, the human-turned-meal jolted; a second later, the strange, hard object from earlier flew from Ssint's jaws. Or, well, rolled gently. It quickly picked up sand, rolled downhill, and came to a stop against Ssint's tail, near one side of the pit.
Rin carefully stepped over the human-sized lump of scales and stared at the ball. Ssint watched her. After a couple seconds, she leapt to the grassy edge in one bound, then turned to face the snake. "Oh, a word of advice: don't rest in these. Nice as they may seem, enough golfers are bad enough that you'll get walked on a lot."
"Oh, really?" Ssint gathered his body out of the sand a bit more, when an idea struck him. "By the way, Rin, would you like to join your friend?"
"Hm?"
"Well, I know you don't want to waste time, but I have room in my stomach, and wonder if you'd like to spend an hour or two digesting."
The tiger lady snickered, then burst out laughing. Infectious as it was, Ssint joined in, too, giggling at his own joke. Once she'd recovered, Rin stood up and wiped a tear from her eye. "Man, I must be tired if that one gets me. But no, snake, I'll let Ter spend that time on his own. See you tomorrow - or not, if you wind up not staying there."
As she walked away, Ssint looked over to the tree line. If what she said was true, it would be worth it to head back… but he was also weighed down by a human who was growing increasingly fidgety as his stomach acids started to seep into his skin. So, with a series of wiggles, Ssint gradually buried himself again, and resolved to move… later.
#v/ore#v.ore#vorefic#voretober#snake#reptiles#snake pred#feral pred#human#human prey#furry#anthro#furry cat#furry tiger#digestion#willing prey#text#writing#writers on tumblr
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A space walk....cosmic love.
(fair warning that this can be a bit convoluted because I try to connect references and some I noticed while writing it - sorry.)
Into space
The project board that we see on the left side behind Max mentions Kathryn Sullivan, an astronaut and the first American woman who ever made a space walk. Interestingly, there's a mistake: on the board it says. Sullivan is the first woman ever, however she wasn't, the first was a Russian: Svetlana Savitskaya. (These kind of "tiny mistakes" are almost a pattern with Mr Clarke. He said about Phineas Gage that he was physically fine. No, he wasn't. He lost an eye and even in the 80s it was safe to speculate that he had severe brain damage as proven later. But why these mistakes? Same reason they used the Planck constant from 2014 and not the 80s - this looks deliberate.)
So, on the one side of the black board we have the "skeletal system" and the "Nervous system" on the other: Brain, spinal cord, semsory org(ans).... It's all connected. - And there's a brain in front of Clarke too.
Over this there are Halloween themed cat heads. Now, on the one hand you can argue: that's Vecna as the silver cat. Besides that I pointed out that Max is herself a silver cat (like snapping/snarling at people like a feral cat, the Silver/Lone Ranger connection and her silver headphones and the fact that she fed dog while Vecna fed on Chrissy says: There's a double meaning behind the Silver Cat), the Halloween theme is more connected to El and Max, dressing as the ghost and the killer. So, I say that the Halloween cats are also connected to Max.
This is foreshadowing too. And it will haunt you. El is a ghost and Max...the killer.
Mr Clarke says in his Phineas Gage lesson "physically he was fine" (not true for Gage) and then the camera changes focus to Max when he says "complete change in his personality" which is true for Gage, Max on the other hand... Max doesn't believe brain damage is a thing. Why? Some believe it's ironic that she doesn't believe it's a thing and now may have brain damage. However I believe that Max is probably right in her own case at least in regards to the future, and that the Duffers are just messing with the audience, and Max doesn't or won't have actual brain damage. It's Max's belief that foreshadows her "healing".
Like a case of a woman that was blind after an accident and misdiagnosed with cortical brain damage. She actually had a multiple personality disorder/DID. One of her alters could see, another was disabled (that's really a thing btw) - That's the idea behind these plot elements/lines: they are "true lies" so to speak. Max doesn't/won't have brain damage, she has/will have DID.
This and the brain is directly related to the moonlanding and space through visuals in this scene. Right below the clock, there's a poster showing the brain in various views and below that poster is a photograph of the moonlanding in 1969 of Apollo 11. "The eagle has landed" - the poster behind Max's head shows a bird of prey and while I think it's a falcon/hawk (I have an idea what this may refer to), you can argue that this is connected because it's part of the sequences we see of Max during the revival.
And then there's the mission on the project board which Kathryn Sullivan made the space walk. The mission registration is half hidden behind the TV and ends on 41-6...no, not 6. "G". It's actually a G, STS-41-G, but this G-letter looks like a 6. (I misread it at first. Till I checked.) This is deliberate I'd argue. Because read as a 6,it says "....-4-16". Another 11?
The day of that mission was October 11th.
The patch:
Sullivan and Leestma went out on the space walk or EVA, an extravehicular activity, to demonstrate the refueling system.
On the board it says "Extra! Extra!!" as a starting phrase to point to this event. Stating that it's the first woman who made a space walk - First of all in one shot this is directly behind Max's head and there's a lot going on behind her head in the background in numerous scenes btw like the "Love at first bite" Pac-Man sign, or her poster of the "Endless Summer" while she's fixing her skateboard, something that appears in S2-4, Lucas covering Max's mouth while the Pac-Man game is right behind her etc.
Second of all: This "Extra! Extra!!' with the three exclamation points is similar to two lines by Sam Owens:
"You are One of the good Ones" and later "First...first things first". - And it's behind Max's head. Like there's an "Extra" directly in her head.
Lots of 1s/Ones in these sentences. And I'll did point out the "Him - her" before but I'll ho into more detail in another post.
Space travel
In Season 1 El does whatever she actually does (transporting/atomize things into tiny matter that then disappears) to the Demogorgon and disappears at the exact same spot on the blackboard that in S2 has all this stuff with skeletal and nervous system on it while above are cats.... That is no coincidence. (And some pointed out that El seemingly dissappeared in the lab incident, the other girl stayed, that there are two girls, two different cracks in the tiles)
Same spot. Anyone thinking that this is a coincidence? The connection between El's first disappearance, the Halloween cats, the nervous system writing on the blackboard? Brain poster and moonlanding too. The writing is literally on the wall. - El will disappear or "travel" into that "space", into the brain, the nervous system, like eaten by a silver cat..Max's brain.
Like she went into a cats paw (the portal in the wall of Season 2) when escaping from the UD and potentially swapping timelines (or whatever) and is then figuratively be "born" from a cats paw. ("Are you real. Did I make you?", Max as the Silver Cat) And the glow in the portal resembles...a heart?
A glowing "heart" in the middle of a cats paw and there's the glowing in the rainbow sequence that also looks like a heart for split seconds, the heart imagery and El's and Max's hearts literally connected via sound effect. Both their hearts stopped, both were revived and they are literally, audibly and visually connected. This points to the origin story of ElMax that was hinted at in Season 4. ( Yes, I firmly believe that they have a comon origin story and it's not a romantic ship that just happened.)
The silver cat feeds. Feed = consume or feed = nurture. The sentence has more than one meaning. And I would argue that it's the silver cat on the right is the one we should focus on.
Besides, these shots of Vecna and Max mirror each other. He comes from the left, using his left hand feeding on Chrissy, she's on the right using her right hand feeding dog.
And in Season 2, when El touches Terry's hand, she gets a reaction even though Terry's brain is scrambled eggs, actually damaged by Brenner. Neural pathways firing up... This scene is like a Chekhovs gun.
Why is this connected? Terry having potential brain damage from Brenner, Max left with a disruption between her sensory organs and the nervous system. There's an explanation and in parts we can piece that together. I dare say that Terry isn't El's mom, that El originally wasn't "born" in a traditional sense.
But let's go back to...
Cosmic Love - The brain is a universe
The writers were asked how they would describe the Season 4 ending with a song. The answer: Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machine.
(image from a Forbes article from 2016)
Did I mention that in the past it was noticed that the neural pathways, the network of the brain look like cosmic web looks?
It's debated of that's an accurate scientific comparison to a human brain: "Altogether, the cosmic web looks somewhat like a human brain. To be more precise, the distribution of matter in the universe looks a little like the “connectome,” the network of nerve connections in the human brain."
And who can't see or feel anything? Who is the cure? Who a silver cat? And who is One?
Conclusion:
ElMax is a love that happens in the head of someone. In the brain. - Max's. The brain is a universe with billions of stars. It's a "cosmic love". For the mind. (In which El fought for Max, while Lucas fought in the physical world - El for the mind, Lucas for the physical world.) And El can repair Max from within. She's the cure. The medicine. And that Max can...will absorb everything that El was and will be, her memories, her abilities. El's consciousness. That way, El can fire up the neural pathways, make Max see and feel even though this comes at a price. All magic comes at a price.
It's technically pretty simple, even though I digress a bit in my post(s) - the Duffers just used many props and backgrounds as metaphors over the years to point to this. Good foreshadowing and Easter eggs for generations to find after the show is over. It can be read partially as the events of S4 but I'd argue that in connection with El's disappearance in S1, the hint towards cats and Halloween (Max both "killer" and silver cat), that this is actually foreshadowing events of Season 5. Even though it's called space walk...it's more flying, leaving your vehicle to go into space. "You will need to fly"
In this scene of Max being introduced to the class, the Duffers foreshadow her fate, that she would end up in her current state while at the same time telling us how she will be healed: through El making a space walk into Max's brain, exploring this universe of her nervous system - and a cosmic love among the stars of this neural network.
Oh, and of course I forgot:
A wrinkle in time
Sorry for the long time it took. Can be a bit exhausting especially when it's not your first language you are writing in.
#elmax#max mayfield#stranger things#el hopper#elmax nation#elmax my beloved#elmax supremacy#elmax is real#elmax is endgame#stranger things analysis#eleven stranger things#eleven and max#elmax stranger things#stranger things theory
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Ranking every time the Ten Men get taken down by how cringe fail they are (Part 1)
With 1 being "not too lame, actually" and 10 being "oh my god I have to put the book down and walk away for my own health." This post will include scenes from Books 2 and 3; I'll put the Riddle of Ages stuff in another post.
"But Milk, why on earth are you doing this" well you see I hate the Ten Men (<3) and I love to talk so this works out perfectly. Listen To My Opinions, Boy. Let's get started, shall we?
Book 2: The Perilous Journey
See Garrotte is like the Reynie Muldoon of the Ten Men in that he's so fantastically average (this is a joke don't come for me y'all I love Reynie). This is just a very Average way to get knocked out tbh. And honestly, I've gotta cut Garrotte some slack here. When you think you're on a deserted island, you don't really expect some scarecrow-looking ninja to materialize out of the darkness, hijack your tank boat, and knock you out. 2/10
Crawlings. Oh, darling Crawlings. I'm making the rule now that Crawlings can't score below a 3. He has a base level of cringe fail-ness simply by being Crawlings.
Out of all of the times Crawlings gets knocked out, this is honestly the least embarrassing. None of them really know Milligan's capabilities yet, so this sleight of hand is completely unexpected. Although the "As ugly as you?" exchange occurs immediately after Crawlings wakes up from this one (and that scene in and of itself is embarrassing.) 5/10
Now Sharpe and Crawlings get knocked out (again) later in TPJ but that happens offscreen, so without further ado, let's move onto:
Book 3: The Prisoner's Dilemma
Starting this one off strong with another Crawlings MomentTM. I know he doesn't get knocked out here but I literally could not in good conscience leave it out. Peak cringe fail. Local murderous henchman loses to a four year old with sharp teeth, more at 11. 7/10
I'm gonna be honest at least 70% of this post is gonna be Crawlings. But that isn't my fault now is it?
This is just. Peak Looney Tunes shenanigans. I'm surprised he didn't leave a cartoony indent of his limbs outstretched in the wall. The "humiliating yelp" adds ambiance to the whole scene. 8/10
and another one! honestly this is more impressive on Milligan's part (truly he is insane) and once again, I'm gonna give Crawlings some pity points because who expects their opponent to straight-up grab the electrified wires? The image of his eyebrow all bristly and shocked is very comical and undignified though. 5/10
Back to dear Garrotte. once again painfully average. I desperately need to know if Milligan actually hit him over the head with a ukulele. 2/10
Sharpe coming in strong with possibly the most embarrassing knockout yet. It wasn't enough to be taken down by a boomerang, of all things. He's gotta do these popping-up-and-down shenanigans before a twelve-year-old finally tricks him into knocking himself out with his own handkerchief. I imagine he looks like one of those inflatable dancing tube man things outside the car wash just flopping back and forth. 9/10
When I tell you I literally cheer ever time I read this part. It's what he deserves. "But, honestly, would you fare any better against a bird of prey, Milk?" yes. absolutely. Madge would sense my cool and swag vibes and would not attack me. McCracken simply did not pass the vibe check. SAD. 8/10
Y'know I wish this part wasn't phrased so comically because I burst out laughing ever time I read it even though it's such a tense and upsetting moment. This is SO embarrassing for McCracken though. Imagine at long last winning a tumultuous rooftop battle and it looks like things are FINALLY starting to go your way. only for your opponent to fling himself off a four story building directly on top of you and break all your bones. oof. there's no coming back from that one chief. once again he gets pity points because Milligan is absolutely insane and no one could have seen that coming. 8/10
And, for the grand finale, a guest appearance from Hertz! I would say we're switching things up with a little vehicular manslaughter here, but it isn't Number Two's fault that Hertz ran into her fake ambulance, now is it? It was quite a Choice for him to think he could win a fight against two vehicles, let alone vehicles driven by Rhonda Kazembe and Number Two. "He was terribly annoyed" yea I bet he was. Hertz darling what were you thinking. 6/10
part 2 here!
#the mysterious benedict society#tmbs#brought to you by my love for power points and ted talks and pointless ranking systems#the ten men#ten men#mccracken#crawlings#garrotte#sharpe#milligan wetherall#hertz
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I'm feeling down because my ghouls are so weird compared to the rest of the fanon.
-My ghouls are not born, grow, age, or die. They are entities constructed by the forces of Hell for the purposes of servitude.
-The ghouls in the church were initially summoned to assist in building the church, tending the land, watching livestock, etc.
-All ghouls are nameless because it is far easier to summon a nameless entity than on you need to know the true names of.
-Ghouls do not rank on a scale of demons because they have no lineages or histories.
-Ghouls have no muscle or bone or organs or nerves and no need to eat or sleep, which makes them very handy for menial labour. This is also the reason ghouls were chosen for the band project.
-Ghouls have elemental tethers which bind them to Earth. The elements are denotes by the tips of their tails- Fire Ghouls have triangles (think stereotypical devil artwork), Air Ghouls have fluffy tufts of feathers, Water Ghouls have a shape that strongly resembles a whale's fluke, Earth Ghouls have slightly concave spades, and Aether Ghouls have five-point stars.
-No ghouls are multi-elemental.
-Fire Ghouls radiate heat and can touch flame/ be consumed by flame. Air Ghouls can cause things to levitate and generate air currents. Water Ghouls can endure immense water depths and replenish vessels almost without end. Earth Ghouls can "kickstart" plant growth and heal damaged plants. Aether Ghouls can detect the strength/ purity of magical items and hear the cosmos.
-Upon first arriving from Hell a ghoul must commune with it's tether. Fire Ghouls self-immolate, Air Ghouls launch into the clouds, Water Ghouls head for the lake, Earth Ghouls dig "graves," and Aether Ghouls are typically seen falling backwards onto the ground, directly under whichever celestial body is giving off the strongest cosmic radiation at the time. Similarly, ghouls must occasionally recharge with their elemental tether, or they begin to exhibit withdrawal symptoms (dull feathers, peeling skin that falls off and leaves oily stains, inability to shapeshift or glamour, etc. )
-All ghouls have two horns, two ears, two solid black eyes, two hands resembling the talons of a bird of prey, two wings, two humanoid legs with cloven hooves taking up approximately half the length of the foot, and one tail.
-Ghouls are sexless and genderless by default. Some choose to change this.
-Ghouls can vary in height and width and tail length.
-The horns and ears of a ghoul can vary wildly, but a ghoul will have identical accessories, i.e., no "one curled horn and one straight horn" or "one long ear and one short ear." A ghoul's horns and ears may become damaged, but that does not fundamentally change the fact that their horns and ears are pairs.
-Any damage- such as a notched ear or a broken horn- can only be repaired by a ghoul willingly returning to Hell and bathing in the primordial ooze from which it was initally summoned.
-To order a ghoul back to Hell is to unmake them. It is not death, but something more cruel in it's finality.
-A ghoul's wings a vague upon summoning due to the aforementioned lack of bones/ muscle/ etc. A ghoul can decide whether or not to make them look more appropriately wing-like. Most choose a bat-like structure.
-A ghoul's skin is usually a dark matte grey, with a pebbly look to it upon close inspection, but they feel quite smooth and cool to the touch (with the exception of fire ghouls).
-A ghoul's hair is actually very thin feathers. It just happens to exist on their heads and strongly resembles human hair. These feathers are typically black.
-All ghouls have a stony structure refered to as a "face plate." It resembles the Meliora ghoul look in that it is a largely featureless face, save for the black eyes.
-A ghoul's glamour and shapeshifting are not infinite; they are more like the camouflage abilities of a cuttlefish in that they are able to manipulate the colours and textures of their default forms. The band ghouls have been coached over the years in using their inate glamouring and shapeshifting abilities to create the illusion that they are humans in costumes and masks. Some of the costuming is real fabric, the rest is the ghoul.
-My ghouls communicate telepathically; however, their telepathy just so happens to hit the part of the human brain that causes panic and nausea. Thusly ghouls do not typically consort with humans out of politeness. Much of the clergy staff/ religious figures (bishops, cardinals, etc) are chosen because they don't seem to be affected by ghoulspeak.
-The nameless ghoul called Special has, for whatever reason, a broken telepathy that tricks the human mind into processing it as audible stimulus. It's the main reason he got his job as spokesghoul.
-The nameless ghoul called Special also coaches the band ghouls in shapeshifting. In the Prequelle era Special had to teach them not only how to form convincing teeth/ tongues/ mouths, but also how to form a rudimentary of "vocal chords" through which telepathy could be "bounced" so as to safely provide backing vocals.
-The nameless ghoul called Special has been identifying as he/him for thirty or so years and has created what he obnoxiously refers to as a "humansona." This behaviour is not encouraged in other ghouls.
-The nameless ghoul called Special is Copia's best friend (and more). This is the first instance of human/ghoul companionship in the church in centuries.
-The Air Ghoul from Papa Nihil's first band attempt is the very same nameless ghoul called "Sunshine." No one can explain how a ghoul unmade over fifty years ago came to be reformed. The Devil's machinations are at times hard to puzzle out.
-The "core" band ghouls from the Opus era (one of each elemental tether) are the same ghouls we see today. Sister Imperator thought it would be easier to keep training the same group instead of unmaking a group and training a new group for every album.
-Ghouls can walk up/down walls and stand on ceilings. Very useful when you need stained glass scrubbed or cobwebs dusted.
-Ghoul tails are entirely prehensile due to the lack of bones and muscles.
-When not actively engaged in tasks, ghouls tend to cluster in groups on ceilings or in corners and converse with one another on wavelengths humans cannot detect.
-Ghouls have a body language all their own- for example, it has been observed that a ghoul gently shaking it's folded wings against it's back is a sign akin to laughter. A ghoul with it's arms crossed is not angry or pensive, but curious. A ghoul flicking it's tail about is not anxious or joyous, but listening intently.
-While ghouls do not have families they do often collect in groups of about a dozen or so, all of the same element, in the same general areas.
-Ghouls sometimes collect things- animal bones, broken glass, incense ashes. Now and then a congregant will have a baby and ghouls will be seen leaving these trinkets in it's stroller. As of yet no one has been able to determine why.
-Only in the past decade or so has the church begun to treat ghouls more as equals than as wretched servants.
... That's all for now.
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I had a dream last night where I was in like Jurassic park but for demons, and I don’t remember all of them but I remember some of them
Like there was a pecking bird, which was like a very skinny hummingbird mixed with a woodpecker, but just the pecking into wood very fast part, that could take off its beak and shoot it. Those things were cool imo, also I don’t think they had ribs
Another bird one - owls with 1k eyes on their beaks, and their beaks were bigger than most owl beaks, and sort of shaped like an African grays beak, lowkey kind of looked like a fungal infection was on its beak from far enough away, but I think it was my brain mixing stolas from demonology with the thousand eyed angels as a ripoff
Then there was like this aligator? thing? it looked like a rendition of some extinct animal, don’t know which one though, but it could like disappear and climb super fast and it’s tail was prehensile and I think it could speak, and it like messed with peoples minds, and it disappear in a poof of smoke but not like magician smoke like it would leave an outline of itself for a couple seconds of smoke like this
And then it would just be gone, it could have teleported or just turned invisible, chances are it’s not invisible because it likes to play with its prey which means appearing in the corners of your vision or directly behind you or directly in front of you to make you change directions or on your shoulder with its mouth right next to your head until you died or stopped running, in which case he’d eat you, or if you caught up to the priests leading the tour, one Catholic one satanic, and they made it back off
There was also another bird that was like completely normal? Like it was just a green and yellow bird. And like they mated for life and stayed with their children until their children were adults. Like. ??? (Then they sometimes ate the children but still)
There was also a demon tree that could stretch its roots underneath time and space so if you saw a root that looked like it was missing a tree then the tree “saw you”. Guessing it was like the tree of knowledge of good and evil cause knowledge is ever expanding or smthn like that.
Also there was like a wendigo type thing made completely out of wood and the sounds it made were either someone else’s voice or sounds you can make with wood but louder. They could only say things they had heard though, but they could use any voice they had heard to say the words they had heard, like if a little kid cried for mommy and then a different little kid was just like talking near them they could mimic the second kids voice but make them cry for mommy like the first kid had, so if you heard Wood sounds you had to shut up so you didn’t ruin the tour for someone else by giving them a way to trick someone.
We stayed in a little cabin overnight and there were like little cyclops lizards, and a couple of kittens that were like ripping each other apart and then healing instantly and going back at it, which would have been scarier if this dream was set up less like a tv show
and outside there was like a ground sloth type thing, it had sharp teeth and was sniffing around and it was twitchy and it’s tail was longer; and a Tasmanian Tiger that had bulging eyes and it’s teeth were larger than it’s mouth could hold. Someone said they were the same kind of demon but it just didn’t exist until it could mimic something, but that something had to walk that same line of yes it’s real but it doesn’t exist as well, kind of confusing tbh
Anyways if any of you got any artistic inspiration from what I remember from my dream then I would love to see it. Or if you have an interpretation. Or if any of you had a similar dream at some point
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