#and is immensely glad that his tongue still works like a tongue'

[sevastiel]

Behold ye, my Protoframe oc, Darius.

(Ft @doggojin and @thatfluffyboi's Chanho n Sol, they make an delightful trio tbh)

Some extra deets (lots of notes on him be warned) post cut! :)

Separated into physical and psychological/lore.

Physical notes :

Spanish-Mediterranean, mid-to-late twenties, looms at a ridiculous 6'6" (200 cm I believe? around there.) but is normally hovering an inch or two off the ground. Thankfully, he's gotten into the habit of tucking his legs in a bit so he doesn't hit every single doorframe that he passes through. He lost his left leg from the knee down due to an unfortunate incident with a landmine, and had a prosthetic for several years before the techrot.

Darius's body is made up of connected pieces held together by sentient energy, and all of his organs have either been replaced by the techrot-sentient hybrid growths, or are no longer necessary and have been removed. He currently lacks the entirety of a regular digestive tract as we would know it, and subsists mostly on energy. However, should he require physical mass for either rebuilding/modifying himself, or creating other sentients, he can 'eat' by putting materials in his mouth, pulling his bodily pieces together, and allowing the techrot systems to dissolve things into more workable particles, or pushing things between separated segments of his body (usually his chest) and letting the sentient bits pick things apart and feed them to the rot for storage. (This takes longer and is less effective at energy conservation) Extra notes on this later when we discuss his abilities.

The connective energy between segments is manifested in string-like bundles of force, which are manipulatable and can be 'touched', though unless he's focusing on keeping his energy properly contained you will likely get a light zap, and with prolonged touch you'll likely be able to feel them hum with power. They normally have about the same tactile strength as woven spiderwebbing of the same thickness, stretching easily but ultimately severable with either enough effort or something sharp. Should you sever all the connections, the piece will just fall off. Removed pieces aren't controllable by him any longer, but are re-attachable, and although he's got a body plan that his form defaults to, every single bit of him is entirely modular except for his cranium. Removing his jaw takes some effort, as there are technically still segments of flesh (his lips, basically) holding it on, but it is possible. If he really puts his mind to it, though, he can remove a segment, and maintain the links through mental focus, or by tethering them to something that he/they can feed off of. Through this, he can make replacement limbs for others, or additional armor, given they've got the bio-energy to keep the segments active.

Bodily segments are almost entirely made of toughened armor plating, with the majority of flexibility being located on the twin pieces that make up his chest/torso, as this is also where the majority of the techrot based organs lie. Although he does need to breathe, each segment intakes oxygen individually, through the softer and more porous dark insides. He has full sensation in any piece of him that he's linked to, as the energy connections serve as a nervous system, and can 'digest' pieces if he's in desperate need of energy/materials in a pinch.

Being modular, he can, in the same way he summons other sentients, simply craft himself differing body parts whenever he so pleases. The larger the piece, the more effort/thought it takes, since it requires a greater complexity of systems for nutrient, oxygen, and waste management. Due to his own lack of knowledge, he doesn't manifest any replacements larger than his own legs, and would rather just spit out a patch and slap it onto injured areas and let the techrot do its thing. This is why his 'armor' looks less dramatic compared to actual caliban, because why the hell would he want that much weight throwing him off balance? He'll accept the techrot/sentient's desires and keep his form adjacent to it, though.

Ability wise, he's functionally pretty similar to a vampire. While he technically could subsist entirely off of regular food, it would require a lot of time and careful dieting to gather the proper resources his body needs, and his energy levels would be rather constantly low. So, instead, he just eats as much techrot as he can and prays for the best, or drinks directly from power generators when he can get away with it, or anything similar. Pure energy as a baseline keeps all his sentient systems running, and metals/proteins allow his techrot systems to keep going. Thankfully for him, he's got two boyfriends who are both quite energetic, and really don't mind his needs as much as they should.

Manifesting sentient fighters usually happens in the same way as he manifests new pieces of himself, but with the added caveat that they don't need functional internal systems for long term usage, and he can charge them up with his own power to keep them running as long as he needs. This is obviously extremely resource intensive, but if it keeps those he cares about safe, (and since it appeases the eternal need to consume and create and consume and create and consume and create) he'll do whatever he must.

Due to all of the above, he prefers particularly tight or comfortable clothing,, as it helps mitigate the changes that happen depending on his energy levels. The less he's got, the looser his pieces, and things will just fall off if he's dead tired (lol). So... Avoiding that is nice. Additionally, although he needs his chest cavity within reach for making sentients at a quick notice, he does like looking in the mirror and not seeing his own body immediately as so blatantly inhuman and monstrous. The straps he uses for his military harness are half to hold things and half to straight up just keep himself together. The mask is for keeping his eyes clear of gore while he's in the middle of shit, because that was a severe issue beforehand. Take a bite, get blinded bc there was more fluid than you expected, have to panic and try and fix that mid combat, leaving you even worse off than you were previously? No thanks.

--

Psycological notes and lore:

Before Entrati got his hands on him, he was a well respected mediator that worked on communications for the ICR, and worked directly with the Hollvanian government and its military to allow for the ICR to remain in the city.

Coming from a well off and well expecting background, from a young age he was put through his paces and taught to be the finest edition of a modern renaissance man, giving him very little time to do anything but his studies, and very little affection from anything but perfection. Even then, kinda mid. As such, he is a well mannered and well spoken fellow with a deeply repressed childish nature that only ever comes out at the worst possible times amidst the best possible company.

Having been tailor-made for communications work, he was also ensured a healthy dose in very many other skills that might come up from time to time while traveling. (Including, but not limited to, sewing (which he hates), cooking (which he has extremely low patience for), midwifery (which thank god hasn't come up yet), medical triage (unfortunately has), general electrical and mechanical knowledge (much better for him now than it was before), a few languages, and so forth. Post becoming a protoframe, much of his knowledge has degraded due to the changes required for his brain to be able to control his bio-energy, leaving him constantly irritated when faced with a challenge that he knows DAMN well how to deal with, but cant remember specifics on.

He deals with irritation and anger very expressly, not one for subtlety or sarcasm when it comes to his displeasure. This man will Not be the one making snide jabs across the table, he would instead pull you aside privately and explain quite logically the behaviors he's disliking and see if either an agreement can be reached or if another specialist should be put forth. A trait learned from his parents, no doubt, but also one that helps considerably when it comes to governmental relations and respect.

All of his emotions are generally delt with highly logically, which, when it comes to more positive or soft feelings, gets very awkward and confusing for him very fast. One might find have found him before sitting on a bench, staring up at the falling leaves. If you asked him what he was thinking about, he'd respond that he's trying to comprehend why exactly he should be feeling happy about witnessing something so mundane. He wouldn't leave, of course, he'd still watch, but there will always be a part of him that shies away from emotions as a whole. All the sweeter, imo, when he really starts feeling and letting himself feel. Love is a strange thing, isn't it?

During his time in Hollvania, he got infected through volunteer work, doing his best to actually be helpful past the eternal red-tape. He hid it for as long as he could, taking extra care to frequently wash, scrub down, and then properly bandage and ointment up the affected bits of his arms so he wouldn't risk spreading anything, but it didn't do much for him at all. He was needed to maintain good relations, often running intermediary briefing dialogues to keep both sides as up to date as possible on the ICR's doings, so duty really did pull him in half. (haha) As the rot progressed and claimed more of his body, leaving him weaker and more frequently ill, it was less and less ethically feasible for him to keep working, despite it more or less being the only thing he really knew how to do, and there being very few people who could replace him. If he wasn't doing something, if he wasn't being productive, solving problems, keeping people happy, then what was he?

And then he heard of a man with a miracle cure, our good old Doktor Friday, and the fact that it worked. Naturally, Darius paid him a visit, already having used his infected status as an excuse to let him do a bit more hands on assistance wherever he could. And Entrati indeed did give him a cure, listening and nodding along to all the reasons Darius gave as to why he would likely be a good test subject, especially if it meant that if it worked, Darius would be in an excellent position to grant Albrecht significant funding for expanding his cures to the greater populous, who needed them desperately.

Well, it sure didn't fucking do much, did it, leaving him visually better, but when word got out that the others who'd taken the cure had become super-spreaders, you bet your ass he started panicking immediately. He'd been in rooms for extended periods of time with everyone in command, just his presence might have been enough to entirely destabilize the local government, or absolutely gut the ICR. So, once more, he claimed a stomach illness to take some time off. This was a very big problem, so back he went, livid as all hell, to hunt down Entrati.

He got the whole spiel about unforeseen mutations within the techrot responding strangely, and although he didn't believe it, he already had nothing left to lose. He wasn't a soldier, sure, he had training in fencing, could handle a gun, but he couldn't help like the others could, and he could not go back to the one thing he'd been set up all his life to be. And Entrati had a bit of a twinkle in his eye when he said that there might be something that he could do, but it would take time, and multiple tests, to be able to make it all work. There was another strain Dr E was experimenting with that, as he was shown samples and heard the explanations, seemed to be able to nullify the techrot almost entirely. (It was actually just subsuming it, but visually, the two outcomes were nearly identical.)

So he said yes. Like a fucking idiot.

The initial dose laced him with the helminth strain, preparing his body, granting him strength, even though it hurt so very much, the pain leaving him borderline insensate, unable to do anything but lay there and cry as he felt his very flesh twisting and saw Entrati approach with the second dose after a few hours.

Number two was a low dose of the sentient strain, modified, following Caliban's biological approach, and the reaction between the two was violent, techrot subsumed with a rapid hunger and made to serve a new master. Darius's body quite literally began tearing at the seams, and Entrati took his time with the process, utilizing several more small injections, so he wouldn't die of pure blood loss.

When all was said and done, his twisted body was held together by a scant few threads of power, and he was very much unconscious, having fallen into a coma that would last multiple days, fed with an occasional battery set into the new cavity within his chest.

Wisely, Entrati was not there when he awoke, starving, terrified, and in great pain. All he could focus on was the hunger, that pulsating desire that screamed at him to consume, create, consume, create, consume, create, his human mind utterly overwhelmed by the twin techrot and sentient desires. It took him some time to figure out how to move again, much less walk, and the hunger only got worse by the second.

When the Hex found him, they came across a crying, shattered man, tearing into mounds of freshly killed techrot with his bare hands, stuffing wires and flesh alike into his mouth with an inhuman voracity. He was guarded by bizarre automatons, whos' origin was quickly made apparent by him reaching into that glowing gash that bisected his entire body and pulling out another, his own form splitting and reshaping as he dragged it free.

It took quite some time for him to regain his humanity. Quite some time to mediate the new desires of his reformed body with his own. The urges have not left him, but at least he's got a choice, now.

Prince of both worlds indeed.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Fellow turns around after feeling the distinct sensation of someone’s hand in his pocket.

“…ah. Shishishi~ Nice collections of wallets you’ve got there, mister! Aren’t they heavy? I swear I was just trying to help you lighten the load! Isn’t that right, Leona-san?” -Ruggie, caught red-handed.

“…” -Leona, just passing by and torn between narrowing his eyes at Fellow’s presence at NRC or putting a palm to his face, absolutely done with everything.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“Hey now, hands off my pockets!” Fellow shooed the hyena off, keeping protecting hands over his wallets. “I earned these fair and square. Find some other suckers to prey on—and next time, be less obvious about it!”

“Nishishishishi! I dunno, Leona-san~ Ya think we should let this criminal run free?”

“Tch, hell if I care. Don’t get me involved in your personal squabbles. I ain’t cleanin’ up after ya.”

“Wow, harsh.” Ruggie swiveled to Fellow. “You see how he treats me? Awful. After I work my tail off for him, too. The Mystery Shop’s a better gig. Sam still makes me clean, but at least he pays me for my time.”

The emerald of Leona’s eyes cut narrow.

With an impish grin, Ruggie continued. “Geez~ Rich people seriously are the worst!”

“They are,” Fellow agreed in a grumble. He thought of his own employer—well, ex-employer—a shadowy man screaming abuse at him through the phone. “So full of themselves and entitled to service.”

“See, you get me!!” Ruggie elbowed him in the ribs. “Us poors gotta band together and rise up against’m. Let’s eat the rich!”

“Oi, Ruggie,” his dorm leader growled at last, “Quit talkin’ about me like I’m not standing right in front of you.”

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings, Leona-san?”

“Yeah, you’re really breaking my heart,” he drawled sarcastically. “I’m choking up over here.”

“Charming boss you’ve got here.” Fellow’s laugh as light as fairy floss. “I’ll bet he’s a riot with the snooty elites.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe. Well, when he feels like turning on the charm. Works wonders for a distraction while I liberate them of their valuables~”

“Really! That’s usually my job. Sometimes I pull double duty. Giddie ain’t exactly good at keeping people’s attention or being slick with his hands.”

“You have a partner? Convincing Leona-san to play along’s like pulling teeth. He whines all the time and makes demands like some overgrown cub—”

“Ruggie,” Leona snapped. Low, threatening—a command to stay silent.

“My bad!! My lips are sealed!” the hyena pledged. He comically dipped into a bow and slunk back.

Leona stepped up.

“Ohoh?”

Here comes the king.

The regal lion rolled his shoulders, inclining his head back—looking down on Fellow. “… Hey, scammer. I held my tongue before since you were slinking around town being sketchy—but now you’re in my territory, and I make the rules around here.

“I don’t care if you go around plucking wallets from unsuspecting herbivores. Just don’t cross me, not again. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tread lightly. Got that?”

His tone was familiar. Assured and full of arrogance. A luxury afforded to this beat thanks to immense power and privilege.

Fellow gritted his teeth. He managed to force out a measured response, despite his surging hatred.

He knew this song and dance. How to keep his head down, how to swallow his pride and comply. Kowtowing was a skill, and Fellow had mastered it.

“Completely. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way, good sir!” he chirped with a pearly smile.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

Leona turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He strolled off without so much as another word or gesture.

Ruggie tore off after him. “Ah—wait up! You know I was just joking, right? Heeey, don’t ignore me, Leona-san!”

Fellow carefully watched their retreating figures. When their shaped had vanished entirely, he angrily kicked at the ground and shouted at the skies.

“I can’t stand these damn rich people!!”

[hog-farmer]

Chimera Laios

“Falin, look out!” Laios shouts as he lunges himself at his disoriented sister, shoving her out of the way of the red dragon’s maw. 

As she falls to the ground Laios feels the monster’s fangs pierce through his armor and forcefully dig themselves into his abdomen. Before he can even process the pain he’s hoisted high into the air as the dragon lifts its head. Disoriented and stunned, he gazes down at the scarred battlefield. The members of his party lay defeated and scattered among the fire and rubble.

“Run! Get everyone out of here!” Laios yells through the pain down to a horrified Falin. With a worried expression his sister hesitantly raises her staff as it begins to glow. 

The light it emits quickly becomes blinding, forcing Laios to look away. When it finally subsides and he can see again his companions have completely disappeared. The relief for their safety is short lived when the dragon’s rumbling reminds him of his current situation.

In the blink of an eye the dragon tosses Laios a short distance into the air and snaps its maw around his entire body. He lands against its tongue which quickly forces him back towards the monster’s throat. Laios tries to struggle and fight as best he can in his wounded state, but it's no use. The flesh around him is too smooth and damp to get any sort of grip and even if he could he’s too weak and sluggish to do anything useful. 

Plunged into darkness, the slick muscles constrict tightly around Laios as they work to drag him down. His breathing becomes shallower from the pressure and exhaustion, as well as the unforgiving heat of the dragon’s insides. Though he can’t see anything Laios feels his vision slowly fading, a different kind of darkness overtaking him as he lands in the dragon’s stomach and passes out.

Deep in his mind Laios can still feel the pain that radiates through his body. It's sharp and stings especially around his lungs and abdomen. Though it gradually begins to fade away, growing evermore numb till he cant feel anything anymore. He feels calm and lighter, like he could just drift away into the sky and never come back down. However, that drifting stops, like a weight has been placed on him to keep him in place. For a while Laios stays like this, suspended in a sea of emptiness. Weightless, but weighed down all at once. The only thing he can do is let his mind wonder, but even then there's not much he can think of at the moment. 

He’s not sure how long it's been but eventually he begins to hear something. It starts faint but quickly grows louder, sounding like hushed whispers of a tongue he can't understand. Eventually, through the echo of voices Laios feels something begin to forcefully drag him down. The immense pain he once felt flares up once more, but it quickly fades again, leaving a dull ache across his body. 

Through the darkness he feels light slowly return, encouraging him to open his eyes to the view of his sister. Her worried face looms above him with patches of dried blood smeared across it. Laios tries taking a breath to speak, but the air quickly catches on something in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit.

“Big brother!” He hears Falin cry above him. Her hands are instantly on his blood-soaked body, rolling him onto his side and gently rubbing his back. “That’s it, just cough it out,” she soothes as he hacks up the blood blocking his airway. When the last of it is gone and his breathing finally evens out he looks up through teary eyes at his sister.

“Fa…lin,” Laios hoarsely croaks before she tightly wraps her arms around him in a hug.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she quietly sighs as her weight sinks into him. With slightly stiff limbs Laios reciprocates the gesture, holding her as best he can. After a moment Laios feels a chill run through him, making him notice his bare body and the cold cobblestone underneath him. “Oh! Sorry, let me go get you a blanket,” Falin rambles when she feels her brother shiver. 

She quickly retrieves one from her pack and before wrapping it around Laios she uses it to wipe away a majority of the blood from his face. While she fusses over him the other members of their party make their way over to join them. “Marcille, Chilchuck,” Laios weakly greets as he recognizes the half-elf and half-foot respectively.

“Hey Laios, how’re you feeling?” Marcille asks, though she herself looks pretty exhausted.

“He’s still a bit disoriented, but otherwise he seems alright,” Falin answers for him with a soft nod from her brother.

“Good to hear,” Chilchuck responds before looking back to introduce the newcomer among them. “This guy here’s Senshi, he’s been a big help on our journey.”

“Good to meet ya, Laios. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Senshi, the dwarf, kindly greets.

“Senshi,” Laios softly tries the name as he takes in the dwarf’s appearance. Like most dwarves he has a strong stocky build. A horned helm obscures most of his face, only revealing his eyes and nose. A long ruffled beard spills out from below it and covers a majority of his torso. As Laios stares his stomach lets out a gurgle that disrupts the quiet atmosphere.

“Sounds like a good time to start prepping a meal,” Falin comments with a light chuckle. With that she helps Laios stand on his slightly shaky legs till he’s steady.

“Let’s find a spot to wash up first,” Senshi suggests as he comes up behind the tall-man to help support him. “Then we can settle down nearby and get cooking.”

The rest of the group nod in agreement and gather their supplies to head out. Luckily they don’t have to search for long as they come across a hot bath area along a random corridor. It consists of only one room, so the party decided to take turns with the women going first. After some time they reemerge looking refreshed and pass the room off to the guys.

The interior has several fixtures along its walls that spout streams of hot water. A large tub sits at the center of everything with water gently flowing over its edges. The excess water congregates at various drains scattered around the floor. Small gaps along the top of the walls act as vents to mitigate the amount of steam held in the room.

When Laios enters he immediately heads for the bath in the center, discarding the blanket around his shoulders as he does so. As he sinks up to his shoulders the dried blood that was coating his body begins to dissolve. It darkens the liquid around him till the cycling water slowly turns it clear again. With the remaining blood on his head Laios takes breath and slips under the water’s surface. 

While he scrubs his face and hair Laios subtly feels the water be disturbed elsewhere. Carefully opening his eyes underwater reveals a burly leg has entered the tub a few feet away from him with another one following soon after. Laios watches as the muscular pair bend and submerge themselves further, bringing with them more of the man they’re attached to. Sturdy thighs lead up into round, firm glutes and a bulky torso. Dark wispy hairs are scattered across the lightly tanned flesh, mostly condensing around the man’s sizable member. 

Transfixed, Laios lets his mouth drift open, accidentally releasing the breath he’d been holding. Mindlessly, he tries breathing in again but the water around him immediately catches in his throat. The tall-man quickly resurfaces, sputtering and coughing to clear his airway.

“You doing alright there Laios?” Senshi asks as he finishes settling into the tub. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine,” Laios hurriedly responds when he finally catches his breath. He bashfully tries to keep his eyes directed away from the dwarf but they futilely drift back towards him. 

His dense beard still obscures most of his upper torso, but a sliver of his firm chest and stomach can be seen from the side. Buff arms lay across the edge of the tub, matching his legs with a dusting of black hair across them. The thing that captivates Laios the most though is his face. Unobstructed by his helm, his features look sharper even while relaxed. Handsome and manly.

“Don’t take too long guys, we still gotta find a place for tonight,” Laios hears Chilchuck call out. Breaking his eyes away from Senshi reveals the half-foot is already done bathing. His hair’s still slightly damp as he finishes dressing and gathers his supplies.

As Chilchuck exits the room Laios turns around and sinks back down into the water with his nose just above its surface. His wandering eyes find their way back to Senshi, fixating on the dwarf once more. As he stares, a thought starts forming inside his head. Laios screws his eyes shut, embarrassed but wrestling with the idea of following through with it. Eventually he settles on a decision as he slips the rest of his head below the water’s surface.

Now underwater Laios is again presented with the bare, lower half of Senshi. He slowly drifts himself closer to the dwarf, careful to not disturb the water around him too much. After taking in the up-close view of the burly figure Laios tentatively rests his hand on one of Senshi’s calves. He feels the muscle tense under his touch but the other man doesn’t move or knock Laios away. Soon, the leg in his grasp relaxes, wordlessly encouraging Laios to venture further. 

His hand slowly glides upwards, passing over Senshi’s knee and settling on his inner thigh. Laios begins to gently knead the soft flesh before bringing his other hand up to mirror the action on the other thigh. While his hands are busy Laios watches as the dwarf’s member starts reacting to his touch. It flicks and twitches as it grows beyond the patch of hair around it to its full length. 

Without hesitation, Laios drifts his head closer to the now engorged appendage and gently wraps his lips around the head. He feels Senshi give a quick shudder underneath him, so Laios decides to go further. Taking more of the girthy cock into his mouth as his tongue rolls itself along its underside. He reaches down to its base, burying his nose into the hair surrounding it. 

After a few moments though, Laios begins to feel the stress on his lungs from staying underwater. He quickly releases the full member and pushes himself upwards to break the water. However, he resurfaces into a dense bramble of dark damp hair. Between that and the hot water his breaths feel strained and heavy.

Just before Laios can dive back under he feels the hair around him begin to lift. As it does so the air becomes easier to breathe and Laios can finally see without the dark strands obstructing his view. Though the first thing he manages to see is Senshi’s throbbing length as the dwarf perches himself on the edge of the tub. With a soft gaze, Senshi gently brings a hand to the back of Laios’ head and silently guides him back toward his member. 

With that little bit of encouragement Laios eagerly plunges back down, completely engulfing the dwarf’s cock once more. With his mouth now occupied and the hardy musk around him Laios feels his body completely go lax. He rests his head against Senshi’s thigh and lazily suckles on the engorged cock.

Senshi softly combs his hand through Laios’ hair, drawing out content hums from the relaxed tall-man. Their vibrations feel amazing on his member, causing it to pulse and twitch in excitement. 

Eventually, the sensations start to become overwhelming to Senshi as he feels his climax steadily approaching. As gently as he can Senshi starts to shallowly thrust his hips. Laios rolls his eyes back and lets out a deep muffled moan in response when he feels the dwarf begin to pleasure himself with his mouth.

This finally pushes Senshi over the edge, causing him to roughly force Laios all the way down his cock. Laios feels the head of Senshi’s member hit the back of his throat as pulse after pulse of seed is forced down it. As his climax subsides, Senshi gradually releases Laios’ head from his grasp. With slightly watery eyes the tall-man slowly pulls away from the member with a couple strands of saliva still connecting him to it.

With a soft, breathless ‘thank you’ from Senshi the pair silently return to cleaning themselves up. Afterwards, Senshi puts back on his clothes and armor and Laios dresses in an extra pair of his sleepwear that Falin luckily had on hand. Once they’re done they rejoin their waiting party members and head out in search of a safe place to rest. They investigated several buildings before choosing a house that had very few points of entry.

From there the gang started their usual routine for preparing a meal and settling in for the night. Since Laios wasn’t sure how or where to help he mostly followed along with what his sister was doing. All the while though, Laios would find his gaze wandering over to whatever Senshi was doing. Watching as the dwarf prepared a meal using meat from the dragon and whatever else they had on hand. 

Eventually, they all settled down around a table with various dishes spread across it. A pizza bread topped with onions, a seasoned roast of red dragon meat, and a soup made using the dragon’s tail. It all looked so delicious that Laios didn’t know where to start. Though it seems he doesn’t have to decide when Senshi hands him a plate with a slice of pizza topped with a few pieces of dragon meat. Realizing his gnawing hunger, Laios hastily takes a large bite out of the slice.

“This is delicious!” Laios excitedly declares once he finishes swallowing his bite.

“Glad ya like it,” Senshi replies with a light chuckle. “Take your revenge on that dragon,” he adds as he sets a bowl full of the soup beside Laios’ plate. 

Everyone else begins to dig into their meals as well, with their chewing occasionally interrupted by light conversation. Most of what they talk about is catching Laios up on what he’s missed, mainly the monsters they’ve encountered on their way down to this level of the dungeon.

“So you guys have been eating monsters like this the entire time!? Which ones did you like? What tasted the best? What’s the craziest thing you’ve eaten so far?” Laios enthusiastically rambles.

“Well, I really liked how basilisk tasted, but I think living armor was probably the strangest,” Falin responds after pondering for a second.

“You ate living armor! How’d you do that?” Laios loudly asks, completely astounded.

“Turns out they’re actually comprised of a mollusk colony, they use the armor as their shell,” Marcille joins in with an answer.

“That’s so cool!” Laios comments with amazement in his eyes.

The rest of the meal played out the same, with Laios excessively prodding the others for more information about the monsters they faced. Once all the food was finished up they cleared the table and cleaned their supplies. Afterward, everyone selected a bed upstairs and turned in for the night. As Laios settles down on the plush surface he feels his exhaustion from today’s events finally hit him. Closing his eyes allows a peaceful sleep to finally overtake him.

—-

A couple hours later, Laios suddenly awakens with a silent startle. He sits up in his bed and tries to look around for what would’ve woken him up, but his gaze fixates on the only window of the room. Without his input Laios feels his body get up and slowly meander its way towards it. When he reaches its ledge he mentally tries to pull back but his body continues forward. 

In an instant Laios finds himself landing on the cobbled street below, though surprisingly with no pain from the fall. Again, his body continues moving on its own accord. It feels like aimless wandering, but his body seems to know where it’s going when he stumbles upon the corpse of the red dragon.

“Oh, there you are,” calls a chilling voice that cuts through the dead silence of the night. Turning towards its source reveals an elf standing before the dragon’s head. His tanned skin greatly contrasts his very pale and neatly braided hair.

“Why do you look like that?” The elf continues with a monotone question. “I thought I gave you a mission to search for his majesty. I do not recall allowing you to rest,” he adds as he turns his piercing gaze on Laios.

From beneath his short cloak the elf produces a very ornate and gilded book. It floats in front of him and opens on its own, rapidly flipping through seemingly endless pages. As he reads an incantation his voice echoes throughout, seemingly coming from everywhere around them.

Behind the elf the dragon’s body begins to melt. Its flesh oozes and falls off its skeleton in chunks, condensing in a large puddle of blood below it. 

As Laios watches he feels a sharp pain start to radiate through his head. In response, his hands come up to clutch it as his legs start stiffly moving on their own again. They take him towards the dragon’s melting remains, stepping his bare feet into its pooling blood. Once he stops in the center of its ribs Laios collapses to his knees. He stays there for what feels like forever, curled in on himself as he writhes through the head splitting pain.

“Laios!” the tall-man hears his sister shout from a distance. When he tries to look up she’s suddenly kneeling beside him with a very concerned expression. She begins to ask him what’s wrong, but she’s interrupted by the elven mage from earlier. He stares down at her with a cold expression, calling her a thief and an intruder. 

Just as he’s about to reach out and grab Falin an explosion fires off overhead, splattering one of the dragon's ribs. Marcille and the others stand behind them, the half-elf has her staff raised ready to fire off another spell.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Falin tries encouraging her brother while the mage is distracted with the rest of their party. With all the commotion going on and the paralyzing pain Laios involuntarily lashes out in response.

“Get away!” Laios blindly yells as he shoves his sister away. The force behind it was unnaturally greater than normal, knocking Falin unconscious and sending her across the street towards their companions.

After that the mage brandishes his spellbook again. Like before its countless pages fly from one end to the other as his voice echoes off every stone and down every alley. The blood pooling around him bubbles and boils in several spots before small wyvern-like creatures begin to form and rise from it.

“Devour them!” The mage angrily shouts as the tiny wyverns take to the air and swarm above the party. They rapidly descend and attack with their razor sharp fangs and claws, landing a few shallow slashes on each of the adventurers.

The team’s still conscious magic-user manages to handle them though, dispelling each one by overwriting the spell that created them. When the last of the draconic monsters are defeated the mage moves on to his next  idea. Focusing on the ground around the party he forces a small chasm to open up directly under them, sending them into the dark depths below. With the intruders handled the mage directs his focus back onto a still struggling Laios.

“Hey dragon,” the elf’s call makes Laios freeze as he slowly turns his attention towards him. “That must be inconvenient, let me change your form for you,” he continued with a slow wave of his hand.

The blood surrounding Laios begins to boil, like it did moments ago with the wyverns. The viscous liquid unnaturally begins creeping up his body, completely covering his legs and trailing further up his torso. A numbness overtakes his legs as the blood beneath him begins to form a growing mound around them. Laios feels the mass begin to prop him as more and more of the coagulating liquid amasses underneath him.

“Now, do as you’ve been ordered to,” the elven mage coldly commands.

“Yes…” Laios breathlessly agrees as he feels the blood creep up towards his face. 

With that, the mage curtly turns around and begins to walk away. The streets and buildings warp and shift out of his way to give him a direct path, but quickly return to how they were once he’s far enough away. Now alone, Laios feels the pain that's raging through his body begin to settle in. He slumps forward and lands face first on the bloodied stone below. As his mind begins to fade out Laios feels the blood that’s crawling across his face begin to cloud over his eyes. His vision is slowly tinted with red till black overtakes everything and he falls unconscious. 

—

After a while Laios’ groggy eyes blink open as he’s stirred awake. His neck is stiff and his head feels heavy as he tries to look out at his surroundings. He’s still in the middle of the street where he passed out, though a few of the buildings seem to have shifted around him.

Propping himself up on his arms Laios tries pushing himself back up into a kneeling position. His balance is immediately offset though when he’s thrown up higher than anticipated. Overcorrecting almost sends his face crashing down into the cobblestone again, but he manages to extend his arms in time to catch himself. After a pause Laios tries to bring himself upright again, though slower this time to acclimate to the unnatural height. 

Looking downward reveals the reason for his thrown off balance. Where his normal legs once were are now a folded pair of those of a giant canine, far larger than a dire-wolf. They’re coated in light gray fur that comes up to Laios’ waist and tapers off into his torso. 

As his eyes trail up his body he notices more fur centered on his chest and lightly scattered down his arms. The nails on his fingers have become black talons, long and sharp. Laios turns his head to see the fur continue down his back and trial into the lower torso of a dragon. It’s slightly smaller, though proportional, to that of a red dragon, along with its scarlet colored scales matching perfectly. 

Laios tries to move the new, unsteady limbs of his altered form, attempting to stand with them. It’s a little uncoordinated at first, but eventually he manages to get himself upright. When Laios slowly starts to hobble down the street he tries to recall what happened earlier. Every memory in his head feels incredibly fuzzy, but one thing immediately snaps to the forefront of his mind.

“I must find Lord Delgal,” Laios absentmindedly drones as he proceeds to lumber his enormous, amalgamated body down the alleyway.

From there Laios wandered throughout the desolate fifth floor of the dungeon. He’d roam up and down the labyrinth of countless streets, peering down every alley and into the buildings set up along them. In one of them Laios managed to catch a reflection of his face. Two sets of short horns, like those of the red dragon, now protrude from his head. His canine teeth are much sharper, with a second set behind each of them and the pupils of his eyes are now slitted. 

Time absently passed in a blur, with every new corner he’d turn down looking as indecipherable as the last. Despite the creeping feeling of exhaustion dragging on him, the words of his mission tirelessly run through Laios’ head.

‘Find… Lord… Delgal…’

‘Find… Lord… Delgal…’

‘Find… Lord… Delgal…’

‘Find…’ *Guuuurrrrgle* ‘…Food…’

That new thought causes Laios’ mind to pause. His mission still pounds incessantly in his head, but it’s steadily being overshadowed by this new thought. The two ideas fight for dominance in his head, sporadically flipping back and forth what he’s looking for. Eventually one of them comes out on top as the other is finally pushed out of his mind.

“Must… find… Food,” Laios deeply groans as the roaring hunger in his stomach takes control of him.

With renewed effort Laios wanders and searches the town much more vigorously. Hastily looking high and low, in every nook and cranny that’d show any sign of something to eat. Eventually, a scent catches his nose’s attention. It’s faint, but Laios can vaguely tell it’s some kind of meat being cooked nearby. He desperately follows its trail, navigating his way through the town as best as he can. 

When his search brings him up to the rooftops Laios notices something in the distance. It’s hard to see through the darkness of the town, but there’s smoke rising from between a set of buildings. Now with a target Laios recklessly jumps from one building to the next. With every leap he takes his claws tear through chunks of roof tiles and any of the surrounding stone.

As Laios approaches he starts to hear noises, a mixture of shouts and screech-like cackling. When a small courtyard-like clearing comes into view Laios can now place where the noises are coming from. A flock of harpies are attacking and terrorizing a large group of adventurers. 

Starvation drives Laios’ instinct to target whatever being is closest and leap towards them. He manages to crash down on two unsuspecting harpies, crushing one of them under the weight of his front leg while he grapples another in his arms. It struggles and wails in his grasp, but Laios swiftly silences it by tearing out its throat with his teeth. Blood runs down his chin as the harpie’s body 

shallowly spasms and twitches till its limbs eventually fall limp and its eyes gloss over. Laios takes several more bites, chewing and swallowing chunks of flesh. Its flavor is unappealing but his gnawing hunger doesn’t care.

“Laios!”

A shout draws his attention from his meal on hand. Turning towards its source reveals a distraught and vaguely familiar woman calling out his name. The people directly next to her look familiar as well, though his mind can’t completely recognize who any of them are. With a quick whiff of the air the scent he’d been following earlier immediately hits him. Of that small group Laios pinpoints its source to the tray that the short shaggy-looking one is holding. There’s not much to it, just a piece of fish, a couple of rice balls and some sauces, but the scent of it is all his mind can focus on.

“Food…” Laios moans under his breath. He absentmindedly makes his way towards the alluring food, tossing the limp harpies aside as he jumps from the rooftop to the ground below. 

Before Laios can take a step forward several other adventures advance towards him with their weapons drawn. They stab and swing at him with swords and axes, leaving shallow slashes scattered across his lower body. Every hit enrages Laios, causing him to lash out with brutal force. Swinging his heavy tail around sends a couple of them flying and anyone else attacking him has their neck snapped in his grasp or head crushed under one of his feet.

A sudden onslaught of electricity causes Laios to stagger. All over his skin tingles and his muscles tighten and twitch, but he forces his body to power through it and face the magic-user that casted that spell. With his anger and frustration boiling over Laios feels a burning heat rising up within him. Following that feeling Laios takes in a big inhale before spewing a pillar of flames from his mouth. He pivots his head and spreads the flames across the courtyard, scorching everything.

After a moment, Laios’ fire starts to die down as exhaust begins to set in. Residual flames lay scattered across the ground, along with the bodies of various adventurers. The small group Laios recognized and a couple other people survived though, having shielded themselves with magic. 

With how tired and sore he felt Laios was desperate to flee from the situation, but not without that plate of food. In a last ditch effort Laios recklessly charged at the small group. As he stomps up to and over them he grabs the plate as he passes. Now with the food secured in hand Laios leaps back up to the roof. He stumbles for a moment to find his footing on the rickety tiles, but eventually he manages to steady himself and run away across the rooftops. 

Laios practically reaches the other side of the dungeon floor before he deems it a safe distance to relax and let his body rest. His lower torso slumps to the ground with a heavy thud as his legs fold into a resting position. As his breathing finally catches up with him Laios directs his attention to the plate of food he’d managed to snag. Miraculously, none of its contents were lost in his manic escape, but there’s something new he wasn’t expecting. 

Curled around the edges of the plate are a pair of stocky hands. Confused by this addition, Laios slowly raises the plate higher to reveal that the dwarf from earlier was still holding the plate. They share a surprised wide-eye look with each other, at least until Laios feels a possessive growl start to rise up in his throat. This snaps the dwarf out of his shock, causing him to finally release the plate and drop down to the ground. Before the dwarf can collect himself and run away Laios gently pins him under one of his front legs, mostly using its weight and size to keep him in place. 

Having handled that for the moment Laios redirects his focus back to the food in hand. Without hesitation he ravenously shovels every piece on the plate into his mouth. It tastes wonderful, but the satisfaction is short lived when Laios realizes how little food that was. Frustrated, he angrily tosses the plate aside as his hunger cries out again with a loud rumble.

“Are ya hungry? Is that what this is all about?” Senshi questions out loud, reminding Laios of his presence. The chimera-man leans his upper torso downward to investigate the dwarf closer. He vaguely smells the previous meal on the man, as well as several other scents that pique his interest.

“More food?” Laios curiously asks as his hands scramble over the dwarf, searching for where the smells are coming from.

“I’ve got some food in my pack, just let me up and I’ll whip up a meal for ya,” Senshi offers. 

The prospect of more delicious food immediately has Laios’ interest. He eagerly picks the dwarf up from under his foot and sets him down to let him work. Senshi proceeds to unpack his supplies, setting out the utensils he’ll need. Most of the ingredients he has on hand are leftovers from the dryads and the cockatrice, plus a few harpy eggs he managed to find earlier. After a second to think it over, Senshi decides to cook up the eggs and remaining meat and toss whatever vegetables he has left into a stew.

While Senshi busies himself with meal prep, Laios fidgets impatiently as he waits for his food to be ready. He hovers and trails behind the dwarf as he watches over everything he does. Eventually, the alluring scents of the cooking food start to put Laios at ease, encouraging the chimera-man to sit and wait.

“And it’s ready,” Senshi declares as he sets down a platter of roasted cockatrice meat next to his pan that’s filled with a vegetable stew. 

Laios almost stumbles over himself as he excitedly approaches the delectable food that’s been laid out. He scarfs down piece after piece of the seasoned meat, savoring each one’s taste before moving onto the next one. When that’s all gone Laios moves onto the stew. Lifting the entire pan towards his face and gulping down the whole thing in a matter of minutes.

With a satisfied sigh Laios lets the now empty pan clatter to the floor. His roaring hunger finally feels placated, though Laios doesn’t feel anywhere near full.

“How was that Laios? Feel better?” Senshi asks as he pats the upper portion of his front left leg.

“Hmm… good,” Laios replies with a content hum.

*Guuuurrrrgle*

“Still hungry…” he mutters when his stomach lets out a low resonating rumble.

“Well, that was most of the rations I had on hand. I had a hunch it wouldn’t be enough given your size,” Senshi comments as he cleans and packs up his supplies. “Let’s head out and gather some more to satiate that hunger of yours,” he concludes as he slings his pack over his shoulders.

Laios eagerly nods in agreement before bending his upper torso downward to grab Senshi under his arms and pick him up. He lifts the dwarf over onto his back, just in front of where his wings sprout from. When Senshi has himself securely seated Laios sets off to search the dungeon for something to eat. 

The pair wander the eerie streets for a little while till they stumble across the entrance to the next floor of the dungeon. Venturing downward leads them to a network of underground waterways and tunnels. Laios aimlessly strolls through them till his senses alert him to something nearby. 

Following the trail leads them to a very lush cavern with barometz plants scattered throughout. As Laios curiously approaches one he freezes as he notices a pack of several dire-wolves begin to lurk into view. A fight quickly ensues as the pack and Laios try to take each other down. The wolves aim their attacks at Laios’ legs and back, but his tough scales and thick skin prevent anything more than a few shallow bites and scratches. His attacks prove far better, the strength behind every swing of his tail and talons is enough to break bones and leave fatal gashes.

The battered wolves eventually retreat, leaving those too harshly wounded and the dead behind. From there Senshi and Laios round up the defeated wolves along with a few ripe barometz fruits and any wild herbs around to get a meal started. Senshi handled most of the preparations, but Laios helped where he could. 

Eventually they have several full roasts made up and ready to be eaten, which Laios eagerly dives into. While Senshi dishes and eats a plate for himself, the chimera-man scarfs down and picks clean every single roast. The dwarf feels a bit of pride and satisfaction swell up inside him as he watches someone so thoroughly enjoying his cooking.

When Laios polishes off the last of the roasts he slumps to the ground, exhausted but finally feeling full. The underbelly of his lower torso looks round and distended due to the sheer volume of food he’s packed inside. 

“There, bet that’s better,” Senshi cheerfully comments as he gently rubs the side of Laios’ lower abdomen. The soft touch feels soothing to his strained stomach, encouraging the chimera-man to doze off and peacefully rest after his excessive meal.

—-

From that point onwards the pair would continue traversing the dungeon together. They mainly stuck to the lower floors, since the mana there could best sustain Laios’ monstrous form. 

Their lives became a constant cycle. After resting for a couple of hours Laios would undoubtedly wake up famished, so he and Senshi would search and hunt down their next meal. Laios would handle any fighting required while Senshi scavenged and harvested whatever he could find. The dwarf also managed nearly all of the cooking as well with Laios helping with easier tasks or anything that may have required his greater strength.

When each meal was all set and ready Laios wouldn’t waste a second diving into it. Entire buffets worth of food would disappear in a matter of minutes down his greedy gullet. He’d completely stuff himself with everything in sight, leaving no scraps or crumbs behind. After finishing off his meal Laios would promptly fall asleep, letting his exhausted body digest the exorbitant amount of food he’d just consumed. When he next woke up they’d do it all over again. Hunt, cook, eat, sleep, repeat.

This kind of lifestyle does have its consequences though. While Laios has the size and voracious appetite of a red dragon he does not have its slower digestion and metabolism. Normally a red dragon would sleep for roughly a month between meals, but Laios has been consuming large quantities of food two to three times a day.

The changes to his upper torso were the most prominent in the beginning. His abdomen and arms become rounded and bulkier under a soft layer of fat. Laios’ lower torso and limbs experienced the same effect, though it was harder to tell at first under all that fur, scales, and feathers. 

Every self-indulgent meal would pile more weight onto the man’s monstrous frame. The belly of his lower torso quickly grew to brush against ground, even on an empty stomach. The legs surrounding it had to adopt a wider stance in order to accommodate it while the legs themselves became encumbered with their own thick layer of fat. Surprisingly, Laios’ tail became a place for fat to easily pile onto, growing overly rounded and puffy. Given the sheer weight of it Laios found it easier to let the limb just rest on the ground and be dragged behind him.

Laios’ humanoid portion also grew quite rapidly. A soft boulder-like belly developed to hang heavily from his torso. His fuzzy chest also filled out significantly, topping his prominent belly with two doughy mounds. His arms fattened up disproportionately with much more weight settling in their upper halves, greatly restricting their range of movement.

As Laios grew he had to adapt and change the way he took down other monsters. While he still had great strength he wasn’t able to use that advantage as dexterously as before. He couldn’t put as much force behind any of his strikes, but he could still crush anything he could get close to. Any sense of speed or stealth he may have had before were lost due to his greater weight. All together, his physical capabilities suffered and diminished as his weight rose and the effort to move his limbs progressively became too much for his body to bear.

Reaching the point of immobility would see Laios’ scaled underbelly spilling out from underneath him on all sides. Billowing draconic and canine legs rest flush against it with no hope of being able to lift themselves away from it under their own power. His titanic tail has broadened in size, taking on a more oblong shape as it lays motionless behind him. Bulky rings of adipose rise up into the wide doughy belly and hips of Laios’ human torso. His chest has become more shapeless and flabby, widening into his side rolls that are crushed under his equally large chunky arms. Any glimpse of a neck or jawline is hidden under a puffy ring of fat that's topped with overly chubby cheeks that force Laios’ eyes to slightly squint and his mouth to pucker.

“Hrrmph! C’mon Laios, you can do it,” Senshi encouraged as he tried to lift one of Laios’ enormous rear legs. Though the effort was obviously futile it was mainly an attempt to coax the over-encumbered chimera-man into a standing position. The prodding does motivate Laios into trying, but he doesn’t manage to raise himself more than a couple inches before his gigantic body slams back down to the ground with a resounding thud. 

“*Huff* *Huff* Too… tired,” Laios groans, exhausted at the monumental effort it took to move that little. 

*Guuuurrrrgle*

“Hungry…” Laios whines when he feels his stomach desperately cry out for food. He pitifully tries moving his body again, but only succeeds in frustratingly wobbling his soft malleable flesh.

“Ok, ok,” Senshi soothes as he comes around to Laios’ front to speak. “I’ll see what I can find nearby to try and rustle up something for ya. I’ll be right back,” he suggests as he gathers his equipment for a quick solo escapade.  

Left alone with nothing but his gnawing hunger Laios impatiently waits for his companion to return. After a while the chimera-man feels his eyes begin to grow tired and droop. Deciding to go along with it, Laios lets himself drift asleep in hopes that when he next wakes up there’ll be a delicious meal waiting for him.

—

“My, what a peculiar little morsel.” 

Laios hears a soft voice coax him awake, or rather into awareness as he feels like he’s dreaming. Opening his eyes to an empty white void, Laios is greeted to the sight of a golden-yellow lion with wings. It stands before him with an inquisitive look that feels like it goes right through Laios. The sight of another creature spurs the chimera-man with the thought of devouring it, but even here in his mind Laios feels too lethargic and weighed down to move.

“So hungry…” Laios mutters to himself with weak frustration.

“Ha, quite the gluttonous one, aren’t you?” the winged lion softly comments with a chuckle as he delicately drags one of his claws against the surface of Laios’ protruding underbelly. “Though I guess I can sympathize with that plight,” he adds with a wistful expression.

*Guuuurrrrgle*

“Need…Food…” Laios moans out loud as his hunger continues to plague him even in his dreams.

“How about this,” the lion begins, garnering Laios’ attention. “I find your situation to be very intriguing, so I’ll help you cultivate this desire of yours as best I can,” he offers.

“You’ll bring food?” Laios asks, fixated on the prospect of something to eat.

“Oh yes. Monsters of all shapes and sizes will be drawn to you, passive and ready to be devoured,” the lion pitches, dramatically emphasizing the final word. “So what do you say? Do we have a deal?” he asks with a crazed look in his eyes.

“...yes…”

—

After a couple hours of fruitless searching Senshi decides it best to make his way back to Laios.  As he retraces his path Senshi expects to find the immobile chimera-man laying in wait, but the sight he stumbles upon is more than he could’ve imagined. 

Laios himself has not moved, still anchored in place by his own titanic weight, but it's everything else around him that's a spectacle. Various kinds of monsters lay scattered around him, ranging from simple walking mushrooms to gigantic draconic beasts. Senshi cautiously winds his way through the crowd of monsters, noticing that they all appear to be alive, just in a mindless, trance-like state. 

As the dwarf approaches Laios he sees that the vines of a flowering plant have trailed themselves across the obese chimera-man’s body. Senshi briefly tests their strength before he starts using them as leverage to climb up Laios’ immense figure. As he makes his way upwards Senshi notices the flowers excessively leak an alluringly-sweet nectar from their centers. Eventually he makes it over the crest of Laios’ mountainous belly, allowing him to come face to face with the gluttonous chimera. Laios himself almost doesn’t notice the dwarf crawling up to his billowing chest, too engrossed in the mind-numbing flavor of the nectar he’s suckling from one of the vine’s flowers.

“Now what did you get up to while I was gone? Senshi inquired, slightly amused at the situation.

“Mmm… hungry,” Laios mutters a non-answer between gulps of sweet nectar.

“Ha, well, let me go whip something up for ya. I’m sure we got enough on hand,” Senshi cheekily comments as he turns to look out at the crowd of passive monsters. With that Senshi backs up and begins his descent to go get a meal started for his ever-famished companion.

---

Honestly really love this anime, the characters are great and it so easily opens itself up for weight gain and feederism. Obviously Laios and Senshi are my favorites, so don't be surprised if I do another story involving those two. I think I'd wanna make it a shorter rapid weight gain though, cause while I enjoyed writing this I will admit it feels a little lopsided with the actually fattening parts happening quick and towards the end.

Anywho, hope you all enjoyed, thank you for reading, and I hope to have another story around soon.

[eris-snow]

8. 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐀 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

Tags:bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, detective bakugou, hacker bakugou, fluff in the midst of angst

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. One must grasp it before the tunnel caves in.

January 6 20XX

You have to give Katsuki credit, because the dude was dedicated. Not only that, but he could do things that you found difficult with ease. Such as, well, talking to someone.

"Aizawa-sensei says that the foolscap was outdated from 10 years ago. Apparently, it was the same ones he used when he was in U.A. It spanned a good ten years, so at the very least, they haven't walked off the fuckin' earth and died yet." The ash blond announces, flopping on the ground next to you. It was the first day officially back from winter break, but Katsuki was as unfazed as ever.

Back when people were still being potty-trained, Katsuki was practising hours a day on the piano in between kindergarten and card trading with the guys. That's what made him the best, and half of you was glad to see that part of him was still the same.

Focus, you tell yourself. Now isn't the time to get distracted!

"They could be anywhere in the country. With my luck, anywhere in the world." You counter. "Or maybe the one with my condition has poofed out of existence—"

"Stop it with that," Katsuki knocks his knuckles against your forehead, making you reel back at the contact. "People stop writing for all sorts of reasons. They could have cracked the code, or had a fallout, who knows? Shut up and be optimistic. I can't afford you spiralling."

You make a face at him. "You've changed."

"I'd be an asshole if I didn't." He replies, not missing a beat.

You're still an asshole, you want to point out, but you hold your tongue. He's trying to help you, after all.

"Any idea of what course they were in?" You ask instead. "It'd be easier if it was a hero, high profile is good."

"There's a phone number on the paper—"

"That has been changed and is unavailable." You finish. "It's a dead end."

Katsuki huffs, folding his arms. "It's a lead."

You snort loudly, holding back your laughter. "You've changed a lot—"

"And you're an idiot." He refutes. "You can track a phone even after its number is changed. I can get a hold of the IMEI number—"

"What are the chances of someone keeping a phone for over a decade?" You scoff.

"What other chances do we have of finding these pieces of shit?" Katsuki counters.

Biting the inside of your cheek harshly, you sigh. He has a point.

—

February 20XX

The plan, unfortunately, did not work. Either someone had used the phone beyond repair, or it had already been destroyed.

Brilliant.

Katsuki lets out a growl of frustration. It took him a month to find out how to track this guy. A month. And yet you were no closer to finding these grown-ass men.

It was around that time that you started to bring newspapers of that time to the hall, scourging for any clues relating to that incident.

"If only we just knew what course this guy was in..." You mutter, consuming yourself with the papers.

Katsuki stands by the curtains with an unamused expression, hands full of yearbooks as he watches your eyes scan the papers with an immense amount of focus. He's come to know you for months at this point, and has started taking note of little things about you because the more he looks at you, the more he finds.

Like how you bite your lip whenever you're nervous, bite the inside of your cheek when you're irritated and tuck your hair behind your shoulder when you lie.

Like how terrible your piano playing is but you still continue, like how even though what you've been through is more mentally taxing than anything on the battlefield, you still—

It takes Katsuki a second that he's been staring at you for way longer than normal before he unceremoniously drops all the yearbooks on the ground with a loud thud.

You jump like a startled cat, glaring daggers at him as you scramble to get your newspapers away from him. "What the fuck, Bakugou."

His mouth coils into a pleased smirk. "Jokes on you, I'm going deaf. What was that?"

You groan, and it makes Katsuki's confidence ignite. There we go. This version of you, he can handle.

"What's the yearbooks for?" You ask instead, nearing the dusty stacks of bounded paper before flipping through them.

"I managed to round up the yearbooks from the people who still used this piece of foolscap when they were in school." Bakugou plops down on the ground with you. "It's just ten years. If we can go through every class and see if anyone has photo fucked with—"

"Photo fuck?"

"Has the same photo issues as you."

You raise an eyebrow. "Not one of your best works, Nickname Wonder."

"Whatever. Find someone with consistent photo issues throughout their time in U.A and we might be able to narrow it down."

"..."

"..."

"Seriously, photo fuck—"

"Shut it."

—

"Hey man, where are you going?" Eijiro bounds up to him like he'd shitted rainbows, and as much as he appreciates the ball of sunshine cramped into every cell in his friend, he did not want to deal with him now.

Still, he replied. "Training."

"Sick! I was just thinking of—"

"Not today." Katsuki picks up his duffle, checking the clock. "Meeting the nerd at Ground Beta. All Might wants to try something. Gotta run—"

"You've been real busy lately." Eijiro cuts off, blocking his path. "Look, me and the squad don't want to push, but...don't overwork yourself, okay?"

Katsuki almost snorts. Yeah right. Overworking himself was Izuku's job, not his. A tight schedule didn't mean a messy schedule. He'd planned enough time for sleep, eating, internship, training and hunting down people who may or may not exist.

He was being productive, not stressed.

" 'm not overworking myself," Katsuki mutters, sidestepping his red-haired friend as he walks out of the common rooms.

"Well, I'm here if you wanna talk things out!" Eijiro calls.

Katsuki gives a grunt as a response as he pushes the door open.

It's not like Eijiro would remember anyway.

—

The list of possible victims is done by the end of the week, and Katsuki takes the liberty to go for a slow walk around the school to hunt down his teachers and interrogate them. He'd like to say that he's made a good amount of progress, but Katsuki doesn't lie.

The entire procedure is pretty much a coin flip. He can confidently eliminate one or two, but can't ever be sure for the remaining. Were they just forgotten with time? Did they drop out? What if they went undercover?

A handful were even in the General Course, and getting in touch with those alumni was even more difficult.

"Look," Aizawa stares at him tiredly. He looks like he's on his 5th cup of coffee and that his eyebags can carry weights of lead. "I see you from Monday to Friday non-stop. I wish to be alone on a Saturday morning so I can mark your papers and get them back to you on Monday next week. So for God's sake, get out of my face."

"I'm trying to save someone." Katsuki prevents the door from closing with his foot, staring up at his teacher with raised eyebrows. "And from what I heard, heroes don't get breaks. Let me in, Sensei."

Aizawa squints at Katsuki. He may have lost his leg, and pretty much his quirk, but Katsuki's still sure that Aizawa kicks ass. All Aizawa had to do was say the word, and he'd get booted out.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Even so, his teacher lets him into his lair of unwashed coffee cups and Post-it notes wonderland. Katsuki doesn't bat an eye.

"Doesn't ring a bell." Aizawa shrugs, crossing names off.

"Nothing? Cause this guy was in your class." Katsuki yanks out a yearbook and slams it on the table, flipping to the bookmarked page.

On it, is a class photo of 17-year-old Aizawa surrounded by his classmates all those years ago.

"It's been a decade and a war," His teacher snaps. "Give me a break."

As his teacher's eyes survey the picture of his youth, Aizawa's finger hovers over one person's face.

"Oh, I remember him."

Katsuki's breath catches.

Aizawa-sensei trails his finger down to the names, circling the name of the face he'd pointed out that was streaked with blotchy ink.

Imasu Saito.

"He was one of the top students in our year, until his third year. Kept disappearing after class and even ditched. Dropped out right before graduation."

A thin thread circles the name, bright red just like his eyes.

This isn't just a throw-away line.

This was a lead.

"Tell me about him."

Surprised by the sudden interest, Aizawa continues. "I don't know. Last I checked, he was still living with his parents. Could be anywhere by now."

Heat burned in his throat. This could mean something. "Kenji Tanaka," Katsuki urges, iterating the name carefully "Did Saito...know Tanaka?"

Aizawa gives him an unamused expression. "Flattered to think you expect me to remember my classmates' names. And to answer your question, I wasn't even aware that there was a Kenji in my class. Now looking back, I doubt I ever interacted with him at all."

Katsuki groans, slamming his head on the table and sending paper scattering everywhere.

"Fuck humanity. This is what I get when I try to be a little fuckin' nice."

Well, a lead's a lead. Best to take advantage of it, no matter how small.

Aizawa raises an eyebrow, slides a hand to the mini-fridge and cracks a can of Red Bull.

He offers it to the blond wordlessly.

Katsuki swipes it from Aizawa's hand.

Best fuckin' teacher ever.

—

Katsuki shares his findings with you when he plops down in the hall later that evening, and you take turns to share yours.

"There's this guy that made headlines for one news issue." You show him the newspaper, and on it, he reads it out loud.

"20-Year-Old Claims The Existence Of The Non-Existent: The Hottest Flat Earther Theory."

Katsuki almost crumples the sandy paper in his hands. His mouth feels just as dry.

"Bullseye."

"Despite the catchy opening, it didn't do well. The news didn't stick, and there are no follow-ups in the issues before or after it." You push the paper down, causing Katsuki to look into your eyes. "This guy was—"

"Imasu Saito." Katsuki finishes, watching you nod in agreement. "A name. We have a name."

Katsuki looks at the decomposing tabloid, seeing gold. "Alright, spit it out. How did you even manage to find this? There were so many companies and articles—this isn't even from a big-name company. This could have taken years to uncover."

You wriggle your fingers together, shrugging. "Let's just say being invisible has its perks. And the internet. No one bats an eye towards me when I went through their archive."

"Their?"

"It's a long story."

Shrugging it off, Katsuki refocuses on their task. They have bigger fish to fry.

"We need an address." You tell him. "Do you have an address?"

Snorting, Katsuki gives you his most 'are you crazy' look. "Who do you think I am? God?"

"No, you're Katsuki Bakugou," Your eyes sear with confidence. Katsuki's felt that look somewhere. The pure, raw, doubtless look of trust behind those eyes.

He's definitely seen it somewhere before.

"You've risen from death and beat someone twice as powerful as you. You've bounced back from setback after setback. You're the winner of the Sports Festival and the top in Battle Simulation, and you've hacked into systems with firewalls so strong people on the other side of the screen think you have a Tech Quirk. You can find one measly address."

Well, when you put it like that, what is Katsuki supposed to say? Deny?

Puffing up his chest, he levels your gaze.

He can do this.

He can do this, and he will.

—

A week to the end of February, there's a text from Bakugou captioned "Look, at what I've got, you little shit."

On it, is an address of a residential apartment.

—

25 February 20XX

Katsuki could only get a permit to leave school on Friday, so it's the tail end of February when you leave school. It was only at this moment, did you allow excitement to swell in your chest. You're making progress. Much more progress than you had in years.

It was enough for you to start believing that there was hope for you after all.

And Katsuki was helping you.

Plugging the address in the GPS leads you both to your destination 30 minutes of U.A., and as you stand in front of a door with a fist raised, you glance at Katsuki.

He gives you a subtle nod.

Closing your eyes, you knock.

Please let him be home, please let him be home, please—

The door creaks open, and the door chain clinks as a lean man with lengthy limps peeks out. His eyes are cobalt blue, and when he looks at Katsuki, he squints.

"What do you want, kid?"

Wordlessly, Katsuki points to you, as if it explained everything.

All the trouble it took to find this stupid goon's house, led to one too-tall man that looked like he had survived a trainwreck.

Sunken eyes hollow, eyebags prominent, and body far too thin.

The man's orbs widen as he blinks rapidly, only just noticing your presence, even though you're standing right in front of him.

"Are you Isamu Saito?" Your voice is small, as if any louder would cause the floor to fall out from beneath you. "If so, I'd like to talk to you about this."

Rifling through your bag, you pull out the decade-year-old foolscap encapsulated in a file.

He just stands there, blinking, unflinching, mouth falling agape.

The door slams in your face.

At first you think that he wasn't who you'd assumed he was and that you had somehow gotten the wrong house.

But before the panic can sink in completely, you hear the door chain jingle as the door opens wide. The man's gaze of you is pitying, and he speaks directly to you for the first time.

"I'm Isamu Saito. Please, come inside."

.

.

.

8 Months, 2 Weeks, And 2 Days Until Time Of Death.

[da-rulah]

hey!! hope you’re doing well :) your writing always makes my day better and you are so immensely talented, i mean it!! 🥺❤️

if you’re feeling up to it i would love to hear your headcanons on mary goore with an insecure s/o regarding their looks/body. no rush or pressure:)

Hi lovely! Thank you, I'm doing alright. Could be better, could be worse, but that's neither here nor there. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thank you so much, I'm so glad I can have a positive impact on someone's day 🥹

So Mary with an insecure reader, hm? Let's see what the brain rot builds...

NSFW 18+ MDNI!

TW/ No pronouns used but female genitalia referenced, blindfolding, talk of insecurities, body worship, fingering

You trusted Mary. Explicitly.

That's why you'd told him about your insecurities, told him you didn't mind if he wanted you to hide parts of yourself, to disguise your least favourite parts if he found them as repulsive as you.

What you hadn't expected, was to find yourself spread out in your underwear and the baggy shirt you'd thrown on that morning, blindfolded...

But still, you trusted him...

"You don't have to look at yourself if you don't want to..." he whispered into your ear, hovering above you, "but please... don't deny me the pleasure."

Your skin broke out into goosebumps, and if he hadn't been laying between them, your thighs would have pressed together in an attempt to find some friction.

Mary noticed your heart rate and knew he had to take this steady, to show you nothing but love - and of course, how fucking hot you made him...

He started by your ankles, planting kisses along the inside of both of your calves, your knees, reaching your thighs where his hands kneaded and squeezed at the flesh while his mouth worked to leave wet trails all over.

"Love these thighs... Fucking love that you could suffocate me between them if you wanted to..."

He avoided your core and instead brought his hands under the hem of the shirt you wore, roaming the bare skin underneath while his lips searched out any stretch marks you had, any moles or freckles, any scars, and marked them with a kiss.

He continued his ascent, his lips and hands roaming the soft expanse of your chest, paying close attention to your nipples as they stiffened under his touch.

Every sense was heightened with your vision hindered... his touch felt sensational.

You couldn't help the whimper that tumbled from your lips, and you felt Mary smirk against you.

He pushes your shirt higher, suckling at your collarbone while he reaches for your hairs, only to tangle them in his hair for you.

Involuntarily your hips rolled underneath him, pressing against him only to feel a familiar stiffness in his jeans...

"Feel that, baby? Feel what you fucking do to me?" he groaned against your neck. "Love every inch of you..."

Any hint of insecurity you had about your body had been wiped clean with the flick of his tongue.

"Mary, please..." you begged, for nothing in particular. He just chuckled beneath your ear, catching your lobe with his teeth.

"Tell me something you like about yourself..." he commanded, his voice low and yet somehow soft.

When you told him you didn't mind your thighs, he was between them in a flash.

"These thighs?" he asked, diving in again to leave open mouthed kisses to the soft flesh, casually nipping with his teeth every so often.

With an affirmative hum, he asked you for another, and subsequently focussed his kisses to wherever you told him you loved until you couldn't stand it any longer.

You told him you loved your core, hoping he might finally give you the attention you wanted.

Instead, he sat up onto his knees, his hands grabbing at your thighs. Suddenly, he dove his hand into your underwear, immediately shoving two long fingers inside you. All his teasing had you prepped and ready to take him.

"Oh, right here?"

The pleasure knocked the wind out of you and had your back arching off the bed.

"Mhm, right there..."

The way Mary worshipped you for the rest of the night, had you coming undone for him multiple times on his fingers, his tongue, toys and finally... finally... his cock...

Well, you'd never doubt how much Mary adored you and your body ever again.

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Part II Here

Part III

Gold On the Ceiling

Two and a half hours later, and the headquarters of Marigold Agency were decked out in Halloween finery like it was Harrods or something. 

Ri-di-cu-lous.

While Azriel hauled the larger pumpkins under his arms, and then the boxes with the smaller ones, Elain threw herself with unbridled enthusiasm into arranging them: on the steps to the carriage house, and the stoop, and everywhere else.

Pinky rushed from one end of the corridor to the other, following Azriel back and forth, as many times as he had to make the trip. That dog was a machine. He didn’t get tired, or even winded, just running back and forth, his tongue lolling about. He possessed Elain’s levels of excitement over this ‘project’. He was absolutely not needed, but he felt that he was playing an integral part in the decorations, just by running around and spinning in circles with insane excitement. 

There were antique lanterns, fake spiders, skeletons, dried flowers artfully arranged between the cascading display of pumpkins and gourds. 

Once the last of the decorations were finally dragged out of the cellar, Azriel went outside and stood in front of the house. His arms folded on his chest, his brow furrowed, his expression serious, he assessed the work that they’ve done.

Elain backed away from the stairs and stood beside him, while Pinky rushed from the house needing to be the centre of attention and parked between the two of them, looking up at the house.

Elain's house as decorated by her and Azriel and Piglet

“You like it, baby boy?” Elain asked softly, and for one absurd moment, Azriel thought that she was addressing him.

“Yeah I like it,” he said, catching himself too late and remaining standing frozen in place and mortified.

She looked up at him and a small smile splayed her pink lips.

“Well, I am glad,” was her reaction, though he knew that she caught his slip. “And, thank you, Mr. Night. Really. You’ve been an immense help.”

Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable…like he stepped into a different world where he didn’t belong. While they were decorating, and he was running in and out of the house, it was…nice. Even easy between the two of them. He joked. She laughed. The dog…well, it did whatever that dog did. But now the magic was no more–back to reality.

“No problem,” he answered tersely.

He didn’t know what else to say to her now.

She reached out and took him by the elbow. 

“Come on,”

“Are we going to do the matchmaking stuff?” he asked, sounding rude even to himself. “I mean, if we aren’t then I got things to do.”

Elain nodded once, and said, “we are”. It was pretty obvious that she also felt the instant alienation between the two of them. “Please go ahead and make yourself comfortable in my office. I will be right back.”

He shrugged and didn’t argue, walking back to the carriage house. He found the loo, pissed, washed his hands, attempted to make sense of his thick black hair, and failed. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything since the meat pie. He still had two left and he still considered giving Elain one, though he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. He didn’t like blurring lines. It was unhealthy and did nobody any good.

He went back to the office where they’d met yesterday and sat in the same chair. His arms felt tense after dragging 100 pumpkins up and down the stairs and he stretched, trying to settle himself and wondering what the next step in this whole torturous process will be. She’d probably send him to take an STI test. Though probably not–she was too uppity and uptight for that. Was she a virgin? No, that ginger bloke probably wouldn’t have left her one. The memory of the ginger bloke made him grimace and then he wondered why the hell was he thinking about her like that? It wasn’t his business and he shouldn’t have been thinking about her in this manner. But he couldn’t help it. She was sexy in that ‘stern librarian’ kind of a way–where he suspected that behind the veneer of propriety and pearls lived a wild little vixen. She was bossy and demanding in her job, probably her life too, but he wondered whether in bed, she might like to submit, let go of control, enjoy the pleasure of acquiescence. He wondered if she’d allow him to take her body and make it his, in all the ways that he wanted, and in the way she’d love it.

He barely tore himself away from his wandering thoughts, which frankly, were making his dick more solid than was prudent and was faced with a huffing pug, who looked like he was smiling at him. 

“Are you ready for a night out on the town?” Azriel laughed, seeing as Pinky was now back to wearing a large green satin bow. 

He heard Elain inside the carriage house, the soft clicking of her heels–apparently it wasn’t only the pug who got ‘dressed’–and the clanking of glass and…he wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it was nice. It was proper somehow, for him to be here, in this warm place, after an afternoon of doing marginally physical work with Elain. Decorating the house. It was nice. 

He laced his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. 

‘Home’ was an elusive concept to Azriel Night, who bounced between group homes and foster families until he was well into his teens. Then the late adoption, but he and Cassian and their cousin Rhys were shipped off to a boarding school and that was hardly ‘homey’. At 17, he began playing football professionally and his schooling effectively ended. He rented his first flat back then, which felt very adult. But ‘home’--he wasn’t sure about that. Never did have one.

“Mr. Night, I thought I'd make lunch,” somehow, Elain slipped into the office and he didn’t hear her. He might have dozed off for a few moments. He opened his eyes and watched Ms. Archeron, the matchmaker extraordinaire, dressed in her professional uniform. Gone was the girl in faded jeans and with a messy pile of hair. This Elain’s hair was arranged over her shoulder, brushed and curled, and she was dressed in a knee-skimming cream dress and a green cardigan which matched Pinky’s bow. Yep, she was certifiably insane–she matched her pug’s bows to her dresses. Of course there was the 3-strand pearl necklace around her neck and pearl earrings in her ears.

But Azriel didn’t tease her about it. She was a peculiar girl, no doubt about that. All he said was, “you look nice, Ms. Archeron”.

She offered him a shy smile, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Thank you, Mr. Night. I took it upon myself to reheat the meat pies,” she explained, a little scrambled and out of sorts. It was like she was shy or something. “And here is tea,” she poured him a cup. “Some salads–Cheddar and pickle, and egg salad…”

It was only then that Azriel realised why she was so fussy and not herself. Her eyes kept darting towards him–his stomach, to be precise. As he still held his arms behind his head, his henley had ridden up his stomach, and he sported a decent amount of bare skin–she could see some of his abs and the deep hip dent, which apparently made her chew the inside of her cheek, while she prepared the tea. At that, Azriel smirked. She didn’t notice it. But he figured that he’d tease her for a little while longer, so he didn’t drop his arms and only moved his torso, baring his navel and a dusting of hair just above his jeans. Enjoy, sweetheart.

“I’ll eat only if you join me, Ms. Archeron,” he warned. “And thanks for making the food!”

“Well, you helped me so much today. I appreciate it. Otherwise, I’d have to do it with my sisters, and trust me, my sister Nesta is not one for lugging pumpkins or decorating.”

With that, Elain visibly shuddered. Azriel laughed softly.

“Glad to be of help.”

Then, he looked at her, and made a snap decision. He was going to go for it.

“Please enjoy one of the pies, Ms. Archeron,” he said with a brief exhale. It’s been a while since he’d shared his food with anyone. A long while. 

He piled his plate with salads and pie, and watched Elain do the same. She, of course, was all dainty about it, but there wasn’t a pretty way to eat a meat pie. 

“We’ll need to discuss your mating criteria,” Elain said between bites, and Azriel groaned.

“Not that again!”

“Yes. That. I don’t know what you want to call it–preferences? Is that acceptable?”

“Yes, this is better. Let’s call it ‘preferences’,” he agreed at once, as he sipped his tea. 

“Alright then,” she powered on her laptop, and got all serious and business-like. 

He kind of liked it when she was like that–bossy. Cute, but bossy.

“I will ask you to be vulnerable, Mr. Night,” she told him with great seriousness.

“What’s that mean?” he frowned at her words. “Also, do you have any of those nice biscuits that you gave us yesterday?”

“Yes, but you will get them after we are done with this part of the consultation.”

Pfff, he bubbled his lips, not loving that she was treating him like he was Pinky and he needed to be a ‘good boy’ to get the biscuits. But he decided to humour her.

“I’ll be vulnerable, Ms. Archeron,” he promised. “You want me to cry?”

“Hopefully not. But I might ask you questions that you are uncomfortable answering.”

“If you are going to say ‘this is a safe space’ than I am fucking leaving,” he snapped.

She gave him a displeased look, but said, “fine. At least it’s a confidential space.”

“Fine, ask away,” he leaned back into his chair and prepared for this hellish experience.

“Tell me what you look for in a woman?” Elain inquired simply.

“That’s a broad question,”

“Just throw some things at me,” she invited.

“Pretty,” he decided to go with the easiest option.

“What’s pretty to you? Tall? Short? Thin? Shapely? Rubenesque? Zaftig?”

He stared at her dumbly and then muttered, “that’s a lot of fancy words. What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Elain began, but he interrupted her and quickly said, 

“I want her to look like you. Pretty, like. Big hair. Nice soft tits. Long legs. Enough to grab on to, but still thin. I don’t fancy stick-thin women–like someone with some meat on their bones.”

“So a shapely woman then,” Elain muttered and noticed how red her cheeks were. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s the word. Hair–definitely like yours,” he repeated.

“What kind of hair do I have?”

“Big. Thick. Long enough to wrap around my fist,” he explained firmly.

“Mr. Night, let’s move on from me,” she ordered primly. “And discuss other attributes that you are interested in,”

“Nice breasts.”

“I made a note of that,” she mumbled under her breath. 

“Kind of like yours,”

“Why are you looking at my breasts?!” she snapped.

“Well, where am I gonna look at?” Azriel opened his hands innocently. “It’s not like you don’t know that you are hot. Or is your ginger bloke not give you compliments?”

Elain stuttered, her posture stiffening.

“What ginger bloke?”

Azriel was enjoying himself, making her squirm and explain herself.

“The one you get photographed with…He looks like a sad ginger horse,”

Her eyes popped open and he could see that he touched a nerve.

“My personal life is not in question here,” she declared decisively.

He chuckled, “suppose only mine is then”.

“Yes, besides, didn’t you call me a cow yesterday?”

“Oh, well…I didn’t mean your looks!” He quickly began backtracking. “Just your…attitude.”

“Oh, indeed? I have a cow attitude then?”

“Okay, why don’t we continue talking about what I like in a bird,”

“Perhaps if you stopped calling women ‘birds’ we’d make great strides in finding you a wife,” she was shaking her head, exasperated.

“Are you Italian?” he suddenly asked.

“No, why?”

“Your patience levels are that of an Italian woman.”

She rolled her eyes and said,

“I still don’t understand what you like in terms of looks in a woman. Can we just stay on topic?”

“Yeah, alright.”

He did want to make a comment that he wasn’t the only one who was looking, and that he saw her salivating over his abs, but decided to keep that card to himself for now, and play it later. At that moment, Pinky decided that he needed attention, when he got up and rose on his one hind leg, while scratching his little front claws into Azriel’s thigh. He was panting excitedly and looking up with his big round eyes.

Azriel rubbed the dog’s round head and caught Elain watching the two of them with a frown.

“What?” he smirked at her. “Pinky here is loving on me,”

“Piglet is not loving on you!”

“Sure is. You are, aren’t you, big boy?!” Azriel cooed like an idiot, making baby voices. 

Piglet whimpered and panted even louder.

“He adores me!” Azriel announced.

“No, he doesn’t,” she insisted. “He just wants you to pick him up so he could sit on your lap.”

“My lap?”

“Yeah, that’s what he likes. He liked to be cradled like a baby. He is just playing you,” she huffed with a little ‘ha!’ in the end.

“You seriously want me to hold him like a baby?”

“I don’t care what you do. That’s what he wants.”

Groaning, Azriel bent and lifted Pinky off the floor. The dog was dense and heavy, bigger and heftier than he appeared. And what did Azriel do? Yep. He held him in his arms, like a baby. Pinky planted his flat face on Azriel’s forearm and made himself comfortable for the long haul.

Elain watched all of this in silence and then, unexpectedly, she took her phone and snapped a picture.

“I’d rather not have a photo of me at a matchmaker cradling her pug out there,” Azriel gritted through his teeth, and Elain rolled her eyes so hard, he feared she wouldn’t be able to bring them back from the back of her brain.

“Firstly, give me some credit,” she hissed. “Everything here is clad in utmost confidentiality. No one will ever know that you are here. Secondly, I am not taking a photo of you!”

“Who then?”

“Piglet obviously! I run a Instagram page for him ‘The Adventures of Piglet the Pug’,”

Azriel moaned "Sweet baby Moses. Are you for real?”

“I am for real!” she said proudly. “He has 1.2 million followers and gets all kinds of endorsements and even stars in adverts. So, say what you will about me. Be mean to me,”

“I am not mean to you!” he argued immediately.

“Right. Whatever you throw at me, I can take. But don’t be mean to Piglet. He is pure. His emotions are pure. He loves wholeheartedly. He doesn’t fake anything–if he doesn’t like you, you are going to know it right away. And for whatever unfathomable reason, he took to you. So treat him with respect. And if you don’t like him, then don’t make it look like you do. Give him your honesty.”

Azriel frowned and then protectively hugged Pinky tighter to his chest. “I do like him,” he murmured quietly, without looking at her. 

She sighed, half-incinerating him with her gaze, but then asked,

“What do you look for in a woman? Character-wise? What do you like? We’ll have to leave appearance preferences for now, because apparently your criteria is that she ‘looks like me’. And I don’t know how to work with that.”

“Easy,” he shrugged, “get me someone who looks like you.”

“Like I said. Moving on. Character? Disposition?”

Azriel even wrinkled his brow, thinking hard about the question.

Elain waited patiently.

He noticed that she had polished off the meat pie, and was now drinking tea, while getting all misty-eyed over her snoring dog in his lap. 

“Nice,” was Azriel’s final verdict.

“Nice what?”

“I want the wife to be nice,” he clarified.

“Nice?” she repeated looking utterly lost.

“Yeah, I’d like a nice wife. Not dramatic. Not bitchy. No nagging. Nice.”

“Could you please expand on ‘nice’ a bit?”

“I dunno what else to tell you, lady. Nice is nice.”

He thought for another moment, and then added, “Like you. Nice.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You are pretty fucking nice, when you are not being a rager. So yeah. Like you. Nice. Homey.”

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Elain pressed, “Let’s then expand on ‘homey’. What does that mean to you?”

He made a wide sweep with his arm and said firmly, “this. This is homey. I ain’t ever had a home when it’s been like this. Nice and cosy, with a fire and a dog and a woman. So this. This is what I want.

“I want a nice woman, and a nice home.”

“So a housewife?”

“Nah, I don’t want no housewife. I want someone career-minded, who knows who she is and has her own interests and shit. I don’t want a Stage 5 Clinger.”

“A Stage 5 Clinger…”

“Yeah, you know, a sports’ groupie. Fucks any athlete hoping she’d get knocked up and he’d marry her.”

“O-kay…Remember how we discussed language?”

“Yeah. But I ain’t dating you, so we are fine. We are mates, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, Mr. Night, I am not going to go as far as ‘mates’. You are my client.”

“So mates then.”

Elain glazed at her monitor and said, “Alright, Mr. Night. I do have another appointment in 45 minutes. We will need to resume this at a later date.

“Meanwhile, I will ponder on your requirements of ‘pretty and nice’--as eye-opening as they are.”

“I don’t understand why you are complaining exactly,” Azriel wondered. “I just gave you the blueprint of what I want in a wife.”

“Yeah, your blueprint is ‘pretty and nice’. Oh, and how can I forget ‘nice soft tits’.”

“Nice soft tits are a must,” he nodded. “She should bake too.”

“Uh-uh. Of course. Your feminism game is strong.”

"Hey lady, I am a feminist! I actually organised and coaching a girls' football team in my spare time. So girls can participate in sports and play, build teams and relationships. I think it's very important. And I pay for the whole thing as well by myself. And Cass teaches them self-defence."

Elain stared at him, absolutely shocked.

Wasn't he the 'orgy guy' who fucked his way through sports groupies and didn't have a care in the world?

He was volunteering and coaching a girls' team?

"Are you trying to impress me, Mr. Night?"

He huffed, "I don't care what you think of me. Pretty sure you got your opinion all nice and set and wrapped in a shiny bow. Ain't gonna make no different what I tell you."

"That's not true. We have these meetings in order for me to learn more about you, so I can build a robust profile. And I appreciate you sharing this part of your life with me. This is impressive."

"Like I said, I care about women and women's rights--I am your regular Duke of Velaris," he winked, "but it don't mean that I don't want a wife with nice tits who can bake and make a home."

"I'll keep that in mind."

“What should I do with your giant sleeping pug in my arms? Considering that you are throwing me out of the house now.”

“I am not throwing you out!” she protested, blushing furiously.

“So you want me to stay?” he asked immediately.

“No!”

“So you are throwing me out?!”

All flustered, Elain stood up, smoothing her dress over her lovely hips and said,

“I am not throwing you out. I just have another client coming over. If you can, please take Piglet to the lounge and put him in his bed, but not the pouffe. He can fall off the pouffe when he is sleeping.”

“Christ Almighty. Should I breastfeed him as well?” Azriel grunted, as he got up from the chair, gingerly balancing the sleeping dog in his embrace and lifting himself clumsily, so as not to wake Pinky up. 

Elain trailed after him, but stayed behind in the kitchen while he arranged the pug in his wide luxurious bed. 

“All taken care of,” Azriel reported, returning to the kitchen. “He looked very comfortable.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then suddenly handed him a small paper bag.

“What’s that?”

“The biscuits. As promised. We won’t have time for tea today, but…here they are.”

Azriel took the bag wordlessly and looked down at this odd, contradictory girl.

It’s been a weird day and he suddenly realised that he spent most of it with her and he didn’t mind it. 

“Should I make another appointment then?” he asked at last, when the silence between them stretched to uncomfortable.

Elain snapped out of it and nodded frantically, with way too much enthusiasm.

“Yes! Sorry.”

“Might need your number for it,” he told her. 

“Umm,”

“Don’t know my schedule by heart,” he explained. “Training. Then I have games all through the weekend. I’ll have to ring you and set something up. Unless you have everything you need from me?”

Quickly, she said, “no, there needs to be further conversations. And if you may, please come better prepared next time. ‘Nice and good’ is not exactly a great criteria for me to go by…Though I am beginning to have some ideas about who I might match you with.”

Azriel handed her his phone wordlessly and jerked his chin. 

“Input your number,” he ordered.

While Elain did that, he said, his voice quiet,

“Or you don’t need to find me nobody.”

She looked up at him and asked, “230 million is no nevermind to you then?”

“It ain’t about the money. I can just marry you,” he proposed. “The offer stands, you know.”

“I am not marrying you, Mr. Night,” Elain said calmly. “Besides, I am annoying, a cow and a rager. You sure you want to be wed to me?”

“Yeah, you are,” he nodded solemnly. “But nobody is perfect. Look at it this way–it would do wonders for your business. Because you’d be a matchmaker who is actually, you know, married! Gives you some credibility. That you can actually bag a husband yourself and not just peddle them to strangers.”

“Wow. You’ve just insulted every single thing that I am and do. All in one sentence. Congratulations.”

“Listen, I am just telling it like it is,”

“Of course you are.”

“You don’t want to come off as the Crazy Pug Lady. And you are knocking on that door loud and clear, lassie.”

“Ahhh and what are you? My prince? My knight in shining armour who comes to rescue me from my wretched spinsterhood?”

“Something like that,” he agreed graciously. “Only I’ll be wanting something in return now,”

“Ahh, and what might that be?”

“The offer of ‘no conjugals’ was yesterday’s offer. Now, when I marry you, it’s full on consummation.”

At that, Elain gasped softly and stepped back.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Archeron,” Azriel chuckled. “I am not the ravishing type. Like I said, conjugals upon marriage.”

“It sounds more like a prison sentence,” she grimaced. “Thankfully, said conjugals won’t be coming to pass. Here is your phone,” she handed it back to him. “When you are free, ring me up.”

“That’s it? Just like that. A cold hard dismissal of my proposal?” he laughed.

“You might have to work on your proposals. Like you have to work on your language. And your manners. And your courting skills. You have a ways’ to go.”

Azriel took his jacket out of the closet and winked at her.

“Bye for now, Crazy Pug Lady. Give my regards to Pinky.”

Elain smooshed her lower lip between her fingers, looking at him, and then commanded, “Put that scarf on.”

“What?”

“Put the scarf on. I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

He took her scarf and wrapped it around his neck. “I’ll give it back to you next time,” he promised, thinking that just like that, he had an excuse to come back here. 

“Can’t wait.”

[fallingdownhell]

Can you do some Yoimiya x fem!reader smut?- thx

Sure can do! But just a fair warning, this is my first time writing Yuri smut, so I don't know how this turns out!

Pairing: Yoimiya x female reader

Content: female on female smut; top!reader; against a wall; half clothed sex; cunnilingus; fingering; not proof read yet!

Word count: 1,5k words

Enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

You were both out of breath, sprinting home as fast as you could, while holding onto each others hand. Still, you laughed at the top of your lungs, while Yoimiya giddled behind you, letting herself be led by you.

You were on a date together, enjoying the time spend until late into the evening, when you unexpectedly ran into Arataki Itto. Both of you know him, though neither have spend much time with him.

However, he managed to wrap you guys up in a conversation, oblivious to the fact that you were on a date with each other. So, you decided to pull a little prank on him.

By the time Itto realized what was going on, the both of you were already running away, laughing while yelling a joyful "Sorry!", in his general direction.

When you arrived back at Yoimiya's place, you went right in, trying to catch your breath and calm down. After all, her father was already sleeping and neither of you wanted to wake him up.

"Hah.. Oh my god.. hah..", Yoimiya still giggled, thinking back about that little stunt while holding onto the walls for support as she tried catching her breath again.

You just smiled at her, proud that you came up with something like that on the spot.

Once you both have calmed down, you went into the kitchen together to get something to drink, both of your throats suffering immensely.

"But I have to say, 'miya, those fireworks you put together were really good. I can tell you got a lot better."

"Really?", her eyes brightened up as she looked at you, greatly appreciating your compliment. "Thank you. I was so nervous about what you would say to them. I'm so glad you liked it!"

You loved that about her. She was so easily excited and overjoyed by the simplest of things, yet also hard working and dead set on achieving her goals. And when she looked at you like that, with all her love for you clearly visible, how were you supposed to hold back?

You held her gaze for a second, then began to lean in. Yoimiya realized what you were doing and leaned in as well, your lips meeting halfway, connecting in a kiss.

It started out slow, gentle, then quickly became more demanding, more heated and soon, you were both full on making out in the kitchen.

Her hands were in your hair, holding your head close, not giving you an opportunity to pull away, while you held her hips, pulling her body flush against your own.

Your tongue came out, licking against her bottom lip. She opened her mouth to grant you entrance and the kiss developed into an open-mouthed one.

Bodies flush against each other, breathing ragged, the air around you both grew hot and heavy. Yoimiya broke the kiss first, trying to catch her breath, her knees buckling as she grew more and more aroused.

"Bedroom", you whisper against her ear. Not being able to answer, she just nodded, following you into her room.

As soon as the door was closed behind you, you pressed her against the wall, diving in for another hot kiss, to which she immediately responded to.

She pressed her body against yours, hooking one of her legs around your hips to keep you against her, as she simultaneously wrapped her arms around your neck. Seems Yoimiya was just as desperate for this as you were.

You smiled into the kiss, deepening the kiss again by sliding your tongue inside her mouth, while you started exploring her body with your hands. Fingers slipping under her shirt, they trailed upwards until they reached her breasts, where you immediately pinched her nipples.

Yoimiya broke off the kiss to let out a moan, trying to stiffle it by putting a hand over her mouth. When she looked at you, a blush rose on her cheeks and her eyes were slightly glossy. The sight aroused you even more, you felt yourself getting more and more wet.

At her pulling away, you started to kiss down towards her neck, kissing and sucking the skin there, littering it with your marks. You often did that, but she never seemed to mind it. It almost made you thing that she wanted to be marked up like this, so that everyone can see that she's taken by you.

"Mhh, (name)..", Yoimiya moaned out, trying to keep it quiet.

You let go of her to properly look at her and you noticed how she started rubbing her thighs together, trying to get any sort of stimulation to her neglected pussy.

"Aww, my poor baby. Did I not give you enough attention? Allow me to change that."

As you said that, you began to slide down on her body, going on your knees in front of her.

A sharp inhale could be heard from your girlfriend, knowing exactly what was going to happen next and she already anticipated it. Keeping her hand over her mouth to stiffle her moans that were undoubtedly going to be loud, you smirked as you reached for her shorts, opening them and sliding them down along with her underwear.

You were instantly met with the smell of her arousal, only hightening your own pleasure even more. You wanted to say something to her, wanting to tease her a bit more. But seeing how wet she already was, you couldn't control yourself anymore.

Instead of words, a moan left your own mouth as you leaned forwards and immediately engulfed her clit with your lips, sucking on it, while you placed your hands on her thighs to keep them spread for you.

The taste was heavenly..

"Oh god, (name)!", she moaned, her head falling back until she hit the wodden door, her other hand trying to hold onto something behind her. But since she couldn't find something on the wall, she instead reached forwards to grip your hair, trying to keep her balance like this.

"Mhh", you hummed at the feeling, enjoying the pull of you hair. The vibrations of your sound against her clit felt even better, her grip tightening a bit.

You then released her clit from between your legs, tracing little circles around it with your tongue, licking over it and then going a bit lower towards her hole.

You inserted your tongue, catching even more of her taste on it, swallowing it down. This situation was so arousing to you, you clenched your own thighs together in search for some friction. But when that didn't do anything for you, you took one of your hands and placed it against your crotch, rubbing yourself.

"(Name), please.. need you.. inside!"

She begged you, her words very clear to hear even through the barrier of her hand. Instead of answering her verbally, you respond to her request by moving your tongue back towards her clit, circling it again, as you insert a finger into her hole, then immediately adding a second one thanks to her being this wet already.

You started to move your fingers in and out of her, matching the rhythm of your tongue with your fingers. You pushed a bit deeper inside her, finding that one spot within her that made her see the stars.

"Ahh! There! Right there!", she almost screamed as her grip on your hair seemed to get impossibly tighter, holding you against her dripping wet pussy.

You hummed again, adding a third finger to stretch her out while sucking her clit into your mouth again, knowing that she was already nearing her climax.

"Ahh, (name). Gods, this is.. fantastic!"

You keep up with your movements, matching the pace of your fingers to her thrusts against your face, only focusing on her pleasure right now.

"Oh god... coming, coming,.... (Name), I'm coming!"

You nodded, picking up your pace at that, helping her reach her orgasm as your fingers grazed over that spot inside her while you keep sucking on her clit.

This seemed to do it as she screamed against the hand on her mouth, her walls started to clamp down against your fingers as she came, pure ecstasy taking over her entire body.

You helped her ride out that wave of pleasure, continuing to move inside her, stimulating her.

When she finally calmed down again, her breathing starting to get more even, you took your fingers out of her pussy and with one last lick to her clit let go of it at well, looking up towards her.

Yoimiya was already looking down to you, her eyes shining with tears from the intense pleasure, but you could tell that she wasn't satisfied with just that. And neither were you, since you were still dripping with want and lust, having not reached your orgasm yet.

So, you stood up, and pulled her into a kiss. She didn't resist, welcoming your tongue back into her mouth. She could taste herself on your lips, but she didn't mind that.

"Let's move to the bed..", you whisper and Yoimiya nodds, following your lead.

There was definitely still a long night ahead of you both...

[undermine-the-instinct]

Title: Deserving

This is just a repost from the Prince!Al Haitham drabble i did! Enjoy nonetheless.

Wc: 1.6k

"You don't deserve him."

You don't look up from the book you're reading, and this seems to incite the girl more.

"I said, you don't deserve him."

"I heard you the first time, Your Highness."

But she just stamps her foot, and follows you as you meander the halls, soaking in the sunlight from the windows.

"No one really knows you, huh? That you're the face behind His Highness's curse."

"I'm not very well known, no. I'm rather seclusive."

"You're a selfish, sad little excuse of a being that you have to curse a man to love you."

You heard this so many times already you are sick. You will not entertain this. "Do you have somewhere to be, Your Highness? Isn't your mother meeting His Highness for diplomatic affairs? Should you not be present?" From the way her face flushes you know you've hit a mark.

"Let me guess. Her Majesty arrived to propose a marriage alliance between you and His Highness, and he refused?"

"Yes. He refused, and I was sent away like a common wench, but I love him, so I'll free him from your clutches. I would be damned if I let some pathetic witch get in the way of my happiness."

"Your happiness, huh," You mutter under your breath, shutting your book close and facing the princess.

"What do you know about His Highness?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you know his favorite beverage? Book? Resting spot? Do you know he keeps one too many books on our bedside table? We had to get a larger one because the previous was too small. He will sleep with those damn headphones on but do not try to take them off--he's a very light sleeper."

"What does this have to do with–"

"He acts like he is immensely annoyed with Prince Kaveh, when they are actually quite close. His face is often stoic but his right eye twitches just slightly when he's upset.

"Also, it was not His Highness that refused to have you attend today's meeting, but Her Majesty, your mother in fact."

"What?" She spluttered, undignified. "Why would my mother–"

"The prince is highly sought after," you cut her off. "I wouldn't be surprised if she sent you away to take her own chances. It's happened before."

"You lie!" Her voice bounces off the walls, high and shrill.

"A snake is what you are, trying to pit me against my mother. Are you not satisfied with trapping His Highness?! Having caused so many broken hearts all around?!" Her face twists, and she points a finger at you. You smile in faint amusement.

"I will have you locked in the dungeons and flogged, until you reveal what nefarious plan you were trying to enact! This kingdom wont fall to your evil!"

A hand lands on your shoulder, and the princesses face blanches, while you try to keep yours from grinning.

"I heard you from down the corridor. You were so absorbed you didn't notice me approaching."

"Apologies, husband," and you place your hand over his, flashing the ring at the girl, just to watch her face pale further.

"We were preoccupied."

"Oh? With?" You roll your eyes.

"The usual. How I'm a despicable witch who wants to bring down the kingdom. That I stole your heart and keep you for my own selfish desires."

"Well, the last part is true."

"Aha! Ha! See?" The princess points, and her face is victorious. She flips her hair over her shoulder, hand on her hip. How ridiculous.

"He knows. Even your tricks can't keep him chained to you forever wench."

"Is that right? And here I thought he was still held captive to my charms."

"No!" She huffs. "Your Highness, you must have been enchanted, and have now fallen in love with me, to break the curse." She smiles wide, eager.

"I'm so glad! I knew my love was strong enough to free you!"

"Are you delusional?" You can't help but snort at how fast her face falls.

"...Pardon?"

Al Haitham sighs, brows pinched.

"No, rhetorical questions are rude, you are delusional."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"You do not have it." Al Haitham's blunt tongue is at work, and you've forgotten how ruthless he could be. He holds you by the hip, and brings you closer to his side.

"I've received dozens of marriage proposals throughout the years, despite my already being married. I would be dumbfounded at the audacity, but I'm further appalled by these childish, baseless rumors." The princess steps back one step, and Al Haitham presses you both forward one.

"A witch, a snake, a miserable wench; none of you have any respect for my spouse, Their Highness, the future monarch." He looks down at the girl, and the ice there would suit cryo more than dendro.

"Compared to you, my spouse is far superior. They rule my heart and soul and will lead this kingdom beside me. You, on the other hand, will one day be bargained off to some monarch to bear them heirs. I'd rather say you are the sad pathetic being." Oh wow. How romantic. For a man of logic he knows just the words to get your heart to flutter. Something has him agitated.

"They….they have you brainwashed, Your Highness. They will bring ruin to this kingdom!"

"On the contrary, many of the reforms they proposed have boosted the economy and helped enlarge the middle class, slowly dwindling the lower classes by integration. Worry about your own kingdom, Your Highness, for it will surely face its own obstacles."

"What…what do you mean?"

"Your mother made a fool, and nuisance, of herself. She seems to be just as brainwashed as you are, and tried to impose herself on me. As such I refuse to entertain your company or any more 'diplomatic talk'. Your carriages should be packed and ready by now. You may go." The princess has her hands half raised, and she trembles where she stands.

"...But, Your Highness…Our trade, ships have been lost to sea or attacked by pirates. The navy we sent never returned. We need aid!"

"Oh, you should have thought of that before you disrespected Their Highness. Before you threatened to have my spouse locked up and flogged. Before you were so delusional to believe I'd fall in love with a princess so selfish, immature and incompetent. Now leave, I do not want to look at you any more."

The girl's face is red and tears are starting to run down her cheeks. You have a smidgen of pity, and you bump your hip to his side, shooting him a look.

He looks, and he sighs. You see the tiny muscles under his eye twitching, and you smile fondly.

"Safe travels Your Highness, and good day. I hope you garner some insight, otherwise, never show your face here again, thank you." Not much better. A sob tumbles past the girl's lips, and she shoots you a baleful glare before running off, skirts gathered. You both watch her leave.

"....Something has you worked up, my prince."

He leans down to your height, and those eyes of his always make your heart stir, like now, solely directed to you.

"These rumors and proposals have gone on too far. I will not entertain them anymore."

"Oh yeah?"

"The queen sprayed some fragrance on me when we were left alone, which I assume was some sort of spell, because she immediately began to undress and try to throw herself on me, as if I'd reciprocate."

"Oh my! They're getting bold now." You reach up to cradle his head, and bring him down to sniff at his neck. Sure enough, there was a faint sweet scent.

"Luckily I'm already protected by one witch." You feel him breathe against your hair.

"Mediocre work. Hardly a witch's work, or at least, a very inexperienced one. The queen was certainly audacious."

"Desperate. The princess wasn't lying about their trade and ships. They could use our help."

"Will we though?" Al Haitham moves his hand from your hip to the small of your back, bringing you in closer.

"We could impose a higher cut of their trade at a lower price as compensation for our help, and the audacity those two had coming here." You snicker at your husband.

"Yes, two royals, one nearly enchanted and seduced, the other berated and threatened to be flogged."

"I should have taken a finger of hers."

"That's a little too far, Your Highness. Don't worry, I put a spell on her, myself. With luck it will transfer to Her Majesty as well."

"Oh? What kind?"

On cue, two screams of rage filled the air, and you grinned, wide and sharp.

"Nothing life threatening, or two cumbersome. Their rashes should be gone by the time they return to their kingdom. Maybe next time they'll watch their tongues."

Al Haitham grins too, rare and precious, and your heart is stirred into a frenzy.

"What did she try to do to you? Tell me."

"I stopped her before she could try anything."

"Tell me."

Al haitham takes your hand, and puts it over his collar.

"She touched me, here. Down to," He trails it down his chest, the planes of his stomach to his belt. "Here."

"What else?"

"She kissed me here. And here." He taps his neck, two spots, and you press your lips there, long and slow. You move up his jugular, to his chin, and you finally move your mouth over his, suckling softly. You press circles into the dip of his hips, and he groans quietly into your mouth.

He only pulls his face away, the slightest blush, but presses you closer, every soft line of yours pressed against his harsher ones. Harder ones.

He grins, and his hand is so sturdy against your back.

"What do you want to do to me?"

You don't know if you can press closer, but you try. "Everything she tried to do."

[voxofthevoid]

Vox!

Congrats on finishing the Shibuya Swap🥳 and also congrats for finishing your anniversary fics🥳🥳 I enjoyed those immensely, you're truly skilled when it comes to writing, you make it so easy to follow along with what the characters do and understanding their feelings and motivations, you really just make everthing flow and work so naturally💜💜

I personally love when characters use their hands👀 sooo for the Fic Excerpt! Could you do the word: Hand(s)

Happy to see you seem better from your stomach bug💜💜 I really hope that stomach bug didn't leave you with any lasting issues, I had a wierd bug in March and my stomach has not been the same since😔

Thank youuu 🥺🥰

I'm really glad you like those aspects of my writing! And I absolutely ate up your comments on the anniversary fics (and in general); they're always a joy to see in my inbox 💗

And damn, what's it with stomach bugs just fucking up people's stomachs? I'm sorry, friend. That happened to me around a decade back, and the frequency of my gut issues is because of that. It's better than it used to be though. I hope yours also improves soon!

As for hands—we're spoiled for choice here, so I was trying to decide between fisting, nipple play ft. reflection of what the hands are doing, good ole groping, etc. In the end, I've picked Yuuta paying some loving attention to Yuuji's hand with the flimsiest excuse known to mankind:

“I do this a little differently than Ieiri-san,” Okkotsu says apologetically. “Does it bother you?”

“You…kiss people to heal them?”

“Yep!”

It’s…not the weirdest thing Yuuji’s seen a sorcerer do. Fushiguro has an arsenal of supernatural pets. Inumaki can make people piss themselves. Kugisaki can do things with her nails that Yuuji’s better off not thinking about, especially after that time she snagged a bit of hair from him and Fushiguro “just in case.” Gojou defies categorization.

Even Okkotsu has a way of drenching an area with his cursed energy till the air feels like something you’d find in curse hotspots.

Compared to all that, this is almost normal.

It’s still a lot of tongue. Okkotsu’s sucking on his knuckles now, mouth open and wet over the little cuts there. Yuuji can feel the debris getting sucked out of the wound, followed by the skin closing.

There’s a brief reprieve when Okkotsu turns his head and spits out a mix of blood and saliva and whatever grit was in the little cuts. He wipes his mouth afterward, muttering an apology without meeting Yuuji’s eyes, and Yuuji’s equally quiet dismissal dies half vocalized because Okkotsu’s mouth is back on his hand the next moment, sliding slickly from the base of his palm to the sensitive center, lingering on a shallow scrape there before making its slow, sweet way upward, all the way to the tip of Yuuji’s middle finger.

Okkotsu’s tongue curls hotly around it, and something stings in answer, but the pain is nothing even before the healing.

Yuuji’s hand tingles all over—spit cooling on sensitized skin.

He wishes he were simply grossed out, but disgust is so far out of reach right now that he can’t even imagine feeling it. The wet heat trailing over his skin is spreading to parts of him that Okkotsu hasn’t even touched, and the view is even more lewd. Yuuji’s no expert, but he knows a thing or two about how filthy a mouth can get on a body, and what Okkotsu’s doing is closer to that than any kind of healing Yuuji’s ever seen.

The rest of the excerpts/replies will be posted in around 12 hours ✌

[niigata-division]

Lyall's Thoughts on Aoyama Division

Tomi Chōten

“Ah Tomi,” Lyall slightly frowned. “My status as one of Japan’s top models and actors meant I saw him at a few parties I attended. Arrogant as all hell but I could deal with it. Then he had to go and piss off Lyra by insulting her. Are you really that shocked that she threw her glass of champagne at you and called you a ‘Pompous Bastard’ when you did that? Ugh.”  Lyall pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m still sure he never got over that slight. Oh well, not our problem. His arrogance and greed are going to be his downfall one way or another anyway.” 

Karada Kessaku

“The stories I’ve heard about this man’s intelligence both astound and amuse me. Truly no one can be as dumb as some of these stories make him out to be.” Lyall snorted. “It doesn't help that he refuses to pick up and read a book. I’m not sure if he’s realized that the older a person’s body gets the harder it is to maintain muscles. I wonder if he has a backup for when his “macho body” can’t give him the results he wants.” 

Luis Kōkyū

“Perhaps the most tolerable member of his team. Luis at the very least works for part of his wealth. If what people rave about his restaurant is true then he's more than deserved to be arrogant about that aspect of his life. God knows I was a bit arrogant about my status as an actor and model well up until that day. Other than that can’t say much about him.” 

Jet Set Trio 

“You know they say the love of money is the root of all evil. Aoyama is certainly proving that statement quite true with how much they all seem to take immense pride in their wealth. They truly don’t care at all how they ruin people with it.” Lyall clicks his tongue. “It makes me glad that I don’t have to deal with people like them anymore. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.”

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

For the SangYao week - War

After a particularly long torture session Meng Yao tries to recall some nice memories to stop thinking about what happened, what he did and what will happen if he is found out, his mind wandering to Qinghe, beginning to lull him in - until the face in his mind and the face of the badly disguised kitchen boy suddenly overlaps.

cw for torture descriptions. they don't get super graphic, but still enough to be gross. it didn't quite line up with your request either, sorry? i couldn't resist the idea of them crossing paths and neither realizing it.

------------

His whole life has been a process of separating his external senses from his stomach little by little, but it still disturbs him the first time he doesn't get even a little bit nauseous at the smell of burning human flesh or the sight of skin and fat and muscle bubbling under acid.

In fact, it is that lack of instantaneous reaction that ends up making him feel ill, some still innocent part of his brain rebelling at how low he has sunk and twisting his stomach into knots as it screams at him for being a monster.

The screams mixing with those of the prisoner decidedly do not help in this regard, and he is immensely relieved when Wen Ruohan finally grows bored and puts the man out of his misery.

"A useful little tool," his sect leader says, admiring the brush with specially-enhanced bristles that let it withstand the acid long enough to sear intricate lines into a restrained body. "Pity his pain tolerance was too weak to give us any equally useful information before he was overwhelmed."

Meng Yao bows low, the motion smooth and perfect despite his discomfort. "I will test different blends of the ingredients," he says as he straightens back up, voice even despite the way the back of his throat has closed up.

Wen Ruohan smiles at him. "Diligent as ever. I always look forward to trying out the fruits of your progress, Yao-er."

And then his sect leader is gone, and soldiers arrive to remove the corpse.

And then they are gone, and he is alone, now free to pick up the brush without anyone to see his hands are trembling.

He had been living a very different life when he had originally thought of such a thing, and his inspiration had been nothing like what it had ended up being used for.

In his mind's eye, he watched Nie Huaisang carefully hold a hot needle in a leather-gloved hand and scorch lines into wood, biting his tongue in concentration the same way he frequently did while painting.

"I'm not nearly as good with this as I am with a brush," his former young master had said, wrinkling his nose at this or that mistake. "It would be a lot easier if I was. Do you think Da-ge will still like his gift?"

Shaking off the memory, he carefully cleans and wraps the brush, then goes to dispose of the acid that hadn't met with approval-

"Yao-ge, here! You have to try the way they roast duck at this stall!"

He shudders and hurries to finish, almost fleeing the room.

He barely stops at the desk in his workshop to leave the brush as a reminder to start working on new batches of the acid later, then goes and curls up on the bed he'd had put in for the times he was too busy to go back and forth to his regular quarters.

Even with almost everything in the Nightless City, and the "interrogation" area of the prison especially, being powered by fire, the room feels cold.

"Aa, you need more blankets," chides the back of his mind. "Let's go get you some!"

He squeezes his eyes shut, but sleep never comes, and after a long while of trying, he gives up and rolls to his feet with a huff of irritation.

"That's no good, you'll end up passing out on your paperwork if you don't get some rest."

"Hush," he mutters to no one, and is immediately glad that there was no one.

Last thing he needs is for anyone to hear him talking to himself. There are too many who are all too eager to get someone else in trouble if it might save themselves-

"Including you," growls a different voice in his head, one he wants even less to be hearing.

Fuck.

He doesn't want to eat, not with the smell of the acid burns still lingering in his nose, but he makes his way to the kitchen that feeds the prisoners and guards anyway. If nothing else, he can at least grab some juice or wine or water or something to use for a sleeping draught. He'll even use vinegar at this point.

Heading inside, he bumps into a servant coming out one of the side doors, who mumbles a quick apology before fleeing, never looking up from the tray they were carrying.

As he closes the door behind him, he hears them collide with a guard, followed by another apology and the sound of an annoyed grunt and a dismissive shove.

The cooking of the bland congee the prisoners get doesn't bother him, but the smell of the meat for the guards makes his stomach threaten to knot up again. He barely takes enough time to make sure the small jar he takes is something palatable, then returns to his room.

---

He wakes curled up on the bed in his workroom the next morning, groggy enough that it takes him awhile to actually get up, but glad to have spent a night blessedly free of everything but darkness and silence.

And since his sect leader wanted him to perfect the acid before using it on a prisoner again, and there is to be a war strategy meeting that afternoon that he'll have to take notes for, it means he has at least one day where he won't have to be assisting in the torture chambers.

Then, just as he has started the fires under the small pots he'll be putting the test batches in, a runner comes to tell him there's been an escape from the cells.

When he finds out which prisoner, the shock makes him start laughing.

"Yao-ge, I trust you, so I'll show you something cool. Watch this!"

[the-blind-one-speaks]

Snack and a Nap

Previous

Hunter held the boy on his lap, letting him press his bony shoulder into Hunter’s ribs. He was petting his hair, enjoying the rumbling purrs that rattled the boy’s thin frame and buzzed against his chest. The haunt was so sweet, a cuddly little thing desperate for affection. Hunter was happy to supply it. He’d never had anything so needy on him before, what with being the terrifying werewolf that used to hunt down and eat people for fun. He grimaced. Yeah, he wasn’t proud of those first few centuries of his life. 

The little haunt shifted and kneaded his crooked fingers into Hunter’s broad chest. His hands were healing slowly, probably slower than they should have been, but the werewolf wasn’t going to stop him from self-soothing, even if it did delay his recovery. They had plenty of time. Truth be told, Hunter was just glad that the boy had been so starved the bones hadn’t needed to be rebroken after healing wrong. 

The boy was shifting again, tucking his nose deeper into the crook of Hunter’s neck. He probably wasn’t even aware of the behavior; Hunter had noticed a troubling tendency to stifle his more vampiric tendencies if he thought the werewolf might notice. Hunter lifted a hand and scratched lightly at the boy’s scalp. The little haunt nudged further into his hand, trilling lightly, head tilting to get the edges of Hunter’s claws to scrape behind his pointed ears. The werewolf huffed, amusement tilting the corners of his lips. 

“Hungry?” The boy jerked back, stilling in his lap. A tremulous whine worked out of the pale, scarred throat. Hunter shushed him, never pausing in the gentle head-scritches. “Oh, no. Cub, it’s alright. You must be hungry, you’ve been healing so much. You’re doing so well, pup.” 

To his immense satisfaction, the boy’s tense muscles began to relax. Hunter kept murmuring soft praises and reassurances, never faltering as that stuttering purr kicked up again. He smiled gently as he nudged the boy’s cold nose away from his neck and towards the meat of his shoulder. The first time he’d fed the little guy was back when he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, and he’d quickly realized that the haunt was much younger than he’d originally estimated. His elbow was absolutely littered with teeth marks and puncture wounds -- the boy was still teething as he fed, hadn’t yet molted his first set of fangs. 

He played with the soft curls as he encouraged the haunt to latch. The little thing was hesitant at first, but after the first hint of blood, the boy began gnawing in a contented bliss. Hunter chuckled, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder. “Yeah, that’s right, cub. Bet that feels pretty good, huh? Getting a full belly?” 

The boy’s purr rumbled louder, eyes half-lidded as he blinked sleepily up at his face. He unlatched and chirped up at him, clicking his tongue and in his throat. Hunter smiled toothily at him, bemused. Must be a haunt thing, the cub always called out like that when he got deep into his emotions. 

“Is that so?” The boy chattered and clicked, blinking lazily. Hunter nodded. “I bet.” He flexed his arm, fresh blood trickling out of the mess of shredded muscle and bruising that the boy had gotten distracted from. The cub, predictably, ducks his head to lap and mouth and gnaw, savaging the wound. If Hunter had been anyone else, it would have been excruciating and likely a permanent injury. As it was, it might be a couple days before the pup can feed from there again, and Hunter had plenty of mass for the cub to pick from. 

When the boy fell asleep, drooling pink-tinted saliva from where his mouth rested on Hunter’s bicep, the werewolf just leaned back and let him rest. His emaciated form was filling out, the pale skin softer and less brittle without any of the pink glow that humanity retained. Most importantly to the werewolf, the boy’s scars were silvering, fading, bruises clearing into milky swathes of unblemished skin. Where the boy’s fingers clutched at him, he could feel the grip strengthen minutely. 

The purr that had been stuttering and unsure smoothed, roughening into a deeper register as the child’s ribs mended the cracks in the bones. Hunter reached over to the table he’d had set up beforehand and dipped the dark cloth rag into the waiting bowl. Swiping callously over his mangled flesh, he wiped the boy’s face almost in afterthought as he cleaned the wound. Cuddling the huddled form in his lap closer, he left the sodden rag soaking in the bowl. Kicking his heels up onto the edge of the bed, he rested his head back against the chair and closes his eyes. A nap sounded like a good idea, right now. 

taglist: @itsleighlove @whumpzone @thegreatwhodini @unicornscotty @pigeonwhumps

[writingwhimsey]

All's Fair In Love & War- Nobunaga Ch. 15

Chapter 15

I spent the rest of the day resting, getting woken up when the healers came to check on my wound and change my bandages. Every time I woke up, Nobunaga was still there, watching over me as he said he would.

It was later in the evening and I was being woken not by the healers, but by conversation around me. I wasn’t really paying attention as I just wanted to go back to sleep. I needed my rest so I could better pretend my shoulder didn’t hurt like hell during the festival tomorrow. I did note that the voices were all familiar. It sounded like Hideyoshi, Ranmaru, Jiro, and Sato all talking with Nobunaga.

I was going to let myself drift back to sleep when I heard the door opening. Then a few moments later a warm delicious aroma tickled my nose. “Mmm…smells good…” I mumbled as I fought to open my eyes.

“I knew she’d wake up for food.” I heard Jiro’s voice.

“I would hope so, I made it just for her.” Masamune said.

I turned my head and saw Nobunaga not far from my bed and the others gathered around. “What the hell are all of you doing in here?” I asked. “It’s as if you’re holding vigil or something.”

“I am glad to see that your wound hasn’t dampened your spirits at all.” Nobunaga said, an amused smile on his face, though his eyes still held concern.

“Pretty sure nothing can keep her spirit or her mouth from working.” Sato said, a grin on her face. “Pretty sure when the time does come my lord’s last words will be some smart ass remark.”

“Damn right.” I replied. “Now, what’s this about food made just for me?”

Masamune was chuckling as he came over to the side of my cot, opposite Nobunaga. “Brought you a nice hearty stew. I even threw in some medicinal herbs Ieyasu sent with me just in case.”

“You should definitely eat, Lord Ava.” Hideyoshi said, his mom voice coming out.

“I plan to.” I replied. I was then moving to start pushing myself up, that was when I felt Nobunaga’s arms  come around me as he helped me to sit up. It seemed it didn’t bother him to assist me in front of everyone like this and I am quite certain if it weren’t for the blood loss, my cheeks would probably be flushing.

Masamune was making himself comfy next to my cot as he lifted the bowl and spoon from the tray. I was prepared to take them when the spoon was suddenly being put in my face. I stared at the spoon and then at Masamune. Despite the immense pain in my shoulder, I would always be full of sass. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What? You need to eat up to keep up your strength.” Masamune replied, grinning at me. “I’m just making sure you do that.”

“I don’t need you to feed me.” I told him, getting ready to take the bowl and spoon from him.

What I wasn’t prepared for was for someone else’s hands to beat me to it. “I’ll make sure she eats.” Nobunaga declared as he swiped the food from Masamune.

Masamune was laughing. He then looked at me, that grin still on his face. “You’re one hell of a woman, lass.”

Hideyoshi and Ranamru were both looking quite shocked by the actions of their lord. Sato was watching me with a grin. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Jiro…he looked like he was waiting to see what I would do. I know what he was expecting. And…with all of those eyes on me, I was feeling flustered.

“I shall feed you so you can conserve your strength for healing.” Nobunaga said as if this was the most logical thing in the world.

“I can do that, my lord.” Hideyoshi began to protest. “There’s no need for you to.”

Nobunaga gave Hideyoshi a look. “I will feed Ava.” 

Sato was standing next to Hideyoshi and I am quite certain I saw her elbow him in the ribs and give him a look.

I opened my mouth to protest and that was when Nobunaga struck, slipping the spoon between my open lips. As soon as the food hit my tongue…I had to admit I was a bit lost. The food was just SO GOOD! “That is delicious.” I said after finishing the bite.

“Masamune is an excellent chef.” Nobunaga said.

“Glad you like my cooking, lass. I’ll keep making some nice hearty meals for you.” Masamune said, grinning at me.

Nobunaga was holding another spoonful to my lips. “Eat.”

“I can feed myself, you know.” I told him, though I accepted the spoon into my mouth. It was a bit embarrassing to have him feeding me, but…kind of flattering and also a bit funny. Mostly because of how much he looked like a petulant child when Masamune had tried to feed me. 

“Nonsense.” Nobunaga replied. “You need to conserve your strength so you can focus on healing.”

It was clear Nobunaga was not taking no for an answer on this. I repressed a sigh and parted my lips once again as he brought another bite to my lips.

“Since you are awake, my lord,” Jiro began, “I was thinking we should discuss how best to handle the festival tomorrow.”

I looked over at Jiro after swallowing another bite. “I will attend as I have planned all along.” I replied. 

“You need to rest and recover.” Jiro replied. “Sato is a master of disguise and could easily impersonate you.”

“Please, the yukata I have to wear is too much color for her.” I replied. “Besides, you know I HAVE to go. The people are too superstitious.”

“She’s right.” Sato agreed. “Besides I don’t look near as pretty as our lord. The people would know instantly.”

“Not to mention, everyone needs to see me. If I don’t attend then…that bastard still wins.” I said.

Jiro sighed. “Alright…but you are not being left alone. We’ll need to have someone close by in case you reopen your wound.”

“You act as if I’m going to be fighting or something.” I replied. “I am just attending a festival.”

“You won’t have to worry about her.” Nobunaga said. He was then giving me a grin. “I believe you did invite me as your special guest. So, I will be by your side.”

I swear my cheeks were threatening to flush despite the blood loss at this point. I schooled my features. “That’s right I did. So you can quit your needless worrying, Jiro.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s needless…or that I can easily quit…” Jiro replied.

Sato was elbowing him in the ribs. “Come on, I think Lord Nobunaga is perfectly capable of helping our lord out. He did carry her in here after all.”

“I still think Jiro is right that you should let Sato or have a double or something attend the festival in your place.” Hideyoshi said.

“You’re all worried over a flesh wound.” I said, having finished the stew between sentences. “I am perfectly fine.” As if to prove my point, I was then pushing myself up from my cot and standing. “See, no longer unsteady.”

“Alright, I think we should all leave.” Sato declared. “I think my lord needs us to leave her alone.” She was then working on shooing everyone out of the room…except Nobunaga.

Nobunaga was looking at me, an amused smile on his face. He rose from his seat and stood directly in front of me, lifting his hand to rest on my cheek. “You are truly a remarkable woman, Ava.”

I felt myself leaning into his touch, his hand so warm and comforting against my cheek. “I know.” I replied giving him a smug grin, though I am sure my eyes betrayed my true feelings. “But out of curiosity why do you say that?”

“You have my men scrambling to help you as much as your own men.” He replied, grinning at me.

“I’m pretty sure that’s nothing special. I think Masamune just feeds everyone and Hideyoshi mothers everyone.” I replied. “And if anyone was scrambling…it seemed it was you.”

Nobunaga eyed me. “Why do you say that?”

“I mean…you are the one who ran to me and ended up carrying me here…then you refused to let Masamune or Hideyoshi feed me.” I pointed out.

“I…I didn’t like the thought of them doing something…so intimate for you.” Nobunaga answered…and it may have been my imagination, but I think I saw a slight flush to his cheeks.

“I…see.” I replied, looking away from him, even though it was such a shame to miss that cute flush on his handsome face.

Nobunaga’s hand gently urged my gaze back to his face. He was then leaning in until our foreheads touched, his gaze looking into mine. “Ava…I…I cannot bear the thought of something happening to you. When I saw you shot…I don’t know what any of it means, but…I know I cannot stand the thought of a world without you. Even the thought of it…causes me great pain.”

My heart was pounding as I looked into those carnelian eyes. All I heard was that he just told me he couldn’t live without me. “Nobunaga…” I breathed his name, no other words coming to me. I was then taking my hand and reaching for his free one, moving it so that it was over my heart. “Then don’t think of it. Just feel my heart beating in my chest and know that I am fine.”

“Ava…” He breathed, his eyes widening in surprise.“I’m not going anywhere…I have too much to do still.” I told him. And the top of my list is to see this through. I still wasn’t ready to name my feelings for Nobunaga yet…but I was prepared to experience them.

[faofinn]

DAY 27: survivor's guilt

@febuwhump

It had been a few years since Finn's accident, and he was nearly entirely back to normal. Of course, the seizures were new, but they’d managed to get them reasonably under control and he was, for the most part, better. 

As puberty settled in, his teenage years brought more issues for him. Most he kept to himself, not wanting to be even more of a burden to the family. Fao was always busy at uni, it felt, and, although he missed him immensely, the stubborn teenager in him refused to admit it. Where they would have shared a bed whenever Fao was back, Finn had withdrawn and started keeping himself to himself. 

When Easter rolled around, Finn had become almost a shell of himself, the kid once just excited for easter eggs and family meals just…gone. No matter what anyone did, they just seemed to get nowhere, Finn pulling further and further away.

Fao could tell that Finn had become more withdrawn, as he came home for Easter. He knew his brother always struggled at this time of year - they all did. He missed him in bed, even with his pointy elbows and the constant fidgeting. But Fao knew what it was like to be a teenager, to want to be your own person. As much as they babied him, Finn wasn’t the small ten year old who’d been in hospital any more. He was growing up, and Fao was so proud of him. 

He’d gone to bed that evening, tired from travelling, and settled with a book to read for a while before he tried to sleep. It was nice, being home. A change from how busy things were at uni. Especially at this time of year, it was nice to be close to family.  

Finn just hadn't managed to get to sleep, he hadn't slept properly in a week. He gave up trying in the end, shuffling into Fao’s room. He knocked quietly, pushing the door open.

Fao looked up. “Finn?”

He didn’t say anything, joining Fao in bed. He pulled the duvet around him, settling down in silence.

Fao set his book down, humming as his brother curled up next to him. “Hey. You alright?”

If he was honest, he couldn’t trust himself to speak, to not just immediately break. He gave a grumble in response, refusing to even look at his brother. 

“That bad, eh?” Fao asked, nudging him before offering him his little stuffed toy. “Do you want Eeyore?”

He took him without hesitation, pulling him under his chin, next to Lion who had appeared from nowhere. 

“Guessing you don’t want to talk. Want me to read to you, like I used to?”

Finn almost managed a smile and he nodded, relieved Fao hadn't pushed him. 

Fao reached for his book again. “Alright. Some random crime stuff as ever. Maybe you can work out who did it.” He said, and started to read aloud. 

Finn let Fao read, content in the silence for a little while. Fao was halfway through the sentence when he spoke up, voice quiet and the pain clear in his tone. 

"Why didn't I die?"

Fao hesitated, looking at his book. “Why didn’t you die?” He echoed. “Honestly? I don’t know. They said that because you got CPR so quickly, because you got to hospital and had surgery so quickly, that that probably made a difference, but… you were just that small percentage that came out the other side.”

"But I should have."

“I should’ve died when Uncle Tomas shot me in the chest, but I didn’t, and now I get to be your brother.” Fao said with a shrug. “Sometimes this stuff just… happens.”

"But I should have." He tried again. "They always say I should have and most would have but I didn't and I don't know why!"

“Finn, breathe.” Fao said gently. “Being completely honest, nobody really knows why. We’re just glad you’re still here.”

"That doesn’t make any difference!"

“It fucks with your head, doesn’t it?”

He'd not expected that, and his argument died off on his tongue. "Yeah."

“I was still getting my head around it when I moved here, and then some weird kid ended up in my bed.” Fao teased. 

"I just made it better." He managed, though there was still a waver to his voice. 

“Yeah, you did.” Fao said sincerely. “The bestest little brother.”

Finn was quiet for a little while again, curled into Fao’s chest. "Fao? Is…is it bad that sometimes I don't want to be here?"

Fao thought for a moment, trying to find the words. It broke his heart to hear Finn talk like that. “It’s not a good thought to have, but it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. Just means you maybe need to talk to someone.”

"I just…just sometimes think it would be better if I had died. I wouldn’t have all this in my head."

“Oh, Finn.” Fao said softly. “What you’ve been through is so crap, what you have to deal with. It definitely wouldn’t have been better if you’d have died.” He didn’t even want to think about what that might have meant for the family.

"But everybody else dies."

“Other people survive what you survived.”

He shook his head. "Not normally."

“Well, no, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be here now.”

"Maybe."

“You’re here, and I’m really glad that you are.”

"Can you read again?"

“Yeah, I can.” He said, but paused. “I won’t tell Mum what you’ve said if you don’t want me to, but you should talk to her. There are people who can help.”

"I don't want you to tell anyone."

“I won’t. Promise. But I want you to talk to people, alright? Don’t suffer through these thoughts on your own. You can call me whenever.”

[fatuismooches]

HIIII ITS 🎐 ANÓN HERE! I HOPE YOURE DOING AMAZING CUTIE PIE MWA MWA! I’m writing this pretty late but fragile reader who used to paint in their free time before getting sick. Which they were praised for back when they could, but nowadays since they have trouble moving and need to depend on the clones, they can’t draw or paint anymore…which makes them sad since they would really want to draw something for Dottore and the clones, but even picking up a pen is difficult nowadays…I can imagine fragile reader has tried to draw something but, their hands are so shaky the most they can draw now are simple figures like stick men…if anything it looks more like a 5 year old did it than an actual adult…and one day they tried to draw but to not luck…so they just crumble up the paper and throw it to the side. Unaware that one of Dottore’s clones was watching. So once reader is put to sleep, the clone picks up the wrinkled piece of paper to see that they actually tried drawing a few random things, but they tried drawing Dottore most of all…and a few clones! Which is impressive with how shaky their hands are now. The clone shows the “masterpiece” to Dottore, who just stares at blankly, but internally he’s actually surprised reader could even do that…he could still recall how lovely they used to draw before they got ill…and how they actually even promised to draw him…so Dottore takes the wrinkles up paper and tells the clone to go back to work. But, as he does experiments/paper work (idk), he looks back on the drawing, which does look like it was drawn by a 5 year old…but yet, Dottore can’t help but feel glad somehow…seeing that despite the fact reader is so ill, they continue to think of others despite their condition…which he can’t help but fold up the paper nicely and put it in a drawer for safe keeping.

Anyways I got lazy at the end but take this is a small Drabble! I’m sorry if it’s not the best ;w; It was a random thought I made up since I’m an artist myself and I couldn’t help but have to write it! I hope you enjoy reading it though! I LOVE YOU SMOOCHES MWAH MWAH KISS KISS CHU CHU!! ❤️❤️

🎐-Anón!!!

OH MY GOSH CUTIE PIE I LOVE THIS!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!!! IT IS LITERALLY THE BEST DON’T U DARE SAY ANYTHING ELSE. I WAS JUST LIKE :DDDDD THE WHOLE TIME READING OMFG

Associating with the arts was always a daunting task if you lived in Sumeru. Dancing, singing, drawing, hell, even writing was looked down upon if it wasn’t academically related. And while you did face a large amount of side eyes and tongue clicking from the Akademiya folks, there was surprisingly a great number of people who enjoyed your art, and you were immensely grateful for them. But no one quite inspired you as much as Zandik.

You were honestly baffled when he didn’t turn his nose up at your paintings. You had kept it a secret from him, hidden drawings in a concealed compartment of your shared dorm, but he still managed to find out, when you were so into your painting you did not realize his arrival. You thought that considering how much of a man of science he was, he'd think that painting was a waste. But you were wrong.

That was so long ago, it hardly mattered now. After all, reminiscing about the old times only served to make you more downhearted. What good was it when it was just a painful reminder of what you could not do anymore? The simple action of gliding pen against paper had become an activity that you started to dread. Your shaky hands always produced what you desired least, crude stickmen and doodles littering the page you’d wasted. It looked like a child’s mindless scribbles, and you sure felt like one after all your unfruitful labor. It was no use, you decided, throwing it into the trash. You simply weren’t in the same state as you were before.

You go to sleep tired as usual, and a clone is cleaning your room as usual. There is never much to clean, but Prime had made it a rule to keep your quarters as clean and spacious as possible. Needless to say, the clone is surprised to see a lone crumpled ball at the bottom of the bin. He can’t help but be curious - all of the clones crave to get to know you on a personal level - and is surprised at the painstakingly drawn art. The segment can tell you erased a copious amount of times, from all the wrinkles and barely legible lines. Yet he knows how great a feat this is, considering your condition. The rough art can’t help but make him grin too - he can still recognize some of his fellow clones and his creator despite the lack of proportions.

When Zandik sees the image, a sense of surprise but also relief flows through him. Surprised that you still managed to pull this off, and relief that you are still yourself despite everything that has happened. He knows that your body has changed, but he doesn’t want you yourself to change. Though the drawing may seem distasteful to anyone else, he is content.

You are still trying, and he shall too. He swears that you’ll be able to deliver that painting you promised to him centuries ago.

[luveline]

can i please request painting remus’ nails? maybe with reader doing little designs on ‘em and stuff

thanks so much for your request! hope this is ok<3

You're in the edge of his peripherals, looking much too shy for his preference. Almost abashed, though he's not sure he's said anything risqué lately to get you in this mood. 

"You alright?" Remus asks you, tilting his head back into the sofa cushion. 

You seem startled at being caught, the little bag in your hands rattling, a glass clinking. His eyebrows crease. "Say?" he asks.

"Can I paint your nails?" 

"Why?" he asks suddenly, chased by a laugh. 

You cringe in on yourself but smile. "I wanna try some designs," you say hopefully. 

"I'm not making fun of you, lovely, I promise. Just, I don't have much nail to paint. You know that." 

You cross the small space between you both to sit next to him on the sofa. His first thought is to wrap his arm around you but he can't if you're going to paint his nails, so he repositions. You end up mirroring each other: cross-legged, hands on knees, smiling reservedly. 

You flash your pretty nails at him, so well taken care of, cute and shiny. He catches them before you can pull away, reviewing your newest intricate designs carefully. 

"I don't want to get rid of these, they took too long. And I'll wipe them straight off Remus, I swear. Please?" you ask in a rush, puppy dog eyes and all.

"You know I'll say yes," he drawls, trying not to roll his eyes. 

You dart forward and kiss him. Your lips are soft, and he aches for them most of the time. It's an abject cruelty, the speed at which you pull away. 

"Thank you," you say earnestly. 

You're quick to unzip the small bag in your hands and display an array of things to him. Nail polish and tiny brushes, metal rods with tiny balls on the end that he doesn't understand and a collection of bottles he doesn't catch the name of. 

He's glad he said yes as you go through the process. Your hands are always welcome on his skin. You take his hand into your lap and hold him still as you push against his cuticles and quickly file each of his short nails down. He's a clean bloke, but you're neater. 

"What colour do you want?" you ask, rubbing the pad of your finger over his nails. 

"Whatever you want," he says breezily, leaning his weight into the armrest. He's tired and your light touches don't help. 

He's half asleep by the time you're done. Humming, you poke the tip of your tongue between your lips in concentration as you lay the last small heart into his thumbnail. He can't believe how immensely dainty and perfect your designs are. 

"There," you murmur. 

Your back clicks as you sit up, an awful amorous sound slipping past your darling, pleased smile as you stretch. 

"Let me take a photo before you wipe them off," you say, like you're worried he's about to ruin an hour of your hard work. He's honestly a little offended. 

"Dove, fuck off. I'm not wiping them off." 

"What?" you ask. Your smile is contagious. 

"I'll keep them, if that's okay." 

"Of course it's okay, but… Remus, there must be a hundred hearts on your nails right now." 

"They're amazing," he says, and he means it, looking down at his hands. A hundred tiny hearts in a practiced hand. He likes to think there's a little bit of love in each one. 

It makes a strange sort of sense when he has your face in his hands, a blush of red hearts on your cheekbones as he leans in for a kiss.