#I LOVE WHEN THEY GIVE INTO ANIMAL INSTINCTS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soodoonimin · 20 hours ago

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Logan Howlett and animal instincts (or in other words my long winded analysis of a comic book character)

So before I start, just know that I have read a lot of comics but I don't know everything. I can take notes all day long but I have a bad memory and comics are confusing so please be nice and enjoy, this took a lot of effort to put together, it’s mostly my thoughts on the character as I read the the comic books. The movie character is a lot different and I will also probably do something like this for movie Logan as well (though it will be significantly shorter).

Also there are some pictures that have blood and body horror so beware.

What does it mean to be human? Well that's a question we as humans have been trying to answer since we could think to ask it and ever since then we've never been able to give a fully conclusive answer. Why? you may ask, well because think about it like this, the traits we most often associate with humanity (higher thinking, creativity, empathy, and love) may not and some times do not always exists solely within us when applied to fiction, we write whole stories about how robots can be human too, how aliens can be human etc etc as long as they have these traits (more or less) AND LOOK I'm not going to get into a whole philosophical discussion about the nature of humanity on Tumblr.com but I do want to take a second to talk about how those traits are applied to Logan and how he has to fight to prove his humanity.

So mutants are an oppressed people but being a mutant isn't always the same for everyone. You can be a mutant like Rouge who can kill people with a single touch or mutant like Storm who can bend the weather to your will (the most obvious example). You can be a mutant like Jean with no obvious physical signs of your mutation or you can be a mutant like Kurt, where 9/10 people think you’re a demon of some kind.

But what happens when you're a mutant like Logan Howlett? I mean you look human enough, sure you're a little more hairy than most people, you have fangs, you smell, and oh yeah the claws but those are retractable so overall....you're just a normal person right? Nothing you can’t hide, right? Yeah, for the most part, yeah. But there are a couple of other things about you that someone might not know from looking at you, you have an extraordinary healing factor, you have almost animal like senses and when you are pushed to your absolute brink you go into a monstrous like a rage and kill everything in sight.

For every gift Logan was born with theres a very real curse attached to each one.

Healing Factor: Logan still feels pain, the healing factor isn’t just limited to his body but it also messes with his memories, and more importantly he’s lived a very long life. In The End comic and Old Man Logan comic etc, when he’s out lived most of the world, he’s miserable.

Keen senses: Seems great, until they’re exploited, imagine what being able to smell and see and hear that well all the time without relief must be like. Imagine not being able to tell when someone is going to die? Or when they’re lying or when they haven’t showered etc. sure you might get used to it like you might get used to pain but that doesn’t make it pleasant.

Claws: Need to really touch on this one? Aside from the obvious please remember that Logan’s claws aren’t in his knuckles but in his fucking forearms so when using them he needs to make an effort to direct them or….

Berserker rage: great to get you out of a pinch but you can’t control it. (We’ll talk more about this later)

Most people don’t see these very real downsides of Logan’s mutation, they just see a small, angry guy, who’s good at fighting and can take a hit better than almost anyone.

Here’s what worse, a lot of people (X-men included) don't see, they don't all the ways Logan hates himself (and those who do don’t see the depths of that hate he has for himself). They don't see the scared little boy whose father was killed in front of him. They don't see that little boy who killed his father's murderer and was abandoned by all but one person for one person (Rose). They don't see the young man who accidentally killed his first love while trying to protect her from his brother. They don't see the man who lived a relatively miserable life being plucked up by a group of people who only saw him as something to be experimented on. They don’t see the man who believes that if he loves someone he's destine to hurt them in one way or another because he has multiple times over (even if it wasn’t always his fault). They don’t see that for all the times that they call Logan an animal, he already believes them and he’s called himself worse many times over.

(Deep down he truly believes he deserves be to alone, especially in death. That would be his “deserved” hell. Eternal loneliness.)

Which is funny because I think Logan goes back and forth in deciding on whether or not he has any humanity in him in the first place. See in the Black, White and Blood comic, the FIRST story told in this series, is an account of Logan’s time at Weapon X and we get this…interaction:

Pourquoi tu me fais ça?///Why are you doing this to me? This "monster" asks him this on the cusp of death....

(Moments during the Weapon X program, be they real memories or not, when Logan’s humanity shone through)

And THIS almost immediately snaps him out of mind control he's under going. I don't know if he understood the words per say but I think even if he didn't, he still understood the plea on a human level. Because it wasn’t Weapon X who responded, it wasn’t the berserker, or Wolverine. It was Logan Howlett. It was a moment of humanity that broke the conditioning he’d been put through that answered that plea and stopped him. Because if you think about it, if these two memories actually are real, that means that Logan recognized this plea as the same one gave to the scientists. Now determining what did or didn't happen during the Weapon X program is difficult to parse out because they implanted false memories. BUT regardless of that there was always a part of him that held onto his humanity. But I think that just adds to the horror of it all. Imagine not being able to know what memories are yours and which ones are not? So let me ask, even if those memories are “false” does that make them any less real? Does that mean that Logan suffered any less under their stewardship? He was still kidnapped, he was still experimented on, still tortured. He still had the adimantium grafted onto his bones, he was still made into a living puppet and was still seen as nothing more than a weapon, an animal, a monster by the very people who were doing all of this to him and in some respects they are the reason he is seen as a monster by others.

At the end of that comic (where he was momentarily snapped out of his conditioning) he states that no his humanity wasn’t stolen from him but he still lives with that guilt of everything he can’t remember and the things he can remember are unreliable.

I know a lot of people haven’t read the comics so I’m not trying to do annoying about it BUT if you get the opportunity to PLEASE go read The Weapon X comic (by Berry Windsor-Smith) & Wolverine’s first limited series run (by Chris Claremont).

I specifically say that second one because I think the story that’s told is probably one of the more interesting told for Logan because of the relationship he has with Yukio and Mariko. I’m not going to get too deep into it because I really think you should read it for yourself but the basic outline of it is that where Mariko loves the man, Yukio loves the “monster”. And when he’s initially trying to court Mariko it’s his attempts to in a sense to court humanity but he fails and when he turns to Yukio. And for her part it’s not just as simple as her loving the “monster” but more than she goads it out of him, for thematic reasons and plot reasons. But needless to say, they both love Logan but they both love an incomplete version of him. (It’s a really good story and it’s literally what sold me on the idea of reading through any of the older comics.)

Anyway, (in the comics and movies especially) some people solely see him as a man with an uncontrollable side that they’d run from at the first sign of aggression and others only want that animalistic side and don’t love the man that Logan is. The thing is, he is both of those things. Think about it like this. As humans we like to think ourselves above the food chain, we like to think of ourselves as *more* than animals. And sure we’re definitely one of the most successful species of animals on Earth and we definitely don’t act on instincts in the same way most animals do, we’ve created society and rules and we do things a lot different than other animals but we are still animals.

So Logan isn’t both a man and an animal anymore than you or me. But he is a man that is more in touch with those animal instincts than the rest of us (bc of his mutation). Which I think is why when he does act on those instincts, people see him as less, because we (yes even comic book characters for this argument) only seem associate those traits with animals, with something lesser than ourselves.

The thing is, being “an animal” doesn’t need to be an insult or a condemnation of any kind. Humans are still animals but humans are still kind, and caring, humans have still created beautiful art and music and food and architecture and have got to the stars will probably go beyond the stars all while still being an “animal”.

So I think where most people get hung up on word “animal” is because it has such a negative connotation when applied to humans. And thus that negative connotation basically perpetuates itself so the only time we call other humans animals is when we mean to attack their humanity.

So back to Logan. Imo, there is no better example of this than the way people, Logan included, treat his (and subsequently him) berserker rage. Logan describes it as a monster that shares his soul, something else inside him, the real thing that makes him a monster, something that he doesn’t like, something he’s scared of, something he can’t always control but that he does everything in his power to keep away from the people he loves. Because Logan doesn’t like to kill, he doesn’t like hurting people. He might be good at it, he might be known for it but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Even when he thinks death is a deserved punishment, he isn't ever happy about having to kill. And he even says as much at one point in the comics.

And as a real quick aside, but this is almost exactly what sets him apart from Victor Creed. They're both men whose mutation gives them heightened animal like traits. The only difference is that Logan is ashamed of those parts of himself especially when they pertain to violence where Victor likes it, enjoys it; he goes out of his way for violence.

(If there is more to Victor Creed than meets the eye please tell me bc I gotta say I don’t actually know too much about him except that any time I see him in any Wolverine media I immediately laugh bc I know the two around to brawl. And I’m almost never wrong lmao)

And mind you there are times when Logan is also a hammer in the sense that he tends to punch his way through most of his problems. But he doesn't go out of his way for it in the same way Victor does despite having every reason to.

Logan has killed people but unlike Victor he isn't a killer. Even if that's what he's "the best at".

So when he goes into this specific rage that labels him a monster (an animal) it’s almost always in front of someone he loves and it’s almost always in a moment when he’s trying to prove his humanity (when it’s being used thematically and not for plot convenience). Like if you go read the comics 9 times out 10 when Logan is being called a monster or animal by some scientist or an enemy looking to humiliate him. But it’s almost always in the mitts of a life or death situation. A situation that anyone would fight light hell to get out of even with an amazing healing factor like Logan’s.

Because he still feels pain.

He still wants to survive.

He still feels.

And at the end of it all, he feels ashamed and horrified with himself and he'll always have to live with that guilt and shame. There's a point in one of the comics when he describes his heart as being slower to heal than the rest of his body and I think its interesting because although that story he's talking more from a "heart broken" sense. I also think that can apply just as equally to idea that it also harder for him to heal from not just heart break but also from shame and guilt. In certain situations, it takes longer for him to forgive himself emotionally because he suffers physically in the short term. He’ll never have a physical scar of his wrong doing and so he carries the emotional weight of it with him.

But also because he isn't just dealing with himself. In those moments when he comes out of that rage, the people he loves are in shock and are scared because they saw the “monster” and some people do reject it and in so they reject him and although rejection is something Logan thinks he deserves, it doesn’t make that pain hurt any less. it doesn't make it any easier to heal just because you agree with them, and in a way I think that's what slows down that healing process. Logan's inability to forgive himself.

Because that's the thing, Logan, would rather be scared of himself than forgive himself, be it because of his past trauma or because of the Weapon X program (which in the Weapon X comic it’s implied if not outright stated that the scientist at Weapon X are the reason he feels the fear he does about himself). Logan is scared of no one on Earth more than the man he sees in the mirror. And that’s because in his lowest moments when he looks in the mirror he doesn't see a man, instead he sees an animal, a monster. He doesn’t need the rest of the world to tell him what he already thinks of himself, it just doesn’t help that he has a choir of voices that are sometimes louder than his own telling him his worst fear is real. He is the monster that hides under his own bed but the problem is, while the monster is 'real' is a physical sense, it does not share a soul with him anymore than the boogeyman does. He wrestles with himself. Somedays he believes he's a man like anyone else and other days he can't drown out the voices telling him he's nothing more than a monster.

And as my last touch on the beserker rage, I want to posit my own theory about it. Personally believe to some extent that it isn’t part of his natural mutation and that instead it’s something that was “given” to him by the Weapon X program. The reason I say this is because I think it would make a lot of sense that like the adimantium claws and false memories it would make sense to give you “weapon” this uncontrollable rage (that mostly comes out in times of great duress). Not just because it would be one more thing Weapon X has taken from him (control over his own emotions/body) but also because wouldn’t that just make sense on the side of the people who ran the project? That your living puppet have a fail safe of sorts in case it ran into something bigger than itself? During the Weapon X comic, the scientist are constantly surprised by how resilient he is and even though some of this surprise happens in a false memory, they really do believe they can kill him at one points so if they thought they could kill him, why not something else? Why not give their investment insurance? And what better insurance for an animal than monstrous rage.

But of course none of this is even to talk about the kind of person Logan really is. The thing that I think most people (in the comics) tend to ignore about Logan, in favor of focusing on his rough exterior (and some of his more questionable characteristics) is that he really does have a heart of gold. Now do not get me wrong, he can do some pretty fucked up shit (I will not talk about the Jean and Scott love triangle bc it gives me a migraine) but he does regularly do things that show how much empathy he has. That show that despite what he (or the rest of the world) might think, he isn’t a monster. The best examples of this are his relationships and more specifically the relationships where he’s a father/mentor. Like his relationship with Kitty Pryde and Jubilee, two kids that he basically adopts/takes under his wing and constantly goes out of his way for. Some of you might remember this post and the reason Logan does eventually fuck Wade’s shit up is because Wade literally punches the ever living shit out of Kitty in front of Logan. In another comic issue (after this), Logan beats the shit out of Wade again for punching Kitty, it’s funny but it also just goes to show that he does take protection of his family seriously. And mind you he doesn’t hunt Deadpool down, he find him by sheer plot coincidence when he’s getting a book signed for Kitty and the author just so happened to be Deadpool’s mark.

And mind you, Logan does have love for his own kids (Laura and Daken) despite the troubled nature of both this relationships but again those are a little more complicated. That’s partially for plot reasons but also because they play into just how much Logan hates himself that he struggles active show the same love for his adopted family to his “blood” family (again with Daken it’s a lot more complicated) but I also think that not only are his relationships with them fraught because of how much he hates himself but because both Laura and Daken were experimented on just and manipulated like he was (and in Daken’s case by a major player of Weapon X) so while he does love them past his own self hatred, they are also a reminder of his deepest traumas. It’s not their fault and it’s not necessarily Logan’s fault either, it’s just the cards their characters were dealt. (I haven’t read any comics with them yet so once I do I will most likely write my thoughts on his relationship with them each individually)

Regardless, Logan, depsite what he’d like you to think, is a deeply loving, empathetic and loyal person and this doesn’t just extend to people who considers family:

(Logan says this a man who not only a few issues ago was trying to kill him and his partner/friends. He saved Roughouse (the character he went berserk on a few pictures ago) because he was being experimented on in a way not too dissimilar to the way he had been by Weapon X. And if I remember correctly this is before he even knows how he got the adimantium in his bones)

He is James 'Logan' Howlett. He is a man whose life was stolen from him so many times over. He is a man who believes that the worse parts of him are all that matter and fails (or refuses) to see the good he has done in the lives of the people he cares about and believes that only death will truly bring him peace. He is someone who despite his flaws can’t help but to be kind. He is someone who fights like hell for what he believes is right. And even if he believes he’s a monster, even if the world believes he’s a monster, he will try to do the right thing because although he knows his soul is damned that doesn’t mean that exempts him from doing what good he can. He is someone who gives and good as he gets and then some. He’s the best at what he does but for him, that isn’t alway what he thinks it is.

And I think that’s the beauty of Logan as a character. Someone whose life is so wrought with tragedy and yet he is someone who can’t help but to be kind, someone who can’t help but love and care and find the humanity in the world despite the world seeming to be hellbent on taking his humanity away. Even though he (and many people in universe) might disagree with me, he is not only a one of the best humanity has to offer but he is also a shining example of the tenacity of the human spirit.

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #poolverine #james logan howlett #wolverine #I’ve been working on this one for a while so I might not post my Deadpool one until the end of the month #there are probably some things I forgot to mention but I think this is pretty good all things considered

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uncanny-tranny · 1 year ago

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And another thing that gets me about the human condition is how we weren't even meant to survive this world alone - humans with humans. We chose to trust certain animals, to nourish them, to be symbiotic with them, to love them like we love ourselves. I think a lot of people talk about how selfish it is for humans to take advantage of animals, but I think that's too simplistic. It's closer to friendship - if you do not foster the relationship, then it simply won't go anywhere, and I think the implication that animals can't ever know anything for themselves, for their survival, is also human-centric and selfish (selfishness not inherently being a bad thing).

It's just nice to know that we want to be around people - we want to be around comfort and security and safety so much that we now have animals by our side. Every time I cuddle with my cat, I think that we weren't meant to survive this world alone; she is shaped to fit in my chest, and my arms were made to wrap around her.

#positivity #and i know many people are like 'but we domesticated animals for what they could do for us 😞' and that's not the full picture...#...YES we fostered certain relationships with animals because they are skilled and they are qualified so to speak...#...but we also must prove ourselves in order to keep our end of the deal. would an animal really WANT to do their work if they...#...weren't taken care of? ESPECIALLY if they're stubborn in nature?#it just seems human-centric to think that all animals are at the mercy of us and could NEVER think or feel #and even then!!! we won't ever KNOW because they have different thoughts and feelings and perspectives we won't KNOW ABOUT #maybe we should just bask in the company and love that animals give us without worrying about committing Awful Heinous Sins #YOU ARE A PART OF NATURE. YOU ARE ALSO AN AMIMAL. YOU CAN SURVIVE WITH OTHER ANIMALS #when you take the time and care to learn about animals you can even relate and feel for them and understand a little better #i just love that humans tend to pack bond so intensely that it doesn't just apply to other people #our instinct to love and care is a good thing. our pack bonding will help us survive.#to live is to be 'selfish'. it is you IMPERATIVE to be selfish

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atomic-waste-of-time · 10 hours ago

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ok, maybe I get excited over being turned into a robot, or a pet. Maybe I get super excited thinking about staring into a partners eyes as they help me take my dehumanifier shots, while petting me softly, and telling me I'm doing a good job.

Maybe I just wanna be treated as an object, because objects are treated better than me by everyone I know. Maybe I hate being human because I never got treated as a human, but my entire childhood was rather spent crying and watching nature documentaries while repressing trauma I had in kindergarten when I was 7 years old.

Maybe I was only able to realize what I actually was when I was 14, by remembering the repressed memory of looking in a mirror and saying "I want to be a girl" before getting laughed at by everyone, including the teacher, and as a result my entire school life was spent in a state of panic and survival, being hurt for the amusement of others, never being heard, and often getting into detention for defending myself when I absolutely had to.

Maybe I was yelled at as a child for having a hard time remembering things, or understanding "basic" things, like 3rd grade math, or essays. Maybe I realized too late that I was actually transgender, that there were more people like me, that I wasn't a monster, just misunderstood.

Maybe I'm so sick and tired of fighting for myself, in a world that's hellbent on torturing my very existence. Maybe I dream of being something that isn't human because they don't have to suffer under laws, or currency, or conflicting emotions. Maybe I was treated as a monster my entire life, and adulthood is just adding a crashing burning flame to the comedic tragedy that has been my life.

Maybe I want to be a monster. Maybe I was labelled as a monster so much I learned to adapt to the role, scaring people away, being alone, even though I've always hated it. Maybe I never wanted to be human. Maybe I was born as a monster, labelled a freak by doctors, and told I wasn't special at all, just another cog in a machine everyone seems to hate, but nobody wants to do anything about except for me.

Maybe I want to be treated as an object, as an animal, as something that isn't human, because at least that way I'll feel loved. I'll be accepted. I can be happy, if I give away the thing I hate the most.

Maybe all these are true, maybe one or two, maybe none at all, and maybe you, the Reader, feel the same way.

Maybe we were mistreated and horribly abused, verbally and mentally. Maybe we both feel guilty for our trauma because it isn't as bad as someone else's trauma. Maybe we both hate the world, maybe we both want to change it.

Maybe we grew up in a manipulative home, maybe you grew up without a home, maybe you didn't even think about any of this until now, or maybe it's been a question bugging us our entire lives.

Maybe my family says they care for me, but they treat me like a slave and a freak. Maybe you understand how that feels too.

Maybe we both suffer, maybe we both hurt. Maybe we come here to get away, only to see more people in peril and pain. Maybe we just want to be happy.

Maybe you put everyone else before yourself because you were mentally abused and trained to do so. Maybe you wanted everyone else to be happy because you thought it was impossible for you to be happy. Maybe situations worsened when you showed up, like the universe itself hated your existence. Maybe you feel the same way I do.

Maybe I'm just venting over a silly post about dehumanization, maybe I'm overthinking, maybe I'm spiraling in on myself again.

Maybe I'm trying not to cry. Maybe I'm shaking and sobbing, my fingers move instinctively across the keyboard to communicate while I sob. Maybe my head aches from life crashing down around me.

Maybe I'm losing my home, my life, everything I worked so hard for. Maybe I'll never get to Britain to see my girlfriend. Maybe I'll never be good enough and I'll have to suffer forever, like I have been my entire life, tortured by happy memories that are far outweighed by the negative emotions and swirling hatred for myself, my mind and body in a constant war while I'm just a civilian casualty.

Maybe I can't cope with the fact all I'm doing is venting about my problems in the form of a long text post on tumblr. Maybe I just want to die, but I know I can't yet, when the world still needs someone like me. Maybe I have a greater purpose, maybe I matter. Maybe I don't, and the voices that scream in my day to day life are all right. Maybe I should just end my story before it gets any worse. Maybe my story will get better. Maybe I'll be ok. Maybe we'll all be ok.

Maybe I'll be loved as an object, or a pet. Maybe I'll feel cherished and appreciated. Maybe I'll be able to cry when my girlfriend holds me close. Maybe I'll be able to open a cafe just for us, where we sell tea and play music, and live out our dream. Together.

Maybe I'll be happy. Maybe I'll be better off.

Maybe I'm being too sincere. Maybe not sincere enough.

Maybe you have a lot to think about. Maybe you should reflect on yourself as a person. Maybe we all should.

Maybe I'm being too sincere.

But that's what you wanted, right?

dehumidifier? no. you misheard. i said deHUMANifier

#The world won't change without me #It will only change while I can witness it changing #I won't die #not while She still needs me #not while I still have a voice to sing #not while I still have a soul to feel #I would kill a thousand souls #just to see her smile #but if I see her sad #I fear I may cry #and then die from sorrow #knowing I hurt her.

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dent-de-leon · 1 year ago

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Caleb sheds his coat and drapes it over Molly’s still form. His hands shake, but he desperately clings to the heavy woolen fabric and adjusts it just so, laying it over Molly like he is merely sleeping. Like his body isn’t stripped naked and bleeding and going cold. Caleb has to avert his eyes when he bends down to tend to him, unable to bear Molly’s lifeless, vacant stare once more.

Belatedly, he realizes the impulse to preserve Molly’s decency is entirely meaningless. But Mollymauk looks so young and vulnerable, long hair splayed out and curled up in a pool of his own blood. Caleb can’t help the fierce surge of protectiveness that courses through him, the instinctive need to cover Molly’s prone body in comforting warmth and hold him close. He doesn’t want anyone to see Mollymauk in such a state, doesn't want to remember him like this.

It’s a paltry attempt at some semblance of respect for their fallen friend; not that any sort modesty ever mattered to Mollymauk, but it was less about shame and more about dignity. Caleb trying to give him a modicum of the comfort he deserved, some shred of gentleness and compassion, to treat him the way a loved one deserved.

Because Caleb is terribly aware that this body has already been desecrated, that Molly was not just dead but his soul held captive and tormented, that he now lay upon the ground broken and torn to pieces, carved up and bloodied and rend in half by his own hand--

Later, when the wounds are stitched closed and the blood is cleaned, Molly wraps the coat around himself a little tighter, and Caleb feels the warmth as if it were his own.

#i think this was lying around for a bit so i am tossing it here. feeling. very normal and not at all choked up over these two again--#widomauk #because every time i remember caleb cast the ritual when mollymauk was lying there looking so broken and small it just hurts #i can see him instinctively trying to do something small to give him a bit of comfort before the ritual starts. wiping the blood or just #combing his hair back and trying to lay him down comfortably #would just. love to see small little moments like that added in for animated nein when everyones preparing the ritual for him ;;#tw blood mention

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giantkillerjack · 2 years ago

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It helps me to think about caring for myself like I think about caring for a child.

Like, 'yes, I know you feel fine, but I think you've watched enough scary things before bed. Let's watch something nice now, okay?'

#original #it also helps because i am a queer autistic person with adhd who was raised catholic and #i was taught that the only way to be a truly good person was to sacrifice myself for others at all costs #and therefore seeking my own happiness was a sin. denial's the game. the more the holier.#I often think about how lent was all about honoring Jesus's sacrifice for us. but none of the things we ever gave up ever helped anyone #jesus was like hey it is a sin to allow people to go hungry and we were like 'give up pizza for a month got it'#🙄🙄🙄#I went to Catholic school and we would brag to each other about what we gave up #i think Lent is about as holy as weight loss #only holy in the eyes of a god who doesn't love me #so I don't care much for that one anymore.#anyway what I meant to say was one of the things that helps me break out of this mindset that was ingrained in me at a young age #is when I start sacrificing myself instinctively to please people I ask if I would allow this level of pain to happen to a child #if that doesn't work I ask if I would allow it to happen to a dog.#and the answer is almost always absolutely not. i would protect that animal.#and my next thought is don't I deserve to be treated at least as well as a dog??#i think yes.#i think i ought to be treated at least as well as I'd treat everyone else actually. and i am kind to others.#so why would i be my one exception?#these tags were brought to you by: i am setting boundaries with my family #bc i realized if they had treated my dog like this I'd have disowned them and not have felt guilty for it #i would also protect a child at all costs just to be clear #that is never in question it is just a matter of side stepping my trauma's excuses since it may go like #'oh you don't deserve as much as other people' but it is LESS likely to be able to convince me I should have less rights than a literal dog

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inkskinned · 1 month ago

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this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

#warm up #writeblr #actually this is because again i don't go here #i don't read/write fanfic but i have nothing but respect for my troops #but i also have never played minecraft. im sorry. please ask me any question about pokemon tho i love that shit #anyway #out of some banal and thoughtless curiosity i watched the minecraft movie trailer #and again i know nothing about minecraft. i am aware im in an endangered population #but im watching this going: this is so fucking.... BAD #there is NO LOVE in it!#like if someone who has NO history in minecraft watches that and is like - ohhh this is soulless #WHO IS THE AUDIENCE????#ppl who love minecraft are gonna hate it!!!#at some point it's the ''mean girls musical movie'' problem --#some people will always hate the premise of what you're doing and some people will love it #make it for the ppl who love it #and usually that somewhat convinces the haters to like. chill enough to TRY it . bc it IS good #but when you try to make it for the haters..... nobody likes it. it doesn't have passion. energy. footwork #which is a small way of saying a big thing: if you love something. fucking make it and assume someone will love it too.#i love u . be brave . be bold. be in boston and come to my reading #where i wrote a really weird fucked up little book.#love u love u love u etc

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zhongrin · 11 months ago

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festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #rin writes

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 2 months ago

Text

ANIMAL INSTINCT

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY:

after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.

part two of bloodthirsty

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).

Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night.

"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips.

"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Just busy."

"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."

"I don't--"

"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"

"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.

His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."

"Okay..."

"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."

You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."

"I thought pro quo was one word."

"Why would you think that?"

"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"

"Help you...how, exactly?"

You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.

Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.

"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"

"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please.

You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.

You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.

"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."

"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."

He laughs. "We'll see about that."

You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.

The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.

Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"Found you," he growls.

Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target.

Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.

You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.

"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him.

But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?

Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.

Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.

“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”

“Smell what?”

“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”

Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.

His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.

“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.

Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but

spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.

He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.

Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste.

Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.

“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”

You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.

Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.

Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night.

One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.

He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.

Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.

“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”

You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.

“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.

“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”

“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up.

“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings.

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”

“How are you going to get into my room?”

He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Thank you for reading!

LINKS

all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine

#logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlet smut #logan howlett x female reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x mutant reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine x you #tw blood #cw blood

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mamayan · 1 year ago

Note

You up? Give us some delicious yandere stuff 🙏 let's say... Fae King yandere and changeling darling 😏✨

This turned into a full fic :3 ~★ In honor of some monster fucking!

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling

tw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Non-Human Morality • Kidnapping • afab Reader • Dubcon • Oral (F) • Grooming (reader is of consenting adult age) • Forced Mating • Imprisonment • Violence (not toward reader) • Implied Murder • Rough Sex • Praise • Overstimulation • Dumbification • Belly Bulge • Size Kink

Part Two: Here

“…hic…sniff…”

Dark eyes glanced into the cool night, curious as to what creature was disturbing his evening.

“…hic…” it came again, much to his chagrin.

The still lake reflected the full moon like a mirror. To his left, not too far off, he honed in on the disturber. Something small and curled up. Shaking. The oddity enough to catch his full attention as he stood silently. The night his home and prison as he swiftly left in a puff of smoke over to the location of his intruder.

You.

His first instinct to end your miserable life, a human somehow entering his domain and crossing his barriers, but upon a closer look… he realized you were of his own kind.

A changeling at that. An abandoned fae left to die in the hands of mortals. Few if any live to maturity like this, but your short human stature led him to believe your growth was surely stunted due to neglect. Young fae needed abundant love and care in their infancy, the first 100 years of life incredibly crucial for their development. Least they end up like him and his kingdom. You were even younger than full maturity, though your physical body had completed it’s growth, your magic was weak and juvenile.

You were making odd noises which drew his curiosity, moving closer to your form, face buried in your lap as you hunched over your drawn up legs. Your feet were bare as the edges of the water lapped at them. Clothing sparse and tattered, rags unfit for even a human, let alone a Fae nearing maturity.

“Noisy little thing,” he hums aloud, startling you as you jolt and nearly throw yourself into the water. Your neck snaps up, pretty face swollen and blotchy from tears looking up and up until you saw a creature looming over you.

Your scream is cut off by a clawed dark hand, slapping over your mouth and muffling the cry as you try to jerk away in fear and panic. He watches in mild amusement, snickering as you realize your struggle is futile and efforts dying down. “Scream if you like, but none other than I will hear it out here.” He assures ominously, thin onyx colored lips pulling back to bare his razor sharp canines and pearly teeth at you. His grin savage and delighted in your terror.

He watches curiously as your wide doe eyes well up with tears, the crystalline droplets spilling up and over your cheeks, soft lips quivering beneath his palm. You reminded him of an animal imploring their predator for mercy by revealing their underbelly. There was a word for it…

Cute. His mind conjured at last. He found you cute, a changeling bold enough to intrude into the kingdom of the corrupted. You hadn’t even dropped the mirage covering you, old magic from your biological family still covering your natural appearance to mimic the human you parasitized off the life of.

“Why do you cry little one?” He asks softly, attempting not to terrify you further and avoid his questions.

You hesitate, but his molten gold eyes seem to melt through your defenses despite his dangerous and beautiful appearance. “I’m wrong,” you sniffle, grateful when he removes his enormous hand off your face, the sharp claws tipped in gold frightening against your soft breakable skin. “All wrong… and I don’t know what to do.” You curl back up around yourself, as if he too will cast judgement upon you.

He awkwardly mimics your stance, curiosity blazing as watches you in fascination. You find the way his monstrously large form contorts to sit like you somewhat baffling and amusing, less frightened now that he doesn’t seem to wish you harm.

“How are you wrong then?” He pries further, cupping his defined jaw and leaning into his hand as he observes.

“I’m not…I’m not human—I’m a—a—,” you stumble, unsure if this night is even real anymore. The shock so great you’re still trying to cope.

“A faery?” He supplies, amused by the way you gesture with your hands, expression so open and easy to read. “A changeling raised amongst humans to feed off their happiness?” His deep voice purrs it happily, as if he’s glad for it.

He is. His hatred of humans not something he feels the need to hide.

You appear devastated though, “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt or make anyone unhappy.” You mumble miserably, tugging at your hair and skin, as if that will dispel the magic which hides your true appearance.

“That’s just how our kind is, we need that happiness to grow properly.” He rubbles, eyeing your shocked expression. “We also happen to be fickle creatures ironically, and if a newborn is thought to need too much care, it is pawned off on humans who have more patience.” He clarifies, smiling as you seem to take him in with new eyes.

“You— are you a faery too? You just seem…” he chuckles as you awkwardly trail off.

“Evil? Centuries ago humans once called me the devil,” he laughs, his dark hair falling into his face like a waterfall as he shakes the loose fluffy curls, his pointed horns jutting from the top of his forehead jet black and smooth like ivory. He was too beautiful to call a devil, though you supposed it could be because of that which he was deemed so. His every feature seeming to catch your gaze with it’s beauty.

“I was going to say different…” you trail off shyly. “You don’t seem evil to me at least.”

He pauses, taking you in again as you regard him with those harmless eyes still wet with drying tears. It’d been centuries too since he’d left his kingdom, the entrance to the veil this lake he occasionally comes up to lounge by. He hasn’t seen a human since then, let alone a changeling or uncorrupted little faery like you.

He likes those pretty tears. He finds it annoying you shed them for humans you should guiltlessly take from.

His smile widens, eyes glittering mischievously and nearly glowing as he leans closer. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafting off of him as you breathe in, nearly gasping as your mouth waters.

“How’s this little one? I’ll teach you how to be a faery, to show you there is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes, where they should be white are entirely inky black, golden irises with reddened pupils framed by dark thick lashes, looked sincerely upon you.

He seemed genuine and kind despite his towering humanoid figure which looked to be capable of killing you easily.

It warmed you though, the thought of wanting to belong strong as you nod with a smile.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” You nod.

Sealing your fate.

“Tell me your name.” He asks sweetly, because despite his menacing size and sharp teeth and nails, your new friend was nothing but kind and gentle with you.

“Y/N” you reply easily, letting him playfully ruffle your hair as he picks out the leaves which got tangled in your locks from your travels here.

When he repeats it though, wonderful shivers shoot down your spine. He smiles, cooing at you like one might a baby as a he teases, “Such a cute name for a cute faery.”

You weakly protest, but fall into easy laughter as he swiftly changes the subject.

He was discussing proper fae etiquette. The basics, to not say please or thank you or I’m sorry. They all meant you expected more from the other or wouldn’t reciprocate, and that was just bad manners.

His soft hands, which could easily cover your entire face, were settled on your upper arms, having sat you in the grass against his chest.

He liked holding you close. Your little figure so soft, and from the dark circles beneath your human appearance, he assumed the neglect from the humans you resided amongst was growing worse. It was bad for your development.

“You should come live out here, they are vile creatures you know.” He comments every time you visit, though he never forces you to stay with him.

“It’s because I make them unhappy…” you explain sheepishly.

He shakes his head, thick brow arching as he rolls his eyes. “You are nearly completely mature now, you suck no happiness from your surroundings anymore silly girl.” Your confusion was palpable as he sighs and further explains, enjoying the squish of your tender flesh as he lightly squeezes you.

“While it is true fae infants are quite the hassle to raise, it isn’t as tortuous as humans make it out to be. In fact, most fae will take their child back if not treated well by their human surrogates.”

You hum, relaxing back against his warm chest and breathing in his sugary scent.

“So why wasn’t I—,” you stop short, brows furrowed but no longer speaking.

He doesn’t pry further, leaning his chin atop your head as he looks out at the lake.

“You won’t tell me?” You push, annoyed how he dances around your question endlessly. Your companion close enough that you feel insulted he won’t reveal it.

“My name is not to be uttered aloud, least calamity befall this land~” he’s teasing, you know he is, but still he refuses to divulge his name. “I gave you mine,” you argue again, huffing as he chuckles and lightly shoves you to your back on the grass, leaning over you and caging you in beneath him.

The moon is bright like the first time you’d met, illuminating his other worldly beauty.

“If you wish to call me something, call me Master,” he laughs, his sharp teeth no longer scaring you, but making your thighs squeeze together whenever he flashes them. He acts nothing like an immortal being, too immature and jovial to resemble someone having lived for thousands of years.

“So why do you get my name, but I don’t get yours?” You question in annoyance, avoiding his kiss to your cheek by jerking your face away. He huffs, sharp gaze daring you to dodge again.

You do. Earning yourself a warning nip to your collarbone as you yelp.

“Mean!” You cry, pushing at his chest as he snickers.

“Yes little flower, I am very, very, mean.” He rumbles, chest literally vibrating much like a cat does to purr.

“You give me weird nicknames…” you mutter, giving up as he licks your cheek. You don’t fight it, even as it feels foreign to you, trying to accept this side of your culture.

He licks your neck, lavishing the point where your pulse races with wet kisses and you tremble and struggle to act unaffected beneath him.

His smile is dangerous outside your view.

“Star!” You giggle, his rumble of irritation not the least intimidating to you as you roll away.

“That is an awful nickname.” He hisses, face twisted in disgust as you throw out the most horrendous names you could conjure in your pretty head at him.

“Lumi!” He growls.

“Then… Kitty?” He nearly bites you, careful not to play too roughly as he lightly tackles you down.

“If I give you a nickname, will you cease your little game?” He feels his anger fade as he wraps his arms around your smaller figure, easily pulling you into his lap. You don’t even flinch, too engrossed in your amusement to care where he handles you. You nod happily, your wish finally being fulfilled.

“Very well you stubborn creature,” he chides, “In addition to Master, you may also call me King.”

You frown. Clearly displeased by the lack of intimacy in the name. He laughs, amused by your obvious dislike. He kisses your puffed cheeks, over your pouty lips, and down to your vulnerable neck. Snickering as he goes, adoring how you so easily become pliant for him.

“I am teasing pretty flower, there was a time long ago I was called Ava, will you settle now?” He asks, voice husky as he sucks a mark into your skin, your little whine flaring his desires.

A strong urge to press you down and mate you nearly overpowers his control, but he merely holds you close and breathes your floral scent in to calm himself.

“I still prefer Kitty…” His eye twitches.

“Ava… this feels weird…” he pauses, looking down at your small form still cloaked like a human. Weak beneath him, partially nude as your skirt is pulled up to your soft belly. Your thighs are spread and shaking, his lips sucking another mark onto the thin skin of your inner thigh while you writhe.

He had your wet dripping slit open to the night air and his lustful gaze, begging for his tongue to taste.

“You don’t want to please me?” He asks, purring as you pout but deny. You were such a good little girl for him after all, so eager to learn and soak up his attention.

He resumes, licking down your thigh until his face rested above the warm mound you so sweetly offered him.

“You’re being so good for me petal, can you keep your legs open or should I help you?” He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re shaking in arousal and embarrassment. He can feel the tremors through the air as you struggle to keep your thighs spread as he asked.

“I-I need help…” you admit, feeling terribly hot as he keeps licking you, except where you seem to ache for him to lick.

He easily shifts forward, arms wrapping around you and letting your legs rest over his shoulders as he finally lets his tongue slip out to taste you.

You glance down, choking at the sight and feeling as he lets his entire tongue come out, the appendage inhumanly long and colored purple. It feels strange, the wet slimy feeling of his tongue slithering through your folds, but when he nudges the tiny nub hidden above your slit, you moan.

It sends jolts of electricity through you, hips canting up so he can to lick there again, earning you a hearty chuckle as he obliges. Licking and even curling his tongue around it, riling you up as your tiny hole leaks arousal and drips down your ass to the earth below.

“You’re making a mess petal, do you feel good? Should I stick my tongue inside you this time?” You moan, feeling the muscle prod at your unused vaginal entrance, too hazy to bother responding. He doesn’t wait for your answer, letting the thin tip of his tongue lap and taste your heady desire before poking and wiggling inside you.

It has your legs shooting straight, back arching as he holds you down with one large hand placed over your belly and chest. He groans as he feels the molten texture of your insides struggling against his intrusion, trying to force him out of your tight heat as he surges forward.

The tip of his tongue curls, swirling up and knocking the air from your lungs as a rush of hot liquid spills from your insides for him to drink down.

You shook and twitched, moaning and curling your hands around his curved horns like a handle.

The touch sends blood racing to his cock, as he moans and loudly slurps your cum down with audible squelching, enjoying the cries you released into the quiet night.

He lets you rest as he pulls back for just a moment, your body limp and panting as your high comes down.

“Good girl~” he praises, leaning over you to kiss softly at your sweaty skin, licking that too and tasting the sweet and salty mixture.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours, forcing them open to sneak his long tongue inside your mouth, filling it and claiming that space too as his own. You’re helpless to resist, delirious on pleasure as he devours you, wiggling muscle curling and rubbing erotically around your own.

He tastes like sugar and something heavier, more musky, as you come to realize it as your own taste.

“Is this… really normal…?” You can help but ask as he pulls away, his lips still sticking close to trail kisses across your skin.

“It’s quite normal little flower, are you shy still?” He asks curiously, lifting one of your small hands and bringing it to his face, his size dwarfing you considerably. He lightly nibbles on your fingers, making a giggle bubble up as you smile and then squirm when he grins and licks your hand instead.

“A little…” you admit honestly. Always so honest and open.

He nods, as if completely understanding.

“That’s alright, we’re in no rush, I’ll teach you slowly…” there’s something else not said in his words, and you’re left drunk on his pheromones and lips as he distracts you. Then he’s kissing down, discarding your clothing and leaving you naked for his mouth and curious fingers.

Your breasts are lavished in his saliva, pebbled nipples sucked until standing upright before poked down with the tip of his tongue playfully. Always so playful, Ava nips and teases your skin, blinking innocently when you moan and glare accusingly.

“It’s not my fault you enjoy this so much petal~” he pouts, looking comical and so harmless, his glittery gold wings, almost translucent behind him, fluttering as if indignant to your silent accusation.

The golden tattoos which marked his skin more visible tonight, his clothing more minimal in his wish to feel more of you as he explores and plays.

Then he’s parting your thighs and throwing you into ecstasy again.

“Who did it?”

You sat curled around yourself, terror and dread swirling inside of you at the new side of Ava you’d never been graced with before.

The side you supposed was reserved for his enemies, but now showed to you.

Despite your fear, the tears spilling down your cheeks, and the injuries you bore, you still remained stubbornly silent.

He was going insane with rage and anguish.

You truly were a flower. So delicate and easily destroyed.

“Y/N… while I am being reasonable…Tell. Me. Who. Did. It.”

For all the times he’d made himself smaller, less alarming and more charming than his true nature called for, it made this time more appallingly. He stood to his full height, like an unwavering tree he did not budge or allow you to leave, golden eyes flaring and mixing with his red pupils to create something alarming. Even the markings which covered his dark skin seemed to glow and match his eyes, magic crackling in the air and silencing the night further.

As if the stars and moon were frightened too.

Still, still, you did not speak, even as he closed in on you, your fear so strong it almost choked him. Almost. He was too angry, too furious with the humans he liked to cast out of his mind. They needed to be taught a lesson it seemed. Their fear of the Fae renewed. They were becoming arrogant, as if their species was even in the same standing as them.

Your pretty injured face and form, battered from abuse and humiliation, was all the information he truly needed.

If you wanted to protect them, and not tell him, then he’d just punish them all as if they were the culprits.

It soothed him finally, his decision made as the ominous energy around him faded slowly. He let his rage dissipate, worry and concern bleeding through now as he crouched and shuffled towards you, claws spread and outstretched towards you.

“Come here Y/N, keep your secrets, but allow me to hold and comfort you…” his eyes darkened, the glow leaving behind almost a copper color, somber as he looks at you. There’s not pity in his eyes though, as you swallow and sigh in relief, grateful to crawl into his warm embrace where it feels safe.

He’s gentle as he wraps you in his arms, lips and tongue soothing as he tastes your tears and blood.

He grits his teeth, focusing on your scent and the feel of you to calm himself again, before letting his magic seep into your skin. You easily absorbed it, soaking it up like a sponge as your pain and injuries heal.

“Ava—?” Your eyes widen, amazement in their depths which stroke his ego as he taps his forehead against your own. His horns slightly tangling in your hair.

“Do you not want to drop the illusion on yourself?” He asks softly, staring at the human image your portray. He didn’t want to admit it, but it enraged him to see you still trying to live amongst them.

You seem surprised, before looking away nervously.

“It just feels strange… to not see myself anymore,” you confess, burrowing deeper into his chest while enjoying his ability to heal and soothe you. His sugary smell lightening your heavy heart.

He nods slowly, eyes staring at nothing over the still lake.

He holds you a little tighter.

Then you’re asleep.

The burns and screams of the people echo, the night come to life with flames and chaos.

Ava stands leisurely, smile filled with fondness as he watches the human village he’d followed and found to be your residence burn.

He’d spent all night playing with them, listening to them confess the awful things they’d done to you, said to you, and tried to do to you. They even thought of sacrificing you to some nonexistent deity, which only prolonged the nightmare he’d turned the populace into.

He laughed as the sounds swirled into music for his ears, the sharp points curling in delight as he hummed a tune older than the trees towering in this forest.

The night was still coming to an end sadly, and he’d need to return to your unconscious body still where he’d left it.

He didn’t want to let you wake in your new home alone after all.

His body covered in the blood of mortals he’d torn into and feasted on, Ava left them to perish.

Alone you woke. In a bed four times the size of any normal one, within the walls of a palace you’d only ever seen depicted in stories told by faraway travelers.

You glanced down, at hands unlike ones you were accustomed to seeing. You were nude, unable to hide from yourself as you felt tears begin to sprout. The illusion magic wasn’t working, and you couldn’t understand why.

This body was your true form, not that of the human you continuously tried to convince yourself you were. You hadn’t showed Ava, too afraid he’d see your appearance and dislike you for it.

While he was magnificent, you felt puny and odd.

A hiss snatches you from your self loathing, eyes flicking up to land on the one you’d just been thinking of.

He was covered in something, though you weren’t entirely sure what until he moved closer. The pearls lining his chambers glowed softly, his appearance more vibrant as he closed the distance between himself and the bed you laid on.

You sucked in a breath, realization dawning as the red contrasts against his skin. His lower face completely smeared in it, but his lips seemed clean. Until he grinned, red stained sharp teeth with chunks of dark meat stuck in between.

You remembered briefly him mentioning being mistaken for a demon.

You finally understood as a strange fear blossomed in your gut and you scooted away. Confusion and terror consuming you, but your body not catching up with your mind, because it recognized his scent and touch. You didn’t move quick enough, a clawed hand easily curling around your ankle and tugging you close. You slid smoothly over the cool silk, brought close to his body radiating heat. He only wore trousers, his taloned feet bare and ankles revealed as he’d cuffed them up to avoid bloody human fingers trying to grip them.

“Oh my little flower, look at you,” his eyes are swirling melted gold, enchanting and so disorienting. His beauty becoming savage with the blood and human flesh he adorned.

“A-Ava…” you want to ask, but you also don’t want the answer.

Did he find out who hurt you? Or was it unrelated? It seemed too coincidental.

Your chest constricted painfully as he stared down at you in wonder. Your true form so lovely it took his breath away, your image so fitting for you it was a wonder why you didn’t prefer this over your human mirage. Your ears, pointed like his own, were curled down a little with your emotions, as his eyes traced your face.

The shape was the same, your body still so small, and your eyes still expressed every little thought without fail.

He hated to admit it was even cuter, though he mused it was likely because he was the first to see your true form.

An abandoned young changeling, one he only took mild interest in, had him so thoroughly ravenous for all of you now.

“Isn’t this more comfortable petal? Instead of masquerading as a filthy human, aren’t you happier to just be you now?” His callous words seem off, but you can’t quite fathom it all as the shock settles in.

“My precious flower faery, are you scared?” Yes, you wanted to scream, as his bloody face and body near you, his sugary scent over powered by the scent of iron and death. Fae hated iron. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

You choked, jerking back and trying to crawl away from him, but he still had your ankle caged in his hand.

He laughs, but it’s empty and devoid of any true humor as he stares down at you with something dark in his gaze.

He yanks you back, harshly and sending a jolt of pain up your leg as you cry out, pulled back beneath him as he crawls onto the bed over you.

He’s too close, nausea consuming you as you smell and see the gore adorning him.

He finds your useless fear amusing and annoying all at once.

“I asked you a question little flower.” He grips your face, smushing your cheeks and making you look at him.

He rolls his eyes as the tears you so love to shed spill down your cheeks.

“Yes… I-I’m scared…” his smile softens, almost becoming sweet and familiar.

“Good. You should be.” Your blood runs cold.

He has the mercy to bathe, but not alone. You watch as the spray of water from some sort of piping turns pink as it disappears through tiny holes in the marble floor.

He’s nude, like you, and even though you cower and try to turn away, he easily stops any and all retreats with hardly any effort.

“I thought you didn’t like the blood? I’m still not clean petal.” His fluffy curls are flattened by the water falling above, the warm spray soaking you both as you try not to wonder why the sticky redness won’t just wash away with the water. The dried portions difficult to get off without physically touching and rubbing him with your soapy hands. You wanted to know why he was doing this, being so mean.

His ears look more distinct with his hair flat, onyx horns prominent against his forehead as his lashes hold droplets of water to frame his golden eyes.

You try not to show it, but as the blood clears and his dark smooth gold lined skin is revealed, you notice the hard lines of muscle and purple veins which protrude.

You only come up just below his chest, and you can’t look down, least you see it again.

He was making you nervous and scared on purpose, but you couldn’t understand why.

Like a coward you didn’t ask either, because you feared the answer even more.

Ava shifts, fingers coming up to cup your face in his hands and tilt your head up as he leans over you and blocks the water falling. His claws jut out beside your head, one lightly tickling your pointed little ear.

He licks his lips, loving the sight of you soaked and naked, your pretty form so enthralling to his eyes he struggles to contain himself.

“Do you want my help…?” His tone is condescending, eyes uncaring in the least about your inner turmoil.

“Here,” he drops one hand, engulfing your wrist and forcing you to plant your hand against his abdomen. “You have to wash like this—,” he teaches patiently, like none of this was happening and everything was fine. He moves your soft little hand back and forth, the soap quick to wash away as the water continues to fall. “You need more soap petal.” He informs gently, moving to stop the warm spray and letting you both stand in silence now, drops of water falling the only noise besides your breathing.

He sighs when you don’t move, your eyes trained on the corner of the spacious bathing room, where an in ground bath rests. He would take you to the hot springs later.

He fills the hand he has control of with soap, and amuses himself with using it like a washcloth, your little fingers curling as your lips tilt down into a frown.

“Since you need the help,” he goads, watching as those sweet familiar doe eyes flash up a glare from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, a nasty grin filled with something sinister as he chuckles darkly. “Don’t want to be my good girl anymore?” It’s a loaded question you’re unsure of how to answer.

It hardly matters as he forces your hand down, until you jolt at the change in body part you were touching. He forces your fingers to close around his throbbing length, unable to touch or fully wrap around it as your head jerks instinctively to look at what he was making you do.

“A-Ava—,” you try to pull away, but to no avail. He only hums, the soap like lube as he uses your hand to jerk his cock, amused as you stare in shock. He won’t let you go, not when the sight of your smaller form holding his leaking rod is so arousing he comes a minute a later. Hips thrusting with the timing of the squeeze he forces your hand to hold, hot ropes of his seed shooting out onto your chest and belly as he cages you with his free arm from moving away. He allows his purple tapered tip to smear the remaining pearls of his seed on your skin, ignoring your whine of protest as he paints you.

“Fuck, that’s it, be good for me pretty girl,” he growls lightly, chest rattling as he releases his pent up frustration on your confused form.

Really, you couldn’t be more adorable covered in his release looking dazed.

His golden eyes heavy lidded as he crouches down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.

You swallow nervously, staring at Ava as he stares at you from across his bed chambers.

You’d fallen asleep after… after bathing, if you could even call it that, and awoken later to find yourself alone again. Ava missing and your body covered by fine silk sheets while you slept.

You’d scrambled about the room looking for escape, finding nothing but a single exit locked, which Ava now stood before.

He wore a pair of silken sleep pants, tailored to his enormous figure as well as a matching robe left loose and revealing a majority of his chest and abdomen. His wings weren’t physical but a magic which naturally formed behind him, you’d learned.

The gold markings on his body were duller than earlier, his eyes less vibrant and more cool as he looks at you.

He seems more… familiar. Less of the Ava covered in blood and flesh of humans and more of the one you’ve befriended.

He’s silent, unmoving as he stands still in the doorway.

You don’t want to make the first move, unsure in this new environment, but you similarly disliked all of this distance and miscommunication between you both.

You moved cautiously, much like the skittish animal he likens you to in his mind, off the bed. You’d wrapped yourself in one of his sheets, his scent clinging to you the only thing stopping him from tearing it off you in annoyance. He stays put, muscles taunt and jaw clenched as you approach him like he might harm you.

He debated it.

Briefly showing you why you should be obedient and just listen, but dismissing it in favor of you liking him at least to some degree.

When you reach him, he merely stares down at you, face impassive unlike your nervous and awkward expression.

“Ava…?” He finally shifts, leaning down to close the distance a little but still not touching you. It’s you who initiates, because he’s certain he’s trained you well enough in your past touch starved state that you can’t resist the comfort and warmth he provides. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your figure to his while looking up with those honest eyes he adores.

He finally relaxes, your touch so addicting he was unable to resist wrapping you further into his embrace while lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, warm bare cunt now pressed against his abdomen while your arms come around his neck. The sheet loosening and falling down to pool at his feet. He finally smiles at your flustered state, not letting you climb down to grab it, instead moving you both towards his—your—bed and easily laying you down to drape over you.

“You’re calmer than I imagined you’d be…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, kissing up to your jaw. “Should I prepare for your wrath later little flower?” He muses, lifting up to look at your expression.

“Was that blood… from a human?” You look guarded but he isn’t surprised.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” He affirms again.

“Was it because of… me?” Those sweet eyes looked so haunted as you asked, as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No. It wasn’t because of you.”

You check his face, as if he were a human and would lie to you as they do.

“Then why did you do it?” You breathed, sagging in relief beneath him. His lips twitch, molten eyes shining with adoration as he looks upon you.

“They greatly offended me.” He answers vaguely, but it was the truth. They offended him by breathing and walking the earth. It was a direct insult to him. They only met misfortune because they caught his attention.

You seemed happy to accept whatever rid you of any guilt, looking up at him less fearfully now that he was clean and not being mean to you. Though, you both shared very different definitions of being “mean”.

“Am I staying the night?” You asked him curiously. You had thought he’d brought you here as he didn’t know where your home in the village was when you’d fallen asleep.

He shook his head, lips curling higher.

“You’re staying forever.” He declares, sweet scent filling your senses as he comes close enough to kiss you.

Then he does.

You thought his teasing was funny, lips tilting up finally as the awkwardness dissipates and familiarity rises.

This is your Ava, warm sweet Ava that smells so good it makes you crave sweets you cannot afford.

He presses you further into the unfathomably soft bed, his lips demanding as you open for him.

“Ava,” you break the kiss, breathing heavier as he growls and nips at your bottom lip, a shiver wracking you as he leans back enough to meet your gaze. “What we’re doing… it’s what lovers and spouses do isn’t it? At least, this is what human lovers do…” your voice becomes smaller as he stares down as you with an expression you couldn’t name.

“And?” He encourages.

You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before remembering out of all the cruelty in the world, Ava was the outlier.

“Is that what we’re doing? Like lovers?” You felt too embarrassed to directly state it, to say it aloud, and equally scared this isn’t anything different than exchanging a handshake with another faery to him. It was different to you.

“Do you want it to be?” He leans down, placing a feather soft kiss against your temple so you couldn’t see his eyes glowing bright. “Do you want us to be like lovers little flower?” His voice is deeper than usual, strained almost as he holds himself perfectly still above you.

You take the time to think, much to his displeasure, but when you answer it was everything for him.

“I do.”

He places a chaste kiss to your lips, his own tilting higher and higher until he’s grinning gleefully.

“Then that’s what we’ll be.” He confirms, and you miss it.

You miss every little trap he’d laid, each tiny piece of the puzzle forming around you like a cage. You miss everything and it’s too late to go back now. Ava muses wickedly, as he kisses you more sensually, lets his claws drag so delicately down your soft skin, he thinks how stupid you are.

“I’ll be all yours if you ask for it Y/N,” he speaks directly into your pointed ear, hot breath making the tips curl as you whine. The way he says your name is different than usual, more serious and seductive. You realize this seems wrong somehow, the way he’s making you melt so easily like this, how your panic and fear evaporated so quickly. You aren’t given time to think further, when he shifts and sits up. He sneers when you attempt to cover yourself again, gripping your wrist and lightly pulling you up too. On your knees, you face his chest, eyes looking up to see his heated expression.

Ava cups your jaw with one hand, and pokes at your lip with the other.

He doesn’t ask before his thumb invades your mouth, and you fight not to bite down or jerk away with his pointed claw inside.

He’s exploring, squeezing your cheeks until you open wide so he can playfully run over your sharpened canines. Curiously playing with your tongue until he leans down licks it with his own. It felt strange and erotic, your body vibrating with nerves and budding arousal as he explores you.

“Ava…” you wanted to touch him too, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he lets his hands trail down to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples as your back arches into them.

So you let your own hands wander, bolder than usual as you feel his solid form beneath you. His skin is much softer than it appears, strange markings and golden symbols flat. He had no softer points aside from that, muscles like stone and occasionally uncomfortable to lounge against due to it.

He squeezes your waist, smiling mischievous as you yelp and glare at him. He does it again, finally chuckling as he lets his hands slip to your ass.

This time his squeeze makes you gasp, as he parts your ass cheeks and allows your heated core to be exposed to the air. His claws so careful not to tear your skin open as he drags you taunt against him, rutting his hardened cock against your soft belly.

He moans aloud as he sees the tip poke out between you, your breasts above a delicious sight as he does it again and again.

“You drive me wild pretty faery,” he smiles, licking your cheek as he easily lifts you up to toss you to the center of the bed. You sink in, huffing but giggling as he crawls over you, looking like a dark angel as he covers you completely to capture your lips in a much more filthy kiss.

“I want to devour you,” he purrs, licking and kissing down your neck and chest, spreading your legs. “Make you mine completely,” you moan, feeling delirious as he finally licks your sloppy pussy.

You moan when you feel his fingers prod your entrance, sharp claws gone and retracted as he pushes one inside you while he laps at your clit. It feels different and firmer than his tongue, able to rub and stretch you better as he begins sucking on your puffy nub and purring deep in his chest. “Your little nub is hard~ are you feeling good?” He teases, wiggling the tip of his tongue over your engorged clit.

Then he’s pressing a second finger in, a mild burn heating your core as you gasp and try to shift away to no avail. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, spearing them into you, your soft gummy walls forcefully spread around the two digits as he noisily slurps. He’s being messy and a bit rough, but your moans spur him on as he groans into your pussy when you begin clawing at his hair and whining.

“Ava! S’too much! Can’t—!” You squeak and almost bite your tongue when you cum, pussy sucking his fingers deep and massaging them as you soak his hand and face.

He doesn’t stop, eyes glowing bright molten gold as he watches you squirm and babble senselessly while he stuffs a third finger into your poor overstimulated cunt. Your little hole stretched wide around him, and he’s content to watch as your greedy lower mouth takes it as he pumps them into you.

You’re less amused though, body thrumming as the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you panic.

“Stop, I’m gonna make a mess, Ava stop—!” You cry out, eyes watering before tears fall as you struggle to stop the powerful pressure building in your core, hurting you with the intensity as he pushes you further and further. “Your insides are steadily swallowing and sucking my fingers in, aren’t you a little lewd?” He asks, unaffected by your dull nails digging into his forearm, eyes trained on your drooling hole below.

He’s got an iron grip on your hip with his other hand, nails digging into your flesh every time you try to squirm away. “You’re so lovely like this petal.”

He’s fascinated when you break again, clear fluid squirting up and out from your squelching pussy as he continues to shove his fingers in.

You cum so hard it nearly causes you to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back as you twitch and moan as the dam inside you bursts open.

You whine as he pulls free, hand dripping in gooey arousal as he brings it to his lips and slurps it up without any decorum, appearing almost starved as he gazes down at you with the eyes of a predator. “Messy girl~ I’ll teach you though,” his lips pull back to reveal his sharp teeth, “When you feel so good you think you’ll break, you’re supposed to say I’m coming, do you understand?” He asks darkly.

“No more…” your weak plea only makes him smirk, kissing you softly as he slides forward and uses both hands to cover your hips and lift your lower half up.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open, slow to realize that his enormous cock is now laid over your pussy, pulsing and dragging back and forth through your slick folds. The thick veiny appendage causes your trepidation to rise, realization dawning that he intends to fit that inside of you.

“It won’t fit—,” you weren’t being cute or coy, because while you may not be human, your form was still the same size as one. He was much, much bigger, and his cock certainly fit his proportions. You try to catch his attention, unable to close your legs with his body between them. “Ava,” He’s truly not hearing you at all, too enthralled and excited as he lubes his massive length up with your juices. He’s shaking a bit too, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he coos down at you mindlessly, golden orbs almost unseeing at this point as he lines up with your entrance.

“So good for me petal~ you’re all mine aren’t you?” He breathes, and you feel the weight and pressure begin as his tip breaches.

“Wait, stop Ava—!” You whine as the sting becomes a burn and then you’re being filled to the point of excess as you struggle to breathe anymore.

“Shh—♡,” he hushes you, pained as well due to the pressure around him, strangling him as he grimaces and drags back out a little before surging forward. “You’re mine now petal,” he groans.

You’re unable to form words as he works his cock into you like a piece which doesn’t quite fit, bullying and stretching you open to forcefully fit himself.

He leans more weight down onto you as you struggle and writhe, noisy cries falling on deaf ears as he feels himself slipping deeper as your body finally gives up on keeping him out. His tip touches your cervix, before shoving even further and smashing it up as your stomach aches in protest.

You lay limp as he finally bottoms out, twitching with your mouth open and drool pooling down your chin as you feel nothing but the feeling of him inside you. He huffs a laugh, the way you look ruined before he’s even gotten started.

You look like a doll in his grasp, his cock extending your stomach a little as it twitches inside you. Your thighs ache as they’re naturally forced up, unable to spread fully enough for him to settle so he’d merely folded you and pressed you down to prevent escape.

“You did it pretty girl, look at you~” he grins, one hand leaving your hip to press on your belly, making your eyes widen and roll back as you whine. “You took every inch of me in this cute cunt didn’t you?” This male over you isn’t familiar, even as his sugary scent seems to increase and smother you, he seems foreign in his words and actions.

The inconsistencies are difficult to track as he drags himself out of you, the fullness replaced by feeling each ridge and bump of veins decorating his cock as he slides out.

Then he’s pushing in again, stealing your breath and ability to think as he starts to fuck you.

“Don’t worry petal, I won’t hurt you,” you can’t quite understand as he pushes his thick rod inside you, brain shutting off as you go pliant in his hold. “I’ll go nice and slow so you never forget,” he moans as you tighten and jerk, “who owns you.” He’s holding back with all his might as you spasm and grip him in inside of you, walls sucking him back in as he moves to exit.

You make him forget.

As you slick his cock up with your juices, he begins to slip in easier, folding you down further into a mating press as he looks down at your teary face. You make him forget all the time he’s spent alone. Your moans increase as he picks up the pace, pounding nice and deep inside of you and ridding you of any thought beside him. He slips a hand down between you both, claws retracted completely as he softly presses on your swollen clit and throws you reeling into another orgasm around him. “Say it petal,” he grits out, the feeling of you tightening drawing his own end. He’s hardly able to move inside you, short thrusts all he can manage as he drags you over the edge.

“I’m coming—!” Your head tips back, neck bared to his eyes as you cum for him obediently.

He fills you up right after, heavy engorged balls drawing up as he pumps his first load of the day into you. His thrusts not stopping as he rocks forward, expression relaxing as his magic swirls inside of you, his mating mark slowly sinking into your soul as he works to keep his seed deep within your womb. You’re too fucked out to notice, the pleasure and pressure overwhelming your senses as you try to rest now.

Except his cock doesn’t soften.

He thrusts hard once he’s sure his bond has settled, feeling you so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out almost all the way. “It’s like your little hole misses me already,” he smiles, watching as you flutter around his tip as if to tell him you don’t want him to leave. “Tell me petal,” he slides back inside, jolting you awake as you stare incredulously down at where you both connect. The slick sounds of him slipping into your sticky wet entrance haunting as you whine, hands digging into fine silk as you try to push away.

He only presses you down harder, cock burrowing deep as if to anchor you. His eyes are wild and swirling, the color so bright it’s almost blinding in the dim room. “How does it feel to lose?”

You blank. His question not making any sense as the room spins and you’re overcome again with pleasure so intense it makes your toes and feet curl in the air where they rest.

“How does it feel to be utterly mine for the rest of eternity?” You gasp, tearing at the sheets as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to truly fuck you now. Enormous cock working you into a frenzy as you yelp when two fingers pinch painfully around a nipple. “You’re not going back pretty girl,” he laughs, face wicked and beautiful as you look up through blurry eyes spilling tears. “You’ll not return to that filthy human village,” he releases your sore nipple in favor of loosely gripping your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his hand. “You are not in the land of Fae sweet flower,” he lets his lips ghost over yours, his tip bullying your cervix as you writhe and move to claw at his shoulders. “You are in my kingdom, ours, where the corrupted Fae separate themselves,” you’re lost, eyes crossing almost dumbly as you come again, choking as you cry out his name.

You can’t move even an inch, unable to even squirm as you’re forced to take each punishing inch of his cock and he ruts into you.

“Your pussy keeps tightening up when I tell you all the ways you’re mine. Do you like this?” He delights in your pathetic attempt to push at his chest, clearly finished despite his balls still being heavy with his seed he intends to spill into you.

“A-Av-Ava!” You struggle to form even his name, let alone any sentences as he keeps up his fast and brutal pace. Though, from his perspective he was still holding back as he moans and spills himself inside you again.

“Yes flower?” He coos, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face as he pulls out just enough to grip your thigh and turn you on your side, sliding back to the hilt again. He hugs your leg to his chest, working his cock at a new angle in your abused pussy still spilling cum from earlier. “I’m listening,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t speak, aware his cock was keeping you like this.

Words die down as he uses his hand not holding your leg up to grip your hip, holding you still while pushing his hips forward, railing himself inside your exhausted body. Your head rests against the bed, mouth open as your saliva soaks into the sheets, eyes staring at nothing as you feel another impending orgasm approaching.

Ava doesn’t mind, adoring the cute cock drunk expression as he uses you like a toy, filling you up over and over while you slowly lose your mind. “I’m sorry—Ava please, I’m sorry,” your slurred speech and delirious voice make him laugh. Genuinely amused by your rambling, “Why are you sorry petal? I’m not mad,” he catches your lips, tongue invading and swallowing your cries. He finds you so cute.

His cute, stupid little changeling, so trusting and unaware of his unsavory intentions.

You lose consciousness and count when he comes with his hips pressed deeply into your ass, pressing you belly first into his hand as he keeps you angled up to meet his thrusts. Your sensitive chest rubbing against the silk below, body limp as your world goes black and you convulse around him.

This time he lets you fall flat into the soaked bedding, taking his still hard cock out so he can pry apart your pussy lips and watch his release ooze out of your gaping hole.

His golden eyes flick up to your sleeping form, lips pulling as he coos, “Cute~♡” before he’s stuffing you full again, merciless as he leans on one arm to keep from crushing you as he continues to drill into you.

Even when you regain consciousness, trying to crawl away from his torturous pleasure, he only grips your arm and twists it gently behind you to hold. “You’re soaked and so hot inside, do you know how crazy you’re making me?” He groans, almost sounding like he’s in pain as you squeeze and come again. “I’m not letting you go, stop trying to run. You’ve already lost sweet girl.” As he lifts his hips, tip still encased by your wet hot heat, he eyes the slick mess which coats you both and connects you to him. “Go ahead and go crazy too, be good and listen.” He laughs, slamming back in and making your back arch as you nearly scream, feeling him so deep it makes you wonder if he’s going to break you. You really will go crazy, it’s a fleeting thought stolen by his cock once again, but you truly worry as he drowns you with euphoria and madness.

He’s hunched and leaning over your back, letting his tongue and teeth tease your ear so sweetly while he pounds you stupid, whispering to you things you won’t remember.

“You wanted my name so badly, didn’t you my lovely mate?” He knows you don’t understand, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking on, husky voice lulling you as you cry and lose yourself to pleasure. “I’ll tell you since you’re being so good, taking my seed so well~” he lets a little more weight settle on top of you, his cock nestling into your deepest parts with it.

“I am Avarice.”

Post dividers by @cafekitsune

#Dark Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae #monster smut #Greed x reader #Fae smut #faecore #yancore #yandere x reader #fae king #yandere smut #Dark Fae #kinktober fun #request filled #afab reader #Fae x reader smut #changeling #changeling reader

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

Text

Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker. I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

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

You think Miguel is avoiding you.

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point.

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it.

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow.

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.."

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here."

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?"

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?"

"I don't have time for this-"

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?"

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans.

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks."

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now."

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching.

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-"

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!"

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall.

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly?

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out.

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big.

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing.

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm.

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain.

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies.

"What happened?" He strains.

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-"

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye.

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-"

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple.

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile.

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you.

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?"

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does.

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now.

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan.

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact.

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-"

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-"

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-"

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it.

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?"

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?"

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to.

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts."

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears.

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down.

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning.

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before.

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now.

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home.

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time.

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear.

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?"

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?"

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?"

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me."

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me."

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard.

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes…

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate.

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you.

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding.

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?"

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?"

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?"

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?"

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?"

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters."

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word.

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface.

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head.

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla."

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning.

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?"

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this."

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you."

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#this gif is fucking crazy btw

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oukabarsburgblr · 5 months ago

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drabble...hybrid au

where sousuke loves pulling on ur tail, tugging on the bone whenever you were within his vicinity or you wandered a bit too astray from your path of walking with him, in cramped places, he's made sure he had his hold on you although you'd complain how often he would grasp on your hand, his second best choice was your tail as you helplessly let him lead you around like a dog on a collar.

same thing applies in bed where he tugs you back into his cock when you began mewling and crawling away from bed because you said he was too rough, too passionate delving into your taste, lapping up your slick and slurping onto your sensitive nips, his favourite would be when he had you on your knees and he'd pull it back, watching your ass slap onto his crotch, your hole swallowing his dick with your cum coatig his base, dripping onto his thighs, his face was full of delight.

he'd pull it too when you're mad at him about something he did, just to get a bit of your attention whenever you'd give him the cold shoulder because your ass immediately perks and you'd get mad at him again for his wandering hand but all was a skit just so you would talk to him again and he can console you in anyways he can.

if your tail was long enough, he'd beg you to wrap it around his neck, letting him bury his face into the plush of your fur, inhaling your musk, your scent as he fucks you into your makeshift nest during your mating season, he wouldn't let any other human or hybrid near you, just him and his dick would be enough to stuff your hole full of cum.

daisuke wouldn't pull on your tail, he heard a myth of how animals might shit themselves if it was tugged too hard, he loved your ears though, the animal ones that act as an additional receiver to your human ears, it would twitched whenever something would brush past it while you were out of focus, a fallen snowflake, the branch of a tree or maybe even his teasing fingers sometimes he would poke into the sensitive furs, catching your attention.

he'd be more mean during sex though seeing those twitching organs, sitting casually at the head of the bed watching you ride his cock like a gamer with his joystick and he'd pull your ears back, watching you bend instinctively as you creamed around his cock, your hole squeezing around him while your own penis spurted ropes and ropes of semen onto the wrinkled sheets.

but he cares for your sensitive fluffy ears, looking up how to groom, buying expensive products for hybrids, he would be the one applying it on you, treating you like a king as he gently and affectionately brush the tips, pressing lightly along your fur with the rows of the brush, rubbing oils or moisturizer into the canal of your ears, he would consider it the top two of his favourite body part.

the number one would definitely be your mouth, he was a foreplay guy, spending hours sucking on your tongue before letting you paw and pull at his jeans, so many toys were under his bed, one of it was supposed to be for your ass but he saved it for your ears instead, a silicone clip on your ear and there was a vibrating bead humming on the shell of your ear, you didn't even know you had a kink like that, it was daisuke's, to see you go crazy on his cock while your head was spinning and spazzing out from the stimulation on your ears.

[END SCENE]

This was supposed to be short but i always take it too far. I love edging you guys💜

If sou and dai had to be an animal, sousuke would definitely be a black cat and daisuke would be a golden retriever

Taglist :

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo

#oukabarsburg #bottom male reader #sub male reader #x male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #aito sousuke #male reader smut #daisuke yuichi #oc x male reader #oc x male reader smut #oc x reader smut #oc x reader #oc smut #male oc

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hxney-lemcn · 5 months ago

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Affection — NRC Students x gn! reader

summery: what is being affectionate with your fav like?

tw: bad parents (Riddle, Leona (?), Jamil (?)), angsty (Riddle, Leona, Ruggie (kinda), Jamil, Idia, Ortho, Malleus (kinda)).

a/n: A lot of these are based on my own headcanons (Jade).

wc: 2.6k (~100 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

Growing up his mother didn’t give him much affection. He wasn’t treated like a child, more like a trophy. Something you keep just out of reach, something you only lay your eyes on. Riddle is terribly touch starved and doesn’t know it. So when you start showing him acts of affection he has no idea how to handle it. What does he do? When is it okay to do these acts? Don’t mind how stiff he is when you hug him or how red he turns if you hold hands. It's something he’s never felt before, and you have unlocked something deep inside Riddle that had been tucked away. So please, give him another hug would you? It helps slowly heal something in him he didn’t know was broken.

❥ Trey Clover

Trey is a total sweetheart. He doesn’t mind affection at all. Growing up with siblings, he’s used to hugging and hand holding. Whether you're affectionate out the gate or need a little coaxing, it's like Trey instinctively knows. He’ll ask before doing anything, asking for consent, getting to know your boundaries. If you don’t like affection, that’s fine with him, if you only like being affectionate behind closed doors he doesn’t mind. Just know that Trey loves any and all forms of affection you show him, no matter how big or little. He cherishes you, and he’ll show you that in any form you prefer.

❥ Cater Diamond

We all know Cater doesn’t mind hanging off you out in public. Hugs, cheek kisses, hand holding, you name it, he’s probably done it. What he doesn’t want people knowing is how tiring it is for him to keep up that facade. Although, when it comes to you he doesn’t even register half the things he does. You’re like a magnet that pulls him in. Though, his favorite forms of affection are behind closed doors, just the two of you, no camera. Whether it be you two existing in the same room, or you laying on his chest or vice versa, those are his favorite moments. He doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to put on a mask to make others happy because he is happy with you.

❥ Deuce Spade

Even though Deuce’s mom has showered him with affection growing up, he’s still shy about it. His image before was a punk, and now he’s trying to be an honor student. So if you ever hug him or try to hold his hand his face will flame up and he won’t be able to meet your eyes. He’s a gentleman though, through and through. Always makes sure you're comfortable even if you’re the one who initiated. He’s not too picky when it comes to affection…but he does prefer if you do it behind closed doors. He loves your kisses, but he doesn't love Ace teasing him about it.

❥ Ace Trappola

Oh boy. Ace is a little gremlin. He acts like your affection doesn’t do anything, acts all smug like you're lucky for being able to hold his hand. All the while his mind is melting and the bright blush on his face gives his true feelings away. I wouldn’t say he’s exactly touch starved, but he does crave your affection. When he became a teen he stopped hugging his parents ‘cus his brother would make fun of him otherwise. He crafted his unbothered persona, and didn’t realize how much he missed hugging until you gave him one. He rarely initiates, but sometimes he crumbles.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

He’s another one who didn’t grow up with much affection, always watching as his older brother Falena got all the praise. He’s bitter, seeing affection as a weakness, like showing your underbelly to your predator. Being soft got you nowhere in the animal kingdom…but he did enjoy it when you played with his hair or kissed his cheek. It left an odd warm feeling to fill him, making him grumble about your idiocy. Deep down, he was scared about how much he enjoyed your affection, scared he’d be upstaged once more and you’d find someone else to love. So he’ll just make sure that doesn’t happen, ‘cus there’s no one better than him after all.

❥ Ruggie Bucchi

Where he’s from, showing affection is like putting a target on your back. It shows a weakness that someone could take advantage of. This is why Ruggie is so skittish at first, always making an excuse to run away if you go to hug him, your hands brush and he’s lifting his hands up to his head (y’know that one position). But once he warms up, realizes you won’t snatch his food and run like a thief, he finds himself enjoying your embrace. It’s like heaven to lay his head in your lap as you feed him an orange. How your hands trace his face so lovingly, like trash like him is actually worth something.

❥ Jack Howl

Jack is a bit awkward when it comes to affection. He’s closed off, but his tough personality does melt away to reveal a heart of gold. He doesn’t mind if you hold his hand, just please don’t mention the pink that tints his cheeks. He does enjoy when it's just the two of you, he feels more relaxed, like he can actually take in your warmth. His hugs might be a bit uncomfortable with all that muscle, but don’t tell him that ‘cus he might stop hugging you then :( On the bright side, you could sit on his back while he does push ups :)

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

This guy…you can’t even compliment him without him running away at first. Although Azul’s mom was almost over affectionate, he’s another one that gets shy at the thought of anything affectionate. He was ridiculed growing up, which made him sharpen his edges. He has a persona to uphold, he can’t be…clingy…oh is he clingy. Out in public it's only small acts, holding hands, hand resting on your lower back, kiss to the back of your hand. In private is a whole other story. Loves hugs, cuddling, kisses, staring at you. Azul doesn’t get much alone time, so the moments you have together behind closed doors he likes to use to his full advantage. Can you blame him? You looked so lovely all day, do you know how terrible it was to watch you without giving you a kiss?

❥ Jade Leech

Doesn’t really need affection, but finds it cute when you seek him out. He loves you, yes, but affection isn’t really his forte. He won’t deny you a kiss though, especially not when you pout so cutely. Jade’s more of a tease, due to the fact that he doesn’t mind a lack of affection, he finds it hilarious to watch you long for it. He’ll brush his hand against yours, but won’t hold it. He’ll lean in close to your face only to whisper in your ear. He’ll gently brush his fingers over your cheek…only to pinch it. But if you're feeling down, he won’t hesitate to whisk you somewhere private and hold you close. He does love you after all.

❥ Floyd Leech

Another oh boy. His ‘affection’ can seem less like affection and more like torture. He won’t go easy on you either. In fact, he’ll probably squeeze you tighter due to his cute aggression. Floyd, unlike Jade, loves, loves, loves hugging, holding, squeezing. Then you opened him to the world of kissing, biting. Good luck with that. Most of the time he’s all over you, in public or in private, he doesn’t care, if he wants to nibble on you he’s gonna nibble on you. If you’re uncomfy with that he’ll try to tone it down (will he?), but he will probably forget and do it anyway. If he’s in a sour mood he won’t seek out affection, but if you do the right thing it might make him feel a little better…but be careful.

❥ Kalim Al Asim

He gives so many hugs it makes Jamil want to bash his head in. Do you know how many ways Kalim could get killed with how trusting he is? Expect hugs, hand holding, pulling, cheek kisses, and giggling. He’s not afraid to show the world how much he loves you, and he loves affection! When you show him affection though…get ready for a giggly, blushy, kicking his feet in the air Kalim. He’s so used to being the one giving affection he forgot what it's like to receive it. Yeah a lot of his siblings love him…but a lot have also tried to assassinate him so… Jamil finds you to be a double edged sword, as you tend to keep Kalim reigned in…but he also goes crazy over you.

❥ Jamil Viper

Does not like it. Not at first. It takes a lot to earn his trust, and growing up he didn’t get much affection if any. So he doesn’t like it, it's a foreign feeling and it's just too much for him. Though gradually, he finds himself thinking about your touch, the way your fingers felt as your hands brushed, or wondering how soft it would be to hug you. He curses himself for becoming so weak, but those curses quiet down the second your arms hold him so sweetly. No pda, none whatsoever. But behind closed doors he's more willing to give in to your tender touches (not that he’d admit it).

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil is picky about affection. There’s certain things that you can and can’t do during certain times. With the media always on his back, you can never be too careful about pda. He doesn’t want the world to hound you about your relationship with him, so he tends to keep things behind closed doors. He shows his affection in other ways to compensate, whether it be picking out your outfit or fixing your hair. He has become your personal stylist and you should be thankful. When it's just the two of you though, he becomes such a sap. Holds you so sweetly, trails of kisses, murmurs sweet nothings into your hair. Vil loves you and he won’t let you think otherwise.

❥ Rook Hunt

When doesn’t he show you affection? Flowery words trail after you as you walk to class. Kisses to the back of your hand trail up your arm. No one can outcompete Rook when it comes to admiring you. You could kill a man and he’d be singing your praises while hiding all evidence for you. What's surprising is how he acts when it's just you two alone. Although he is sincere with his usual flowery words, it feels more intimate when you both are alone. When he’s holding your close, staring at you so lovingly, whispering how much you mean to him? I get it Rook lovers, I’ve finally gotten it.

❥ Epel Felmier

Nuh-uh. Affection? That’s for losers! Don’t ask about how loving his grandparents are. Blushes profusely at even the smallest act and then scolds you. He’s a manly man and manly men don’t cuddle! Off topic but I’d love to go on a rant about toxic masculinity and how those stereotypes hurt men more and see how he reacts. Epel warms up to affection quickly, but only if he initiates in public. When it's just you two he’s more chill about it. Resting your head on his shoulder, having you wrap your arms around his, placing a kiss on his forehead—don’t tell anyone that last one…

❥ Idia Shroud

Poor, poor Idia. He only knows affection from Ortho, and after Ortho…once he became a technomantic humanoid Idia couldn’t hug him anymore. It reminded him that Ortho wasn’t…yeah so let's just say Idia is hella touch starved due to self isolation. So you have to slowly bring him out of his shell, revealing that old wound he’s left to fester and tending to it so gently. He can’t help but shiver every time you run your hands through his hair, or when you kiss his temple, or when your body heat seeps into him. Over time he comes to crave your affection, seeking you out but never outright stating what he wanted. Thankfully for him you always seemed to know what he needed.

❥ Ortho Shroud

This poor boy pt 2. After he was created he didn’t really experience physical affection. With his bulky bodies and being made from metal, he wasn’t comfortable to hug. Ortho never thought about it much, although he was curious what affection felt like. So when you hugged him without a second thought he almost cried (if he could). Soaks up your affection like a sponge and reciprocates tenfold. He now hugs you as a greeting and holds your hand when you both are going somewhere. He can’t help it! Who knew affection was so nice! And since you're willing, he’ll always come to you if he needs someone to lean on.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Malleus knows of affection, but being the future king of Briar Valley and extremely powerful he only knows affection through Lilia and his grandmother. Lilia was super loving, don’t get me wrong, but Malleus could never shake that feeling of loneliness. The way people avoid him, how he’s always out of reach. Yet you…you were willing to listen to him and accompany him. So when you even touched him, he wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t well versed in means of affection, and human affection seemed even more strange. You didn’t just hold his hand, you’d lean on him, you wouldn’t just kiss his cheek, you’d boop him afterwards. Yet he thrived with anything you’d give him. Malleus is content with watching you eagerly, waiting for the next form of affection you’d show him.

❥ Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia isn’t afraid to show his affection, and more often than not it leaves his subordinates (children) embarrassed. So when you came along, you had become his willing victim. He shows his affection in less conventional ways. His favorite is scaring you, popping out at random like he was trying to put you into cardiac arrest. But he makes up for it by kissing your nose after. He’ll also cook for you…I pray for your sanity because he can be really sweet but it comes in underhanded ways. If you eat his food he’ll be over the moon…if you don’t he’ll pout. It’s up to you if you want to live or not.

❥ Silver Vanrouge

Growing up under Lilia’s wing did him some favors. He’s not against affection, he just never thought about it too much. He doesn’t mind if you hold his hand or if you kiss his cheek. His favorite is when you both cuddle. He’s a sleepy guy, so naturally this is the most common form of affection you both share. Even the animals will join you two. When he isn’t sleeping though, he’ll give you kisses on the back of your hand, guide you around, he’s your personal knight now. Although he does feel bad that he has to leave you a lot for his duty, he’ll always try to make it up to you at the end of the day.

❥ Sebek Zigvolt

Nope. No affection allowed. Your eardrums will be shattered if you try. He’s another one who has to warm up to it. His parents are super loving, and he’s used to his mom always hugging him…but he stopped all that nonsense because he has to give his all to his Waka-sama. Sebek is so intense in his worship of Malleus he finds it indecent to even think of anything romantic/affectionate with you. But when you break him down, when you hug him so sweetly or kiss his cheek so softly…yeah he’s a goner. Deep down he craves for your affection, he loves it to a point it scares him. He felt his heart crack when he denied you once, the guilt in your eyes leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. He supposes he’ll allow you to hug him, but he’s still got a reputation to uphold.

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