#I also got him to lick the concrete ground??

[caliboron]

yesterday at a family bbq my sister’s boyfriend lit a roman candle firework and put the bottom end in his mouth as it shot into the sky

[shan-yee]

𝘍𝘦𝘺𝘥 𝘙𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘢 𝘹 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴!𝘧𝘦𝘮!���𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ๏𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 = 5897 ๏𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 = fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, marquing + blood, breeding, talk of pregnancy ? I think that it’s all. ๏𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 = When Lady Margot is called to seduce the Na-baron Feyd-Rautha, the first daughter of the emperor Shaddam IV must accompany her in case things do not go as planned and indeed, things do not go as planned. ๏𝙰/𝙽 = Damn. IT TOOK ME 6 DAYS TO WRITE THIS SHIT !? I really hope that it was worth it :’) Also, did I wrote Feyd correctly ? ๏𝙰/𝙽 2 = I would like to point out that English is not my first language, so if you see a mistake please tell me ! And I don’t know why but i couldn’t find the account of the last two person i taged, so i don’t know if they received it ٩( ᐛ )و

——— 🅃🄰🄶🄻🄸🅂🅃 • • •

@the-dark-dreamer25 @alexandrainlove @void21 @luxiniary szapizzapanda tom-pls-fuck-me

—Princess, the Reverend Mother wishes to see you. Announced the guard, head bowed.

The man was new, and certainly he had heard many rumors about Princess [Y/N], first daughter of Emperor Shaddam. Earlier, when he was ordered to go get the princess, he noticed the smirks of his comrades and their whispers.

But it was sure that when he opened the large doors of the royal bedroom he did not expect to find his princess and three men, probably soldiers, naked. Two watched a young man with blond hair sneak between the legs of the [H/C] haired girl. He held her thighs apart but raised his head when he heard the doors open, a shiny substance running down his lips and chin, a substance that he quickly licked while looking up at his lover.

The princess clearly seemed unhappy and even less sexually satisfied, but seeing the guard's eyes open wide and his inability to look at them a slight smirk appeared on her lips. The fingers of her right hand tenderly caressed the hair of the young man as her other hand touched affectionately the jaw of another man, leaving the third man frustrated and begging for affection from his lady.

—What does that old witch want ? she finally asked.

—I-I don’t know your highness…He shudder, his gaze moving to the side, towards a wall of the large bedroom.

Suddenly, the young woman's fingers closed in the blond's hair between her thighs, who emitted a slight grunt of pain and surprise.

—Not only do you not look your princess in the eyes when you speak to her, but you are not even capable of giving her an answer.

The terrified young man could do nothing but get on his knees, begging her to spare him. In a split second all the pleasure and excitement she felt had dissolved, the crazy old woman had the talent of interrupting her at the worst moments. Knowing very well that the reverent mother would never leave her alone, she got up, grabbed a bathrobe that was on the floor before leaning over the three men, sitting quietly on her bed, to kiss their lips, one at a time.

—I’m sorry my pretty pets, wait for me. She whispered, looking affectionately at them and the three men nodded happily.

Taking one last look at her lovers [Y/N] walked out of the large bedroom, stepping on the left hand of the guard, still on the ground. He only got up after she left the room to close the doors and follow his princess, watching one last time as the three soldiers lay on the bed and talked, as naked as the day they were born, waiting patiently for the return of their beloved mistress.

The princess' footsteps echoed on the concrete slabs leading to a small open veranda, the sun was beating down on her face and the cotton of the bathrobe was starting to stick to her skin making her movements unpleasant, which had the effect of annoying her even more.

—Reverend Mother, sister…Lady Margot. She greeted, once she reached the veranda, where the three women were sitting around a cup of tea.

The mother Mohiam looked up at the young woman to greet her but changed her mind when she saw her outfit, she slowly shook her head bringing her tase to her lips. Irulan's cheeks tinged with pink, pink with shame, and she couldn't help but glance at the oldest woman.

—What indecency. This outfit is not worthy of a woman of your rank, you shame the order by showing yourself in this way.

Hands on her hips [Y/N] lowered her head to observe her outfit, her bathrobe was slightly open at her chest but she had worn much more vulgar, with a sigh of boredom she sat down at a corner of the square table, Irulan to her right and Lady Margot, who still had not spoken, to her left.

One thigh on top of the other and her upper body relaxed against her chair, she looked like anything but a high-ranking woman.

—Stop your reprimands and spill the beans. The [H/C] haired woman grumbled, which earned her a look of disapproval from her sister and a warning from the reverent mother, a raised eyebrow.

—Hold your tongue young woman. A deep aura laced the old woman's voice.

[Y/N] just crossed her arms across her chest, showing her displeasure, you had to be stupid but above all suicidal to contradict or defy the Bene Gesserit, the princess was neither of the two. Lady Margot put her cup down after finishing her tea, making the three women around her turn their heads and the blonde smiled graciously at them.

—We have a request for you princess, one that, I am sure, will satisfy you. Informed the countess.

The young adult arched an eyebrow while staring at her elder, then a curious smile appeared on her lips and her companions quickly understood that she was suddenly interested in the conversation.

—Well, you have my full attention.

—Baron Vladimir Harkonnen is hosting a grand banquet in honor of his nephew, Na-baron Feyd-Rautha.

—I don't see how this concerns me. Interrupted [Y/N] not seeing the point of this conversation.

Lady Margot cleared her throat with a soft sneer before glancing at the reverent mother who took over.

—You will accompany Lady Margot to Giedi Prime. We need to find out if this young man is controllable.

—I still don't see why I should get involved in your stories. Your plan failed, Lady Jessica was supposed to be on your side and you were supposed to have control over her and her son. She accentuated all the “you”s with a mocking look.

—Sister ! Exclaimed Irulan, red with shame.

—We are Bene Gesserit, everything has always been under our control and that will not change today. If the great houses learn what your father has commissioned, he will lose the throne and you, your comfort. This mission is important and you must play your role without whining for once. Mohiam finally ordered, silencing the two sisters.

She knew that the Reverent Mother was right, if the rumor of what her father had done got around, then that would be the end. She wasn't ready to give up her luxury and wealthy life because of a brat and her father's lust for power. Silence reigned for a few moments before the eldest princess spoke again.

—Feyd-Rautha…a mad man I think I heard during conversations. What do I have to gain from it ?

—We heard that the Na-baron had practices...somewhat similar to yours, if you know what I mean. If everything does not go as planned, you will have the right to interfere and “take advantage”. Replied Lady Margot.

The young woman thought about it for a moment. The few things she had heard about the baron's nephew never painted him in a good light, but it was true that she had heard of his sexual appetite. Only she wasn't sure if she would have the opportunity to taste it, but just to be able to finally admire the young man, she accepted.

—Can I bring my pet-

Her question was interrupted by a nudge from Irulan, who couldn't stand her jokes, although this time, it wasn't a joke.

The journey to Giedi Prime was done in silence, Lady Margot and [Y/N] weren't really the best of friends. The countess was much too simple and calm for the princess. Their characters were diametrically opposed, yet they could still talk to each other without it turning into a bloodbath.

Only, right now, the youngest was angry at her elder's privilege. [Y/N] was just a backup if their mission didn't go as planned and the Na-baron didn't find anything interesting in Lady Margot. But if, indeed, he was interested in the blonde, [Y/N] would have left her pets for nothing, a reality that did not please her at all.

Arriving at the Harkonnens, they were welcomed by the Baron and his oldest nephew, Rabban. This particularly irritated the princess who took Feyd's non-presence as an affront, after all, she was of imperial blood.

Without really paying attention to the Baron, she was accompanied to her quarters which were in a different place from those of her companion, because of their difference in rank, which did not displease the princess.

Later she learned that the Na-baron had not appeared before them since he was preparing for the hundredth fight, a spectacle apparently eagerly awaited by the inhabitants of Giedi Prime.

Later she learned that the Na-baron had not appeared before them since he was preparing for the hundredth fight, a spectacle apparently eagerly awaited by the inhabitants of Giedi Prime.

dressed in her most beautiful dress and her most sumptuous jewelry, she intended to overshadow Lady Margot, decided not to have come to this planet for nothing.

The black sun was beating down on everyone and it was clearly not missed by [Y/N] who was fed up with Kaitan's constant sun. She was patiently awaiting the arrival of Feyd-Rautha, Lady Margot at her side who also seemed excited although she hid it with her calm and reserved air.

Bene Gesserit sisters joined them but the princess ignored them, much more interested in the still empty arena than in their conversation, which she did not even listen to with one ear. Her fingers played with the chain of her gold necklace, trying to occupy herself with something when the Na-baron finally entered.

[Y/N] wanting to get a good view of the young man leaning forward while slightly getting up from her seat, she brought her binoculars to her eyes and a satisfied smile appeared on her lips. The young woman was generally not very picky when it came to men, although she always had certain criteria.

And this man, he ticked all her criteria. His milky skin made the princess want to sink her teeth into it, to stain it scarlet, but above all, mark it. She wanted to take his jaw between her fingers and force him to look at her, touch his defined lips and kiss his throat, maybe even run her tongue across it.

When the Harkonnen knelt for his uncle, [Y/N] began to wish he had knelt in front of her instead. That he pledge allegiance to her and agree to be hers, to belong to her and her alone.

A rush of excitement filled her as she let out a chuckle that did not go unnoticed by the Bene Gesserit. After seeing him it was clear that she was not going to let the Countess steal him from her, he looked much too appetizing.

Throughout his fight [Y/N] watched his body move and his muscles shifting under his armor, his movements were sharp but controlled, good news for her. Her skin shived as she already imagined all the things she could do to him or he could do to her. Time passed far too quickly for the princess's liking and when he won his hundredth fight she forced herself to sit and applaud him calmly, not wanting him to notice her euphoria.

The same evening it was planned that Lady Margot would go and court him, the young woman then decided that he was going to be hers no matter what the order wanted. Since she was very young, Mother Mohiam had taught her the art of being a Bene Gesserit. Unfortunately, as a teenager, lust overcame her desire to learn more.

She still listened during her lessons but the order and their prophecies no longer interested her as much as before. Only, as an imperial princess, she had never been able to stop them. Today she was very happy with it.

Manipulation and persuasion via The voice were part of the teachings of the Bene Gesserit. It had taken her several years to perfect her learning, compared to her younger sister who was obviously a prodigy and had quickly made up for the extra years that [Y/N] had.

At seven p.m. the great banquet in honor of Feyd-Rautha began and the young woman was finally introduced to the Na-baron. She took advantage of this opportunity to once again contemplate Feyd attentively, she didn't even bother to hide her excitement this time.

Her eyes wandered over his jawline which she loved to admire so much, she could already imagine her hands gently grasping it before caressing his cheekbones with the tips of her thumbs. She dove into his electric blue eyes and for a moment she had the impression of losing herself in their depth, this sensation made her shudder with desire but above all with apprehension, she had never felt such attraction before, even with her favorite lovers.

His lack of eyebrows and hair did not repel her, she, who loved pulling her partners' locks. But the idea of squeezing his neck to force him to look at her only made her even more excited. Finally her mouth curved into a mischievous smile.

Next to his uncle, Feyd then placed one knee on the ground, right hand on his heart, and his cold fingers grabbed the young woman's hand to place a kiss on it. She felt her skin warm up tenderly while the young man's lips were anything but warm, and this coldness made her body shudder and her lower stomach tighten.

He left his lips on her skin slightly longer than acceptable and raised an amused but also penetrating gaze, as if he knew what she was thinking. And at that moment many things were stirring in her mind. By kneeling in this way, he was submitting to her. And having a man with such a reputation as Feyd-Rautha give up his dominance was thrilling.

She even came to wish that he had knelt in front of her under different circumstances.... With a discreet gesture she passed her thumb over the Harkonnen's lower lip, testing its softness. This didn't seem to bother him since he closed his eyes as he felt her finger move, then, a grin appeared on those said lips, letting her see the black-tinted teeth she had perceive during his fight.

After these few seconds, maybe a minute and a half at most, he stood up, his arms crossed behind his back. This moment didn't last long but she had the impression of staying in this position for hours.

Baron Vladimir looked at them discreetly but said nothing, anyway, if something happened between them it would benefit the Harkonnens. Having ties with the imperial family, such close ties, could be decisive.

Dinner went very well, although the princess couldn't help but stare at the Na-baron most of the time. But it didn't seem to bother him that much, most of the time he even stared back, their intense staring game had left [Y/N] finishing the meal with her thighs tight and slightly sweating.

When everyone had to excuse themselves to go get ready for the fireworks. The young woman turned one last time, while holding her dress so she could walk in her heels, to look at the Harkonnen and her lips parted to let out the whisper of a sentence that only he could hear.

« Come to me. »

Then, she smiled brightly at him as Feyd's pupils dilated, for a moment everything around him disappeared and only her voice reached him.

Surely he should have ignored it, continue his life with his dear concubines and enjoy the huge party that was going to take place in his honor. Only, something inside him screamed at him to go after her and obey her. Obey all her requests, no matter what they are.

And now he found himself in front of the princess's quarters, dressed in black, which made his milky skin stand out.

He went inside, then closed the door behind him, not bothering to knock, after all he was at home. Once in the guest room he looked for the young woman, passing over the large bed in front of him and the few supplies placed everywhere, but he did not find her, for a moment he really thought that she was making fun of him and that irritated him to the highest point.

But the same voice that had ordered him to go find her rang through the air again, making him hold his head for a moment, clearly not used to the tricks of the Bene Gesserit.

« Here. Come meet me. »

Feyd then turned his head trying to find the source of this mystical voice and he saw a gray door, just like the walls of the room, slightly half-open. He took a slight breath, not out of fear but rather apprehension, he wondered how he was going to find her. Naked ? Dressed in a sensual outfit ? Maybe she was even making fun of him and playing hide and seak ?

In any case, he stomped forward while tilting his head in curiosity. With the back of his hand, he pushed the door open and stopped at the doorstep. He found a large bathroom, a shower side to properly remove dirt and a bath side, with a large bathtub.

He found [Y/N] there. Arms hanging outside the bathtub, legs crossed and raised, revealing her knees as well as her feet. She looked at him with a petty grin that made him feel warm, maybe he really liked submission.

« Kneel, beside me. »

And for the third time that evening, his actions were directed by this woman. In other circumstances he would have slit her throat and fed her to his darlings. But the lump in his throat and the heat he felt in his body were far from unpleasant, he craved her and all the things she wanted to do to him.

Then he knelt down beside her and observed her attentively. The curve of her throat and her neckline covered in warm, transparent droplets. Too busy observing her body, he did not notice her hand coming to rest on his cheek until her warm skin came in contact against the coldness of his.

He then relives their proximity from a few hours ago, when she had caressed his lip. Only this time, he felt the humidity of her palm, humidity which made his skin shiny in addition to its whiteness.

—I wanted you the moment I saw you. The [H/C] haired woman whispered, so as not to break the bubble of sensuality that had formed between them.

—Did you, woman. He replied, his hoarse voice cutting through the air.

She didn't like this tone and took it as a challenge. Her hand on his cheek stopped it’s caresses and came to firmly grip his jaw as she frown, her gaze hard.

—You should be grateful, that I, the first imperial princess, has taken a liking to you. She replied in a stern tone that matched her expression.

Feyd held her gaze, his eyes wandering over her angry face, he definitely liked her tone a lot. A shiver of excitement ran through his body, his breathing starting to get heavy.

[Y/N] didn't take long to understand that this situation excited him more than anything else and ended up getting up after releasing the young man. She got out of the bathtub without giving him a glance before retrieving a bathrobe which she wrapped around herself after drying herself slightly.

Then she turned towards the Na-baron who did not move, only turned his head to spy on her. He quickly understood that she wanted him to move and stood up to follow her as she returned to the large bedroom.

The princess took a cup and filled it with water before sitting on the bed, bringing the cup to her lips while looking at him.

—Take off your clothes.

This time she didn't use The voice, she understood that he would listen to her no matter what she said, so what was the point of wasting her energy on these sleight of hand tricks ? Feyd nodded and slowly started to remove his clothes.

The Bene Gesserit stared at his movements, she watched the muscles in his arms move as he removed his bottoms and unbuttoned his black top. She then let out a slight sigh of pleasure, his body was magnificent to look at but surely even more so to touch. Only, she wanted to make him boil.

That he begged her to touch him everywhere and as she wanted. However, her determination didn't last long when she saw the defined bulge he had in his underwear. And seeing her hastily swallowing her saliva, he grinned, like a mischievous little child.

Regaining control of the situation he approached her, then once at her level he undid her bathrobe before throwing it a little further when she did not push him away. On his knees once again, but between her thighs this time, he gently spread them, letting his icy fingers climb over them. While following the movements that her chest was making as it rose.

Because once he was on the ground, the young woman's breathing had taken off and her skin suddenly heated up. Her lower abdomen tightened with apprehension as she saw him getting closer and closer to her crotch.

Letting him do so, she leaned back slightly, grasping the sheets between her fingers nervously, while closing her eyes. She had never felt something so strong and yet she was well accustomed to sex and many unspeakable sexual practices.

Only this time it was different. He was something that didn't belong to her, something she wasn't supposed to touch or approach unless she was beckoned. And yet she had braved this prohibition and done the complete opposite of what she had been asked.

He represented dangerousness, sensuality but also a forbidden fruit, and right now, she wanted to sink her teeth into this fruit, devour it raw but above all savor it.

[Y/N] was quickly brought back to earth by feeling the warm muscle of her lover. In surprise her abdominal muscles contracted and she let out whine, her thighs instinctively tightened around his head.

She was going to loosen them immediately but Feyd held them back, his hands holding tightly the plump of her thighs so that she wouldn't move them. His throat let out a low moan of pleasure, he wasn't suffocating, but having her thighs around him gave him a new feeling of closeness.

Watching him do it, the young woman finally decided to relax and calm her breathing as best she could. Her body fell against the soft mattress before her eyes closed again, taking advantage of the only source of warmth Feyd possessed.

Usually the Harkonnen was not the type of man to kneel for a woman, his concubines always cared for him and only his pleasure. The only times he touched them was to inflict pain that gave him satisfaction.

But now that he had tasted the princess he couldn't live without it and his only goal was to make her scream. The smell of the young woman became intoxicating, a drug which he, from now on, could no longer do without.

His tongue tried to catch as much of her transparent and succulent nectar as possible, wandering into every nook and cranny of her soaked slit. Quickly one of his hands left her thighs and came to join his tongue, the contrast between his cold fingers and his hot muscle made the body of the [H/C] haired woman tremble.

Her lips parted as she gasped, her back arching and her brows furrowed for the second time, she definitely couldn't get used to his coldness, even less when he touched such a sensitive area of her body.

Feyd moved away from her swollen lips for a few seconds, moistening his fingers with saliva before going to collect some of her juices, humidifying them enough so that he could slide them slowly inside her. He watches his fingers dig in before looking up at her, his lips red and wet as was his chin which was glistening slightly.

She felt dizzy with arouse, her limbs trembling under the emotion and the touch of the Harkonnen between her thighs, his fingers inside her only dived her into pleasure and passion. Finally she dared to look down at him, meeting his greedy gaze.

He smirked at her. She wanted to hit him, not liking his superior air, surely he felt proud to have put her in one hell of a state. Only, her body was much too heavy for her to do anything to him and anyway, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, she liked the way he made her feel.

Finally he began to move his fingers, withdrawing them slightly before pushing them back in with urgency, as if he immediately wanted to find the warmth of her inner walls which tightened around his middle and ring fingers.

—Is it to your liking imperial princess ? He teased, loving to see her lose her cool because of his movements.

His spike had the effect of a slap and she stood up suddenly, grabbing his wrist to stop his back and forth movements. He admired her chest rising and falling as she tried to regain calm breathing and the light beads of sweat running down her face and neckline.

—Look at you, drenched in sweat even though you haven’t done anything. He chuckled, deciding to ignore her warning look.

Apparently she didn't like his teasing at all as her hand circled around his throat, squeezing it slightly as he groaned quietly, the corners of his lips curling up, at least he would have had control for a little while.

—Know your place. She panted, gradually regaining her breathing.

He finally opened his eyes, which he had closed when he felt her squeeze his throat a little more, enjoying the intoxicating sensation of suffocation. She brought her face closer to his and the young man's orbs flickered from her gaze to her lips, a sudden urge to kiss her taking him in the gut.

And if she had noticed it she made no comment, forcing him to stand up by pulling his throat forward. He then found himself on his back, on the black silk sheets, his lover on top of him. He stared at her inner thighs, where he could see her wetness running lightly down them.

[Y/N] leaned over his throat which she had finally released not wanting him to pass out, but little by little you could see light red finger marks, making her smile. Her tongue flicked over them, making him shiver and groan beneath her.

Her hands held his wrist this time, not wanting him to touch her as she enjoyed playing with him. Her muscle moved down his chest before her teeth sank into his pale flesh.

She closed her eyes, beginning to taste the metallic taste of blood, blood that didn't belong to her. Feyd had emitted a low moan of pleasure, an aching pain took hold of him but that only aroused him more. Especially when he saw her eagerly licking the small wound she had inflicted on him, collecting the droplets of blood that escaped.

The young woman looked at her work with satisfaction, she, who had dreamed all evening of marking it, had finally done it. You could clearly see the bite on his white skin, plus it will probably leave a purplish mark for a few days or even a week or two. She was so proud of herself that she made him a few more.

Again on the torso but also the shoulders and throat, each time repeating the same ritual, biting, cleaning and admiring. Feyd let her do it, letting out grunts and moans from time to time. He had once tried to free his wrists to grab her hips but she had bitten him even harder to make him understand to stay still.

Once her work was finished, her teeth went to nibble his left ear, tickling it slightly. He took advantage of her proximity to turn his head and furtively kiss her throat, making the princess sigh, not liking to be interrupted.

[Y/N] then started to stare at him, thinking about what she was going to do to him, but she was starting to get impatient and the wetness of her sex was starting to bother her, she wanted him right away.

Bringing her right hand to her lips she let her saliva fall there while using her other hand to hold herself above him.

—You shall give me a daughter. She ordered him.

She didn't forget the main reason for her coming, but their passionate embrace was starting to make her head spin. She would return with the Kwistaz Haderach, and thanks to that, perhaps the Bene Gesserit will let her have the privilege of seeing him again, after all she would give them what they want, so they can grant her that.

Feyd was probably going to say something but she quickly silenced him with her lips. She hungrily explored his mouth, making him groan in surprise as he closed his eyes. Their hot breaths mingled as their noses brushed together, making her grumble since she couldn't move as much as she wanted.

Her lips parted as her glistening hand descended to his cock, which she delicately grasped. He buckled his hips in her hand in surprise and he let out a grunt followed by a light hoarse laugh. He grabbed the back of her neck, keeping their lips firmly connected as his tongue had ventured between her lips when she had parted them.

The Bene Gesserit's delicate hand gently moved up-and-down, wetting him to make sure he would fit inside without harm, but she was so soaked that she was sure nothing would block.

Finally she lifted her hips above him and sink down on his cock, her hands on his chest, letting a choked moan escape her as she pulled her face away from his and Feyd grabbed her hips, forcing her to stay still. His breathing accelerated as he bit his tongue to prevent a too loud moan from coming out while throwing his head back.

He tried to compose himself, his muscles tensing. His heart was beating hard against his chest and his blood was boiling inside him. She enveloped him in a pleasant and sensual warmth making him feel hazy. While regaining his senses, he caressed her hips with the tips of his thumbs to make her wait a little longer before sitting down.

Finally, he nodded and she rolled her hips, keeping him inside her as he reached up to grab her thighs and wrap them around his waist. She let him do it, very happy not to have to move herself and get tired.

—A daughter you said ?

The Na-baron rested his forehead against hers admiring the way her lips parted and her eyes closed as he lifted her, his hands gripping her backside tightly, then he slammed her back on his hard cock.

She let out a cry of pleasure, putting her arms behind his neck, bringing their faces even closer while their sweating foreheads were already in contact. [Y/N] took the initiative to place light kisses on his lips while he continued his movements.

Every time she separated their lips, he chased her mouth away with a growl, begging her to let him kiss her longer. But she never let him, delicately scratching his back to make him understand her displeasure.

They kept eye contact whatever happened, observing each other's reactions of pleasure. Her moans and shortness of breath for the young woman and his grunts followed by sighs for Feyd.

[Y/N]'s warmth contrasted perfectly with the Na-baron's coldness, it gradually warmed his body and his heart without even realizing it. He saw the beginnings of affection and mutual attraction in her eyes, encouraging him to speed up his movements although his arms were starting to hurt slightly. But he ignored this pain which was not that unpleasant if he was honest.

Quickly she joined his movements as best she could, feeling her pleasure increase and her mind become foggy. With each thrust he bury himself deeper, desperately seeking her and his release. Her walls clinching around him brought him closer and closer.

Feeling that she would not resist long, her thighs tightened their grip around his waist and she hide her face in the crock of his neck, his scent lulling her and allowing her to reach her climax, making her release the sharper and louder moan of the evening, her nails clawed at his back for dear life, once again tracing his milky skin red.

Her lower stomach contracted and her whole body seemed to convulse against him, her chest pressing completely against his torso while her being was overcome by a deep thrill of ecstasy.

The pain these scratches gave him allowed him too, about ten seconds and some back and forth later, to reach his orgasm. He gripped her thighs in such a way that he was sure it would leave marks for a few hours. His seed sank deep into her warmth, making her sigh as she felt the warmth of it.

He held her against his chest for a few minutes before falling back on the mattress, his lady's face buried against his chest. The contact with the fabric of the sheets made his scratches burn slightly, making him sigh a discreet groan.

Finally she raised her head and lifted her hips bringing out his, now soft, shaft. Feeling his cum sliding down the inside of her thighs she tried to contract her walls to keep as much of it inside and Feyd noticing this, raised his hand to slide his middle and index fingers inside her hole as she hissed being still a little sensible.

The young woman looked down to admire the veins on her arm stand out slightly, then she met the gaze of the Na-baron who was smiling mischievously at her. She was preparing to lean in to kiss his lips but the explosion of fireworks made their heads spin.

That's it. She had what she wanted and Lady Margot will not have the pleasure of tasting this magnificent Apollo. Only, “winning” wasn’t even what she appreciated the most.

Their compatibility had been perfect, their movements had matched and their bodies understood each other perfectly. She had never felt so much pleasure and satisfaction with just one round.

Feyd brought her out of her torpor by leaning over her chest, placing small kisses there as he began to move his fingers back and forth again, he wanted to be sure that no drop of his seed came out.

Her attention back on him she grabbed his jaw affectionately and placed a kiss on his lips then her tongue collected the salty pearls on his right cheek.

—You shall dream of me every night, think of me every time your mind wander and breathe for me and only me. She whispered at the crook of his ear.

He smiled at her, a dark smile that told her that he belonged to her and that she was now the only woman he wanted, before his eyes stared longingly at her lips.

—As you wish my princess.

[trashmouth-richie]

pretty sure my thumbs have never typed so fast in my life when i got this prompt from @fishwithtitz

prompt was eddie x you smut + an image saying “you’ve been poisoned” at the bottom of a cup of coffee— i tweaked this a bit

18+ minors go away, smut! anal! biting, squirting, no condoms (don’t do this in real life unless you want a baby and can provide for one) a-to-v (also don’t do this unless you want a coochie infection) this is fanfic so pls keep that in mind, another secret gross thing that happens at the end. voyeurism! (kinda) eddie fucks, like reaaallly fucks.

<800k / eddie x fem reader

“fuck.” 

The windows were streaked. Sweaty handprints pressed into the cold glass, telling a story to anyone walking past just exactly what was taking place behind the locked doors of the car. 

The leather jacket you had peeled off of his shoulders laid on the floor along with one of your broken heels (the other— shoved stiletto first into the vent) along with shreds of ripped black pantyhose. 

You sucked the ring on his lip into your mouth with a shaky moan, the heat from your mouth sending his tongue into a frenzy— making his hips thrust into your ass with such force you nearly hit the windshield. 

Facing away from him, hands holding steady onto the dash, your fingernails scrape down the vinyl in long strokes as your tight ass bobs up and down his length.

“nasty girl,” he breathes into your ear, “fucking knew it the minute I saw you.” 

Tonight was Rick’s birthday party, and when your friends had begged you to come out, you finally agreed. 

Angling your neck to the moonlight he holds your necklace close to your throat in an all too smooth motion so it was gathered in his fist. 

The marks he had sucked into your neck were already raised, and he smirked as he bit into your shoulder. 

“Your boyfriend gonna care if you go home with these?”

Whining at the pleasuring pressure of his cock stuffed tight where nobody else has been, you rub a small circle into your clit, inserting your own manicured finger into your cunt. 

“What boyfriend?” you panted out, playing coy. 

He tweezed one of your nipples between his thick fingers, twisting until you yelped out. 

“Oh baby, ‘m fuckin’ you dumb huh?”

Mewling in response he drives into you harder, faster, joining your hand on your clit until your release sprays over the dashboard. Cries spilling out of you and the sweet taste of tears ruining your makeup. He coaxes you on, cheering you like you’re a varsity lettermen. 

Flipping you around so you’re facing him, he licks up your tears, shoving you forward into your own mess—your back slick with it. 

He laughs a mocking chuckle at the sight of you, wrecked because of him. No time is wasted before he splits your pussy open, grunting when your eyes practically cross, knowing he’s bigger than the limp dick you’d been fucking until tonight, until him.

“If you don’t have a boyfriend— who’s car is this?” 

You smile a wicked grin, telling him between gasps and his choked grunts. 

“Perfect.” 

—

He zips up his jeans— door to the car open as he tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear, looking for his shirt, a cigarette between his teeth. 

Standing barefoot on the concrete, you’re no longer wearing the shoes or pantyhose you wore to the party you try smudging your eye makeup to make it look decent in the closed back window, when he speaks. 

“I— yeah, I really hope you’re not expecting me to whisk you away to a fucking castle or some sh—”

You laugh light heartedly, “Eddie— trust me, I know.” 

He shoves his head through the hole of his shirt, planting heavy boots on the ground before he stands taller than you, a devils smirk on his lips. 

“Dating really isn’t my thing, but y’ might be more of a freak than I am, sugar.” 

You both smile, standing awkward in post sex bliss. 

“See ya ‘round?” you ask leaning into him, pressing your chest into the crisp white of his shirt before pressing a small kiss to his neck, leaving before his hands could hold the small of your back. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he looks down wiping the cheesy grin from his face before calling after your leaving frame, “hit me up whenever you wanna fuck in Hargrove’s car again.” 

—

That night at Rick’s, Billy was brought a beer by a pretty girl with smudged makeup, bare feet— a weird little smile on her face before she leaned into him, telling him, “drink up, handsome”.

The beer tasted different but he was already so sauced he didn’t notice. 

He also didn’t notice a white milky substance at the bottom of the cup, or a message in writing that looked similar to the graffiti in the bathroom stalls at the Hideout. 

Devil horns surrounded the scrawled message: 

“How do I taste big boy?” 

—

pls consider reblogging or commenting! it means so much to writers 🖤

hope you enjoyed the feral-ness ❤️‍🔥

[kunikinnie]

kunikida wants to hold hands

BSD: Love is War? 100 Followers Event Genre: fluff Word count: 2k Warnings: none, I think Synopsis: This not-a-date couldn't get any worse. a/n: gotta make Kunikida happy somewhere, right? HAHAHAH AFTER 2 YEARS!!! also tagging @requiem626k! finally did it omg (also there's an Ace Attorney ref there somewhere hope someone notices heh)

This was not a date. 

That, dear readers, was the hundredth iteration of that very phrase in Kunikida’s mind. The ceaseless reminders were necessary for him to stay grounded in reality - or so he said.

Sure, he was in an amusement park. Sure, he was walking around with you. Sure, you were wearing clothes that were far more flattering on you than your usual.

But no. This was not a date. 

Your clients were chatting away in their line for one of the rides up to the very moment they entered it.

“It’s great that they’re having fun,” you said before licking your ice cream. It would be a shame if they hired bodyguards just so that they could have a “date” only for it to bore them, you thought.

“True, but don’t let it get to your head.” Your coworker’s eyes were fixed on your cone. “We’re not here to have fun.”

“I know. It’s still such a waste, though.”

You readjusted how you sat on the concrete bench, accidentally grazing his hand in the process. When you first entered the Agency, you used to apologize immediately after any accidental physical contact. However, years of working with your then superior have made you comfortable enough to ignore it.

For him, however, it was the complete opposite: the more he got to know you, the more he’d become mental over every single touch of yours, no matter how minor. 

That one just now was the 17th of that day alone - nearly thrice the daily average. Worse is that they lasted longer and had more skin contact than the average as well. Were you doing this on purpose? Or were you just that dense?

With how fast these numbers were rising, it’s no surprise how his blood pressure was about to set a new record.

“But we have to blend in somehow, right?”

“We’re already wearing casual clothes, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but we still don’t look like the others here - you know what I mean?”

Of course he knew what you meant. Most people that would visit an amusement park on a weekday were either students who had nothing better to do or couples whose schedules only allowed for these days. Guess which demographic happened to fill up the entire area during your mission.

…so what were you suggesting he did? Move closer? Win you stuff? Hold your hand? Because if you really wanted to, he would do any of those - even all of them at once. 

“We need to stay professional,” he said without missing a beat.

“Oh, just loosen up. Come on. You look like an annoyed dad forced to chaperone his teenage daughter with how deep your forehead lines are.”

At this point, he was used to your teasing, but still… annoyed dad? Really? Kunikida furrowed his eyebrows even further. “What should I look like, then?”

You stared at him, gears almost visibly turning. Under the scrutiny of your gaze he felt like the very ice cream that was melting in your hands. “Like this, maybe?”

Before he could guess what you were about to do, he felt something fluffy but stiff hug his head. It must have been a silly headband of sorts, judging from your barely-contained laughter - what the heck was it exactly?

He took the mystery headband off and stared at it. It was a pair of bunny ears.

“I thought you didn’t want us to stick out?”

“You wouldn’t stick out if you weren’t such a killjoy,” you grumbled. “At least you’d look cute with those on.”

 C-cute?

“Anyway, they're about to go to the next ride,” you said as you picked up your things and prepared to leave. “We should get moving too and stay professional.”

Ouch. A direct arrow to the heart. “Y-yes, got it.”

—

Unfortunately, Kunikida’s professionalism dwindled even further. But no, it wasn’t because of you. Well, yes, but actually no. 

The question of acting like a couple for the sake of the mission had been tossed around in his head countless times. Each and every assignment was given utmost importance and must be completed successfully at all means necessary. Had it been anyone else, Kunikida wouldn’t have given it a second thought.

But this is you were talking about. Something as simple as holding your hand was sending him into overdrive. Sure, he could hide his feelings as best as he could the whole day if needed, but what if he screwed up somehow and ended up putting you in an awkward position? Worse, what if you caught on behind his hidden motivations and rejected him in the middle of a mission? 

That would suck. Hard.

Plus, knowing that Dazai skipped work today and recently purchased a pair of binoculars, Kunikida was intent on not slipping up. What if that bastard were to take photos and tease him - worse, you, about it?

That would suck. Even harder.

“Are you okay, Kunikida-san?”

No, no he was not. “I-It’s a bit colder today than I expected.” It couldn’t be further from the truth - if anything, he wanted to sit forever under the shade - but it was the first excuse his dazed mind could come up with.

“Really? That’s new. You always come prepared.” 

Well, he was prepared with dealing with the situation at hand (i.e. lying), but it wouldn’t be right to say he was prepared to deal with his emotions for the rest of the day. If he were, he wouldn’t have had to stick to a stupid lie like this in the first place… although the temptation to use it as a reason to hold your hand was flipping his brain inside out.

But he was Kunikida Doppo. Professional detective of the professional Armed Detective Agency. He must not ruin his image any further. “It happens to all of us-”

He was cut off by a sudden draping of gentle warmth - you had put your own jacket over his shoulders. The astonishment left him speechless, staring at you like he had violated you somehow.

“Don’t worry about me. I literally just ate ice cream - you think I feel cold?”

“But-”

“It’s fine.” You smiled so sweetly to ease him but the guilt only continued to swallow him up. “Think about it as thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

If that’s how you want to put it, then he had no reason to refuse. But that didn’t change the truth. How shameful of him, really. What a terrible senior, let alone aspiring boyfriend he was. If he were to receive any punishment for his acts, he would accept it gladly. He’d atone for his sins and live as a renewed man.

…and it seems someone above heard his prayer.

The two of you were now standing in front of the attraction your clients just entered.

“D-do we have to go in?” He asked meekly.

“I mean, shouldn’t we? If someone wanted to hurt them, the haunted house is the perfect choice. It’s dark, pretty isolated, and they could easily pose as one of the actors.”

Yes, you were right. You were absolutely right. The haunted house is the perfect choice in more ways than one… 

And just as he promised, Kunikida accepted his fate and walked into the realm of his worst nightmares.

Stoic as he was, you still took notice of his strange behavior. Despite the dim lighting you saw his face turn pale and his grip on your small jacket tighten significantly. Only then did your other senior’s words echo in your mind.

Nothing’s better than watching a horror movie with Kunikida-kun! 

Ah. How brave of him to enter then, you thought.

But to him, it was a foolish decision. It was the most foolishly made foolish decision he made that day as his mistakes had made themselves known once more. Just the heat from the additional jacket increased his sweat production, and his clammy hands nearly tore through the fabric. Never mind that you witnessed him like this now; at this point he’s so done the only desire he had left was not to tarnish the reputation of the Agency to your clients.

Although his senses were bombarded in almost every way possible, he forced them all to focus on the two in front of him - as if there were no one else, including you - and soon, it eased him by at least 20%. Then suddenly, an unaccounted 20% decrease relieved him as well - why that was the case he wasn’t sure.

He didn’t give the last observation much thought, however. By the time his brain slowly began to function again, you and your clients finally made it out of the house. Alive.

“I see why it’s pretty famous,” you chirped. “It really was scary!” 

You didn’t even seem bothered at all. Well, as long as you and your clients had fun, then all his suffering would not go in vain-

 Wait, since when was he holding your hand? 

“Oh, someone’s calling.”

As quick as the realization came, so did you let go of his hand to swipe your phone from your pocket. The mix of embarrassment and disappointment that swelled as your lingering warmth slowly disappeared couldn’t be fully described. 

“Yes. Alright, sir. We’ll be right there.”

—

And just like that, your clients left. Quite satisfied clients, you might even say.

“What a day that was!” You said as you stretched your arms. It was a surprise how full of energy you were, considering that you two were in the park for as long as the sun was up. “Weird that they didn’t catch the fireworks, though.”

“Fireworks?” 

“Well, it’s actually for some other event in some other place. But this is where the best view is!”

You pointed at the largest attraction in the park: the ferris wheel.

“...if you’d like to join me, that is.”

The two of you knew he had plans after your mission. In fact, you were convinced that he’d have rushed to leave right after they said goodbye. But to your surprise, he gladly accepted your offer.

“Of course I would.”

Half of him was surprised he gave in. The silent cries of errands to be done were almost deafening, given how much he had to reschedule because he spent too much time getting ready that morning. But the other and embarrassingly louder half was simply overjoyed at this opportunity to fulfill a secret wish of his: to ride the ferris wheel with the person he loved most.

Perhaps it was that elation that erased whatever anxiety he’d gone through that day. For the moment he began talking with you casually from the end of the line to the moment you entered the cab, he almost forgot every single embarrassing act and thought he’d gathered.

How could he forget the joy of just talking to and being with you? 

“Kunikida-san-” 

The fireworks started bursting in the sky, lighting it up with colorful hues.  

“You’re right,” you continued. “It is cold today.”

It took a few moments before your words registered into his brain. “Ah, right. Sorry about that.”

He swiftly removed your jacket from his shoulders and gently draped them over yours. And he should have just as swiftly let go, but the way you were staring at him made it impossible to let go. The look in your beautiful eyes… the thoughts that followed were nearly just as impossible to resist.

“I’m sorry.”

You suddenly stole the words he should be saying. But why?

“I should have been more clear.”

Before he knew it, you took his hand and grasped it firmly.

“This would warm me up much better.”

Hearing you say that literally took him aback. What was the meaning of that? Why would- Wait-

Your chuckle only deepened the redness on his entire face. “I’ve been trying to stop myself the whole day, you know.” You couldn’t have been joking. With that expression, you couldn’t have been… right?

“Then-” he nearly choked.  “Then you shouldn’t have stopped yourself.”

His voice was so soft that if you hadn’t been in an enclosed space, you might not have heard it at all. Yet every word made it through. “I thought you said we had to stay professional?”

He smiled. You were right. As your cab reached the top of the wheel and the fireworks boomed as loudly as your hearts, he finally intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I suppose there can be exceptions.”

taglist: @stygianoir, @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @renaxnnas, @kunikida-simp, @fyodorisbbg

[owlespresso]

something to give

—each other In the wake of the events at the vault, you face several new, interpersonal struggles. tags: gore, teeth-related descriptions, blood, memory loss, somewhat of an AU I'm really, horribly proud of how this came out. It's been in the works for months, now. It's somewhat of an AU, and there are some things you may have to piece together on your own.

You grew new teeth, after the Vault.

Only barely cognizant were you of the change, too preoccupied with the desperate scramble after the Archbishop and his horde of inhuman freaks to really notice. You licked the coppery taste from your gums and swallowed, no stranger to the taste of your own blood and viscera. You don’t realize your mouth even hurts until you're spitting hard white onto the icy concrete outside the Forgotten Knight. Three of them, and a smattering of crimson on the worn cobblestone.

They’re orange under the dim lanternlight.

A few passerby linger at the corners of your vision. None approach. They only look, trying to decide if the stranger vomiting teeth onto their street is worth assisting. You look up. Your chin is hot and wet. The blood streaming out of your mouth warms your chin and throat. It’ll cool rapidly, start flaking on the skin if you leave it alone. You lift your head. Brume dwellers tense under your stare. You’re not sure what sort of face you’re making. You’re not even sure what the appropriate face to make is, in this situation.

“Anyone got a rag?” you ask, instead. “I’d like to clean this up.” Because it’s a mess you made, after all.

They help you, but probably because Hilda put in a good word. Or maybe they want to be on the good side of the beast who put the Archbishop in his grave. Maybe they’re excited for what other changes will fall on your head, the rivers of your blood and brain matter enough to sweep away even the sturdiest of Ishgardian’s foundations. At least someone is looking forward to it.

Your teeth are falling out.

Or maybe—maybe being pushed out is a better way to put it.

New bones are stemming from your often shut jaw. No amount of tensing or grinding will whittle them down.

“Are you alright?” Alphinaud looks up at you with big eyes. He repeats your name, incredulous. “There’s—there’s blood all over you—are you injured?” Panic makes his voice reedy and sharp. He’s become more of a mother hen since you came to Ishgard. Guilt is a bitter taste on the back of your tongue. How dare you make him worry about what little he has left.

“I’m fine.” you say, but he’s already grasped you by the sleeve. You let him lead you to the couch, but you don’t sit. You shrug your coat off, glancing pensively at the fine furniture. You haven’t tracked a mess inside the manor, have you? You toss a cursory glance at the floors.

Alphinaud repeats your name with increased urgency. He prises your coat from your shoulders with surprising strength. Fear makes the body stronger.

“I’m fine—”

“You are covered in blood. Please, do not insult both my powers of observation and intelligence in one foul swoop.” He sticks his heels into the ground with an indignant frown. Stubborn and firm. This is the Alphinaud you remember. A brat unaware that he’s too small for the shoes he’s stepped into. Small and stature and loud in voice and long in word. Agonizingly long. His brows are furrowed and his eyes determined, but his lips wobble. You stare at him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say, and turn away. You walk back into the foyer, glad you haven’t tracked any blood back into the house.

—

“What does it mean when your teeth start falling out?” you drape yourself over the counter. Jannequinard looks concerned, but also flummoxed. 

“Well—I,” he startles and stammers once he realizes you’re expecting an answer, maybe surprised that you’re talking to him at all. “Have you recently suffered blunt force trauma? Perhaps directly to that comely face of yours? My apologies, but this seems like a question for a chirurgeon. Shall I call for one?” He flitters about behind his desk, opening and shutting drawers with increasing urgency. He finds what he’s looking for after the fifth. A linkpearl glints underneath the overhead lighting, gently pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

“No. I’m fine now. I didn’t come here to be treated,” you say, and he deflates.

“You could have clarified before I went through such a tizzy looking,” he complains halfheartedly, stowing it away in one of his likely many pockets.

“I came to ask what it means.” you clarify, feeling no guilt whatsoever.

“In a symbolic way, then,” another voice chimes from above. A woman seats her elbows on the railing above, looking down at you with contemplative eyes. The chandelier light glints off the gold and silver of her bangles and bracelets, jewels and motes of fine metal woven into her dark gown. Wealthy. And smart. With green eyes and hair lavender. “I doubt the answers for your sudden… dental losses can be found via divination, but your problem calls me back to a seminar I attended on dream divination. If I recall correctly, losing one’s teeth in a dream is a sign that one has been talking too much—perhaps indulging in excess amounts of gossip.” 

“I see!” Jannequinard pipes up, clapping his hands together. “That’s the brilliant Lady Leveva for you!”

“Thank you,” you say, not eager to listen to him talk more than you have to. You nod respectfully to Lady Leveva and leave. The frigid air blasts you in the face. It doesn’t feel like you learned anything useful.

��

“Did you eat today?” you ask Emmanellain. His eyes go wide with surprise. Your knees are curled to your chest. A woolen blanket rests heavy across your shoulders, a welcome weight. You’re not sure where it came from, or when it chanced to rest upon you, but you’ve tossed part of it over Emmanellain, who squawked like a little chocobo and fussed until it became clear you weren’t going to move it.

“Just did, as a matter of fact! They have the loveliest crowned pies at this little cafe in the Crozier, and the caviar is always freshly-caught!” he chirps, before fixing you with a sly look. His head dips coy to take partial shelter behind a raised shoulder. “Since when did you become so occupied with my day-to-day, old girl? Not that I mind—I’m flattered, really, to receive such special attention from our own Warrior of Light, Savior of Ishgard and the realm of Eorzea aside—hm?”

You hold a hand up to your mouth. A strange, misplaced anger churns nauseous in your gut. Your vision blurs, the rococo pattern on the carpet jumping in doubles. The crackling of the fireplace sounds faraway. Your jaw creaks, bone stretching and splintering, and making room for new growth.

“Old girl?”

You—you hear. There’s a loud cracking. Some vague, instant notion of pain where your mouth should be. It’s still there, isn’t it?

Colors dance behind your eyelids. When had you closed them? When did you start to look away? When did the blood pooled on your tongue begin to taste as plain place as water?

A warm hand cups your shoulder and shakes you.

Emmanellain whimpers your name, this time. His blue eyes are blown wide and watery. He must take after his mother, you think, because he lacks the sharpened features and keen eyes of the count. He’s all round cheeks and soft lines, and he’s saying something.

“answer me, old girl, please! Should I get the chirurgeons—oh, I should, shouldn’t I?” he seems nearly hysterical.

“No. I’m fine.” you say, and he deflates into the sofa.

“Oh Halone! She speaks at last!” he gasps.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong!?” he gapes at you. “I believe I should be asking you that! You went silent, which I suppose is par for the course for a dashing, silent hero—but then you curled up like a clam and began to shake! And I have never seen you so much as shiver, old girl, much less quake like a newborn fawn! You must understand my quite-reasonable terror!” Emmanellain runs his fingers through his hair, messing up the already ruffled strands. 

It must have been quite frightening, you think, to have the well-being of someone with your reputation in his hands. Especially because Emmanellain has likely never been trusted with the health of anyone, before. Or anything.

A hand waves in front of your face. You blink. Emmanellain comes back into focus. Ah. You haven’t said anything, yet.

“Sorry.” you mumble, resisting the near reflexive urge to sigh. Emmanellain’s mouth balls up, like he has something to say, but thinks better of it before sinking back into his seat with a sigh.

“Well, as long as you’re quite alright—and you are alright, aren’t you? You can… tell me, if something is amiss. I won’t tell a soul, I swear to you, should you wish it to remain discreet!”

“You? Keep a secret?” you ask, honestly taken aback by the idea.

Emmanellain chokes a little on his own outrage.

“Of course! I’m not some cur who would betray a lady’s sacred trust!” he insists, thoroughly impassioned. “Doubly so if the lady in question is you, who have done so much for—”

“You don’t need to go that far,” you interrupt, suddenly wishing you hadn’t made your doubt known at all.

For all his dramatics, he is being rather sweet. Bumbling personality and penchant for gossip aside, he is tender-hearted. It is no wonder, then, that he so fervently avoids taking the field. A younger you would have derided him for his cowardice. But now, you are glad for it. Glad that he is safe, inside the walls of the city.

“I’m alright, really. Just a lot to think about, these days.” You insist, because you don’t want him to worry.

“As, yes, much indeed!” he nods vigorously. “However, if I may offer a morsel of advice—”

“You may.”

“...Ehem, thank you. Most gracious of you,” he nods, but you get the feeling that he isn’t that grateful. “Thinking is well good and all, but if it’s all you do, then you’re bound to think yourself into a rut. Like all good things, it must be done in moderation. And you, Old Girl, have been indulging in contemplation far more than is healthy.”

“Oh?” you’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you cannot deny your intrigue.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you pacing late into the night!” he points and waggles a disapproving finger at you. Distantly, you think back to hours spent patrolling the halls of the manor, to the times where you have chanced upon the young lord stumbling inside after a night of carousing, sweat stuck to his brow and pink stuck to his cheeks. Four times, you’ve helped him up the stairs and to his room, but never did you realize he was paying much attention to you. He always seemed too sloshed to realize whose shoulder he was leaning on. “I’m surprised you haven’t worn a rut straight into the floor!”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you hope not, lest your pockets suffer the repair costs.

“Not the point, Old Girl! The point is that we need to get you out of the house—for you’re sure to drive yourself mad if left to stew with your thoughts any longer.”

Come to think of it, when was the last time you left the manor for more than just an errand run? You blink, raffling through all recent events, but you come up frustratingly blank.

“What would you suggest, then?” you ask. He beams.

“I am so incredibly chuffed that you asked, Old Girl!” he begins. “Why, I recently stumbled across the most delightful—”

You follow along and nod where you can as he lists off recent places of interest. It’s heartening to see him so lively, though you aren’t sure why he wouldn’t be. The snows may fall and the skies may darken, but all that is par for the course here. Nothing of note has happened. You let the matter lie, just happy to hear him speak.

—

There’s a… concoction next to your breakfast. A noxiously bright, pink fluid trapped in a small, round bottle. Y’shtola insists that you take the draught twice a day. You can’t quite remember when it started. But you always remember the warmth of her hands when she pressed a bottle into your hands, and the low of her lips tersely pressed together. 

It’s strange, and honestly a little worrying to see her so tense. Y’shtola, who knows so much and can be relied upon without question. Which is why you don’t question her.

You feel clearer after you gulp the tonic down, anyways. More energized. To the depths of your soul, you trust Y’shtola to do what’s best for you.

You don’t have the capacity to worry about anything but the looming threat of the Horde, anyways.

—

“You have done too much for us, truly,” Aymeric says, illuminated by soft candlelight. Handsome, unmistakably and unfairly so. You’ve never understood why he isn’t more popular with the delicate noble ladies of the court. Being the archbishop’s son doesn’t stop him from having a face that belongs on a cathedral wall.

“To give so much for a cause that is not your own… I can scarcely comprehend the selflessness.”

“Well. It’s my fight, now,” you would have hoped he understood that now. You lick your spoon clean. The pointed edges of your canines click noisily against the sterling silver. “Ever since you took us in.”

“I…” Aymeric seems at a loss for words, for a moment. He’s staring down at his paperwork, something forlorn on his face. “Of course, but you and yours have gone above and beyond—”

“Blue is your favorite color, isn’t it?” you look at the walls.

“Yes, I am… quite partial to it, I would say,” he blinks several times.

“You must have grown up around a lot of it” you observe, casting a glance. The wallpaper is blue. The tablecloth is blue, most of the fine china on the table in the nearby display cabinet are blue, or accented with it. “Do you think it would be your favorite, even if you didn’t grow up surrounded by it?”

“I suppose I have no way of knowing. Why do you ask, my friend? What troubles you?” There’s a furrow in Aymeric’s brow, meal all but forgotten amongst your conversation. Your fingers drum against the tabletop , gaze sliding down to your plate. Your potatoes are half-eaten, roasted slab of meat untouched. It’s more seasoned than anything else you’ve eaten in the city. They really pulled out all the stops for you.

“Nothing, really. I was just curious. I… want to know more about you.”

An inexplicably tender look crosses the smooth satin of his features. The sharp lines around his eyes gentle, bow of his lips curling into a smile. Unreadable to you. You can only hope that you haven’t irritated or otherwise aggrieved him.

“I would love nothing more,” Aymeric murmured. “So long I have spent occupied by the war and our own politics that I have forgotten what genuine conversation feels like.”

“Really? I thought you would have lots of friends.”

“I am well supported by my fellow knights and backed by several members of the High Houses. Those relationships are mostly borne of respect and mutual gain. I would call them connections, rather than genuine friendships. Hardly anything that can compare to your ties with Lord Haurchefant—”

Your bottom molars crack. Coppery sanguine floods the cavity of your mouth. Streaks your teeth with deep crimson. You’re not sure what you look like, right now. You feel fine, only a distant ache thrumming at the underside of your jaw. Across the table, Aymeric rapidly becomes the palest you have ever seen him. He shoves away from the table and jolts to attention. His lips are moving, but you can hardly hear him above the snapping of bone, the thud of your own pulse.

Your lips part. A mouthful of blood drops onto your lip, mixed with a few odd shards of white clattering onto your plate. The world flitters away from you in steady, floating strokes of black. Fuzzy like billows of smoke at the edges of your vision.

And you’re grateful, in the moment, for your dwindling consciousness. Glad to avoid the embarrassment that would surely flatten you after forcing him to witness something so disgusting.

—

Love takes many forms. The medicine Alphinaud insists you take are bitter, but you have suffered plenty a worse taste. These concoctions, meant to heal the remaining tears and breaks left behind by your new teeth, are also love. The fact that your companions look at you with concern rather than fear is also love. Your molars came in unusually sharp, near instantly. Push the old ones out and onto your trousers before you even realize. It doesn’t frighten you as much as it should. Doesn’t keep you up at night.

These days, you are often soothed to sleep by a gentle, steady pulsing, a quiet ripple in the aether. It comes from another room in the manor, always at your periphery. You would compare it to a ghost if it weren’t so familiar. You don’t read into it too much. 

You keep your head down and your eyes on what’s in front of you.

Alphinaud is in front of you, hands on his hips. He looks terribly constipated, which means he has something to say, but is terribly uncertain of how to say it. Or if it’s the right time to say it. Or if it should be said at all.

You look at him upside down, head on the armrest of a comfy sofa in your quarters.

“Spit it out, already,” you grouse good-naturedly. “Or are you scared of me now that I’m becoming a shark?”

He sighs, taught demeanor breaking with a slump of the shoulders.

“You are most certainly not turning into a shark,” he informs you. You open your mouth. He shushes you with a gloved finger. “Or a piranha. Or any other manner of sharp-toothed beast.”

“So you say,” you take hold of his hand, absentmindedly rolling your thumb over the back of it. The fabric of his gloves is warm and soothing to the touch. Beneath them, his pulse thrums. Soft and alive and quickening. “What’s bothering you, Alphinaud? You’re too quiet these days.”

“I am simply worried for your health, is all,” he murmurs with a sigh, white lashes fluttering to fan against his cheek. Round and small, a testament to his youth. Too young to be so burdened by fear, by worry. “Y’shtola and the others are working hard, and I’ve no doubt they will find a cure in due time, but I feel…”

“I’m sorry,” To be the source of his pain for even a moment is too much. “Don’t fret. I don’t feel the pain. And there probably won’t be any subsequent effects. If anything, I can catch the enemy off guard with a well-timed bite.”

“Your condition is unlike any we have ever seen before—and cannot afford to beg assistance from any of Ishgard’s chirurgeons, given the circumstances of it! If you were to suddenly decline…” he trails off, lips nettled into a deeply pained expression.

You squeeze his hand. “I’m still here.” He swallows and softens. He casts you a pitying look. “Enough.” Your thumb presses just a little harder against the back of his hand. You miss the way his ears tinge pink.

You sit up, wrapping a woolen blanket a little tighter around your shoulders. Artoirel, earlier, gently draped it over your shoulders and kindly asked you to keep warm—and who were you to deny such a sweet, earnest request?

“Come,” you pat the spot next to you, shifting a few pillows out of the way. The brocade shimmers underneath the lamplight. Shiny golds and deep blues that remind you of the wallpaper in Aymeric’s manor. “Sit next to me and draw, won’t you? I want to see more of your pretty pictures.”

And who is he to refuse such a simple and earnest request? You’re changing the subject, but you’ve done it so sweetly and blatantly. That should be enough. Alphinaud isn’t very hard to win over these days. Not as stringent nor as scolding as lovely Y’shtola, who you do not know how you survived without.

“Only if you swear to alert Y’shtola or I should your condition change, or should you notice any… side effects,” he stands firm, crossing his arms. He’s doing his best impression of Estinien, you think, solid and unyielding. There’s a determined gleam in his eyes when you meet them, the downturn of his lips made stubborn. “Or—or if something else troubles you.”

You pause for a moment.

“I accept, on the condition that you draw Lolorito as hysterically hideous as you can manage.”

He shakes his head in a vain effort to hide his smile. Your heart feels warm.

“If that is truly what it will take. Wait just a moment,” he heads for the stairs. His supplies are stowed away in his room.

“Several of them!” you call after him, hanging over the back of the couch. “So we can hang them all over the city!”

He reaches the mezzanine and disappears into the shadows of an adjoining hall. All if quiet. 

“I make no such promises!” his voice echoes back down the stairs and into the lounge.

—

They’re pretty sure they know where Thancred is, narrowed down to a thin crescent of land within the Dravanian Forelands. You are, of course, endlessly frustrated. You combed through vast swathes of the area when traveling with Estinien and Ysayle. How in Hydaelyn’s sweet name had you missed him?

Naturally, you must right this wrong. You will join the Thancred rescue party.

So, you march over to your allies, your companions, your friends and voice your intent with more energy than you have had in weeks. They look surprised at first. Alphinaud then looks abashed, and Y’shtola is the only person with enough spine to tell you what’s what.

They do not want you on the Thancred rescue party. Out of concern for your health. Healers they may be, but you know your body. The only aches and pains you face now are those which have plagued you since your misspent youth. There is no compromise to be made, no need for you to cower within Ishgard’s sturdy walls whilst your friends brave the wilds, risking life and limb to recover one of your own.

The Dravanian Forelands stretch beneath a fortunately clear sky. You recall the hospitality shown to you by the gnath during your first foray into the forests, and are pleased to receive an even warmer welcome this time. Indeed, they have both seen and traded with Thancred. The lead is strong, the scent of the trail thick in the air.

You’re not sure how the others don’t pick it up. It is buried beneath the thick of the wilds, leaf not leather and something unmistakably Thancred. Undeniably and deliciously Thancred. The hunt occupies most of your attention from then on. Some animal part of your brain flickers to life, spurring you into instinctual motion. You tread the path at the head of the pack, oblivious to the conversations occurring all around you.

The abode of the tempered gnath smells and feels as insidious as you remember, but the nest is empty now. Save Ravana and some poor sods foolish enough to tussle with him. By the time you reach the lip of the pit, the battle is over and the primal has crumpled. He erupts into fluttering pulses of amber aether, one thousand butterflies extinguish into the chilly night air.

You’re not terribly concerned with the party that ended him, but the bulky warrior at their head begins to yap on about darkness and light. You’re content to let him, keen gaze scanning the grounds in hope of catching sight of your last friend. The air here is thick with him. If he’s not here, then he’s nearby—

Alphinaud’s panicked cry splits the cold air. You’re not afforded the time to look before an axe arches through the air, dark metal gleaming underneath pale moonlight. Fortunately, the rage only takes a moment to reach a boiling point, these days.

You reach up. An arm too thick and too ridden with scale to be yours catches it by the blade, hooked claws like crescent moons. You look the warrior in the eyes. His eyes go wide in surprise, before his features crumple in with annoyance. Not fear. Not yet.

You don't remember the rest of the fight. There were screams, panicked voices you did not recognize, and at last the telltale sound of teleportation being cast. Consciousness clambers back to you in fuzzy, stumbling stages. The dirt and dead grass crunches underneath your boots. The smell of ash and burnt pine. The steady surging of the many nearby rivers.

You blink, and all of the sudden, you are no longer at the heart of the vath’s domain. Rather, your group has taken shelter beneath a hulking ruin. The groans and growls of wild beasts outside.

“What happened?” you ask. Alphinaud is there. He looks scared, sweat slick on his brow. He struggles to gather his words, mouth opening and clothing, several times in rapid succession. “Did we win?”

Your friends stare at you like you are unfamiliar. Even Y’shtola’s eyes are pitched wide. What must you have done to inspire such terror in those closest to you? Alphinaud seems bereft of his typical many words. The silence hangs in the air for several, helpless moments.

“Yes, large in part due to your newfound skill and my hasty arrival,” a familiar voice cuts through the lingering quiet, and oh—

“Thancred!” There is no decorum in the way you rush him. You throw your arms around his waist and squeeze, close enough to take in the wild smell of him, all sweat soaked leather and the bite of iron. Something in you is piqued by the scent.

He laughs. It’s a full sound, incredulous. “Who are you and what have you done with our Warrior of Light?” Calloused fingers pry you back by the jaw so he can get a better look at you. His roguish smile is a familiar, comforting sight. His gaze, though, is prying. He’s searching for something in you and you don’t know what. You can only hope that he finds it, and that it satisfies him. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been honored with one of your fair embraces, before. Did absence truly make the heart so much fonder?” he asks, eye crinkling with a waggish smile.

His one eye.

“Your eye—” you begin, gut churning with the revelation. 

He waves you off. “You’ve no need to fret over me. It’s still usable, merely a tad sensitive to the light. And the eyepatch—doesn’t it have a certain roguish appeal?”

“I,” you swallow, suddenly unsure of what to say. You look down at your hands, and find them stained with blotches of bright sanguine. A cold feeling settles in your stomach. For not the first or the tenth time, you wonder if what you’re seeing is really there. You look to Y’shtola for answers, as you are these days wont to do. “What happened?”

“A conversation best saved for when we are out of the wilds,” Y’shtola declares. “I believe we are all in need of a meal, a good night’s rest, and—” she spares Thancred a pointed look. “a hot bath.”

“Couldn’t you have been any subtler?” Alphinaud asks, sympathetic. 

Y’shtola says something else in reply, and then begins walking. You walk, too, along the Forelands trail until you reach Tailfeather, where a carriage through the Western Highlands has been secured. Thancred can no longer teleport himself, he’s told you. A consequence of his timely escape from Ul’dah. It’s yet another tally to add to the list of misfortunes you were not strong enough to prevent. You stay quiet the whole way back.

Only once you are securely squared away in your quarters in House Fortemps does Y’shtola come to you.

“Your arm was, all at once covered in scales—and your fingers morphed into claws. I have never seen such an abrupt transformation. There was no dragon blood consumed, nor a cache of crystals in the vicinity to create such a transformation.” It all pours out of her at once, a gush of information that takes a few moments for you to process. Not that you are particularly surprised. After all, how many times have you invoked the strength of the void, letting its dark taint suffuse your spells with power unimaginable? You have formed a close bond with Midgardsormr over the course of your journey. Adopting his strength as your own feels natural.

Y’shtola doesn’t seem to agree, as she continues.

“The lack of preparation and sheer speed of the transformation suggest that you’ve possessessed this power from the start. Or at least, for quite time time. Do you have any inkling of how this may have occurred?”

She turns her gaze to you. Sightless, yet keener than ever. The silver of her stare slips beneath your skin and prises the truth straight out of your mouth, because you can’t stomach lying to Y’shtola.

“No. I don’t. Mdigardsormr traveled with me, yes, but he gave no indication that this coild happen.”

Y’shtola squints at you, opening her lips as if to speak, but all that emerges is a sigh. Fond exasperation furrows her brows and draws her lips into a begrudging smile.

“I suppose it cannot be helped, then. You have ever been the most vexing problem child,” she teases and you grumble, collapsing onto your mattress. You turn over and shove your face into the cotton blankets. 

“Come now, do not pout,” Y’shtola pats you on the shoulder. “You’re the best of us, you know. Even if you can’t handle a little prodding,” another pause. “If anything feels off, come see Alphinaud or myself straight away.”

“I assume you’d prefer being my first choice?” you inquire impishly, only half in jest. 

“I’ll not be coaxed into kicking the hornet’s nest on this one,” Y’shtola stands, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn, and then a sigh as her muscles stretch and her joints crack. “Promise me.” she murmurs, delicately prodding your side.

You give a grunt, and then a mumble of verbal ascent when the sound fails to satisfy her. 

You count every footfall across the aged wooden floor, heels of her shoes deceoptively soft. She’s inaudible by the time she reaches the landing.

—

It would take hold of Minfilia, sometimes. During particularly impassioned moments at negotiating tables, her voice would crack across the room, tight and wound as a coil of lightning. You can recall a particular insurance—in the office of the Admiral. A sly remark in passing off Merlywyb’s tongue developed into a full blown discourse on the very nature of the beast tribes, and what aught to be done with them.

All people of Hydaelyn were entitled to the Mother’s blessings. Minfilia decreed and her eyes burned that brilliant aether blue, and the room smelled like a passing storm.

“This is love,” Minfillia said, looking deep into the grooves of an Amal’jaan warrior’s spear—symbols meant to provide some sort of luck, or protection. The beastman laid in a smoking heap a few fulms away, smited by your spellcraft.

“This is love,” Minfillia, said, cradling your newly obtained jobstone in her cradled palm. The echoes of countless come before you, packed into one object meant to arm you, to furnish you with knowledge. With fire to melt Garlean steel and ice to freeze entire caravans belonging to certain Syndicate members. With earth and wind to blow away festering corruption, to heal all wounds.

“This is love,” Minfillia rasped, spun gold hair falling stringy and wet in her face. She looked at you with wide eyes—and open arms with trembling  fingers. One of her daggers had been flung overboard, lost to the frenzy of the Whorl. Her eyes were two wide currents of light in the dark and dreary grey. Each breath rattled out of her. “This is love.”

And looking back, you wonder how you even managed to hear her over the wind and chopping of the sea.

The outpouring of your essence into a vessel in hopes that it may one day aid someone else. You think you understand it, now.

—

“Half of your aether in its full capacity,” Alphinaud said to you, shortly after you woke up for the first time after the Vault. Memories of the conversation and several like it come to you, sometimes. Like thin trails of fog gliding in through your open balcony door. His voice was rife with disbelief. Eyes so young and wide and watery—a boy so scared of losing one of the only friends he has left.

“I cannot begrudge you—I am—glad you did it—” he pounds pained. “Yet surely, you must know this does not bode well for your—”

“Casting—” your voice doesn’t sound like yours, sometimes.

“Your health—for your health—”

“Please, take better care—”

“—half of it isn’t your own, anymore—”

“My friend, please. Tell me what ails—”

“You saved my son’s life, and for that, you will forever have my deepest gratitude. Deeply and irrevocably.”

[thekinkyleopard]

Forbidden Fruit

An Alistar an Indigeux Canon One-Shot

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Impreg, One Night Stand Vibes? Rough Sex,

Public Sex? No Snz

Author’s Notes: So I have been salivating to write Alistar with Indi just because I know he loves some good poon. I’m FEEDING my boy with this one okay. It’s also Sy’s conception so SPOILER but not really since it’s in Indi’s bio hehe. 🤪 Indi belongs to @aller-geez and she made the banner :3 I’ll replace it with a proper cover once Geez can get around to it. She’s got a lot on her plate right now, but I figured I could still post what fics I do write to keep her spirits up, and use the banner as a place holder.

"Let's not play coy here, Indi, I know you want to go home with someone tonight..." He trailed a long blackened finger down her shoulder, with a lustfilled whisper. "And I have been craving a crumb of delicious pussy, so what say? Hm?" Licking his lips with hunger laced behind his crimson orbs. "We could make a deal~" Alistar grinned, intentions clearly scrawled across his face as he continued to follow the curves of her body with his gaze.

Indi sighed, contemplating, her own hunger becoming evident. She just got in with her brother's friends, should she really dip a toe in the pool? He was attractive...and dangerous...and everything she craved. Slamming her drink back, and then the emptied glass down on the counter she smirked. "Okay, bathroom or alley ?"

"Hm, I'd say Alley, I don't necessarily like the smell of piss and shit while I'm fucking," he was sincere when he said this, he genuinely hated public restrooms, they were always disgusting, and he was depraved, but not that depraved.

As Indi and Alistair exited the dimly lit bar, the scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke lingering in the air, the alley loomed ahead, a shadowy emblem of their illicit rendezvous. The city's pulse throbbed with the echoes of its nocturnal inhabitants, and the concrete walls seemed to vibrate with the anticipation of their impending union.

Indi's heart raced as they approached the alley, her body tingling with excitement and trepidation. She had always been drawn to the darker side of life, the intoxicating allure of forbidden desire, but Alistair? An Anti-Christ? With his ruby eyes and lethal charm, was the embodiment of her deepest fantasies, and she could not resist the pull any longer.

As they entered the alley, Alistair's hand found its way to the small of her back, the smell of wet cement and dirt surrounded them as he pulled her in, just inches apart from her trembling lips. "Now say please," he whispered into her mouth his hot breath meeting her own, the roughness of his voice caressing her senses, igniting a fire within her core.

Indigeux hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest as she met his dangerous red gaze glimmering like two pools of blood. "Please," she whispered back, her voice barely audible above the clamor of the city, "Please, Alistair..."

With that, he seized her lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue probing her mouth as his hands roamed over her body. She moaned softly into the other, her body arching against him as he ground himself against her. His desire was palpable, a primal urge that only seemed to heighten her own.

As they broke apart, he spun her around, pushing her front against the wall of the building, gripping her hips in a tight hold as he reached down to free himself. Her breath hitched and he shuddered when he felt the cool night air against his navel as he unbuttoned and unzipped his ripped up jeans.

Alistair pressed himself against Indi, his erection hot and throbbing against her ass. She gasped as he fumbled with the clasp of her own jeans, his fingers skillfully undoing the button and zipper. He slid his hands inside, caressing her bare heat with practiced fingers. Her heart beat faster, the rush of adrenaline making her feel alive and invincible.

"Fuck.. you're already so wet for me arent you?" he whispered against her ear, his breath hot and damp. She could feel the heat radiating from him, and she knew that she was ready to take the plunge. She nodded, her indigo eyes never leaving his hypnotic ruby gaze.

Alistair pulled away, his eyes still burning with desire as he unzipped his jeans fully. He pulled them down just far enough to reveal his aching erection. Indi bit her lip, as she pushed her ass back to gently brush against it, they both let out a desperate grunt. His hands fished back to the woman's pants and began to slowly pull them down enough to expose her bare ass and quivering swell. "You look fucking delicious from this angle, you know that?" He smirked, crouching on his knees he pushed his mouth up against one of her plump ass cheeks, giving it a gentle chomp of his sharpened teeth, licking and making a trail of slick saliva in between where her ass and pussy met.

Indi's nails scratched and clawed against the rough concrete of the building she used for leverage, pathetically pushing herself into Alistar's skilled motions. She needed him, bibically. "Shit..." she cursed under her breath as she felt his tongue slip tenderly in between her folds. "Ahh...hah~" she gasped.

Alistar's tongue was a wicked tormentor, delving deeper and deeper into Indi's core, caressing her most private places with a sensuous urgency that left her breathless. His hands, strong and calloused, gripped her hips, pulling her closer to him, their bodies aching for the next phase of their forbidden encounter.

Indi's moans echoed through the empty alleyway, each one a testament to the pleasure Alistar's touch was evoking in her. He devoted himself to teasing and torturing her, bringing his hand up only to thrust his greedy fingers within her, then pulling back, soley to nibble and lick at her folds.

Her body trembled uncontrollably, the pleasure coursing through her like electricity as she coaxed the desire within her to reach its peak. She was almost completely incapable of holding herself up as his mouth and fingers rocked her center. Yet, just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Alistar stopped, she felt immediate disappointment, as he came to a stand. The sound of desperate shuffling was heard before she could feel him prodding at her soaked hole. "I'm going to really fucking enjoy this," he growled reaching upward to grip her by the neck with the center of his palm just before shoveling his cock deep inside her entrance.

"Oooh my goo-," she started to moan deeply but her airway was cut off by the sudden squeeze of his gripped blackened hand. Catching a glimpse of just how much force when she watched the flames on his wrist contort.

"Dont....fuckin say that name...say mine..." he hissed behind a clenched jaw. His words heated and dangerous. She could feel the warmth of his fingers around her neck as his voice echoed in her ears. She was practically a puddle at his feet, but at the same time, she couldn't deny the thrill of danger that coursed through her veins. He very well could kill her, strangle her to death and being who he was, get away with it. She shivered.

"A-Al...Alistair," she stammered out, managing to get out his name despite the tightness in her throat.

The red headed demon smirked in response, releasing his grip on her neck just enough to let her breathe. His eyes reflected the hunger burning within him as he continued to thrust into her, relishing in her submission.

"That's right, beautiful...say it again," he growled, his voice low and taunting. His hips continued to wrack her, the sound of wet sex and desperate pants bounced off the empty alley way walls. Her quim dripping down her legs into her half drawn pants.

"Al-ALISTAR," she cried out, almost sort of a whine in her voice as it echoed through the darkness. He moaned in response, his eyes rolling back as he thrust deeper inside her. His fingers tightened around her throat again, pulling her closer to him, their bodies a blur of lust and desperation.

Indi's eyes widened in shock and pleasure, her body shaking uncontrollably under his touch and with every perfectly placed punch to her pleasured bundle of nerves. She had never felt anything like this before, the combination of depravity and pleasure leaving her mind hazy and her body trembling.

"Please... Im gonna... I can't..." she managed to gasp out, her voice ragged and breathy. Not even particularly conscious of the words she was speaking out loud. Unable to even really get coherent thoughts out with a hand wrapped tightly on her neck anyway.

Alistair's eyes flicked up to meet the back of her head, his expression mirroring the intensity of the moment. "You can," he whispered hoarsely, leaning into her ear, his voice heavy with lust. "Cum for me, pretty girl," With that, he plunged into her again, relentless against her shaking core, her legs wobbled, her eyes rolled back and she couldn't manage to keep herself up right. The only thing holding her up being the demon fucking her.

The red head grunted, biting down on her shoulder as he continued his motions, feeling the heat rise and boil within his own groin as his cock continued to plow her. "I'm almo...there..." he strained around her flesh as his teeth continued to grip her. Indi almost felt like she could black out from the intensity of just how insanely good it felt, but she kept herself present as her hips met his with every beat. After a few strokes, he reached down with another hand to start swirling rough circles against her swollen clit, that was it, that was all she needed, she blew over.

Her release was explosive, her entire body convulsing against his, her back arching and nails digging into the rough brick wall. She let out a guttural cry, her voice ringing out loud and clear through the empty alley. Her legs shook uncontrollably, and she struggled to keep her balance against Alistair's relentless thrusts.

He continued to fuck her, his hands and mouth never leaving her, feeding off her pleasure, absorbing her cries of ecstasy.

Alistair's own release was imminent, and he could feel it building within him, like a storm waiting to break. “I’m right fucking there….”He could hear it, feel it, taste it in the air as it gathered within him, the scent of his own coming orgasm. His hips began to move faster, harder, slamming into her with a force that left her breathless.

The woman's body continued to convulse and clench around his cock and eventually Alistar's vision blackened and his body froze as he spilled his hot seed inside her heat. “Th-…ere it fucking is,” his words slid through clenched teeth.

As his climax overtook him, Alistair's hips jerked forward one final time, burying himself deeper into her core than he thought possible. “Fuck…” he hissed again. Their bodies trembled in unison as they both reached the pinnacle of their ecstasy. He felt her muscles clench around him, milking every last drop from his warring erection.

The air was thick with the scent of their mingled lust and the taste of her desire still lingered on his tongue. He pulled out of her slowly, his breath ragged as he tried to regain control of his body. Indi stumbled back, her knees buckling beneath her as the aftershocks of her orgasm still coursed through her.

Alistair caught her, his hands steadying her as she looked up into his eyes. Her gaze was filled with a mix of shock, embarrassment, and an undeniable allure. Could also just be the high of cumming and the several drinks in her system but she almost, admired him. He smirked, keeping her steady against the wall and once he was sure she wouldnt topple over, began to pull his pants back up his hips.

"That was fucking fun.." Alistar spoke as though he was still catching his breath. Cutting the awkward silence between them.

Indi continued to regulate her own breath before she smirked, rolling her eyes. "It was but, We have to stop..." she responded, confidently and genuinely.

Alistar chuckled darkly, running a hand through his thick, red hair. "Why would we do that, pet?" he asked, his voice dangerously alluring. "We've only just begun," he reached for her arm, at first to comfort her but as she started to walk away, he tightened his hold.

She tried to pull away, but he only became more serious about his grip, keeping her in place. "Let go, please," she stated seriously with a flattened edge to her tone, her voice unwavering.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "Come ooon don't be like that, I'm going to want seconds....thirds even," the demon narrowed his gaze, letting go of her arm per her request but still staying a mere few inches from her.

"Al, stop, there's drama here dont you see that? This was fun and all but we can't do this again, Draeko and Elex will both be fuckin' furious and I frankly don't want to deal with it," she shoved past him, a pack of cigarettes loosely falling out of the demon's pocket. She picked it up and took one out, pressing it to her lips and handing out her hand for a light. Alistar hummed lightly, handing her the lighter after shoveling it out of his pocket.

"So who said we have to tell either of them? Or anyone?" that same husky, lust filled tone that made her bend in the first place.

Indi snickered, the corner of her mouth twitching as she took a long drag of the cigarette, the smoke curling out of her mouth in a thick plume. She blew it out slowly, her eyes locked onto the demon's as she exhaled.

"Oh, Alistar, you know that's not how it works," she spoke softly, the corner of her mouth twitching up in amusement. "But you're right, there's no need to tell anyone if we don't want to. We can make this little secret our own,"

The red-eyed cretin grinned, a wicked light twinkling in his eyes. "You're right, we can make this our little secret, and maybe more little secrets along the way, hm? Now shall I call us one of those uber things?" Indi rolled her eyes at him, pulling out her own phone and ignoring the argument.

"By the way you said that, no, I'll do it, you can pay me back," The red head nodded feeling victorious, and hopeful to get another chance.

"Fair enough," and the two of them, after fixing themselves up right and making sure they didnt look too obviously like they had just fucked in the alley, waited for their ride out front of the bar. Unbeknownst to the trouble that now lay wake in Indi's womb.

The End…?

Author’s Notes: I love writing Al fucking things. Idc who. He doesn’t care who either. We both just enjoy the journey ya know? LOL Hope you all aren’t too mad it wasn’t Nai or Drae this time. Trust, those are his favorite holes. He just likes a little strange now and again 😜

[unknownjpegs]

hound

“Fuck— you—“ Benji hisses at the thing, even though he knows it’s not gonna understand him. English is too young of a language for its torn, black flesh ears to decipher. He says it because it feels good to say. Chat shit.

Also because it makes his chest expand as he draws the air and the massive, burning paw centered heavy on his chest lifts slightly.

The other paw — one of them, the fucking thing’s got so many and it seems to sprout more and retract others, all smoldering at the edges like inky licks of flame — pins his arm to the ground.

He can’t get a good grip on the axe, with his elbow twisted like that. The dull ache of bones ground together is nothing to the burn from the pads of its feet. Claws, he’s not sure how many, digging tips sharp like diamond and feel as if they multiply as they sink into the border of a wound that will definitely blister.

Neither is a pain that would compare to the puncture of those gnashing, saliva and ichor-dripping fangs sinking into his throat. It would be brief, but it’s not a pleasant way to go.

It’s doing the best it can to manage that. Jaw clicking shut, head tilting and adjusting, hinge of it and multilayered expanse of teeth in its smoking gullet snapping down closer and closer —

A droplet of that ichor or drips onto his cheek, sizzles the flesh, and the snap of pain so close to his eye and that scar is enough to enrage him.

Strong thing, anger. And it makes him strong.

“Fuck you,” he grinds out again, and then bucks. Enough for the thing to have to readjust.

Benji takes that opportunity. Lifts his arm with a heave and spins the long handle of the axe over his wrist, gets a grip on it nearer the head.

Better angle — he swings. The base of the handle kicks up sparks on the ground as it drags quick, flashing snap through the air.

Dull, wet thuck as it buried deep. Howl from the beast because the silver axehead rends it proper; been smelted and etched with all the best sigils. It melts flesh and bone and whatever cursed shit these things are made up of, if they’re flesh and bone and all, and buries deep.

The thing begins to slow. Mindless survival before it stops moving. Kicks once, hind legs. Benji shoves it off to get to his feet, and then puts his boot over its slack-jawed, tongue-out, dripping mouth. Uses the leverage there to yank the axe out of its skull with a strange, hissing suck. A grunt.

“Pissin’ hate hellhounds,” Benji huffs, shaking his gloves off. And then he shakes himself a bit, a shiver, and looks over to see how the others are faring.

“Feels fucked, yeah? Like I shouldn’t have to deal with this shit, if I don’t believe in it?”

Lark, stood over the corpse of another hound he'd taken down, laughs He brushes his mop of blond hair back from his face, streaking black guts and red, steaming blood into the strands. He flicks his wrist with a casual confidence. The blade he wields wicks blood across the concrete.

He looks away from that, because he has a brief and confusion flicker of a memory. There's no living desire as the images return, but the ghost of it; his pwn hand brushing through that hair, washing it out in hot water. Benji's brow pulls severely in confusion — he can’t think like that. Why is he? Shouldn’t. Not when his — not with Xavier standing there too, staring at Benji like he can read his mind.

“T’fuck are you lookin’ at?” Benji sneers, bristling. His lip curls like he might bare his teeth, too.

The tall man’s wide-eyed expression twists angry, like Benji’s stunned him out of it by being a prick. Coaxed him out of it with the distaste for him alone. Good.

Get angry. Dickhead.

Lark puts a placating hand on Xavier’s shoulder. Shakes him a bit. It's an intimate touch. A familiar one. And it makes the anger burst up and twist with his confusion and fizzle into something worse. Tight, gripping cold and sharp in his chest. An aching sort of sadness.

You do that for me. You did that for me, suppose, when we were — when you’d see me getting proper riled about something. You can tell and you’d do that, touch me like that, and it’d always be enough. Why aren't you? Why do I care?

Before Xavier can open his mouth to retaliate, or Benji can slip the knife from his tongue to dig in more, Tino rounds the corner.

“Imps.” He says, flicking the cassock around his neck and sighing. “God, y’all remember when it was just a poltergeist or two? Nowadays kids are summoning —“

He pauses, Tino-sensing at the ripple of tension. He narrows his eyes, flicking between them, assessing: who started it.

“Benji,” because obviously. Tino says his name in that voice. The familiar one. The careful one, the vaguely disappointed one, the concerned one.

“Yeah.” He says, trying not to roll his eyes or pout like the petulant child he feels, sometimes. “Yeah, whatever. I’m not apologizing though.”

Xavier sticks his tongue out, and Benji nearly lunges at him.

[soncfthewitch]

Fire licked under Quinn's skin, raw flesh splitting where he'd pushed too much power through. His palms wept blood, the price of channeling more magic than they could hold. The stench of dead meat and sulfur filled his lungs, but he kept his shoulders loose, his stance easy. Professional. Controlled.

Just another bloody Tuesday gone wrong, nothing to see here.

Lies came easier with practice.

Quinn watched him from the corner of his eye. Piecing together the details from his periphery - the way Phineas' hand dropped to his side without a tremor, the stiff set of his spine—no ragged breathing. No shaking. Not a single bloody tell that he'd just unmade a demon with words. The kind of power that should have left him drained, should have exacted some price. But Phineas stood there like he'd done nothing more taxing than browse the morning paper.

He spat blood onto the ground, tongue probing the split in his lip. "Right then." The words came out steady despite the exhaustion trying to drag him down. "Quite the show you put on."

"How many more are there?"

Phineas' question dug into Quinn's gut like a knife. He needed a moment. Space to think. To pull his next move together. The truth sat bitter on his tongue - he didn't know. Didn't know how many more demons had been waiting for him, didn't know why Phineas had appeared at exactly the right moment, didn't know when the ground had shifted under his feet.

"Proper gratitude, that." Quinn's mouth curved into something sharp even as he gave a short smile that barely touched his eyes. "Most people start with 'cheers' or 'glad you've still got all your bits.' But no, straight to business." His hand shook as he gestured at the corpse, and he despised himself for that tell. "Unless you're hiding a crystal ball somewhere in those posh clothes, I'd say we've got bigger problems than a headcount."

Quinn kept his eyes fixed on the remains, refusing to acknowledge how Phineas' stare bored into his back. Each deflection felt paper-thin, inadequate against that level of focus. He'd spent years learning to read people, to stay three steps ahead of everyone else in the room. But Phineas? With his particular set of powers. Phineas saw too much.

"Here's what I want to know." Quinn crouched beside the corpse. The acid-eaten concrete burned through his trousers, but he refused to flinch. "Why were you here?" He prodded a fragment of bone with his boot, watching it crumble to ash. "Perfect timing, that. I have to wonder - did you track the demons here, or were you tracking me?"

No need to look back. Quinn had clawed his way through worse fights, and survived uglier odds. But this? This changed everything. For the first time since he'd started hunting, Quinn wasn't the most dangerous thing stalking San Franciso.

And Phineas bloody well knew it. That knowledge rolled off him like thunder. He'd saved Quinn's life, but he'd also shown his hand. Revealed a power that shouldn't exist. Not outside of…

Quinn's fingers twitched toward the knife at his belt before he could stop them. Not a threat - he wasn't that stupid—just the instinct of a hunter facing something beyond his understanding.

The worst part? Under the fear, under the wariness and professional concern, something else twisted in Quinn's gut. Something hungry and sharp-edged that recognized just how handsome Phineas looked right now and wanted to lean into it instead of away.

The footsteps are quiet at first, but then a voice cuts through the tension—heavy with authority, thick with power. Phineas steps into the dim light, boots scraping softly against the gravel as he raises his hand, fingers splayed, his gaze unwavering as it locks on the creature. The acrid scent of burnt flesh slams into his senses like a punch, but he’s already lost in the focus of his magic, the tension coiling in the air.

“Spirits of air, forest, and sea—” he murmurs, the words thick with power, rolling off his tongue like an incantation passed through time. The night hums as he draws the magic in, feeling it swirl around him, heavy and charged. “—set me of this demon free.”

The creature snarls, its talons scraping against the concrete as it shifts its weight, eyes widening in a mix of fear and fury. But it’s too late. He steps forward, voice rising as his words burn hotter in the air. “Beast of bile—this plane you can no longer dwell, death shall take you with this spell!”

A surge of energy erupts from his outstretched hand, crackling through the air with a force that makes the ground tremble. The creature's body jerks as the spell hits it, the magic raking through its twisted form like claws made of pure force. There’s a sickening crack as its ribs splinter and twist out of shape, breaking apart as if they were made of brittle wood.

The demon’s skin splits first, lines of iridescent scales breaking open, dark veins bursting through the surface like a floodgate breaking loose. Its muscles convulse beneath the skin, blood and viscera pouring from the ruptures as the magic tears it apart. The creature screeches in pain but it can’t move—can't escape. Its jaw unhinges as more tendrils of magic rip through it, slicing through its insides.

From within, bone shatters with a sound that makes Phineas' stomach churn. Limbs snap and twist as the magic burns its way through, turning flesh to ash in an instant. The demon’s eyes bulge, the black pools of its pupils starting to melt under the pressure of the spell.

The creature’s body collapses, flesh peeling away in sheets of gooey, charred remains. It’s no longer recognizable—just a mass of twitching, unholy remnants as its body slowly disintegrates into nothing but a puddle of ooze and smoldering ash.

Phineas lowers his hand, his breath steady as the air around them settles. “How many of these things are left?”

[myballsyourballs]

This just came in mind

Katsuki deku and todoroki reactions to seeing reader really bad injured.

Ok so they fighting a villain, and on the end of the battle the construction that they were inside starts to break in pieces. And the reader didn't managed to get out in time. (reader is not dead just badly injured)

(So sorry if it's hard to understand my english still need to be polished 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️)

fatality

bakugou, midoriya (seperate) x m! reader

genre: angsty(?) drabbles

warnings: description of injury

notes: i assumed this was seperate- i hope i didnt get that wrong 😭 also, if you don't specify gender im probably going to make it gn or male (which i did here) and i am SO sorry for not including todoroki — i didn’t know how to characterise him for something like this, and i honestly just need to churn out fics rn. thanks for requesting!

masterlist | make a request

bakugou !

The building erupted into flames, orange and yellow tendrils licking at the sides of rotting concrete walls. Slowly, the cement broke, anything stable soon collapsing into a dusty heap of rock.

Bakugou called out. There was no answer.

He kept running. There was so much smoke. His eyes scanned the remains around him frantically, in contrast to his seemingly calm exterior. He felt like he was in shock. His expression was blank, completely devoid of any emotion -- except his eyes. Unadulterated panic swam in his red irises, molars clacking together as Bakugou clenched his jaw. He swallowed thickly.

"Zero! We need to get out of here -- it's not stable!" He faintly registered Kirishima yelling out to him. Nothing's breaking anymore. It's stable enough. Bakugou knew he was only trying to make himself feel better at this point.

"[L/N]'s in here." He said softly, hands stilling by his sides as he observed the concrete around him.

"Grou-- Bakugou, come on!"

He spotted you.

A hand, one that was definitely yours, peeked underneath a thick slab of rectangular-shaped rock that was laying on top of you. There was some other concrete that rested beneath it which prevented it from completely weighing on you, but your left arm wasn't so lucky. Bakugou rushed forward, gripping the edge of the slab with calloused fingers and pulling it up with a groan. Once it was far enough from you, he let out explosions from his palms, ignoring the ache and slight burn he felt in doing so.

The concrete slab slammed against the ground beside you, vibrations ringing out in a low rumble — unheard over the high-pitched ringing in Bakugou’s ears. No, no, no no no…

Your body lay on the ground, blood pouring in a slow drip from a head wound located on the side of your temple. Your arm was twisted at an unnatural angle, and your face was covered in soot. Bakugou felt the sting of bile at the back of his throat. A torn hero suit revealed a large burn — 3rd degree — that traced the expanse of your stomach. 2nd degree burns littered your arms and chest, though your face and legs were left mostly clear.

“Get a medic!” he called out, voice raspy from smoke inhalation.

There was silence. He looked back, meeting the eyes of Kirishima, who was still in shock, standing with his eyes trained on your unconscious body.

"I SAID GET A FUCKING MEDIC!"

Red Riot startled, stumbling backwards and towards where the ambulances were soon arriving, exiting the cloud of smoke.

His fists clenched against the ground beside your head, body rocking back and forth. He couldn’t move you. It was too risky. What if you had broke your neck? Got a concussion? Brain damage? Broken your skull? Amnesia? Hematoma? Paralysed, seizures, coma—

“Ground Zero!” A voice called — unfamiliar this time. Kirishima seemed to have left. Bakugou raised his head slightly, red eyes peering at a figure approaching from the smoke. “We need you to step away. We’re taking him to the hospital.”

Wordlessly, Bakugou reluctantly pulled his arms from beside your head. More figures approached from the cloud of dust and smoke, carrying a stretcher between them. They checked your pulse, announcing it was there, but faint. He watched numbly as they wrapped a precautionary brace around your neck, steadying your head as they transferred you to the stretcher.

Bakugou followed them out, feeling like he was on autopilot. You had a pulse. You were alive.

He didn't leave your side.

midoriya !

"[Y/N]!"

Midoriya skidded to a stop next to your stretcher, collapsing to his knees with tears already streaming down his cheeks. He slid an arm around your waist, and a palm to the back of your head. "You're okay, you're okay..."

Your eyes settled onto his, hazy. Midoriya let out a relieved laugh that soon dissolved into sobs. Your eyelids felt heavy. You wanted to sleep. "...I'm... okay," you said, voice raspy. "It's okay..."

"You w--weren't! There was-- there was blood, and--"

"Izuku," you murmured gently, his eyes snapping to yours. "I'm okay," you repeated. You raised a hand, gently stroking his jaw, watching in silence as his lower lip trembled.

"...I can't lose you."

"You won't. You haven't."

He dipped his head, shoulders shaking once more as sobs wracked his body. Plumes of smoke poured out of the building in the distance, the wail of sirens faint. Midoriya buried his head into your chest, worn out and emotions a tangled mess.

The fight from before didn't seem to last long after you had gotten injured. It's odd, though, the contrast you see now. After you had been thrown back by the villain and broken your leg, Midoriya was first not upset. Well, underneath his exterior he probably was, but outside of that?

Midoriya was furious.

He was seething with rage, a rage that could rival even Bakugou's. It was... rather odd to see. The fight didn't last long after that. Midoriya delt with the villain, and ran straight to the stretcher you had been put on.

Your calloused fingers ran through his hair, brushing out any knots and shaking off the dust. His breathing was less ragged now -- though he was still limp against your chest. Kneeling on the ground. That looks uncomfortable. "Don't you wanna grab a chair? Your knees are going to hurt..." you mumbled quietly, voice only a gently rumble.

Midoriya tightened his arm around your waist.

No, then. You continued to guide your fingers through his hair, your other hand gently laid over his shoulders.

A throat cleared.

You turned your head quickly, wincing and letting out a small hiss when the movement caused your headache to increase while your vision blurred.

A paramedic stood there, her face patient. "There's an ambulance ready for you now," she paused, contemplative. "Hero Deku, you're welcome to tag along."

Midoriya's head lifted, green curls bouncing as he nodded his head.

"Great. If you're good to go, we'll get you going now."

"Yeah," you murmured breathily, eyes threatening to close. "...yeah, I'm good."

The paramedic, who was now rolling your stretcher to the ambulance with Midoriya trailing at your side, pursed her lips before she spoke again. "Please keep your eyes open, sir. You can sleep when we get to the hospital."

You sighed, head lolling as you turned it to the opposite direction of her. "M'fine. The guy... before... he told me not to sleep, too," you faltered, eyes feeling heavy.

“[Y/N]?” Midoriya murmured, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. His eyes widened as yours slipped shut. “Hey, [Y/N]!”

He never let go of your hand.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄: Handjobs w/ Glenn Rhee

a/n: i think me being behind on kinktober is just going to be a pattern atp, idk sometimes i don't feel like writing for smut but we're here now! also, i just wanna thank you guys for all of your requests!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Maintaining a relationship while you were constantly on the move was difficult, but what was even more difficult was keeping up with intimacy.

Most of the time Glenn and you had never had time alone to yourselves, so the majority of your relationship was put on hold. So, when you had finally settled down in the prison, you and your boyfriend were finally able to think about settling down. Like tonight, where you had snuck to the top of the tower to join Glenn on his watch shift.

It was no surprise that you had already found yourselves entranced in an intense make out session. You were pressed up against his side, his head turned into order to kiss you. Your hand that was planted on the side of his face slid down to his jaw, then his neck, his chest, and finally stopping at his belt buckle which you fiddled with.

“Can I please touch you, baby?” You whispered against his lips, pulling back slightly so that you could gaze into his eyes. “What if someone sees?” He breathed, his chest heaving. “Not trying to be mean, hun, but almost everyone is asleep, and we're really high up.” It really wasn't that hard to convince him, because before you knew it, your hands were unfastening his belt and unzipping his fly.

As you pulled his cock out, a hiss fell from his lips, the cool night air of the prison brushing against his heated skin.

“So pretty.” You murmured against his cheek, placing sweet kisses on the side of his face as you stroked him. Tiny ‘Ah, Ah’s’ fell out his mouth as you spread the bead of pre-cum on his tip, gently pressing down on it, your thumb moving in circles. He was leaned back on his hands, the both of you watching your hand that was stroking him seductively.

“That feel good?” You barely whispered, gripping his shaft, tracing a nail on that vein on the underside of his dick. “So good.” He all but whimpered, head falling back. “Good.” You let go of him, quickly spitting on your hand before resuming your menstruations, Glenn letting out a deep groan. The entire scene was erotic, from the way you watched him, to the the way his jaw clenched, his thighs slightly shaking as he neared his end. You felt him pulse in your hand, a tiny whine of satisfaction falling from you as well.

“Cum on my hand for me, Glenny baby. 'Need it. 'Need to see you do it. 'Need to see you paint my hand.” He moaned at your dirty words, fingers desperately clawing at the concrete ground, searching for something to hold onto, to keep him stable.

As his chest rose and fell, he fucked your hand through his orgasm, sweet sounds ringing from him like a sonata as you worked him through it. When he was done, you made sure he watched you lick your hand, eyes trained on him.

“I think you got a job to do, babe.” You said with a smirk on your face.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02

[looseratinthegarage]

Dept (yautja x reader)

I’m much happier with this version then the last! Let me know if you like this one better

You lock your apartment door and put the keys in your back pocket. You walk down the mixed stone steps and wave to your downstairs neighbor having a smoke.

“Oi, it’s colder than a witches tit out here, get a coat on.” The young Irishman warned.

“I would but I don’t have one.” You laughed sadly.

He shook his head, taking his coat off and extending his arm to you.

“Here,” he huffed and tried to hand it to you.

“No, no, it’s alright-“ You stutter, rather flustered at his actions.

“Take the damn thing.” He holds his cigarette in between his lips and places the coat onto you.

You smiled shyly and nodded. You start to walk towards the street. He was rough around the edges but a nice guy. Quite the drinker though, also noisy, but you didn’t mind. He threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out.

“Shits gonna get weird later,” he blurted out, causing you to turn around and face him.

“I’ve got a feelin,” he clarified.

You nod and shrug to him, shit always happens around here. The sun had begun to set and you started walking down the concrete sidewalk. You changed your pace to speed-walking. You make a left and walk through the emptying park, it’s a nice shortcut. You see families picking up their picnics and gathering their children. You turn your attention toward trash laying on the ground. You sigh, throwing it away, and continuing your journey for food. You place your hand in his pockets and repress a shiver.

You look towards the lush trees and admire them momentarily, then something takes you from your thoughts. You fall to the ground and feel something wet on your face. You push it off and see a tail wagging golden retriever.

Their owners run up frantically and put them back on a leash.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” She handed the lead to her partner.

She rushed over as the dog pawed at the other woman for attention. She looped her arm with yours and pulled you to your feet.

“We shouldn’t have let him off leash, I’m really sorry about that! You're not hurt are you?” She asked with a worried expression.

“Oh it’s no problem! I’m okay,” you laugh through the pain of your aching knee.

You lean down and pet the sweet pup. He wags his tail and licks your hands. You politely wave to the couple and their fur-baby.

You make a right and see your destination come into view. You happily skip up to the mom and pop diner and open the door, hearing a little jiggle.

“Ah, y/n, want your usual?” Mr Barone asked as he wiped the counter.

“Yes sir!” You smile and sit down at a table.

He chuckles and walks into the back. He begins barking orders at the chiefs and you shake your head fondly. You look down and pull out your phone. You scroll through social media for a moment and angrily sigh. You’ve been putting yourself out there, but you still couldn’t get a date.

You play a mindless game to pass the time while your mouth is practically watering. You look up at your battery and quickly turn the phone off. It was pretty close to dying and you’d really rather not walk home in the dark without a phone.

Mrs Barone walks out of the back with steaming food in hand. If you had a tail, it would be wagging. She giggled at your eagerness and placed the food down.

“Thank you ma’am!” You dig into your meal as if it would be your last.

“Of course, y/n! You really have to come more often.” She smiles and pinches your cheek.

You smile back and resume inhaling your dinner. She walks behind the counter and starts counting the money in the register. Mr Barone comes out of the back and is seemingly fixated on something outside. He squints his eyes into the darkness then clears his throat and moves his attention to you. He plops down at your table on the other booth with a groan.

“It’s gettin pretty late, I’ll walk you home, don’t want any weirdos messin with ya.” He offers and leans back.

You smile at his concern and roll your eyes.

“I’ll be fine, grandpa.” You joke.

“I just want you to be safe, if I gotta be your grandfather to do that then so be it.” He laughed and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

You’ve become rather close with Mr and Mrs Barone, to the point of viewing them like family. You liked the idea of Mr Barone being your granddad, but you guessed he was only joking.

“I have my phone with me,” You try to convince him but he interrupts you.

“And you got my number?” He asks as he crosses his arms.

“Yes,” you roll your eyes fondly.

“And what do you do if something happens?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll call you,” you reassure him.

“And it doesn’t matter what time it is, eh?” He leans back slightly.

“If I ever run into trouble, no matter what time, you’ll be the first person I call.” You smile at the grumpy old man.

“That’s my boy/girl/kid.” He ruffles your hair and stands up.

He walks over to Mrs and kisses her on the cheek while she counts. At least he seems more at ease now. You finish up your food and begin walking to the back.

“Ah, ah,” he corrects.

You sigh and place the plate on the counter. You always try to clean up after yourself but he never lets you. It’s not like you weren’t allowed back there. You’ve gone many times, often when he proudly shows you new equipment or appliances. He just never wanted you to work, guess he likes taking care of you. Not that you're surprised, he had a son that died when he was young. Leaving a big hole in his heart, one that you happily filled.

You gave them both a kiss on the cheek and tried to pay, but as you expected he didn’t let you. He asked one more time if he could walk you home but you politely declined. He sighed and nodded.

You waved to them and opened the door, hearing the jingle once again. You took a deep breath and started your walk back home. Through the park is the easiest and quickest way, even though Mr Barone isn’t a big fan.

You enter and see that all of the families have moved on long ago. You hear a crunch underneath your foot and stop. You look down and see a brown paper bag, people really need to clean after themselves. You look around for a trash can and spot one. Sadly the light post above it had gone out. You walk into the darkness and throw the bag away, feeling rather satisfied with yourself.

You turn around and begin walking away then hear a bone chilling noise. Unnatural hisses. You slowly turn around looking for the cause. If it was a cat, it’s a weird freaking cat. Then something all black walks into the light of the moon. You gasp and start slowly backing up.

It lunged at you, you fled at full speed, but it chased you, your heart pounded so heavily you thought it’d explode. It trips you with its tail and you fall to the ground hard. You gasp for breath as the wind has been knocked out of you. The creature leaped at you, you screamed but managed to roll out of the way. Then out of nowhere a strange shape of a person jumps out and stabs the thing in the back of the head. It shrieks and turns around beginning to fight them. The figure wasn’t human, it was alien, just like the black thing.

Everything in your body told you to run, neither of them are human. But you couldn’t move, you were frozen. You snapped back to reality and grabbed your phone. You fumbled with it and went into the calling app. While you were distracted the thing had tried attacking you. Luckily the other creature blocked the attack and pushed you out of the way. You hit the floor and your phone goes flying.

You crawl towards it and grasp it in your hand. You hastily click his name and wait while it rings. He picks up the phone quickly.

“Are you alright-” He speaks frantically but you interrupt him.

“Please help!! I’m scared!! Aah-!” You roll out of the way from the two battling behemoths.

“I’m at the park!! Please!!” You cry as you watch the two fight.

You look down at the phone and your heart sinks, it died. He won’t know where you are. You throw the phone to the side and look around for something to defend yourself with. You see a fallen tree branch and bolt for it. The ‘good’ creature was on the ground. It took your brain a minute to figure out that it was going to kill him.

Without thinking you start running at the thing. You hit it over the head but the branch brakes on impact. You gulp and back up slowly as it turns around. It stabs you through the chest with its tail. The world went in slow motion and your eyes widened. Once it pulled it out of you, time returned to normal. You cry out and fall to the ground.

Then someone shoots it, and it wasn’t the other creature. You turn your head weakly and see Mr Barone with a shotgun. It only seemingly stuns the monster, but in that time the ‘good’ one was able to strike it fatally.

He threw the shotgun into the grass and ran to your side. He knelt down and cupped your cheeks. He pulls something that resembles a medallion from his loose shirt and shows it to the tall bipedal. It nods and walks over to you. The last thing you remember is being picked up by rough scaly hands and Mr Barone kissing your forehead.

———————————————————————————

He placed a hand on his forehead and grumbled. He followed the Yautja to their cloaked ship and walked up the mysterious metal ramp. He held no fear, well for himself, but he was terrified of losing you. He internally scolded himself. He knew something was out there, if he had just gone with you…. it would have been him dying not you, and that’s how he would have preferred it.

He clears his throat and walks down the strange hall. The both of them made a right and weapons were already pointed at them. He didn’t raise his hands, nor gasp or show any surprise.

“Your trial segugio infernale hurt my grandkid“ He paused briefly.

“And you're gonna fix him!” He raised his index finger and waved it.

The leader eyed him suspiciously, but held his spear tight. There was a long pause of silence before one of the others spoke up. They clicked with their leader about something.

“Has my face changed that much, eh?” He spat.

Barone ripped his button down open to reveal his tanned hairy chest. The chieftain wevered for a moment, the grip on his weapon faltering.

“There you go..” He grins angrily, the chieftains breathing increases.

Your body begins to shake violently in the Yautjas arms and foam bubbles from your mouth. Barone swiftly turns to you and puts a hand on your head worriedly. Unintentionally letting his fear seep out just enough for them to smell. The yautja holding you spoke to the chieftain, and his mood seemed to change.

Everyone lowered their weapons at his command and parted, making a path. He ran straight to the med bay and Barone was hot on his heels.

“He better be okay o ti tengo per le palle.” He eyed the chieftain.

[number1villainstan]

Villain Pet AU

In which most/all of the villains/villain groups in MHA have their own pets/mascots. @cans-of-beans and I created this in a wild discord convo. Beans, if there's anything important I missed/that you want to elaborate on please add it on

League of Villains: Monchan, naturally. In this AU, he has a longevity/immortality Quirk (so Tomura can't hurt him by accident) and One For All (which he got by accident, by licking up some of All Might's blood during his battle with AFO while All Might was thinking about a successor). There is much debate in the League over whether he's haunted, weird, or just a Very Smart Good Boy. This is because the vestiges (mostly Nana) use an Ouija board to communicate through Monchan. (It was Toga and Twice's idea.)

Shie Hassaikai, specifically Chisaki: Shi, aka Four, a black cat that Chisaki adopted at Pops' request two years pre canon. (Also my personal favorite and therefore the longest section here.) The conversation went a little like this:

Pops: You need to develop empathy and be more human. Maybe taking care of a pet will help.

Chisaki, used to Pops indirectly insulting him: Oh thank god, for a second I thought you were going to shove a whole child at me.

Pops: Haha, no, I don't trust you with a child.

(Eri is hanging out with her grandfather for now. It's a marginally better situation.)

Four has an intelligence Quirk. She can't naturally understand human language or get into deep philosophy (and she still acts and thinks like a cat), but she understands some things that normal cats don't (like that feet are a part of humans and not the enemy) and can communicate concrete ideas with symbols that Kai taught her.

Her name is Four/Shi because in Japanese both death and four can be pronounced 'shi,' making four an unlucky number. I feel like Chisaki would be the type of person to play on that superstition.

Chisaki loves this cat. So much so that he gets/sews clothes for her. He tried to make her wear shoes too, to keep her feet off the dirty floors, but she hated them because they kept her from using her claws. Also, there is definitely a cat-sized lab coat among the clothes she has.

Gentle Criminal and La Brava: You know the whole "Kiwi and his goth gf" thing? Those are the birds these two have. Gentle has the goth gf, whose name is Bronte--sometimes he'll call her Miss/Madame Bronte for fun. Brava's multicolor bf's name is Cariño(so), which is Spanish for sweetheart/kind/loving/gentle. The birds are in love, naturally, and they often fly out with cameras attached to scope out areas Gentle and Brava are interested in for their videos/heists.

The MLA/PFL: Neither of us have gotten far enough into the story to meet them, so we decided for fun that they had a goldfish with a mecha suit a la Megamind. (This is subject to review.)

(Bonus: Natsuo, in this AU, is a vet and works at a veterinary clinic that (somehow) all of the villains attend to for their pets. The clinic is the only neutral ground that all of them respect.)

[seiyasabi]

Bulls in the Bronx

(So…. long story short, I’m now a hucow simp. Thanks a lot @/biskywrites and @/dark-side-blog2 for making me this way (ﾉД`) lol, all jokes aside, I wanna suck some tiddy milk from a buff man ;)) Anyways, this is Yandere Hucow(Hubull?) Bokuto x Fem Reader ;0 This fic allows me to flex my farming knowledge lol, bc my grandparents owned ponies and dogs. 

TW: !Noncon!, !dubcon!, creampie!, he hits you twice!, somnophilia!, predator vs prey?, manipulation!, cumflation!, breeding kink!, size kink!, ur a farmhand!, lactation!, tiddie sucking!, Asshole farmer Ushi, etc.. 

Please don’t proceed if any of the above are triggering! Also, sorry if Bokuto is too OOC lol) 

“Bokuto got into the lackweed again,” You can’t suppress the laugh that explodes from your mouth. The idea of the biggest hucow (hubull??) on the ranch freaking out (again), because he’s now dripping milk is hilarious. 

“Where on Earth does he keep finding those damn weeds?” The other farmhand laughs as well, stooping down to fill two buckets with water. 

“I think those grass seeds were cross contaminated, the other hucows also started to lactate a lot more than usual. But, it’s kinda funny that our best breeder is dripping like a heifer,” Chuckling in acknowledgement, you can’t help but feel a pang of pity. Poor Bo, he’s probably really self conscious at the moment. 

“Maybe I should go check on him-” Your coworker almost drops the bucket she’s filling, looking up at you as if you just grew three heads. 

“Why would you do that? Did you forget that he’s going in rut soon?” Frowning, you glance down at the floor in mild shame. 

“Well, yes, but he isn’t supposed to start until next week! Plus, I’m not ovulating right now, so I won’t trigger him,” The other girl thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly. 

“I suppose it’d be fine. If anything, he may calm down if his favourite handler is there,” Nodding, you grab two buckets from the shelf beside you. Squatting down next to your coworker, you place a bucket underneath a faucet, turning the circular handle to the left. A gush of cool water rushes out, quickly filling the plastic pail. Quickly switching it out for the empty one, you wait a few more moments, before turning off the rushing water. Grabbing the handles of the buckets, you lift them whilst standing to your feet, using your legs instead of your back. 

Nodding towards the other girl, you bid her farewell. Turning on your heel, you tromp towards the bull pens. The large red barn is quite a far distance from the shed you were once in, causing you to break out in a light sweat. It doesn’t help that it’s mid spring, causing the farm to be quite warm. 

Setting the buckets down on the dirt ground, you wipe your brow with the back of your hand. Huffing out a deep breath, you quickly move the concrete slab keeping the barn closed away from the sliding door, before shoving it open. The sound of the cowbell on the red and white door handle on the inside clinks noisily, queuing a symphony of deep ‘moos.’ 

Picking up the buckets with bent knees, you hurry inside, relishing the feeling of the barn’s fans on your sweaty skin, “Hey guys, is the barn cool enough for you?” Grumbles and shifting of large bodies are all you get in response, causing you to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gunning it for a certain grey haired bull’s stall, a bright smile makes its way onto your face, “Hey, Koutarou, how’re you feeling?” 

He’s currently laying on his bed of compact hay, tears sliding down his handsome face. His cute ears are droopy, his bell earring not jingling with life like normal. His tears drip between his septum piercing, and drop onto his well defined abdomen, “Not good, (Your Name).” 

With a small gasp, you set down the pails rather harshly, some of the cool liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. Hurrying towards him, you sit on the prickly ‘mattress,’ “What’s wrong? I heard that you’re lac-” A small sob leaves his lips at your words, causing you to grab his hand reassuringly, “Are the other guys making fun of you? I can go yell at them if you’d like!” 

The buff bull-man sits up, one arm covering his chest self-consciously, “No! They’re not being mean,” He grips your hand almost to the point that it’s painful, “I-it’s just… my chest hurts, real bad.”

Nodding in understanding, you motion towards his covered pecs, “Let me see, Bubs. I’ll see what I can do.”

His face flushes bright red, “But it’s embarrassing!” You shush him sweetly, releasing his hand to coax his arm away from his chest. 

“It’s okay, I won’t make fun of you! I just wanna help you,” After a moment of hesitance, he obeys, revealing his swollen, red nipples. 

The area around his nipples is raised as well, showing just how much his milk is backed up. 

Eyes softening even more, you delicately rub both pecs, “You’re alright, Bubs. This happens to the cows sometimes when we don’t milk them as much as we need to. If you’d like, I can go find a pump!”

“No! I don’t wanna pump!” You jump slightly, and move away from him, only for his hands to trap your own to his chest. More tears gather in his eyes, as he becomes distraught, “I don’t want my milk to go to waste!” 

Taken aback, you nod, although you don’t understand his reasoning, “Kou, why’re you acting like this? You know we don’t get rid of milk, we sell your guys’ milk at the market.” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t want you to sell it. I want you to drink it,” The look of shock on your face is mistaken as disgust, causing him to cry even more, “Do you think I’m weird? Why do you look like that?” Seeing the bull act so sensitive is adorable, but you feel as though you have to comfort him.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m not weirded out, I’m just surprised. I’ll go get a bucket-”

“No bucket!” Sighing at his weird behaviour, you cock an eyebrow at him. 

“Then how am I supposed to collect it?” A big grin crosses his teary face. 

“Drink from me! I promise I’ll be good!” Shifting in discomfort, an anxious sweat starts to form on your brow. 

“Ahaha, that’s funny, Kou. You know I can’t do that,” More tears well up in his eyes, squeezing your heart painfully, “Don’t look at me like that, Bubs. I don’t think your owner would like me getting so close-” 

“I don’t mind,” Ushijima’s voice booms throughout the barn, scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head around, you make eye contact with the large male, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, “As long as my star bull is happy, I’m happy.”

Kou releases your hands, only to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “See! He doesn’t care! Please, (Nickname), please help me! My udders hurt so bad!” 

With Ushijima’s eyes on you, and Koutarou’s sad and pain filled face, you finally relent, “Okay, okay! Don’t freak out, Bubs, I’ll help. You just gotta let me go.” 

He releases you quickly, before shoving your head towards his chest. The jingling of his earring is heard, telling you that his ears are no longer pressed down on the top of his head. You hear heavy footsteps walk away from his stall, probably gathering the bulls to let them graze outside. 

You try to push away from where your head is being smushed, but the bull gives you no leeway, “Why aren’t you drinking?” The male practically whines, as you whack his shoulder lightly. 

“I’m being smothered in between your tiddies, Kou,” You chuckle in slight discomfort, but he finally allows you up. Moving towards his most swollen nipple (the left one), you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, causing a small stream of milk to come streaming out. 

A small moan leaves the large man’s lips, as he shoves you once again face first into his chest, “Don’t tease, (Nickname), I feel like I’m dying!” A flash of empathy goes through your heart. 

Removing your hand from his nipple, you take a deep breath, and latch yourself onto him.Your chapstick covered lips are soft against his sensitive skin, causing him to keen. When you suckle, a tidal wave of milk bursts into your mouth. Luckily, it doesn’t taste very bad; his milk tastes like vanilla, causing you start to slurp it up like a babe. 

Your one hand kneads his other pec to soothe him, “Fu-fuck, you’re making me feel so good!” You don’t bother trying to say anything, instead, you just suck harder. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his tit that you’re currently nursing on, causing him to pump out more of his yummy milk. 

After a few long moments, you release his nipple. A drop of milk trickles down your chin, which the large bull laughs at. A thick finger wipes off the excess, pushing itself into your mouth. A tender look is in the grey haired man’s eyes, as he kisses your forehead. 

“Thank you, pretty girl. Can you do the other one, please?” Now that he’s no longer in a painfilled state, he’s back to his normal, boyish self. Nodding, you lick your lips, before latching on to his other nipple. He barely chokes back a moan, his hand gripping the back of your head. 

You suck as hard as you can without hurting him, pretending his nipple was a straw to a thick ass milkshake. Between your massaging and sucking, his teat no longer feels as painful as it once did. 

Pulling away, you give him a wry smile, “There, all better. Well, I should pour your water into your trough now,” Standing up with wobbly legs, you move towards the filled buckets. Picking them up one by one, you pour it in with unsteady hands. Why are you so shaky right now? “Well, I should get going now. I hope you feel better later,” You try to walk out of his stall, only to be yanked back into Bokuto’s lap. Both empty pails fall to the ground unceremoniously, clattering loudly through the empty barn. 

“Don’t leave me, Lovely, I need you,” His warm skin against yours feels nice, and you suddenly feel sleepy. 

“Kou, I’m tired. I think-I think I’m gonna take a nap,” He runs his fingers (through your hair/over your scalp), tantalising you into drifting off. 

“That’s alright, (Nickname), I’ll watch after you,” With a muffled ‘Mhm,’ you fall into a deep slumber. 

-

When you awoke, you woke to your body shaking. Brow furrowing, you blearily open your eyes, only to see a tuft of grey hair in between your bent, spread legs. 

His long tongue is currently fucking in and out of your dripping cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit. 

“Ku-Kou? Wha-“ He looks up immediately, a look of shock on his strong features. 

“I-It’s Not what it looks like! I-I just wanted a taste!” You groggily push at his head, catching his ears slightly, causing a small jingling to sound throughout the empty barn. 

“You didn’t ask, why, why are you-“ He grabs your hand, kissing each knuckle with a slobbering kiss. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me make you feel good! You taste so good,” You yank your hand back, trying to kick off the hand that currently wrapped around your right thigh. 

“Get off of me! Bokuto, you-you’re doing this without my consent! I thought we were friends!” You shout, pushing at his face harshly. He grabs one of your hands, trying to kiss it, only for your other to clap him upside the face harshly, “Don’t! You’ve already done enough.” 

Kicking him away (even though he’s much larger and stronger than you, meaning he just moved away), you stand to your feet, pulling back up your halfway down jeans and panties. 

Snatching up the buckets previously discarded, you don’t even shoot the crying bull a glance, just turning on your heel, and stomping away. 

Tears of your own drip down your face, humiliation and betrayal weighing down your aching heart. 

Forcefully sliding open the barn doors, you run from it, catching the eye of a certain green haired farmer. 

It seems Bokuto fucked up. 

But that’s okay, when he goes into rut, there’ll be nothing keeping him from breeding you full of his massive calves. 

-

You avoided the bull barn like the plague for the next week. The hucows are very pleasant company. They treat you as if you’re their young, making you feel well loved. 

That is, until Hachi asked you why you’ve been avoiding Bokuto. She’d told you that he hasn’t acted the same, in fact, he’s acted depressed and withdrawn. 

Since then, you’ve stuck with aquatic life. The fish, swans, and ducks don’t give you that much trouble. 

But, when you come back from the pond and fish pools, the farm is ensued with panic. Apparently, Bokuto’s finally gone into rut. 

And, unfortunately for you, he’s on the prowl for you. 

So, when your coworker runs up to you, begging for you to calm him, you turn on your heel, and start walking back towards the pond. They can figure this out themselves, you’re not going to sacrifice yourself to someone who tried to take advantage of you. 

Sadly, that doesn’t work out. 

You’re immediately stopped by Ushijima, his broad form blocking you from advancing forward, “Where do you think you’re going?” His arms are crossed, an angry scowl on his usually handsome features. 

“I forgot something at the pond,” You lie, smoothly, “I’m going to go grab it real quick-” 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” His strong voice booms, “What you’re going to do, is march yourself into the barn, and make my prized bull happy.” 

Your own scowl forms on your pretty face, “I will do nothing of the sort. Interspecies sex is illegal! You can fire me for all I care, I’m not going in there!” You try to move around his large form, only to be manhandled into a chokehold.

His left arm is wrapped around your neck, your back to his chest, and your face being held in a large hand, “Interspecies sex is legal when a human and hybrid are mates,” He hisses through gritted teeth, and you struggle in his hold, “If you don’t go in there, I’ll drag you in.” 

“Fuck you,” You spit, “I’ll fucking castrate you!” You kick backwards, landing a solid hit on the large man’s groin. With a loud yell, you’re let go, allowing you to run towards the farm’s parking area. Pulling your truck’s keys from your pocket, you haul ass, not bothering to look behind you. 

The barns and sheds fly past you, as you run through the open field leading to the car park. You suddenly hear loud footsteps follow after you, and you assume that it’s Ushijima, that is, until you hear them, “(Nickname)! (Nickname), where are you going? Why are you running away from me?” Bokuto’s voice rings out at top volume, hurting your ears. His voice a lot more gravely than before, and without looking at him, you know that he most likely looks crazed. 

You don’t respond, trying to pick up the pace. You click the unlock button one time, only unlocking the driver’s side door. Because you had a head start, you cleared the field in less than three seconds, allowing you to hop into your truck, and lock the doors. Shoving the key into the ignition, all whilst buckling your seatbelt, you press on the brake, and turn it, only to hear the spluttering of your failing ignition, “Come on! Don’t do this-” Bokuto slams into the driver’s side door at top speed, rocking your large vehicle harshly. His hands and face are pressed against the window, his expression looking like that of a kicked puppy. You then notice the fact that the buff male is completely naked, his impossibly large cock bobbing against his toned stomach. 

“Why are you trying to leave? I need you so badly, pretty-pretty. Why don’t you open the door, and we can figure this out? I promise I’ll make you feel good, after all, us bulls pride ourselves in taking care of our mates,” You cringe in disgust, not bothering to answer him. Instead, you continue to fiddle with your ignition, muttering expletives under your breath. His large hands start to beat on your driver-side window, trying to gain your attention, “(Nickname), come out already! Ushi already cut your fuel line, so you’re not going anywhere! Come on, I just wanna make you feel good-”

It was your turn to cut him off, “Shut up! We aren’t friends anymore, Bokuto, much less lovers! Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m sure many of the cows would love to help you through your rut, why can’t you just ask them?” Tears of frustration dot your eyelashes, as you pop open your glove box and search for your phone. Catching sight of the black cased (phone type), you snatch it from its confines with a loud ‘Aha,’ “Don’t make me call the Farmer’s Union, Bokuto. I’ll report you and Ushijima for-”

“You won’t! You love me too much!” His frantic words raise in volume, as he hit the glass even harder than before, “You wouldn’t put me down! Come on, (Nickname), why won’t you call me ‘Bubs’ anymore? I love you!” You swipe open your phone, and go to the contacts. Pulling up the Farmer’s Union phone number, you go to press ‘call,’ only for the shattering of glass to halt you. 

You scream in both fear and shock, throwing up your hands to protect your face. This, in turn, causes you to drop your phone. In this time, Bokuto is able to grab you by your arms, and drag you towards the broken window. Your seatbelt keeps you in place, causing him to pull you even harder, and making you scream in pain. 

You use your arm to whack his against the broken glass on your truck’s window area. He releases you in a moment of pain, allowing you to unbuckle yourself, and throw yourself to the passenger side. Once there, you unlock the door, and bolt towards the road. 

“(Your Name), come back here! Stop being so difficult!” You pay him no mind, a few meters away from the busy road. Noticing a car speeding towards the area you’re running to, you push yourself even harder, trying to throw yourself into the road. Unfortunately, you’re grabbed by two buff arms that encircle your waist. They use all of their strength to smash you into their chest from behind, knocking the air from your lungs, “Are you crazy? You could’ve been hurt!” You thrash and try to bite at him, causing Bokuto to backhand you across the face, “Now look what you made me do! If you’d been good, I wouldn’t have had to do that!”

To be completely honest, you’re in shock. Bokuto has never raised a hand at you, and that slap wasn’t a warning tap. No, that was him using a good majority of his strength, causing your cheek to throb painfully. 

You continue to thrash and curse after freezing for a moment, drawing the eyes of concerned coworkers, “Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Put me down!” You try to kick him in the junk, only to kick him on the inside of his thigh. In retaliation, he backhands you again, this time on the other cheek. Gasps and whispers are heard from those around you, drawing the large hucow’s eyes. 

“There’s nothing to see here, guys! Just my mate making a scene,” He shakes you a bit to shut you up, causing you to become disoriented. The farmhands and other hybrids look like they’re about to step in, only for Ushijima himself to show up. 

“What Bokuto said is correct,” His harsh gaze is on you, his hand gripping his dick, “She’s just making a scene. Let them through.”

They reluctantly go back to their business, as Koutarou guns it to the empty bull barn. Ushijima only watches as you’re dragged to the large building, as tears drip down your face in fear, and his fist at his side clenches in fury.

Stomping into the barn, Bokuto makes quick work of getting to his stall. Once inside, he tosses you on the hay mattress, and straddles your waist. With pawing hands, he rips your t-shirt and jeans off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear, along with your boots and socks. Yanking off your boots, be tossed them out of his ‘room,’ as you try to throw punches at his muscular chest. He grunts, but doesn’t stop. 

With beefy fingers, he yanks off your bra, ripping it in two. Your tits jiggle at his harsh movements, making him lick his lips in enjoyment. He then rips off your cotton panties, exposing your cunny to his hungry eyes. 

“You’re beautiful, pretty-pretty. I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my calves,” You shake your head no rapidly, pushing his hands away from where they rest on your hips. 

“No! Stop it, Bokuto! I thought we were friends!” He tightens his grip on your pelvis, forcing your legs open. 

“That’s Not my name, (Nickname), you know that. Now, you know that I’m way more than just your friend-I’m your mate, and you know that I’ll provide for you and our calves,” With grubby fingers, he rubs at your clit, trying to draw a good reaction from you.

You squirm in response, trying to wriggle out of his one handed grip. You shove at his chest, but he remains unmoved, choosing to press down harder than before, “Stop it! Let me go!” 

He inserts his middle finger into your moist cunny, forcing it in and out. You try to kick him in the head only for him to catch your leg with the hand that previously held your hip, “If you wanted me to eat you out that bad, you should’ve just said so, pretty girl,” Before you can refuse, he throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in. 

His long tongue fucks in and out of your hole, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit. A loud whine escapes your throat before you can stop it, making you feel a wave of disgust for yourself. Bokuto shouldn’t be making you feel good, he’s assaulting you, after all. 

But, when his tongue brushed against your g-spot, you can’t help but convulse in pleasure. Thighs quaking, you try to stop yourself from cumming. 

“St-stop! I’m, I’m gonna-“ He stops before you can cum, instead, pushing your hips down to where his cock lays against his abs. Forcing the bulbous head against your tiny hole, he pushes harshly, trying to fuck into you like an animal, “No! No! You’re too big! You’re going to tear my-“ With one powerful thrust, he forces his way inside, and you can’t help but scream. 

Tears drip down your face at the feeling, your pussy feeling like it’s been ripped open. Bokuto grabs your head, and forces it against his chest, practically making you take one of his pink nipples into your mouth. You’re immediately met with the taste of his vanilla milk, drinking it up as the hucow starts to buck into you at a lightning fast pace. 

Your teeth bite down on his nipple, but instead of being angry, he just moans in lust, “Yes! Yes, pretty girl, you’re taking me so well!” 

His hand that isn’t cradling your head goes to your tummy, feeling his huge length moving underneath your skin. He presses down a bit, causing another wanton moan to leave to both of you. With this thought in mind, he picks up the pace, practically fucking you into unconsciousness. 

Eyes rolling back, your ruined cunny gushed pathetically, coating you and the bull with your juices, “(Nickname), you’re so pretty when you cum,” He continues his breakneck pace, getting close to orgasm himself, “I’m gonna fill you up so good, that you’ll be dripping with my fun for days! Your little womb will be bloated with my fertile cum!” 

You try to speak, but you can’t, just continuing to suck his yummy milk from his teat. Walls fluttering with another orgasm, you feel yourself clamping down on his enormous cock. 

With one last mighty thrust, he seats himself fully inside of you, cumming directly against your unprotected cervix. A muffled scream erupts from your chest, as you feel your womb expand with copious amounts of beeile cum. Releasing his nipple, you throw your head back, a loud cry echoes throughout the barn, as you squirt once more around his cock. 

Now completely filled to the brim, you pass out from the trauma. Entirely exhausted, Koutarou grins down at your bloated form. He rubs your tummy like a Buddha statue, kissing it tenderly. 

“You’ll be a good Mommy, I’m sure of it,” he then trails his hand up your abdomen, groping your right tit, “You’ll look so pretty all milky and filled with my calves.” 

The sound of a throat clearing gains Bokuto’s attention, as he practically throws his naked body over yours. A loud ‘moo’ of warning escapes his chest, even when he notices that the person is just Ushijima. 

“I see that she mates with you well,” His eyes trail over your sleeping face, not straying downwards, “I hope this means that you’ll enter more shows.” 

Bo smiles, “Yes. Now I need to show off, so my mate thinks I’m an eligible male.” 

Nodding, Ushijima turns on his heal, making his way to leave the barn, “I hope your children take after you in strength. (Your Name) is a lot prettier than you are, so maybe they’ll be pleasing to the eye as well.” 

Snorting, the grey haired man’s ears twitch, jingling throughout the room, “You bet she is. She’s perfect.” 

[drakenology]

Bully!Dabi laughing and making fun about a school girl big tiddies😳 it's as if the buttons on your uniform blouse are going to explode at any moment, and Dabi love make you feel bad about it

 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈

“baby, can you meet me tonight in detention?” 

MDNI

tw: non-con (yeah ik crazy right? i’m taking that out of my rules so feel free to request now.) , bullying, third year aged, mean!dabi, creep!dabi?, boobjob, cumplay, degradation, raw sex and public sex

A/N: hi hiii, this is a lovely request that I literally started writing as soon as I got it. Thank you nonnie for sending this in and as always enjoy!

You tried to keep them hidden whenever you saw him walking through the halls with his asshole entourage. But oversized sweaters, hoodies and cardigans never did the trick. Dabi always ended up seeing them, practically bursting through your school blouse after an administrator would yell at you to get into proper uniform. He was ruthless, grabbing your shirt and popping it open by the buttons to expose your large breasts. He’d laugh at you as you go to cover yourself up with the remnants of your blouse, poking and prodding at the exposed skin of your breasts. He’d pinch your cheeks as you become flustered, smirking and leaning in close to you.

“What? They were gonna come out anyways. Stupid tits were practically opening your shirt for you. Thought I’d give ‘em a hand.” He mocked, squeezing your breasts as he pinned you to a nearby locker. You snatch away from him and run away to the bathroom to fix your blouse, tears stinging in your eyes from the embarrassment of it all. The rest of your day was full of shame as everyone stared at your ripped blouse, administration granting you detention for violating dress code for the second time today. 

At the end of the day, you stay behind in class, watching as everyone chats their way out the classroom doors to return home for the evening. All the other students who were to stay for detention come trudging inside; Dabi included to your displeasure. You shuffle in your seat out of discomfort, pulling your sweater down further and holding it in between stern fists as if it were to fly up at any second to reveal your breasts to the whole class. Dabi winks at you after sitting directly across from you, softly mooing at you to insinuate that you were a cow. 

“I see they made you cover up those udders, fat tits. What were you thinking walking around with your tits hanging out? This is a school you know.” He says to you at a low tone of voice, talking not allowed in detention. You try and ignore him, scribbling on your notebook as you try and concentrate on your homework. Dabi sits slouched in his seat, writing something on a piece of paper and balling it up to throw it at your head. You glare over at him, the paper ball falling onto your desk in front of you. You open it and see that it’s a note. 

“Meet me on the roof, fat tits.” it read, hand-writing just as childish as he is. You roll your eyes and crumple up the note, standing to go to throw it in the trash. Dabi smirks, sitting up in his seat to raise his hand. 

“Yo, teach. I gotta piss. Can I use the bathroom?” He asks, chuckling to himself when the administrator grants him another two weeks detention for his foul language. 

“Ask correctly or ‘piss’ on yourself, Mr. Todoroki.” He spits, returning to his book. Dabi sighs, rolling his eyes before caving in. 

“Fine. May I please use the restroom, sir?” He asks once more, sarcasm dripping from his tone. He stands once he has permission, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“I’ll be waiting, utters." He taunts, poking your chest before walking out of the room. You sit for a while, stirring in confusion. Do you go outside to see what he wants or do you stay seated and let him wait for nothing. You sigh and raise your hand, politely asking to use the restroom too. The administrator, uninterested at this point waves you away and returns to his book. You shuffle out of the room and walk upstairs to the roof of the school where Dabi stood by the metal fences barricading the ledge.

"Ah. So nice of you to meet with me, fat tits." Dabi smirks, pulling you up to him by the arm. You groan, shuddering at his touch in disgust.

"What do you want, Touya?" You ask, folding your arms over your chest unconsciously; a defense mechanism you've picked up dealing with him over the years.

"Haven't you heard the saying? A guy who picks on you also has a crush on you." Dabi hints, pulling your arms away from your chest, lifting your sweater up to expose your pretty bra. You shriek, trying to cover yourself up again only for your hands to be pinned above your head against the wall. 

“So your excuse for treating me like shit is because you’ve got some sick crush on me?” You spat, yet unable to be completely furious as his lips meet yours in a hot and sticky kiss you can’t seem to shake. His tongue slips into your mouth to travel around inside, pulling away with a single string of spit as you pant. You hated him but, fuck, why did he have to be such a good kisser?

“You’ve always been my favorite little toy. Wanna know why?” He asks, leaning in to kiss and lick the skin of your neck. You stifle a moan, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’s turning you on. 

“Why?” You choke, cheeks burning as his cold hands travel up the sides of your frame.

“These.” He answers, his hands pulling your breasts out of the cups of your bra, hissing at the sight of your pretty nipples. He takes one in his mouth, smirking against your skin when you start to moan helplessly. Your thighs press together as your panties start to soak with slick, Dabi noticing his effect on you quickly. 

“P-Please stop..” You whisper desperately, looking into Dabi’s crystal blue eyes with a mixture of lust and uncertainty. He grins, knowing deep down you want him too, whether you said it words or not. His hands travel up your thighs and between your legs, forcing them open to prod his fingers at the growing wet spot on your panties. 

“Heh.. I don’t think you want me to stop, do you? God, look how sloppy you are already.” He retorts, yanking your panties down and hiking up your skirt to further expose you. He reaches down to unbutton and unzip his own pants to let his length spring free, your eyes locking onto his bright red head as it leaked with pre-cum. 

“Help me out with this, will ya, doll?” He asks, hands caressing your face as you lead you onto the concrete ground. As you sat on your knees, your hands wiping away a stray tear that streams down your cheek. You pull out your breasts a bit further, taking Dabi’s cock in between them and stroking it slowly beneath your cleavage. Dabi sighs out, his head handing back as he ruts his hips upward to match your pace. 

“Fuck, just like that. If only you could see how slutty you look.” Dabi groans, voice slightly hoarse as you get him off with your breasts. You groan when you feel his cock start to throb against your skin, half of you disgusted and the rest of you turned on beyond belief as you watch him writhe in pleasure from the very breasts he teased and made fun of so harshly. 

“Fuck, stand up.” Dabi demands, practically yanking you up on your feet by your arm and pinning you against the metal fence behind you.  Not caring enough to prep you before, he pushes himself inside your weeping pussy; starting his thrusts at a brutal pace. You cry out, your moans echoing through the vast space of the empty roof of the school. Dabi’s hand comes up to cover your mouth as his hips moved faster, wet slapping causing him to groan.

“Ya like that, huh slut? Like being stuffed full at school don’t you?” Dabi asks, expecting an answer out of you after he uncovers your drooling and mewling mouth,“You’re mine. Say it. Tell me you’re mine.” 

“”M yours, Touya!” You gasp, feeling the delicious head of his cock brush against your favorite spot with reckless abandon as it blurs your reasoning. You feel your slick spill down your thighs as he ruts into you from behind, his balls slapping up against your swollen clit only adding to the sinful pleasure you were feeling. You almost can’t believe you’re being fucked by your bully on the roof as your hands cling to the metal barb-wired fence you were pinned against, feeling Dabi’s hands reach up and grab your breasts from behind to pull you back onto his cock with fervor. Animalistic growls leave his lips as he pinches and teases your nipples, huffing obscenities into your ear. 

“That’s right you fucking whore, take my cock like a good little slut.” He growls as he uses your pussy like he owns you, his cock throbbing inside you as he threatens to cum inside you, “Gonna make you mine forever, yeah? Sound good, slut?” You shake your head no, your body language telling a different tale as you feel your legs get so weak you can hardly stand on your own as Dabi holds you up by your neck. 

His hand squeezes around your throat as he cums thick inside you, your gooey cunt fluttering around his cock as you follow shortly behind him. You pant and sob as you come down from your high, Dabi continuing to use your pussy until every drop of his cum is deep inside you; even going the extra mile to scoop up whatever remnants of his cum that leaked from you with his fingers and shoving them into your mouth with a satisfied groan. 

“Now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Dabi smirks, taking your panties from the ground and handing them to you with a smug look in his eye. You take them and slide them up over your legs and put them back on with a sniffle, ashamed of what you’ve done with him yet strangely satisfied as your cunt still clenches and throbs around nothing after the fact. Confusion stirs within your mind, your thighs trembling as you sat on the bench and watched Dabi walk down the stairs once more. 

After you wait for Dabi to walk back downstairs to the detention room, you follow behind shortly after, folding your legs as you feel Dabi’s cum start to spill out and onto your panties. He smirks over at you, leaning back into his seat as he passes another note to you. 

“Let’s do that again tomorrow, fat tits. You’re fun ;)”

[victorluvsalice]

WIP Snippets!

I was tagged by @dont-offend-the-bees to post a snippet of a WIP -- but I have two major projects that I’m working on, so why not do a bit of both? :) Especially since I didn’t do a “sneak peak” at anything over the holidays this year. . .

First things first, though -- I am tagging in turn @nebbychan, @ace-of-tales, and @thesatiricaldemon, should they be inclined to share anything they have going on in the writing well. :) Anyone else who also feels inspired to post a WIP snippet upon reading this, please feel free! We’re all friends here!

And now -- snippets! First up, we have a portion of the first chapter of “Londerland Bloodlines: Downtown Queensland,” the second part of the “Londerland Bloodlines” series I’m working on with Alice as the Malkavian fledgling in Vampire: the Masquerade -- Bloodlines. This is from my take on the cutscene where the fledgling wakes up after being knocked unconscious by the Sabbat and dragged off to a junkyard upon their arrival downtown. . .but you’ll notice that one of the Sabbat members looks a little different from usual. . . (warning for some foul language and threats of violence -- no worse than in the game itself)

---

“Let’s drain it.”

“Let’s stake it and leave it out for the sunrise.”

“We’re going to have a lot of fun with this one.”

Well, fuck, was the first coherent thought Alice could put together. Her skull felt like someone had taken it out, dropped it on the ground, then poorly superglued all the pieces back together before ramming it back into her head. She cautiously cracked open her eyes to see three figures standing over her, poorly lit by the light of the moon and a sputtering lamp. “Think you could blow up our warehouse and get away with it?” one snapped at her in a voice as rough as sandpaper. “Huh, lick?”

The fellow next to him (Alice was reasonably certain it was all hims) snorted. “Let’s pull out its tongue and its eyes and its teeth!” he suggested, flexing the claws that had dragged her into this mess in the first place.

“Yeah,” a smoother voice said, its owner crouching down in front of her. “I want its teeth.” He put a foot on Alice’s clavicles, pressing her down into the cracking concrete. “Camarilla fuck – what do you say to that?”

Alice squinted at him. “. . .are you wearing glitter?”

Judging by the startled blinking, that wasn’t what her captor had been expecting. “. . .yes?” he admitted, suddenly defensive. “What of it?”

“It’s just not the usual look for you lot, is it?” Alice continued, her tongue happily running ahead of her brain. “I mean, no offense, I’m happy you apparently put enough stock in taking care of your appearance to actually bathe, let alone apply make-up, but. . .” She looked him up and down – at least, as best she could from her vantage point on the ground. “Loads of hair gel and a bright pink suit don’t exactly inspire terror.”

The clawed fellow snickered. “She may be a Cammy fuck, but she’s got you there, Habits.”

“None of you fucking appreciate fashion,” Habits replied, surrendering to stereotypes by sticking his nose in the air.

“Toreadors,” the sandpaper-voiced one – Alice could now see he was a big fellow, face framed by dreadlocks – muttered, before focusing back on her. “Don’t think that big mouth of yours will help, Camarilla. I think my boys and I could use a little entertainment.” He turned to an invisible audience over his shoulder, smirking as he curled stumpy fingers. “Those of you sitting in the first few rows will get wet.”

Shit – all right, Alice, think, she told herself as he turned back toward her, baring his fangs. Above him, the clawed fellow and Habits smirked, preparing themselves for a show. Going invisible obviously isn’t an option, and Auspex is less than useless here – which means I’ve got get my head focused enough to unleash Wonderland upon this lot before they unleash on me. She dug her nails into the sidewalk, pushing past the pain in her head to focus her blood as best she was able –

BANG!

---

And second up, a bit from the sequel to the full version of “As Long As You Love Me” (which should be going up this year, I just need to edit it properly), “The Joker And The Queen!” This is the story I’ve mentioned before where Victor ends up kidnapped by X-Sector and imprisoned in The Sanctuary by Dr. Kelman while Alice ends up teaming up with Victoria and Emily to find him. . .and while he’s in there, he ends up meeting quite the remarkable group of people, including one named Smiler. . . (warning for a touch of accidental misgendering in this one, but Victor genuinely doesn’t know Smiler’s non-binary until they tell him)

--

They proceeded down the hallway, around a corner, and to a large pair of double doors (white, of course). Bagshaw opened them to reveal a room that looked a bit like Victor had always imagined a dorm common room to look – some couches arranged around a TV, another bookshelf (better-stocked than the one in his room) against the wall, a few tables here and there for people to sit at, a beanbag chair in the corner because it was expected. And fortunately for his sanity, Kelman had made some concessions to color here – not a lot, as the couches and chairs were all white, but the tables and bookcase were at least mahogany, and there was a couple of sad plants on shelves adding a bit of greenery. It was a slightly less depressing place than his cell, at any rate.

And it had other people in it – a young black man and a Chinese woman playing cards at one of the tables; a pair of white women – one red-headed, one platinum blond – half-watching the TV; and a red-headed white man built like a lumberjack lounging in the beanbag chair. “Everyone?” Bagshaw called, causing them to all look up. “This is SW9.” He patted Victor briefly on the shoulder. “Play nice.”

And with that, he headed to the corner by the bookcase, pulling out his phone. Victor stared at the vaguely-curious faces before him, one hand automatically reaching for a tie that wasn’t there. Oh damn. . .when was the last time he’d actually introduced himself to anyone? Usually his interactions with people who weren’t Alice consisted of either handing over money for snacks or giving his name and then handing over money for a hotel room. And – and he didn’t know any of their names, or what they were like, or –

“Hi!”

Victor damn near leapt out of his skin. A seventh person had just appeared at his elbow, one he’d missed in his earlier glance around – a white man about his age, he guessed, with spikes of black hair hanging down the left side of his face, and bright yellow eyes that could only be contacts. “I’m Smiler!” he introduced himself, sticking out a hand with a brilliant grin. “What’s your name?”

“Ah – um – Victor,” Victor said, taking the offered hand cautiously. Goodness, but this fellow seemed ready to beam his head right off with that smile. Wonder if he read Mr. Cedars’s book too. . .

“Great to meet you!” Smiler said, pumping his arm. “I mean, yeah, be a lot better if we weren’t both stuck here, but under the circumstances, great to meet you! Oh, and let’s get this out of the way right now – they/them. My pronouns,” they added in response to Victor’s puzzled eyebrow, stabbing themselves in the chest with a finger. “Non-binary.”

“Oh! Oh, yes – he/him,” Victor responded in kind, cheeks heating up. “S-Sorry, my family’s a little conservative, so – I’m still a bit new to that sort of thing.”

“No worries! Now you know,” Smiler said, smile never faltering. “Come on, let me introduce you to everybody!” They linked their arm through his and pulled him over to the first table, where the card-playing pair were waiting with faces that suggested they’d totally expected this from Smiler. “Okay, so – this is Oblivion, he thinks he’s an edge lord,” they said, pointing at the black man. “And that’s Thirteen, she’s actually an edge lord.”

---

Hope you enjoyed!

[redorich]

"Hello, Mr. Blade," Quackity says.

Techno inwardly groans. He knows that tone of voice; it usually precedes some awful joke, or indicates that Quackity's about to take off all his clothes and attempt to sell cocaine to people again. Possibly both. In a desperate attempt to avoid whatever shitstorm is coming his way, Technoblade resolutely reads his book and pretends he does not hear Quackity. He holds out for a whole five minutes, until Quackity starts autotune-singing about how much he and Techno love doing exceedingly nasty things with each other. When Quackity breaks out the guitar, Techno snaps his book shut.

"What do you want?" the piglin grunts.

Quackity shapeshifts into a cute little yellow duckling, presumably to persuade Techno with the power of cuteness. "Break into MCC with me," he says.

That is such a bad idea on so many levels. Challenging, sure, and very interesting...

"What's in it for me?" he says.

"I want to put a whoopie cushion on Scott's chair," the duckling quacks. "That means we've got to break into the admin room, and you can mess with the admin control panel."

Techno raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You want to break into the most secure room in the most secure event in recent history.”

Quackity nods. “Exactly!”

“To put a whoopie cushion on Scott’s chair.”

Technoblade puts his face in his hand and mourns the collective IQ of the Dream SMP, because surely Quackity lowers it just by breathing. The shapeshifter, still in duck form, hops up into Technoblade’s lap, then turns into a human so he can risk death by daring to suggestively straddle the piglin. He immediately gets shoved onto the ground.

“I’m going to regret this...” Technoblade says. “Let’s do it.”

---

Getting into the MCC server is the easy part. They’re both whitelisted, and it would be a hassle to remove everyone on the whitelist only to add them back later each time there’s another championship, so they have indefinite access. The moderators would surely come up with a way to keep everyone out if they knew about the two Dream SMP men’s plan.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Quackity complains loudly.

Technoblade slaps a hand over Quackity’s mouth and looks around quickly. The shapeshifter responds by licking Techno’s palm, and Techno retaliates by removing his slobbery hand from Quackity’s face and swatting him upside the head for the childish behavior.

“Be quiet, we don’t know who’s here,” Techno says. “And yes, I know where we’re going. The admin room is below the map. There’s a secret passageway around here somewhere...”

The two sneak underneath the bridge to the arena, locating a lever that opens a hallway inside the main gate. The inside of the hallway is mostly quartz and concrete. Obviously, the map-makers put more effort into the bits that were supposed to be seen.

They reach a fork in the hallway: they can either go left or right. Techno points to the left. When they turn the corner, they come face-to-face with another person. Quackity and Technoblade both freeze in place at the sight of Grian leaning on the door to the admin room, fiddling with his phone. When he hears the two intruders, he looks up, squinting at them from behind the thin frame of his glasses.

Why is he here?! Techno thinks. We’re gonna get in so much trouble!

“I didn’t know either of you was an admin,” Grian says casually.

Technoblade sweats. How does he pretend to be an admin?

"Uh, yeah," he says, wrapping his arm around Quackity in a gesture that's supposed to look friendly but is a bit too tight. "My friend's code is, uh, glitching really hard right now."

On cue, Quackity shapeshifts into a moaning pile of limbs, then a duck, and then his normal state again, flickering between human and limb-pile.

"It's time sensitive, so if you could please let us through," Technoblade continues.

Grian raises a singular eyebrow, totally unimpressed. "Is it, now."

Quackity begins to foam at the mouth. Technoblade hopes that that's a shapeshifting trick and not some weird disease Quackity's picked up. Grian steps to the side, allowing the other two men to pass through the door to the admin control panel room.

As soon as they’re on the other side of the door, Technoblade leans heavily against it, pressing a hand to his his chest and exhaling. “He actually bought it,” the piglin says incredulously. Meanwhile, Quackity waltzes over to Scott’s spinny gamer chair without a care in the world, placing a whoopie cushion on the seat. For good measure, he also duct tapes an air horn to the bottom of the chair, so that when Scott sits down it’ll go off.

“We don’t have all day, man,” Quackity chides. “Go do whatever admin thing it is you’ve got planned.”

Right. He’d forgotten about that. Technoblade boots up the admin control panel. The text glows brightly, most of it in Galactic Standard. It would take too long to bother deciphering it all, not to mention it would overtax Techno’s attention span. The piglin skims the characters on the screen just enough to the point where he can locate “automated_messages.txt”. This file, if he is correct, should be the one that the main script references. If he just alters this one bit right here, then heads over to “display_messages.cpp” to alter a few corresponding lines of code... There!

“I’m done,” he says.

Quackity, who’s been climbing the wall as a hot pink lizard, drops to the floor and comes back up as a human again. “Nice, now we should probably get out of here before that Grian guy realizes we’ve done something. What’d you put in the code, by the way?”

Technoblade stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs. He can’t suppress his smirk, though. “Oh, nothing much-- every time a game is chosen, instead of saying the name of the game, the system will say ‘subscribe to Technoblade’.”

Quackity groans, heading to the door. He’s about to say something, but when he opens the door, the two see exactly what they don’t want to see.

Grian is still waiting for them when they exit the room, arms crossed and leaning against the wall casual as you please.

He tilts his head. "You two got that issue sorted out?"

Quackity beams, nodding rapidly and speaking even faster. "Oh yes, I'm completely better now! Technoblade fixed me up; it was difficult and scary but it worked perfectly, I feel so much better now! All he had to do was give me a true love's kiss--"

The shapeshifter is cut off by Techno's elbow digging into his ribs.

Grian nods. "That's good, that's good." A pause. "For the record, code isn't glitchy. It's either buggy or it's corrupted, usually corrupted. You're a really bad liar, Technoblade."

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Techno deadpans. When in doubt, deny all knowledge of the evidence!

“Team with me,” Grian demands. “I want to win the next MCC.”

Quackity immediately agrees, “Deal.” At the Look that Techno strikes him with, he simply shrugs. “Hey, I want in on this too.”

---

Grian, Technoblade, and Quackity team with Philza. They win in a landslide and Technoblade gets banned from MCC for a month. It’s worth it.