#but its bark is bigger than its bite

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A lapdog at a farm - chapter 4

<-former chapter -AO3 link -next chapter -> Call of duty. My ko-fi .Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 7.1k

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

MDNI. MDNI. Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: sorry for the wait, life challenged me to a knife duel and then I had do go on a workshop and such, bc I’m still unemployed. Also I got sick. Still kinda am. I’ll fix spelling mistakes tomorrow. Read the tags and if you don’t like how this fic is going, stop reading it.

Anyways. Enjoy sinners. Behave. 💖 Consider supporting my coffee addiction on ko-fi bc I’m a good girl and I updated.

The shed was filled with sounds, though nothing had to do with the work of the hybrids. The only thing they were working on was breaking you.

You felt like you were on fire; both from anger and from the pleasure of Soap’s way too skilled tongue. He was fucking you with it, real nasty about it as he forced a finger in next to it, growling into your wetness, seemingly trying to drink up any slick leaving you. His free hand kept your tail out of the way.

Caught in your own personal, rather sexual, hell.

You had almost given up on getting free. Gaz was still pressing your wrists down against the mattresses, tongue out as he wagged his tail, drool dripping down on your chest. Then he grabbed your wrists in one hand, which you could still not break out of, annoyingly so; only to pull up the crop-top that Price had chosen for you earlier.

That got Soap’s attention who barked happily into your pussy which made you growl - but you were distracted by the two fingers suddenly added to the first, to really care about your tits being out. He spread the fingers a little, tail wagging behind him, ears moving to pick up all your sounds.

You didn’t get more than that, fingers out before you could take a proper breath.

You growled intensely but there was no mercy; he forced his cock into your poor, dripping hole while you howled with pain - the three idiots daring to mockingly join in on your howl.

Full… in a different way than usual. It was as if your world stopped moving. This - this wasn’t your owner, this was just three brutes he had let into your life. When you had cried and whined about not wanting to live here, you didn’t mean for him to try to fix it with these 3.

Their cocks would never be as nice as John’s.

Hell, you would even take Nik’s.

Soap pulled back a little, before he trusted inside again a little harder than before. A little whimper left you, your eyes closing, trying your hardest to ignore the sparkles you saw behind your eyelids.

His knot, though not fully expanded in any way, pressed against your pussy; you couldn’t remember the last time you had been knotted. You didn’t remember it being a nice one either.

Each thrust made a wave of hate and pleasure run through you and sounds left you at each of them. Your ears tipped back, writhing in the grip of the hybrids.

Worse? They both seemed to get off of it.

They made out above you, Gaz’ bulge pressed against your face, as you watched them kiss each other with an intense heat, nose bumping together in every one of Soap’s thrusts, that hit so deep inside you wailed at every one of them.

Ghost was behind Soap suddenly, grabbing onto his Mohawk and forcing his head back a little.

“C’mon pup, fuck her better than that,” the bigger man snarled and Soap’s thrusts easily became faster, more desperate; his strong fingers digging into the fat of your thighs so hard, that you knew it was a matter of moments before his claws would pierce though your skin.

There were three pair of eyes staring at you as your moans and sobs intertwined into a mess, making you feel smaller than you had for a while.

“Look at you now,” Gaz crooned, his fingers palming your tits, pressing his bulge against your face a little again, “much more sweet now, huh?”

“Sh- uh - ah fuck - shut up.”

Gaz merely snickered at your attempt and as you tried moving your face to nip at his bulge, he easily moved back and slapped your cheek.

It didn’t help in any way that Soap decided to touch your clit in that exact moment. Pain bloomed in your cheek, while pleasure bloomed in your pussy, the little shed filling with lewd and loud sounds of the fucking.

Soap was fucking you so hard and good that it made you whine and howl a little in between your pathetic moans and growls.

Gaz’ grip tightened on you as you fought - a scream left you as Soap leant forward, one hand brutally attacking your clit with clumsy, energetic fingers while he decided to sink his teeth into your shoulder.

It wasn’t a soft bite. In fact, it continued to press into your skin, the fangs pressing deeper and deeper, before it snapped; teeth buried into your skin, breaking the barrier. Together with the thrusts and assault on your clit continuously, it seemed to be what your body had needed.

You came almost silently, twitching and cramping, Soap fucking you through it, growling while his teeth was buried in your skin. It was like everything became white with the intensity of the many feelings all at once, your mind leaving your body for a couple of seconds.

Then, as you felt your mind finally returning, another thing happened… Soap pushed fully in, like the bastard he was! Knot a little expanded, he pushed into your cunt, forcing you to take it.

It was too much; you sobbed with horror and pleasure as his knot fully expanded, effectively binding the two of you together. You could feel his cum fill up your insides, feel the way his cock twitched, Soap moaned and even more seed was forced into you. Your only relief was knowing the implant you had, at least stopped them from knocking you up.

Soap finally let go of you, blood dripping from his mouth like he was a feral animal, hands holding you down as you wailed, trying to get away from the knot. It was too much, too much.

“Bonnie lass,” the mutt crooned at you, leaning forward to run his bloody tongue along your cheek, laughing as you tried biting his hearing aid - before running his tongue over the wound he had left.

He rubbed his head against you like a desperate animal, as if he was a cat and not a dog hybrid, nuzzling against your armpits, even licking them, get his bloody spit all over you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When Nikolai entered, it was like all the flowers inside John’s stomach bloomed; the other man easily had all his attention, even if he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Didn’t Princess give you the phone?”

“Da - but she said you need mechanic and that is lie,” Nikolai answered, sitting down on the desk that barely creaked beneath him, “I am here - no need for mechanic.”

“Oh, you suddenly know how to fix tractors too?” John couldn’t help but let some of his disbelief seep through his words, making Nikolai snort.

“I do - planes too, if you have one of those, my friend.”

There was an odd peaceful silence in between the two of them; none of them said anything but John felt Nik’s eyes on him nonetheless, undressing him in his mind. The urge to fill this silence with their moans wer— wait.

Silence?

John blinked, listening for another moment for one of his puppy’s dramatic sighs but as none came, looking towards the door, expecting you to be annoyed with having to have left the house… nothing. He looked at Nikolai again, unable to keep the nervousness from his voice.

“Where’s sweetheart?”

Nikolai chuckled darkly, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Playing with the other dogs.”

“… I highly doubt that.” John almost rolled his eyes as he spoke. If there was one thing you had made sure was known ever since they arrived, was that you didn’t want to spend time with them.

“Well, they’re playing with her then,” Nikolai shrugged as John hurried to open one of the apps on his phone, running through the options until he reached the camera in the dog shed. Where his precious puppy were.

Crying and screaming, twisting even as pleasure overtook you, the others too much for you.

Dark want rushed through Price, as he saw them sink their teeth into your soft skin, heard you shriek out another curse and cry bloody murder; the want was overtaken by feeling bad for even putting you in that situation.

“I should go look—“

His phone was taken from his hand as Nikolai then pulled him close; flushed against each other, Nik’s front pressed against his back… cock slowly filling.

“Net,” he rumbled, “you need to stay here.”

“They’ll be too rough,” John argued, watching with both delight and fear as they made you came, “I nee—“

He was pulled into Nik’s lap without warning, the man sitting down in the office chair with a little sigh; his strong hands on John’s own body, sliding beneath the knitted sweater, grabbing onto some of his skin.

“It will be good for her,” Nikolai promised darkly, breathing deeply against John’s neck, as if to take in his taste, “this is why you got them, eh?”

It was; at least, it had been one of the reasons. As much as he loved you, you couldn’t control his life and he had changed everything around the two of you already - it was only fair he made sure you were taken care of too.

“They’ll break ‘er skin,” he muttered, already feeling his cock hardening like a traitor, distracted from the sight of the pups absolutely ruining you, by Nikolai’s warm, rough hands beneath his clothes.

“We will fix her,” Nikolai easily replied, scraping his teeth along John’s neck, as if he was considering doing the same, “let them play- they need to establish hierarchy.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When Soap’s knot finally deflated you tried turning away from him, getting on your knees; only for Gaz to push your upper body down again, a hand pressing down between your shoulder blades.

Soap’s tail was thumping against the barely made nest and though he clearly looked blissed out, he still helped Gaz, pressing your head down against the mattress, even as you tried getting away. Scratching at the mattress with your fingers.

“Fuck, this pussy,” Gaz crooned lovingly, “this is what I’ve been dreaming off.”

You growled against the fabric, trying to move away, but his fingers sank into your hips, claws once again pressing dangerously hard into your skin.

His cock filled you up with a couple of thrusts, slower than soap’s intense one; as if he was taking his time enjoying you. A deep huff of pleasure left him and you barked, trying to scratch at Soap.

It earned you a hard slap on the ass, taking you by surprise - and then the thrusts came suddenly and quickly. There was no mercy and you began crying again. The mixed hybrid was growling deeply, moving so that he was fully pressed against your back - hands grabbing your wrist pressing them against the nest.

Then he fucked you. The thrusts were short and sharp, he didn’t pull out as far as Soap had, but it was like a constant hammering instead, without any kind of relief from the pressure. He sniffed and panted into your neck while you wailed - and then he did the same as Soap had.

He sunk his teeth into your skin, fangs pressing deep and breaking skin, and for the second time, you were bitten. Only, Gaz let go much quicker, barking at your cries, before repeating his action.

Never stopping his movement.

No words could leave you. It was animalistic sounds, created from the chaos that the hybrids had forced into your mind, blending hatred and lust together.

It sent shivers down your spine as you tried to drown out Gaz’ words about your ass, about you being a little silly lapdog, about being too spoiled to shut up and accept things didn’t have to go your way.

It felt like he went on forever and you managed to come twice, the second one squirting - which meant you got Soap all up in your business, pushing himself in between Gaz fucking you, lapping up your juices like he was dying of thirst.

It made you attempt to squirm away, his face being pressed against your clit every thrust, together with Gaz’ balls. Gaz was drooling, slobbering all over your shoulders and sinking his teeth into your skin, new places and into your already broken skin.

Chaotic and wrong, moans sept into your threats, promising you would mess them up, which they barely seemed to notice. As if they knew you were more bark than bite, which wasn’t exactly wrong. Soap finally pulled away and Gaz pressed his slightly expanded knot inside you, before pulling it out again, before repeating the motion again and again.

Then Soap was suddenly in your face, pulling your head up by your ears, making you cry out, kissing you slobbingly and intensely - and for once, you proved that you could bite, sanded down teeth or not.

Soap pulled back with a yelp, then a grin appeared on his face a moment later, his own blood mixing into yours, dripping from his lip, as you growled at him.

Of course the crazy pup liked it.

Every time Kyle forced his knot inside again, you cried - every time he forced it out you wailed, gripping the sheets harder, tugging at them while you found yourself screaming, begging for him to just knot you properly. To stop torturing you like that and apparently, it was what Kyle had wanted to hear.

One last time, he forced it inside and pressed further into you than before, almost putting his entire body weight on you; you moaned and whimpered as it got stuck, his cum forced into your womb, just like Soap had done. He continued rolling his hips in small motions, making you sob into the sheet, closing your eyes. Then he bit down yet another time, another spurt of cum inside you.

He gnawed a little on your shoulder like a chew toy and all you could think about was how you would rather have John do this to you.

The pain from everything made you space out, panting into the mattress, sniffling a little. Ignoring the tongues running over your shoulders and neck, how they cooed at you.

Good little puppy. A good bitch now, aren’t you? Knew ye could behave, bonnie lass, just needed some knots. Dinnae throw a fuss. Stupid lil city dog, aren’t ya?

Kyle tugged you and tipped the two of you to the side, ignoring the way you cried out as his knot tugged.

Minutes went by as you waited for the knot to go down, trying your best to remain calm.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You felt sore all over, arms shaking as you tried raising your upper body, wincing at the cum sliding out of you and the way the bite marks stung. You weren’t just worried they had broken skin anymore, you knew they had. Blood was dripping down your arms, in between the already dried and caked parts, only making you feel more horrible.

Your beautiful, beautiful body - your skin. Those brutes! Curse them! Sons of bitches, all of them.

You felt pathetic, needy, weak; never wanting to leave the farm house again.

Gaz lazily barked at you as you tried getting up, but he was laying next to you, clearly blissed out, so you used the moment to escape… or at least attempted to.

A large hand pushed down on your back, the weight pushed upon you, forcing you down with a squeal - Ghost let out a deep growl as a reply.

The moment the hand was away, you scrambled, hearing his knees hit the mattress behind you. Ghost seemingly didn’t care that you tried slipping between his fingers; he merely grabbed your tail and tugged you back, hard. Ignoring your sob of pain, continuing to growl deeply, trying to force his dominance down upon you.

As if there was any question of who was the one in charge here. The sound of a zipper.

“No - fuck, let go, no more, no more!” You attempted pathetically, tears springing to your already puffy eyes, “I can’t - no more!”

“Yes you can,” Ghost just rumbled darkly, Soap and Gaz letting out small barks in support.

You fought him but it didn’t matter.

One hand on your hip, having a tight grab on some of your fat, the other sliding to your front, grabbing your throat - forcing you up on your knees. Your back pressed against his front, his cock thrusting in between your thighs a couple of times.

You cried at the mere sight of the cock in between your thighs. Yes, you were a size queen but not to brutes like them. Mutts, idiots, assholes, working dogs, hounds —

His fat cock entered you in one thrust, making you scream, desperately trying to wiggle away. Any movements merely made the cock slide in a little more, the knot pressing against your hole. Your scream turned silent as he gave a little thrust, your mind going blank, body giving small twitches. Much to the amusement of Ghost if you had to guess from the way he chuckled. Tongue licking your human ear. Gaz was staring with big eyes, Soap panting, drool dripping from his tongue.

You whined. He hadn’t even moved that much, but it felt like the cock was in your throat.

“Look at you, puppy,” he crooned darkly, “all you needed was some knots to shut up, huh?”

You couldn’t reply with anything but a few messy moans and Ghost gave a little thrust more, bullying his cock a little deeper,almost making your eyes cross.

“See how good you can be, hm?” Ghost continued, “tight pussy just needed to be fucked dumb. You’re much sweeter now.���

His hand tightened around your neck, pressing your tags on the collar into your skin. His palm pushed at your chin a little with its size.

“Don’t worry,” Ghost continued, before nosing your shoulder a little, a pitiful cry leaving you as his tongue slid over some of the bleeding, burning bite marks, “we can fuck you whenever ye want, princess. Perfect, innit?”

You tried shaking your head, but then Ghost let go, pushing your upper body down again- you barely managed to save yourself from slamming your head into the mattress.

There was no more waiting. He just grabbed onto your hips, pulled out his cock as far as possible and began to fuck you mercilessly.

Hard, commenting about the way your body jiggled and how lucky they were to end up somewhere with a soft bitch like you; how they would get you used to their cocks, addicted to them. How they would knock you up. Give you all the litters you wanted.

You hated how good it felt, how you cried and moaned, how your body shook and how you came. Unable to escape, crying and barking, ears tipped back.

He delivered a last bite right onto the back of your neck, as he forced his knot inside your poor pussy, filling you up; sinking his fangs into you, breaking the skin as you screamed and came once more, filled up with his knot. Cum unable to escape.

You sobbed into the mattress while stuck to Ghost, who grumbled but didn’t hit you. Gaz and Soap were cooing at you again, licking away tears and nuzzling closer, telling you how good you looked, how much fun you all were going to have.

Then you could hear them kissing above you, but you didn’t look, mind overwhelmed.

It was like you were hot all over; it had been years since you had had a heat and you feared, just for a moment, that your body would spontaneously go into one, from the knotting and biting, the breeding behavior you had just gone through.

It was the familiar feeling of warmth spreading from your chest to your cunt, Ghost growling slightly as you tightened around his knot from the feeling. You were pretty sure your implant was going to save you. Hopefully. The idea of getting knocked up by them right now almost made you want to throw a fit.

But beneath them, being beneath Ghost at the moment, throwing a tantrum would bring you nothing. His clothes pressed against your bare body, save from the top that was pushed beneath your tits, felt too hot.

The shed stunk of sex, blood and sweat. You pretended you didn’t like how the musky, male hybrid scent wasn’t slightly nice. How a little part of you wanted to lick away the sweat drops beneath Ghost’s chin.

Nasty, they were all nasty and you hated them.

You didn’t get up, even as his knot deflated. Ghost rumbled, clearly pleased. Licking at your neck a couple of times.

Then, some of the horses neighed loudly. All three of them stiffened, while you laid there, cum dripping out of you, not caring.

“I’ll go check it out,” Ghost answered, getting up, zipping up as if it was as easy as that. Giving your ass a clap that made your pussy clench around nothing.

The moment he was out the door you were stumbling to your feet, managing to grab John’s jacket. Soap’s tail wagged and he barked, getting up himself - but Gaz held him back.

“Nah, let her run back ‘nd whimper, Soap.”

You didn’t stay to hear the reply. You just bolted to the house, jacket barely on, naked from the waist down. Feet sinking slightly into the muddy parts of the farm, towards the door you had been thrown out earlier.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You were a crying mess, John cooing at you, drying your tears with a worried look in his eyes, while Nik seemed more calm. They both stank of sex but you were too upset to care. Humiliation from not being able to escape them, the need to be cared for, to be loved was overwhelming.

They made you bend over the couch at first, Nik’s fingers pressing into you, John softly hushing you as you cried.

“No tear,” he confirmed a moment after, pulling his fingers out, with a soft pat on your ass.

“Let’s get you a bath, princess.” You nodded while whining, clinging onto Nik as he lifted you up.

“We might need to get those checked out,” Nik nodded towards your shoulders and back and you looked over at John, who didn’t look too happy. Even Nik, who was much more calm, didn’t seem to be too enthusiastic despite how he hadn’t stepped in earlier.

The water in the tub was nice. Usually you would fight a little when it came to showers, but you were putty in their soft hands, carefully helping you get free of mud, dried blood and cum.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Alex Keller and Farah Karim appeared just around ten minutes later, parking in the big driveway, near the barn. They had apparently just visited Rudy and Rodolfo, or at least so you heard them talking about in the entrance.

Normally you would be barking at the mere door opening, curiosity overwhelming over who could give you attention now.

You were laying on your stomach on the couch, wearing panties and with a blanket over you, fur and hair still a little damp.

“There she is,” Farah mused as she entered the living room, taking in your otherwise quiet demeanor in contrast to your usual intense one, “poor puppy got all messed up, huh?”

A barely audible growl left you.

“Cut her some slack, Farah,” Alex said, following after her, his new fancy prosthetic leg that was electrical, saying a soft noise you assumed wasn’t something the humans could hear.

“He won’t send them away,” you just replied, sending John a stink eye, which made Nik chuckle while John at least looked a little upset about it.

“We will teach them to be gentle,” Nik mused to which you huffed, because that wasn’t helping one bit.

“Let us see then,” Farah said, stepping over to the couch, while Alex followed, putting their bags down on the table.

You sat up, turning your back towards them, pulling the blanket down to expose your bites, both of the vets stepping closer.

Alex let out a little whistle. Your ears tipped back a little.

“That is some nasty bites,” Farah agreed and you could hear them put on plastic gloves. Despite your anger towards your owner right now, you sent John a desperate look - and the man was with you in mere seconds, one hand gently holding onto your collar, the other caressing your dog ear, in an attempt to calm you down. You hated how it instantly helped. You didn’t really have good memories with vet visits despite knowing Farah and Alex were always sweet and careful with you.

At the first touch of a gloved hand near your bite, you moved instantly, grabbing onto John’s arm with a whine.

“Sorry lovely,” Farah apologized, “we’ll have to clean them up - I’m afraid two of them might need a stitch or two.”

“We’ll numb the area first, don’t worry,” Alex was quick to add in a softer tone.

If this didn’t prove to John and Nik that the hybrids shouldn’t be near you, you didn’t know what would.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Farah and Alex left half an hour later, with you being prescribed antibiotics and painkillers.

Nik and John spoke in hushed voices while you watched television, John having given you some snacks.

“Nik and I are going to town, Princess,” John said a moment later, entering the room to give you another pat on the head, “we’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“What if they go in here-“ you whined, “I wanna go, I wanna-“

“Hush. You can’t rip the stitches, you’re staying here. We’ll lock the door, Laswell will make sure you’re left alone, alright?”

“MmKay.”

You stayed in the living room most of the day, watching rom coms and reality television. Nothing like watching two hybrids fall in love, but not being allowed to meet, their owners despising each other.

When your owner and Nik returned, they had brought several things - most importantly, some nicely baked cake for you, as a treat. Your tail wagged while eating it. If you closed your eyes, it was like you were back in the city again.

Imagining you weren’t out in the country, that you were in a fancy apartment and not an old farmhouse; that the sounds in the background was the music of the city and not—

The sounds of a cow mooing. You huffed, took another bite, closing your eyes and daydreamed once more.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Go on, then.”

You blinked at John’s voice, sterner than last time, for a moment afraid if you’d done anything wrong. The painkillers were making you a little slow, so you blinked a couple of times, before you were able to focus your eyes on the people in the living room.

And instantly tip your ears back in a growl at the sight of the three hybrids, John and Nik standing behind them.

“Go away.” You growled, to which Ghost huffed, rolling his eyes and shooting John a look. John merely crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him. As if to dare him to not follow the order they’ve been told.

“I’m sorry that I hurt ye, cuilean. I dinnae mean tae. Nae this badly.” It was Soap who said it first, actually looking apologetic as you laid there on the couch, staring at them, Gaz nodding along.

“Yeah sorry,” Gaz’ ears were tipped down, tail even a little between his legs, “we won’t bite you again like that, I swear, we never meant to hurt you.”

You wanted to get them castrated. Despise not really liking their apologies, you looked over at Ghost then, waiting. The big guy didn’t say anything, just stared at you - that was until Soap elbowed him in the ribs, the pale man finally grunted out; “Sorry sweetheart.”

John looked expectantly at you, a small smile on his face, as if to say ‘look! They can be good!’. You scrunched your eyebrows together in a frown. That was it?

You deserved poems, movies, dances, songs, art pieces created in a mere attempt of apologising properly.

“I still hate you.”

It made Soap laugh, grinning with all his teeth, while John groaned behind them, touching his face. Nik seemed amused too however.

“Good enough for now. We will work on bonding later, da?”

“They can bond with each other,” you answered, curling together on the couch, “bite each other to pieces.”

“We apologized,” Ghost argued in a dry voice, as if he barely believed in it himself.

“Fuck off.”

Ghost smiled at your stubbornness, before letting John kick them into the kitchen so that they could be fed before being sent out again.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Your time with them was limited for a couple of days, much to your enjoyment. You got extra attention, John and Nik were careful around you — John did eat you out on the third day, when you became frustrated, Nik cooed at you in Russian as you came. Even Laswell was a little nicer to you.

You got scratches beneath your chin, kisses and touches and the pain meds helped stop the thundering pain from the bite marks, which were at least healing nicely.

You slept at your master’s - and his boyfriend’s - feet, leisuring around the house while they worked throughout the day.

Apparently the military bastards knew how to do their jobs, at least. They stopped and caught a fox before it got a chicken, kept the wolves at bay and helped throughout the day. They made sure to watch at night, too apparently.

Then it was rainy one day… and it rained a lot that night. It seemed to never end and when you were called to eat breakfast, you had assumed the working dogs were out. But they weren’t.

In fact, two of them stood in the doorway, close to the dinner table, watching as their third pack mate, Soap, quietly sat on the bench while Nikolai and John looked him over. They all had damp hair and Gaz’s and Ghost’s boots were covered in mud, making you scrunch your nose in disgust. Dirty mutts.

“Good morning bird,” Gaz greeted, looking over you and smiling as you coughed so that they would move. They did so and you stepped into the kitchen, not answering the greeting.

It was only when you passed him that Soap looked up and grinned at you.

“Hiya bonnie lass,” his words sounded… slurred in a way. A tad too loud, but his tail was thumping at the sight of you. You huffed, looking at Nikolai as he sighed and put down a piece of tech you didn’t know.

“I’m afraid you need to fix by professional,” Nikolai said, looking at John, “it’s all completely ruined.”

“Hm, that’s what I figured,” John said, “alright. We’ll go get it done today, just so he can feel better soon.”

“Gonna do what?” You asked as you sat down at your common spot, looking confused for a moment - then Nikolai pointed to the technology that was dripping with water and mud.

“Soap’s hearing aid is broken,” Nik replied, “we have to get a new one.”

“You guys can go out and help Laswell - I’m gonna go to town together with Soap and—“

Growls.

You tried making yourself smaller, even though they weren’t raised towards you.

“We’re not leaving him.”

“What is dae matter?” Soap’s voice was loud, as his head turned from person to person.

John was staring at Ghost who had crossed his arms.

“It won’t take long,” John replied but Ghost just growled again.

“No.”

“Ghost,” John’s voice was kept calm but steady, “Soap’s not going to get hurt. We will get him fitted for one and find a kind that fits him the best - then we’ll come back. Bringing you two along won’t be necessary.”

Ghost didn’t look one bit convinced but John turned towards Soap anyways, leaning closer to his human ear on the left side of his face.

“You’ll need new hearing aids,” he explained, voice loud and words clear, “Nikolai and I will take you to town to get them fixed.”

He pulled back and Soap looked confused but nodded.

“I dinnae want to make trouble,” he promised, ears tipping back a little, “I can make it work!”

John shook his head, giving Soap a small smile before reaching up and giving his head a pat. His tail instantly began to wag again.

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” John answered, keeping his voice loud, “it’s okay. You would need new ones eventually.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

John and Nikolai left after breakfast, with the herding dog in the backseat, muzzle on his face - just in case.

You had forgotten the fact Soap had lost some of his hearing, though you had noticed the hearing aid now and again.

Ghost and Gaz didn’t seem one bit happy with their bonded mate leaving, even though they knew he would be back. Laswell was using them though, making them help fix things, so you dared to relax again, enjoying the little sun ray that hit one of your dog beds perfectly.

The peace and quiet that you had enjoyed and the lack of attempts at being forced to spend time with the men was seemingly coming to an end, at least for one specific pup.

Soap was back, giant grin on his face but no hearing aids, since they apparently decided to buy a fancy kind that had to be shipped to the clinic in the nearest town.

Which meant Soap was in house rest for the next couple of days.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

At first Soap left you alone, merely staying close but not messing with you. He slept in one of your dog beds, muttering - or at least trying to - about how nice and soft it was.

All you could think about was that it needed to get washed, because you weren’t sleeping in something that stank of him. You even suspected he jerked off into the fuzzy fabric. Nasty.

John had merely told you to be nice and share when you complained; that Soap wasn’t used to being indoors like this, wasn’t used to remaining still and not having something to do - that he didn’t like not being able to hear.

You tried, at least a little, to be overbearing, making it rather visible when he got too close and you didn’t like it.

He would disappear now and again to see his mates, and come back with a wagging tail, salvia wet lips and a pleased smile on his face.

As long as he kept his distance.

It was on the second day however, when taking a nap in your own room, in the fuzzy, soft dog bed, that the mutt caught you off guard.

You slowly woke to a nice and pleasurable feeling, letting out a deep pleased sigh as you blinked a couple of times, slightly confused over what was making you feel this way. Of why your legs felt slightly cold. Only to blink a couple of times, half lidded eyes looking down — seeing Soap with his dirty paws on you, tongue halfway into your cunt.

His tail was wagging, ears turning towards you and he didn’t even stop when he realized you had woken up. If anything, he just quickened his tongue’s movement, thrusting it into your cunt, tightening his hands on your thighs.

“‘S okay, Bonnie lass,” he cooed, a slight slurred tone to his voice as he pulled back a little, tongue and slick dripping from his mouth and chin, before he crawled up to you. You didn’t have time to protest, the bigger hybrid settling in behind you, the lack of his own pants clear as he settled against your back, his cock pressing against your asscheeks. His hands slid around your body, holding you close and letting out a deep breath as if the both of you just woke from the nap.

You twitched slightly and he kissed you cheek, “dinnae throw a fit, please,” he mumbled against it, voice still a little loud.

“I will yell for master,” you warned with a growl. The other just let out a “mhmm,” in agreement and you weren’t really sure whether he had truly heard your threat or not. Even if he had, you weren’t sure if it would have stopped him.

Despite your confused and tired attempt at pulling free, squirming and attempting to claw at whatever you could reach, it was no help.

His cock slid into your pussy, which was looser than you liked. Your eyes rolled back for a moment and Soap let out a deep growl, that sounded more pleased than anything.

You writhed, unable to help it, the cock hitting you so well, which you didn’t like. Well, you liked it, the pleasure, but you didn’t want to give in.

You cried out at a deeper thrust, Soap moaning as well; it started deep in his chest and turned more high pitched, more needy. He was careful with your shoulders, keeping you pressed so close you couldn’t move them. The stitches were almost ready to come out and though there was a slight pain, it was not too much.

He fucked you better than you liked, whimpering behind you like a needy mutt in rut.

You couldn’t control your moans and cries, attempting to keep it down, to pretend you weren’t enjoying it. His thrusts were deep but quick, sending your mind spiraling. His knot teased your opening with each movement.

You moaned so loud it was bordering on a scream when he came, knotting you. Carefully licking your cheek, catching a few of your tears with a pleased hum.

It was barely a minute later before John opened the door quickly, looking worried, apron on, presumably making lunch - instantly looking at you. He blinked at the sight of you and Soap, before visibly calming, even smiling. How dared he, traitor, mea—

You let out a small sound as Soap wagged his tail, it thumbed against your bed quickly, making you mewl a little as the movement rushed through his hips and making his cock move, inside your cunt. The knot moving and pressing inside you, making you unable to breathe for a second, eyes rolling up.

Soap licked against your cheek and you pawed at his hands on you, ears tipped back a little.

“Horny pups,” said almost lovingly by Price who then patted your head, and you whined, annoyed by how you were stuck to Soap - or well, to his cock.

“Don’t like him, Sir,” you whined, using your best needy voice, ignoring Price’a raised eyebrow as another thrust made you gasp again.

“You seem to get along fine,” he just answered, patting Soap’s head to prove to the other man that it was fine - he moved Soap’s head to the side for a moment, taking a look at your shoulders, to make sure nothing was bleeding, “everything seems good. He can control himself then.”

“Castrate them,” you just replied, “cut off their dicks.”

John Price laughed. You still loved his laughter even if he didn’t understand your hatred for the mutts he had decided to add to the farm.

“When you get untangled, there’s lunch in the kitchen.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When Farah and Alex returned to look at your wounds and remove your stitches, you felt your tail instantly go between your legs, ears down.

“It’s fine. I’m doing fine,” you argued, not making one move towards sitting down on the couch like last time. You knew Farah and Alex were only there to help you; however, you weren’t in pain like last, your mind saw no reason for them to be there. Surely the stitches would fall out or something?

“Princess,” your owner stepped towards you, your tail curling even further between your legs, “it’s fine, they’re gonna chec—“

You stumbled backwards, almost falling into Soap’s chest. He seemed confused at the sudden appearance of the two vets, who were smiling gently at the two of you. Yet when you curled around and behind him, he instantly straightened up.

You could hear Nik laugh. “They have been bonding!”

“Shut it, Nik,” John just answered while Alex huffed, your owner stepping closer, “darling, come on. We will be done in a minute.”

“They’ll file down my teeth.”

“Wha- no, of course they won’t, princess. You know I won’t let them do that.”

You sniffled, holding onto Soap’s shirt. There was a low growl from Soap.

You still very much hated him, but you could have kissed him.

“Dinnae.” Was all he said, slightly slurred and a little loud, but still. Body tense.

“She needs her stitches checked.” Farah’s voice cut through the room, loud and clearly not filled with patience, “we are here to clean them and remove them.”

Soap’s body language calmed down a little and you wanted to hit him, for giving up so easily. What kind of fucking safety was he supposed to offer when he gave in line this? Maybe you should just ask Farah to castrate him and the two other mutts while she was here.

“Sit,” John pointed towards the couch and Soap moved - pulling you by the arm, while you barked and argued a little.

In the end you curled up against him, John petting your hair, as they removed the stitches.

By now, everything seemed to be going as they should.

It wasn’t like when you got the fangs filed down or when you were declawed, but you were still afraid. Not that they could take much more from you.

Despite not liking either Farah or Alex being there, you still took the treat they offered you - managing to get it into your mouth before Soap could get too interested. He got his own and you didn’t like how both your tails wagged. But you allowed it for now.

The treat wasn’t as good as the weird one Nik had fed you the first day. You let out a dramatic sigh on the couch, making John roll his eyes - but he scratched your stomach a little before moving on, to do whatever it was farmers did.

You just ignored Soap, he was wagging his tail like a lovesick puppy next to you, sniffing your hair. You still hadn’t forgiven him or the others for anything.

His hearing aids came later that day. You kept your distance, watching Gaz and Ghost help him get it set up right, Nik and John right by them.

You wasn’t really upset that Soap went back outside… were you?

No. Not at all.

[angstflavoured]

i hate when people get like way too into theories to the point where it just waters down the whole idea. like i see people being like "WHAT IF Bill forged the missing journal pages??" or "what if he actually didnt open up to Ford at all and everything he said was a lie abt his backstory" ??? like, we're rounding back around to "what if it was a coma the whole time" type stuff. its just really uninteresting and boring. obviously thats not whats going on, and if it was itd be lame asf. id rather deep dive into what theyre saying and analyze their characters rather than assume everything is just fake, it kinda reduces everything to mush imo. the whole point of tbob is that bill is NOT all knowing as he seems and hes actually not always 50 steps ahead. he has faults and real emotions and makes mistakes. he just makes it seem like hes in control so that people WILL question themselves. his bark is bigger than his bite.

[dreaisgrayte]

Hannya Mist | Giyu Tomioka x demon fem!reader

Warnings: aphrodisiac (kind of?), touching, boobs, Giyu's first time seeing boobs (#I'm so proud of him), fight for control, first blow job, mentions of sexual fantasies, and mortal enemies kind of sexy for each other heheheh word count: 2.1k a/n: Giyu... my baby. Virgin just fits you so perfectly, but when you learn you LEARN.

Fireflies float through the air, the footprints left behind by the water hashira marking a path of determination. The evening air is muggy, nearly oppressive as Giyu comes across a strange hut. It’s a small building, barely bigger than a room at the water pillar’s manor. His aqua gaze searches for evidence of a nearby village. It was off to have a hut in such a dangerous part of the woods. Did anyone even live in it? If it were abandoned, he could rest up under its roof for the night.

As if answering his inquiry a light flicks on, illuminating the silhouette of a woman in the window. The mountains swallow the rest of the sunlight, a dim stillness settling in the clearing where Giyu stands stagnant. The water pillar is unaware of the mist swallowing him up. A deep purple fog coats the surrounding area, the tendrils from the mist seemingly beckoning him toward the hut. 

Come closer it almost whispers and against what better judgment he could form through the thick fog – coating his throat and sense of smell – he takes a heavy step forward. His heart is racing despite the calm breeze that rustles the leaves above his head. Dusk painted the sky an array of orange and pink. 

It was like he was on the brink of suffocating. What was with this air anyway? Had it always been this stifling? Giyu sucks in a steady breath, the purple mist filling his lungs. He feels a tingle in his lower abdomen and his brows furrow as it burns hot, making him take pause in his advance toward the hut. 

His limbs feel shaky as he brings a hand to his forehead. His other hand grips the hilt of his sword as if that would stop him from sinking to his knees. The slick magma grows, tying his muscles in a buzzing feeling that nearly makes him want to rip it out. He’s panting, the hand that was on his forehead dropping to his mouth as he bites down on a finger. 

Giyu Tomioka, the stoic and quiet water hashira, was unnervingly horny. He could feel himself grow stiff in his breeches. His throat bobs as he shakily shifts his legs apart to allow more room for his swelling cock. He’d never experienced such an overwhelming sense before, only hearing about it from the other hashira. Sex never interested him, it was a distraction from the ultimate goal of destroying all demons – but as his eyes flutter shut, all Giyu wants to do is find a wet warm cunt to plunge his aching cock into. 

Night has captured the clearing, dusting the ground with moonlight. With the way he felt now, it wouldn’t be safe for him to enter the hut. Not with a woman supposedly alone inside. This damn fog was making him crazy, but the damned door swings open, revealing you.

His hand releases the hilt of his blade.

You are in a blush pink yukata, hands folded in front of you, and a hannya mask covering your face. Your hair flutters around the mask, your head cocking to the right as you peer through the small eye holes at the encumbered water hashira. Beneath your lips pull tight into a smirk. 

Giyu had a string of thoughts enter his head, one specifically that he would surely spend the rest of his life wondering about. What did you look like under that mask? A mask crafted to take on the appearance of a female demon consumed by jealousy. Your mask is made out of wood, the bark left jagged and dangerous. Two pointed horns sprouted from the sides, weaving into your own hair. The brows are drawn together in protruding masses. Sharp teeth decorate the open mouth that’s under a large nose. 

The water pillar takes a tentative step forward, your presence calling him into your den. “Excuse me, miss, I don’t mean to intrude, but I’ve had a long journey.” He pauses, his head spinning with obvious reasons as to why he should not enter your hut. 

You step to the side, though, slowly righting your head. “You need a place to rest. To be safe from demons.” The mask muffles your voice, but Giyu revels in the way its melodic tone enters his ears.

Just for a little bit, he promises himself. The water hashira enters through the threshold of the hut. Inside is a raised wooden platform with a mat pushed into the corner – folded bedding placed on top neatly. Beside the mat is a small table with a candle and tray of steamed rice, vegetables, pork, and a cup of piping hot tea. A cushion rests directly in front of the table, a rug underneath that. In the middle of the dirt area is a cooking pot – storage closets lining the wall and a flickering orange lantern that lights up the whole room on a bench. 

His eyes flick to how you stand by the door – he only assumes you’re still watching him by the way the mask faces his general direction. “Have I interrupted your dinner?” His voice is soft and playful. 

You shake your head gently so as not to disturb the placement of your mask, then step toward him. “Dinner has just begun.” You reply, gesturing to the steaming food with your head. “Please, eat.” 

The ravenette’s mind is fuzzy as he sets his nichirin sword against the far wall. Then, slipping out of his zori, he steps onto the wooden platform. He’s surprised by how comfortable the cushion is under his knees. The food looks delicious, but he stiffens when you come to kneel next to him. Your body was mostly hidden by the yukata, but the hashira imagines how exactly he would lavish you – if he knew how. 

He’s stricken with shame – for having such thoughts with you next to him and for his lack of knowledge about sexual experiences. He was disciplined in how the body functioned, training for years on how to perfect muscle density and stances. He clears his thoughts of the wicked images, picking up the chopsticks that are next to the bowl of rice. “Thank you for the food,” He takes a mouthful of rice, humming in satisfaction at the warm consistency. Giyu peers at you while chewing away on the food. “If you do not mind me asking, why do you wear such a mask?” He was genuinely curious, but then again, he was curious why you had to be clothed as well. 

You tilt your head. “To hide my identity. Safety.” You answer and as Giyu swallows another mouthful of rice he feels that sickening feeling return. This time it feels like it’s coursing through his very bloodstream. He sets the chopsticks down and you lean forward, raising your hand to pull your mask down. “Are you okay my Lord? That is what they call you right?” Vibrant eyes narrow at him and fangs accompany the twisted smile on your face. 

Giyu is panting, clutching his throat as it burns with sensations foreign to him. “D-demon,” He begins, lips curling in disgust. “What did you,” He hacks up spit and winces at the fire in his esophagus. “Do to me?” 

Your lips curl in a smirk, crawling closer to him. Giyu can’t move back as you slither toward him, placing your clawed hand on his thigh. “Mmm, well I’m not the one lusting after a stranger.” You tip your head to the side curiously as you graze the indent of his bulge. The ravenette hisses at the way he shifts into your touch. This earns a delighted laugh from you. “I am a demon, the thing you promise to eradicate from this plane of existence, yet you yearn for my touch. It’s…adorable.” Your fingers press firmly into his erection now, Giyu’s eyes squeezing shut. 

His body feels like it’s being electrified as you trace the imprint of his cock. “You-You did this to me,” he grunts out. The fog must’ve had some sort of aphrodisiac in it. He’s full of rage and disgust, but also lust. 

You giggle, meeting his heated gaze – the blue in his eyes darkening to almost black. “Yeah? Doesn’t look like you want me to stop,” Your fingers reach for the hem of his breeches. “You smell like you’re on the verge of cumming. Are you pure?” Giyu’s heart thumps wildly in his ribcage as you drag your nose up his neck, your tongue darting out to taste the line of his jaw. You return to his line of sight with a wide grin. 

The water hashira’s cheeks warm with the acknowledgment. “Please, help me.” You almost want to take pity on the whimpering man in front of you, but who’s to say once your mist fades away that he won’t drive that pretty katana through your heart? He was… exceptionally fit and had withheld this much torture. 

You start to peel off your yukata, edging the sleeves down your shoulders. “If you don’t satisfy me, I’ll kill you.” Giyu’s skin itches to be warmed by yours as the yukata billows to the floor. He’s never seen a demon become shy, but that could be a result of him gawking at your large breasts. The way they rest on your chest brings his gaze down to your navel, then dips to your thighs that press together. 

After a beat of him staring, you grab his hand and place it on your chest. His brows furrow as the skin molds around his thick fingers. Your own brows knit together as a stained moan escapes your lips. “Barely started and you’re already a mess,” Giyu quips, growing more comfortable with the way your nipple brushes against his palm as he squishes your breast. 

You huff, positioning yourself closer. “It’s just been a while.” The hashira tuts as his fingers find your nipple, rolling it between the pads of his thumb and pointer finger. You throw your head back and groan. “Fuck,” 

He was growing confident and he hadn’t even gotten to the finale yet. You reach out to stroke his thigh, a smirk twitching on your lips. His ministrations halt, moving his arms out of the way so you’ll have more room. Your ears pound as you gaze upon the sheer size of his cock and some of it was hidden underneath the cloth of his breeches. He gets up on his knees, working them off his hips. Hard pelvis lines lead to the star of the show – the untouched cock of the formidable water hashira. It is fucking beautiful. A pale pink head that’s leaking precum and a hungry look in his eyes. 

Though the very thought of having a demon’s mouth around his cock should seem like a very bad idea, Giyu runs his hand through your hair, fisting around it. “You’re gonna wrap that pretty mouth of yours around my cock. Got that, demon whore?” 

To you, that should sound like a threat. You should kill this hashira and reap the rewards, but you allow him to push your head down to his stiff length. For someone who was supposedly pure, he acted like he’d done this before. 

The moment your hand wraps around him, his eyes roll back in his head. It’s glorious, the feeling of your palm against his length, pumping up and down. He goes wild when you graze the slit of his tip, rubbing the pre along his cock. Without warning you dip your mouth onto his tip, using the flat of your tongue to swipe at the vein running up the underside. He groans, shoving your head further down. 

Hearing you sputter and choke on his cock is damn near hell sent. Spit drips from your mouth and warmth radiates from you trying to breathe. He’s hitting the back of your throat, your fangs dragging along the side of length. Giyu shivers, the feeling painfully pleasurable mixed into a bowl of fucking salvation. 

“M’so close,” There’s a fire located in the pit of his abdomen and maybe this is where demons are born – in this hell of angelic desire flooding to one place. That one place happens to be your mouth as Giyu jerks his hips up into your mouth, cumming hard. Spittle and his creamy mess mix as he pulls your mouth off him. 

Of course, you lick your lips and swallow what you can with a swollen smirk, but that falters when you realize he’s orgasmed. The one thing to break your mist is to feed into the desire. That would mean Giyu is clear of mind and probably going to cut your head from your-

His hand wraps around your throat, shoving you to the ground. He hovers over your naked body, panting crazily. “My tricks seem to have run dry,” You garble out. 

Giyu clicks his tongue, gazing down at your plush skin, regarding the view. “Ah, but I’m not finished yet, demon.” 

[slashersdaddy]

could possibly do slashers with feral s/o? like acts like an animal almost, just really wild and affectionate, I'd say cld be trained, but like there's barely keeping any reigns on this individual? Pls include Vincent and Bo 🙏

For sure! since you didnt ask for any specific gender i am going with GN, its a favorite of mine to write <3

SLASHERS WITH FERAL S/O GN

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Kruger, Pyramid head

Bo Sinclair: Hes.... Interested to say the least; I mean what do you mean he can drag them by the hair and they wont care???? Ascending. Would of sure put you on a leash ;)

If you tried to bite or something (affectionately) He would grab your jaw and glare at you, growling out a stern 'No.'

If you allow him he will train you- even if you dont you may still be subject to some level of it. (ex. making you thank him for everything) Vincent Sinclair: Will match your freak

you wanna growl? he will do it right back

wanna bite? right back at ya

he loves watching you hunt- him or otherwise, and will try to see if h can catch the moment before you pounce on camera

will gently correct you if he doesnt like what your doing, gentle training

Lester sinclair: He is so down. will bark with you- growl, howl, meow, hiss whatever

If you have times where you are especially feral he will bring ou treats or 'offerings' as he calls it, little chew toys, food, snacks ect.

Micheal Myers:

Hard shut down. will grab your face and growl at you, if you wanna act like an animal he will act like one right back- a bigger stronger meaner one

if you have a habit of biting he will make sure you know tha it comes at a cost, pinching your sides until you let go.

Jason Voorhees: confused- you like acting wild?

will pick up pretty quickly that you just are like that-

will let you chomp him, or scratch and knead his tummy, he just wants to see you happy

Freddy Kruger: He is feral himself- so he can appreciate some scratching and biting, but dont expect him to be gentle because you are human

he will let you bite an scratch him but will do so right back, making sure to mark you up lots

Pyramid head: Confused

but willing to let you bite

scratch too but he doesn't let you think your in charge

will grab you by your nape and squeeze if you try to act tough. he will prove why your weaker than him.

[atydblack]

"only shadow"

regulus black x reader

masterlist

heres some regulus black fluff to soothe the soul while i get back into writing &lt;3

this isn't my best tbh but i think its cute

reader is a bit annoying in this but it turns out cute lol

title based on only shadow - my bloody valentine

You sat in the library, trying to focus your attention on the homework you had sprawled out in front of you but your eyes kept drifting to the hard faced brunette sat on the table next to you.

The library was almost empty, so Regulus Black being the root of your distraction wasn't a surprise. His eyebrows were furrowed as his book had his undivided attention.

"Psss" You whisper to Regulus with a giggle.

He tilts his head slightly, his face still laced with a frown. "Yes?" He responds, not even bothering to look at you.

"What are you doing?" You push further, looking for any source of entertainment.

"Reading." He replies bluntly, his eyes still not lifting from his book.

"I'm bored." You stand to your feet and sit yourself next to him with a pout.

"How unfortunate." He rolls his eyes and slams his book shut. "I'm trying to read and that would require you to go away."

"That was mean." You pout again, trying to tease him.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but that's kind of my thing." He muttered.

You smirk and try to think of the best ways to get under his skin.

"Being mean doesn't suit you." You tease, resting your head in your hand. "You're too pretty."

His face softens at your words and you almost see a small blush raise to his cheeks.

"You're really annoying you know that?" He muttered, trying to hide any emotion your words might have caused him.

"I can't help it." You giggle as you realise you're finally getting to him. "It's kind of my thing."

A hint of a smirk reaches Regulus' face as he realises you're teasing him. It was definitely getting hard for him not to completely cave in to you.

"Did I just make Regulus Black smile?" You pretend to be shocked, teasing him further.

"Shut up." He mumbled, he wanted to deny the blush that had found his cheeks, but he couldn't.

It was as if he was playing a game, with her as the enemy... and he was losing.

"Make me." You giggle again, trying your hardest to push his buttons. You were having fun playing this game with him, watching as his tough exterior slowly crumbled.

"I could." He smirked, his eyebrows furrowing as he didn't break eye contact with you. He wasn't used to being the submissive one, dominance being one of the only things that mattered to him.

"Then why don't you?" You smirk. "You don't scare me."

"If you weren't so cute right now, I probably would." His face was still laced with a smirk as he moved closer to you. This time it was your turn for your cheeks to blush as the tables quickly turned, you weren't expecting him to play back.

"You think I'm cute?" You tease and tilt your head, not wanting to show his words affected you.

"I might." His eyes darkened as his eyes scanned your body and returned back to your eyes. "It's just a shame you're so annoying."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, your heart sinking softly at his words but you didn't want him to know you cared.

Regulus had to prevent himself from laughing as he watched you strop. He was starting to like this game, something back how you were looking up at him made him feel powerful.

As much as it annoyed him, he was starting to accept that he wanted you.

"What's the matter?" He grinned. "Your bark bigger than your bite?"

"No," You scoff and regain composure, immediately trying to shake the feeling that came over you. "I'm just shocked I've actually managed to get you to talk to me for this long."

"You're actually quite amusing." His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you try to ignore the growing heat in your stomach.

"I know." You stare back, trying to think of any way to regain control of the situation. You reached up to his tie and began fiddling with it in between your fingers, causing his body to move closer to yours.

"Cocky as well as annoying?" He muttered, ignoring the jolt of electricity that ran down his body at your touch.

"I'm learning from the best." You shrug, avoiding his dark eyes that were sewn on to your every move.

"What else are you learning from me?" His voice was low as he spoke. Your mind raced with ideas of where to take this situation, and there was only one answer.

"How much you want me." Your eyes fluttered up to his once again, an innocent look on your face that contradicted your seductive smirk.

Regulus' breathing hitched in his throat giving you more confidence. Your hands that held on to his tie snaked up to wrap around his neck. His closed his eyes for just a moment as blood coursed through his body in a way he'd never felt before.

"Maybe you're right." He whispered, his throat felt as if every breath he took was being squeezed by the girl in front of him. He was losing control of himself.

Regulus' words ignited a fire in you that you'd never experienced before. Your confidence got the best of you as you as you spoke again.

"Then I'm all yours." You breathed out, not breaking eye contact. A rush of desire flooded through the both of you, making you both weak.

He was losing control of himself and so were you... the both of you finally giving in to seduction.

"Mine?" He uttered, the words barely finding their way out his parched throat.

You nod your head submissively, the way you were looking up at him made him feel powerful.

"Good girl," He smirked before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

You had both kissed plenty of others before, but this was different. The two of you melted into the kiss and a soft moan left your lips.

Regulus was just as lost in the moment as you and neither of you wanted to pull away.

His tongue found yours just as your fingertips found the hair on the nape of his neck and the kiss grew more passionate.

He eventually broke the kiss slowly, his breath heavy. Your heart was racing and your red cheeks matched his.

It felt like the whole world had stopped and he didn't even care. You stared into each others eyes, your thoughts of anything but each other completely escaping your mind.

"I still find you annoying." He smirked

[hotchs-big-hands]

dbf!hotch gifts reader a nannycam for their room. Fun ensues. Send tweet.

(basically reader being a camgirl but for hotchy’s eyes only) 😩

Okay okay I have to get this out FIRST like you don't understand this makes me fucking BARK ROME your mind is literally stunning babe OKAY LETS GO

Dbf!Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

NSFW minors dni please!

Warning(s): consensual voyeurism, daddy kink, masturbation, just smut LMAO it's so filthy!! Also changes to Aaron's perspective after first break.

Should probably note idk exactly how nannycams work I just did some reading up and I'm sort of basing off that. Anyway, ENJOY!

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

There it sat on the pristine dining table of your father's friend. A small, black cube no bigger than a dice awaited your response to its presence. Your eyes flicked to the man who had just placed it in front of you with a smirk, and you bit your lip.

"This is..."

Aaron raised a brow, the smirk growing.

"A little camera for you to place in your bedroom. Do you like it, sweetheart?" He said gently. A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes returned to the tiny nannycam.

"Holy shit..." You felt heat rising in your face and burning in your abdomen. "I do, yes. Thank you, Aaron."

Aaron cupped the back of your head with his hand and leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead.

"This, pretty thing, is so I can check in on you when I'm away with work. You understand, right?"

He was close to your face, his eyes focusing on your bitten lip. You moved to straddle his hips and his hands were immediately on your thighs, squeezing them possessively. A little hum reverberated from you as you nodded at him and you placed your hands on his firm chest to help balance yourself as you shifted around on his lap.

"Mmh... come by mine later so you can help me set it up?" You asked sweetly, batting your eyelids innocently at him. He chuckled and the hands slid round to your ass and firmly gripped onto the flesh there.

"Of course, sweetheart. Gotta make sure it's working, after all."

Yes, much later in the day did you both finally make it to your home and set up the little camera on a shelf attached to the wall, cushioned between some ornaments. And the rest of the evening was spent "testing" the angle of the camera out with a feed linked to Aaron's phone. When you eventually collapsed against the pillows together, entangled and breathing heavily, your mind wandered to the possibilities you had to have a bit of fun whilst your lover was away. A tired, but excited smile pulled at your face as you snuggled into his bare chest and you drifted off to sleep.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

Three days had passed by after Aaron gifted you the little camera, and in that time he had, of course, been pulled away on a case. He hadn't yet had a spare moment to check in with you to ask if you were okay with him watching (he had made it clear that he wouldn't look unless you specifically said it was okay to do so) and admittedly, he was a little frustrated as a result. But work called, he had to focus on the current case instead. However, all was about to change with a simple text from you.

---

Sweetheart❤: How's everything going? xx

---

Aaron raised a brow as he stared at the text. You didn't normally contact him whilst he was working. He stepped away from the rest of his team for a moment to respond.

---

Me: As well as the average case goes. Are you alright? X

Sweetheart❤️: I'm heading to bed now, but I'm not very sleepy...

---

He felt himself tense a little, swallowing as he felt himself twitch in his slacks. He eyed his surroundings before he began to type.

---

Me: Sweet thing, you've got to try and get some rest, yeah? X

---

Moments later a photo came through from you, Aaron's breath hitched at the compromising position you were in, biting your lip and looking at the camera seductively.

---

Sweetheart❤️: Guess you'd better check your footage later then 😇

---

He quickly moved to press his back against a wall and typed furiously, slacks tightening.

---

Me: You really think you can just tease daddy like this and not be punished when I return?

Sweetheart❤️: Gn, daddy 🥰 xx

---

Aaron groaned quietly and pocketed his phone, glancing down at his crotch and willing the slight bulge to disappear. You were in so much trouble when he finally returned home, but he had to admit he was eager to return to his hotel room that night to see what you'd been up to. With a sharp exhale out of his nose he slowly returned to the room to continue working on the case.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

Driving at the speed limit couldn't have been harder for Aaron than right now, desperate to make it back to the hotel and lock himself in his room. He knew the others could tell he was extremely tense and chalking it up to the difficult case, which admittedly, he was stressed out about, but he hadn't been able to keep you or the implications of your earlier messages out of his mind for the rest of the day.

So when he finally pulled into the hotel parking lot with Spencer and Derek in the car with him, he couldn't slam his door fast enough nor rush off into the hotel. He even took the stairs, two steps at a time, so he could get there quicker than waiting for an elevator. Finally. With his door locked his jacket and tie were quickly removed and his shoes toed off at the door, he crossed the room to the bed and he settled down on the edge of it and pulled his phone out.

He was eager, almost embarrassingly so but he didn't care. His thumb hovered over the app that was linked to the nannycam; his slacks were uncomfortably tight already. With a quiet exhale, he unbuckled his belt to give himself a brief sense of relief, then he clicked the app icon.

He remembered the estimated time you'd messaged him, scrolling through the footage from within the 12 hours of the day in the timezone you were in. Most of it was blank, obviously you'd been out for the day, but he slowed down the progress when your figure appeared, entering and leaving the room as you went about your evening. He smiled slightly in complete adoration of you, there was something so serene about watching you going about your time, a part of him secretly wishing he could witness all of it someday.

His thoughts were brought to a halt when you entered your bedroom dressed in a fluffy towel, having just returned from a shower. He shifted on the bed, settling back further as his eyes stared at the screen. At first, your back was to the camera when you unwound the towel from your body. Aaron narrowed his eyes slightly, wishing you would turn around. Then you did. Casually, you began drying your body off, dragging the fabric down your arms and across your neck. You paused, a little smile spread across your face and you moved the towel slower down your body.

His eyes followed the movement of your hand on the fabric, drifting down your chest and lingering. A deliberate, light brush against your nipples, then slowly drifting lower down your body. Tauntingly, you covered your crotch and Aaron groaned, holding his phone in his right hand whilst his left slid down to squeeze the growing bulge in his dress pants. You knew how he felt about you teasing him given you'd been punished for it already recently, brought to a point of begging him through tears to let you cum, to feel his cock inside you. Just the memory of it only made him strain against the fabric of his trousers more, so he unbuttoned them and slowly pulled the zipper down, a quiet grunt escaping him at the release in tension. His hand slipped inside, palming his cock over his boxers.

In the footage, you'd turned from the camera again and bent over to dry your legs, giving him a full view of your ass to him.

"Nngh, fuck." Aaron hissed, squeezing himself tighter. You walked out of frame, seemingly to hang the towel up to dry, but when you returned to the frame you were still in all your naked glory and there was no indication of that changing anytime soon. His eyes widened when you pulled open your bedside drawer and from it you took out one of his button down shirts, but his brow raised when you also picked up a small bottle, one that he knew very well.

"Oh, you naughty thing..." He whispered as you spritzed his cologne he thought he had misplaced a few weeks ago over the shirt he must have left behind at some point. You placed the bottle back into the drawer and held the shirt to your nose, climbing onto the bed to kneel, eyes closed as you inhaled deeply. Aaron groaned again quietly. He didn't know you did this, he would have to ask you if you did it all the time. It made him feel good to be so desired as this, he never expected anyone to want him as much as you clearly did. His cock was painfully hard now, and he pulled it from the top of his underwear with a hiss. The rosy red tip was already glistening with precum, he smeared it with his thumb and dragged it down the impressive shaft with a deep exhale.

Holding onto the shirt, you slowly pulled it down your body, rolling your hips as you brushed across your nipples again. And then, to Aaron's utter surprise, you moved the shirt down to your crotch and began to grind into it. He shuddered, cock twitching in his hand at the scene. You moved to the end of the bed, shirt still rubbing against your crotch, and knelt down, head against the bed with your ass angled towards the camera's general direction. Aaron swore under his breath as he began to slide his hand up and down his cock, squeezing his tip and using the precum that continued to leak out to lube himself. You were laying on top of the shirt, hand between your spread thighs as you touched yourself. Oh, how he wished he could hear your sounds right now.

He could imagine himself touching you in this position, teasing you as he rubbed his cock against your entrance. He wanted you to always have your face shoved against one of his shirts from now on, picturing you biting into it with every caress of his fingers or cock.

Your hips swayed and shuddered forward, your hand moving faster as you masturbated. Aaron moved his hand faster on his cock, thrusting up into his hand eagerly in time with your movements. He could tell you were close in the video, body shaking and back arching, it brought him closer to cumming as well. His chest heaved as he moaned, hips bucking when he watched you finally cum hard, staining his shirt no doubt, and pushing yourself until you collapsed, boneless. Not a moment sooner, Aaron groaned deeply as his cock shot rope, after rope of cum onto his hand and clothed chest. Slightly shaky, he quickly snapped a photo from his torso downward, hand still gripping his sensitive cock, and sent it to you.

---

Me: Sweetheart, look what you've done to me. I'll be having a word with you about taking my cologne...

---

Once the text was sent, Aaron let the phone drop onto the mattress beside him and groaned. His cock twitched in his hand, still aroused. He grimaced, knowing he needed to take a shower and shove his soiled clothes in the bottom of his bag. And so sluggishly, he forced himself to stand and make his way to the shower room.

When the new morning would come round, you'd wake up to more than just a picture.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

AWOOGA OKAY thank you so so so much for reading !! I hope this was kinda what you were thinking of babes, but I could defo expand on this in future tho should the demand be there 👀

Taglist: @cr1minalskies @modern-mermaid @aaronhotchnersgirlfriend @aaronhotchswife @crimeshowjunkie @igotanidea @gogococopuffs @prentissesredtanktop @howabouticallyou @lalalove-56 @constantwritingblock @boredelle @powerlvr25 @idkbubs @mrs-ssa-hotch @emptybagofchips77 @yourmomsmilfmistress @jesuisbenny @nplumb22 @supercriminalbean @elijahmikaelsonbitch @wowzabowza69 @frostingway @simpingfortoomanypeople @munsonsposts @spenciesprincess @creepysweetie @bruhhvv @regulus-black-223048 @brasspistol @0nex-is-dead0 @livingdeadmak @myescapefromthislife @sebastiansstanswhore @bumblebea-xo @hangmandruigandmav @sareim123122 @magical-spit

[pettyprocrastination]

Taste Test

Pairing: Line Cook!Simon Riley x Line Cook!Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon is warned by his manager about the dangers of a workplace romance. You are asked for your opinion on seasoning.

Warnings: profanity and smoking.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Note: take this silly little thing as an apology for my utter lack of activity lately I'm so sorry yall! Made simon a linecook as a little joke au but now its kinda stuck in my head and not leaving lmao. Big thank you to @madhyanas @thesadvampire and @yeehaw-djarin for being my beta readers and editors for this story! I smooch you all <3

__________________

Simon had just finished plating his sixth steak of the night when the manager, Elise, a woman with twitching hands and cold eyes, pokes her head into the kitchen and barks his name. 

“My office.” 

The others snicker and bump shoulders like schoolboys, calling out a jested “fuck did you do this time, Riley?” that he doesn’t bother answering with words so much as a choice hand gesture thrown into the air before he ducks under the door frame and disappears down the hall. 

“You want to tell me what I’m getting chewed out for?” Simon rasps as he tucks his hands into the front pocket of his apron, scarred fingers curling around the carton of cigarettes tucked within it. 

Elise’s office is hardly bigger than the pantry, just large enough for a rickety desk piled with bills and a chair with a threadbare cushion that was all but pressed flat. 

“I’m not reprimanding you, Simon.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Think of what I’m about to say as-” Elise tilts her head, flashing him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “A preventive measure.” 

Simon fishes out a lighter from his back pocket as she continues. She doesn’t have the energy to tell him to stop.

“What do you think of the new hire?” 

Truthfully, nothing.

You don’t talk much outside of work. While the other cooks are content to crack jokes and tell stories of their weekend to one another as they prepare meals, you have no such social connection to anybody within the kitchen. The only moments Simon had even heard your voice was the rushed announcement of your position behind somebody or when coming around the corner. 

“She’s fine.” He takes a slow drag of his cigarette and exhales, smoke curling from his lips as he speaks. “Does her job and doesn’t bitch like the others.”

“She’s more than fine.” Elise motions to a stapled pack of paper on her desk. 

 “Kid went to culinary school, trained under some big fucking names and even worked at some five-star joints before coming here. All her previous employers say she’s a hard worker who picks up shifts and doesn’t cause trouble.” 

She picks up the paper and points it towards the six foot four cook hunched in her doorway.

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you now that she is off-fucking-limits to you.” 

Simon bites down on his cigarette. “S’cuse me?” 

“Don’t play coy, Riley. You’re far too fucking grown to pretend you don’t know what you do.” 

He does know. Simon is more than aware of the past flings he’s had with multiple servers, none of which have ended on a positive note and all of which resulted in a souring work environment until they up and quit - leaving front of house understaffed until the next poor bastard walked through the door asking about the Help Wanted sign hung outside. 

But the blame can’t be on him entirely, that is. Each doe-eyed waitress entered a fling with the cook knowing good and well what his intentions were, because he had no issue with saying it right to their face. 

‘I’m not looking for a relationship.’ 

Simon is a blunt man. He tells people what he wants because in a world full of dragging feet and double entendres, he values efficiency and honesty above all else. 

“Listen, I’ve never stopped you from dipping your hand in the cookie jar before, but this?” She waves your resume in front of him again. “This right here? Off-limits. If you run this poor girl out and leave us understaffed for the Sunday rush I will fucking gut you myself, Simon.” 

It’s only been a week and a half since you’ve started working with them. Part of him wants to laugh at Elise’s exasperated accusation. That somehow, in the midst of chaotic shifts where several customers complain and a few bar patrons get rowdy enough for him to have to drag them out by the collar, he’d be able to find the fucking time to learn your goddamn name, let alone sweettalk his way between your legs. 

But then he remembers the muffled laugh you hid in your sleeve yesterday when listening to the dishwasher crack jokes during the lunch rush and how you tap the side of your apron in a constant rhythm when looking for something within the kitchen. Simon interrupts his own thoughts and frowns, mildly surprised about just how much he noticed of you from the corner of his eye during the daily lunch rush. Had Elise said nothing, he wouldn’t have cast a second glance in your direction. But now?

“Simon! Are you listening?” 

She may have just cursed herself. 

“Yeah-” He stamps his cigarette out on the ceramic tray on her desk, offering her a dry clip of his voice before turning on his heel. “No fucking the new cook until we find coverage, got it.” 

Simon narrowly avoids a stapler being thrown in his direction before ducking out of her office and back into the kitchen where his coworker grins at him from the sink. 

“So? She fire your dumbass yet?” 

Across the kitchen, you cut onions with a flicking wrist that never ceased movement, brows furrowed and mumbling to yourself. 

Simon hums. 

You’re quite pretty. 

“Not yet.” He rumbles. “She likes my smile too much.” 

You spare Simon a glance as he settles back into his work station next to you before you resume cutting. He notices there’s a scar on your bottom lip, a little sliver of raised skin that goes from the bottom of your chin to the swell of your lower lip. 

“Hey.” 

His voice shakes you from your focus, hands freezing as you turn to look at him, lightly craning your neck to meet his eyes. 

Simon holds out a spoon to you, the other scarred hand hovering beneath to keep it from spilling. 

“Mind giving your opinion? Can’t tell if it needs more garlic.”

There’s a moment where your brows cinch together and you look at him with caution, as if to sniff out any sort of deceit within his offer before you mumble, “Yeah, yeah, okay,” and lean forward. 

There’s no need for him to feed you. You’re a fully grown woman who could take the spoon from his hand with no issue, but Simon finds himself guiding it to your mouth and letting his other hand tuck under your chin in an affectionate gesture far too intimate for the back kitchen of a local restaurant. 

Simon is sure that Elise has cursed him too. He hadn’t given you a second glance or a spare thought since your first day. But now, he watches your eyes flutter shut as you hum at his cooking. 

“Good?” he asks. 

Your tongue darts out to catch a stray droplet of sauce on your lower lip. “Good.” Your lips purse like you have something more to say and you raise your hand, pinching your pointer finger to your thumb in a universal gesture. 

“Could use just a bit more garlic though.” 

There’s a brief moment after you speak where panic fills your eyes as Simon says nothing. Frantic thoughts fill your brain, wondering if that was some sort of test for the new hire that you had failed due to your own personal tastes until the man that towers over you nods. 

“More garlic.” He echoes. With a short nod of his head, he turns back to his station without another word. 

Simon doesn’t speak to you again for the rest of your shift yet at times during the night, where an unexpected pause takes over the kitchen for a brief but appreciated moment of silence, you feel his gaze on the back of your neck. 

When the time of the night comes to hang up your apron and slip through the backdoor, he joins you without a word. A large looming shadow walking in step with your own, unexpected but not unwelcome. He bids you a rasped “ ‘Night” before turning to his car as you unlock your own, offering him a mimic of his words before you drive home. 

You notice in the reflection of your rear view mirror that he doesn’t leave the parking lot right away. But rather chose to wait until you do to finally depart. 

[phil-gravey-but-not-daily]

Cat!Graves and Dog!Shadow Company Thoughts🐈🐕‍🦺🐕🦮🐩

Cat hybrid!Graves who purrs softly as he rubs against his Dog Hybrid!Shadows after a successful mission, both congratulating his boys, but also making sure that his property/territory is properly marked and scented. He’d rather d!e than let another hybrid try and claim HIS dog pack. Back off Shepherd >:(

Cat!Graves who stays up super late doing work until the early hours of the morning. He gets a little bit louder when he’s working in the late hours and especially when he’s tired. This causes some of the shadows to wake up and they don’t like that. So when woken up, they will often drag Graves back with them to a dog pile, where they will keep him till he falls asleep or the morning arrives

Cat!Graves who’s more touchy and affectionate than before, rubbing against people he likes and is comfortable around, hugs more often and takes an extended hand as invite for a hug, stands closer to others while swinging his tail slowly. 

Cat!Graves who picks up habits from his dog pack. Like perking up at the smell of peanut butter, having an unreasonable hatred for squirrels, yowling whenever a howl is started, or hissing at people behind closed doors and windows, but being sweet as sugar when the door or window is opened

Dog!Shadow Company who discovers that laser pointers work on Graves in the middle of a meeting. They were using the pointer to discuss a mission, when Graves suddenly walks over to the screen with his tail lashing and puts his hands over the dot. After a few moments of silence the Shadow using the pointer moves it to the side to put it away, but Graves follows the pointer, batting at the wall. The room promptly erupts into chaos, the mission forgotten. Shadows are trying to grab the pointer, and Graves is chasing the pointer around the room, occasionally wiggling before he pounces on the dot. Papers are flying, Shadows are barking and yelling, some are trying to grab Graves, others are trying to get the pointer to mess with Graves, and Graves is bouncing off the walls trying to catch the dot which is moving erratically around the room. The chaos eventually stops when the pointer gets dropped during the confusion and breaks. :( 

Cat!Graves who has to make sure that no other shadows are in the room besides the ones he training with before he starts :( Dog!Shadow Company cannot be trusted as a pack around Cat!Graves when he’s training. Their prey drive kicks in when they see such a small pretty kitty like Graves fighting and tangling against larger dogs :(( Of course, Graves can handle 1-2 Shadows who are exponentially larger than him, but an entire pack? The poor commander is instantly covered and surrounded by large hybrids who can’t help but snap their maws at his body :( And all the while all poor Phillip can do is whimper and whine while try and wriggle out of the pile hybrids :((

Cat!Grave who has a bad habit of pushing tall things off tables. Specifically if its on his 

Cat!Graves who HATES being cornered.(physically) He needs space to move around and feel free and he can’t do that in a corner. He will hiss and snarl if someone he doesn’t know corners or traps him. The only people he lets into his space is his dog pack, and most shadows treat that honor with all the respect that they can give. If someone starts to toe the line too much, and Graves starts to get uncomfortable, all it takes is a few air bites in the perpetrator’s direction for them to back off. No one makes their boss uncomfortable on their watch. Of course Graves can take care of himself, but he takes a little longer to voice his concerns, especially after being shut down a lot by shepherd on missions

Cat!Graves who left the Marines because the bigger, ‘badder’ species thought it was funny to grab his ears and tail and pull as hard as they could just to get him yowling and hissing. They would berate him afterwards, scolding him for being so loud and being weak. His superiors didn’t even care. They thought a species as lazy as a cat didn’t belong in the military so, they let it happen and even went out of their way to taunt him theirselves. All of this built up until Graves had had enough, and left the marines to start Shadow company. He overworks himself sometimes just to prove that he isn’t lazy, and he does belong in the military, even though he isn’t around them now

Dog!Shadow Company who has a group chat dedicated to Cat!Graves moments, whether it be a video of him quickly scaling a wall, a photo of him eating those cat food pouches, or a video taken from behind a corner, showing a Shadow petting Graves between the ears and him purring happily. Every new shadow is introduced to it, sworn in secrecy. Graves does not know about it, and never will know about it as long as the Shadows have any say in it. 

Dog!Shadow Company who secretly knows where Cat!Graves is at all times, they have trackers hidden pretty much in all of his gear. It’s not for nefarious purposes or possessiveness (well, maybe a little bit of possessiveness for certain shadows) but instead for emergencies. Bring the leader of a well known PMC makes him a target for organizations trying to make quick money, or to get revenge for missions he’s overseen. So they keep trackers hidden on him in case someone’s looking to take him hostage. (This one has nothing to do with dog or cat hybrids but it feels important)

Dog!Shadow Company who gets EXTREMELY overprotective of Cat!Graves whenever he’s had a rough day. They’re already pretty protective of him in general, but someone outside the company is causing their beloved Commander to feel uncomfortable?? OhhhhhhohoHO! Grab your guns and your tracking skills, cause that bastard is going to DIE tonight if Graves doesn’t find out in time. They feel like they owe it to him to protect him, as he gave them all a place to call home and people to call family. He’s pretty much their father figure at this point, and as such they will protect him at ALL costs

Dog!Shadow Company who is easy for Cat!Graves to distract, either it be with bones or treats, if the pack needs a pick me up after a mission gone wrong, Graves is there to help cheer them up/distract them

[choccy-milky]

Their kids are so cute omg i'm gonna dir of adorableness

lewis: then die LMFAOO NO BUT FRR THANK UU IM GLAD U THINK SO🥹🥹💖💖💖all the love for them (esp lewis) gave me the idea to draw him deflecting all the attention so ty for giving me the excuse to post it....we luv our aloof distant boi🥰

its funny bc i was JUST talking about this recently, but i dont like pet names at all BAHAH, hence why seb and clora dont call each other anything, not even nicknames.... seb calls her the light/princess/a bird sometimes as playful and teasing jokes, but doesnt actually address her like that. and clora always calls sebastian by his full name as well, bc i was basing her dialogue/my writing off the game dialogue...bc for as close as anne and ominis are to seb, both of THEM call him sebastian in full, so maybe it was a victorian thing that nicknames werent really common? plus clora's so proper that it just feels like its in her personality to always call seb "sebastian"... i feel like if she ever DID call him "seb" he'd do a double take and be like ...HUH? who are you???......are you polyjuiced? LMAO. i do imagine seb calling clora "love" when they get older tho (not in hogwarts) bc i like how simple it is, and imagining him saying stuff like 'careful, love' makes me🫠🫠🫠🫠

aw TYY💖💖 honestly i didnt give the victorian setting TOO much thought, other than making clora more modest/not used to wearing trousers etc. like the actual victorian courting process was that youd ALWAYS be chaperoned by at least 1 other person and you wouldnt be able to kiss or anything, so the fact that our mcs are in a co-ed school with free reign already ruins that, so i wouldnt worry too much about it. a lot of it you can just wave off with the excuse that wizard society is more advanced than muggle society, which is true anyway LOL. i just kept the parts that i thought were fun/made it feel victorian ENOUGH but got rid of the stuff that was too annoying (one big example being the amount of clothing they wear....i said it in the notes for one of my chapters, but i wasnt about to make seb go through like 5 different layers just to touch cloras titty LMFAO) and no i didnt have 1 specific website i used, id just google "blank in victorian times" and look through all the articles and resources i could on that subject, and take little bits of it. SO YEA i wouldnt worry about it too much, just take what you want if you think it could enrich your story, and leave stuff out if its annoying to deal with BHAHA. and GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR WRITING!!💖💖

BAHAHA yeah sebs bark was defs bigger than his bite when it came to actually having kids/getting clora pregnant LOL. he defs loves the pregnancy part, but i feel like seeing her go through the actual labour was super hard on him/made him feel guilty bc he hates to see her in pain, let alone bc of HIM. not to mention that i imagine he would still work even once they have kids, so to leave clora with like 6 kids by herself isnt something he would have wanted to do LOL. once both lewis and celeste are in hogwarts tho i actually imagine seb and clora still doing curse breaking as well (albeit less dangerous jobs/not as far away) BUT YES having a third kid that looks like seb and is sassy like anne would be SO CUTEEE...a happy accident is a good idea too, tho i kinda like the idea of it being cloras idea.....like, she gets baby fever again now that the kids are kinda growing up and sebs like no i dont wanna put u through that again... but obvs seb wouldnt be able to resist if clora was begging seb to put a baby in her LMFAOOO its already as good as done at that point😇😇 AND THANK YOU, and im glad you liked it!!!🥹💖💖💖

@the-kcm-muggleborn AWWW ur right thats so pretty.....ty for showing me!!🥹and im glad it make you think of clora...SHE WOULD APPROVE OF THESE STUDIES👌⭐🌙

[autisticlancemcclain]

Everything is burning.

For too long he doesn’t move. His limbs are leaden, pulled heavily to the ground, and his neck is too weak to keep up his head. Smoke curls in the air and settles sleepily into his lungs. Shredded metal and broken glass glint and shine under the full moonlight, and through his half-lidded eyes it looks like stars. Every inhale is laborious, but the churned earth feels shaped to the contours of his body, like a mattress designed specifically for him. He could close his eyes, just for a moment, and rest, recover from the strain of the crash before moving forward. It would be easier. Just a short rest, a moment to sleep, to heal. 

Sounds of a forest surround him. A steady chirping that must be crickets, a hooting that can only be an owl. If he strains his ears farther, there’s the chittering of something scurrying up and down trees, and the heavier thumps of something bigger stomping about. Behind that, there are voices. 

Shouting. And the bark of what has to be dogs, and the ever so faint revving of vehicles, slamming doors.

Get up, urges a voice in the back of his head. Get up now.

He tries to comply. He cracks open his eyes – when did he close them? – and hisses at the onslaught of light, of beams of searching torches and painful flashes of red and blue. All of a sudden he’s made aware of the flames inching closer to his legs, and the wing of his ship, torn off the body, pressing him into the ground.

“Not good,” he croaks, trying to wiggle his toes. Thankfully, he can, although movement reminds his body of itself, and the aches and pains start to come alive – his entire head pounds, and nausea coils around his stomach, and something burns and pulses in the meat of his calf. 

But still he can move.

Forcing his arms to function, he grounds his hands under him, pushing upright. His body feels heavier than it has ever felt before; the task feels herculean. The unrest in his stomach becomes violent, swirling, and he has to stop before he’s even sitting upright, eyes stinging, teeth clenched, breathing deliberately and sharply through his nose until the nausea settles again. The world spins, when he’s finally sat upright, and he has to give himself a moment for that to pass, too, but the shouting voices and stomping feet get louder, and he knows he doesn’t have much time.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself, praying that Perseus and Ursa and Leo guide him. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

He curls his gloved fingers under the ruined edge of the wing, careful of the sharp shards of torn metal, and heaves, pushing and biting back a loud cry as the effort of freeing his legs tears something in his shoulders, hurts something in his back. The wing is heavy and he’s lucky he’s merely trapped under it rather than pinned; if the ground wasn’t supporting so much of its weight then the onus would be on his legs, and he’s sure he would lose them. His body is sorer than it has ever been in his life, and everything hurts, but he is grateful for that at least. 

With the freeing of his legs comes the hard part. He doesn’t trust them to hold them, at least not at first, and he’s scared of what might happen if his brain tells them to move on their own. So he wraps his hands around his ankle and pulls, so his foot slides close to his rear and bends his knee, and does the same with the other, so he is sitting with his knees nearly pressed to his chest and his feet flat and steady on the floor. 

“Okay,” he whispers again to himself, shaky this time. He bites off any other words, snapping his mouth shut, focusing on breathing. Okay. He braces his palms on the cracked and sparking remains of the control board the pushes with all his strength, steadying himself on wobbling legs and knocking knees. He holds himself steady, breath held in his lungs, for the count of fifteen ticks, carefully testing with his hands still steadying himself, the ability of his legs to hold him up. 

Carefully, nervously, he lifts up his hands. He sways, for a moment, but manages to stay upright. On the high of that success he straightens to the best of his ability and surveys the smoking remains of his crashed ship. It’s not very salvageable. Scrap metal, maybe, but everything else…

He swallows. It has been two deca-phoebs since he left home. Six pheobs since he last passed a satellite up to date enough to talk to his family face-to-face. He hasn’t seen home in so long that sometimes he struggles to remember what it felt like to lie in his bed, not just the nest he built in the cab of his ship. The ship, with its purple glowing lights and well-worn buttons and weird old sounds and familiar walls is the only piece of home he has left. Maybe forever, now.

He shakes himself. The voices are closer, now, the barking of dogs closer still. He doesn’t have time to dwell. He forces himself to shift around some of the ruins, digging through cracked polymer and cracked glass to find anything salvageable and portable; anything he can find in under thirty ticks. He manages – thankfully – to find his pack, half-burned as it is, that he knows holds some clothes and supplies. He finds his comm, too, although it’s cracked clean in half. He brings it anyway. 

His head swivels to the treeline as he hears a barked order that sounds like it’s barely out of eyesight. He has to go. He doesn’t have any more time. 

Choking back tears from two different kind of pain, he stumbles his way out of the wreckage and sprints for the trees, as far away from the voices as he can manage. He only hopes that he’s not trailing blood – and that the humans aren’t faster than he is.

———

Keith grew up on stories of Earth.

His father told him hundreds. It’s like a hundred planets in one, he liked to say, and when Keith was young and still fit in the crook of his father’s arm he’d look at him with wide eyes and try to imagine it. Dozens of nations all trying to coexist in one space. All the culture and language you could ever dream of, naui jag-eun tamheomga, everywhere, at once.

When Keith was a kid he couldn’t get enough of it. When he was a teen he couldn’t, either; he’s never not been fascinated with the heritage he’s never shared with anyone he’s ever known. His bedtime stories were of scientific discoveries his father witnessed in real time, of athletic feats of which Keith could barely conceptualise. And when he ran out of real stories, he told Keith stories of thousands of years of myths, of gods and angels and monsters. And of course when Keith had the first inkling of an opportunity he packed a ship, kissed his mother goodbye, and flew off on a several hundred million lightyear journey, his field journal blank and begging to be filled and his father’s voice echoing in his head.

His father prepared him for everything. Keith knew every star on the journey, recognised the curve of every planet in the solar system. Upon sight of the Great Blue Dot he could barely contain his excitement, thrusters at full force.

His father told him everything. As far as Keith knew and has always known, his father knew everything.

His father didn’t tell him that the second his ship showed up on government scanners, he’d be shot out of the sky.

Keith found that one out the hard way.

———

There’s a light up ahead.

It’s yellowed, and old. The bulb has not been changed in a long time, and dead moths pile inside the class lamp cover. Cobwebs wrap delicately around the iron frame. The light seems out of place with the cottage it guards; not in appearance, but in liveliness: the cottage is dark and well-maintained. The ancient beckoning of the lamp post seems at odd with the sleepy youth of the red-bricked little house.

Keith is starting to get a little delirious, maybe. 

Stumbling, he approaches the cottage. He has long since lost the voices and hunters, if that’s what they were, distracted no doubt by the remains of his ship. He hasn’t heard them in hours. 

But the moon crests higher and higher overheard. And the torn flesh of his leg – cut deeply by a shard of shrapnel – bleeds sluggishly with no sign of stopping. And he is tired, and every step is harder, and the adrenaline only continues to fade, and the point in which he will no longer be able to go on is rapidly approaching.

And, most damning. Humans are pursuit predators. As far as he goes – if he is not sheltered, they will find him. Now or days from now, he cannot stay hidden. 

He’d like to choose the terms in which he is discovered. 

He forces himself to the cottage, injured leg dragging behind him, vision getting blurrier with every step, breaths getting shallower and shallower. The steps are real wood, cured and stained and worn, and Keith mourns for a moment that he is about to ruin them with the spill of his own blood and the tracked mud and grease on his clothes. His father wore a necklace, every day of his life, a leather cord with a rubbed-smooth charm of carved wood. In all the many planets Keith has visited, he has never seen real wood. Dried plant matter, in abundance, and every kind of polished stone, polymers created from nothing and glass melted from every kind of sand, but wood is, at least as far as anyone knows, completely unique to Earth. Keith has always been fascinated by it.

His strength leaves him at the door. Like his strings were cut, he falls to his knees with a heavy thud, and must claw his way close enough to knock. The tap of his fist against the worn green door is hardly loud enough to be audible, but it is all he has strength to do. He slumps against the doorframe and mentally apologises to whatever old lady lives in this house, because she is going to have the fright of her life seeing his corpse on her doorstep when she wakes up in the morning. That, or a trail of blood from where the people who shot him down are going to drag him away. 

Either way, not good.

He’s sad, as he lay there dying. That is of course not a revolutionary feeling to have, but it’s of no consequence. He wishes he saw more of Earth. He wishes he got to stop at all the places his father talked about so fondly. He wishes he was able to tell his mother goodbye. He wishes, perhaps most urgently, that dying hurt less. He had been too shocked to hurt, when he first crashed, but it’s been hours now and his body won’t let him forget it. Everything hurts, and his throat is dry. He hates it when his throat is dry. The wooden doorframe digs into his back, at least, and it’s not a pleasant sensation but he reaches out and strokes the grain of the wooden door anyway, feeling the chipped away pent, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending he’s running his thumb around his father’s pendant. 

The texture of the wood suddenly disappears, and his back hits the ground. His eyes flutter open, whole seconds after he is laid flat on the ground, and hovering above him is the blurry silhouette of a man glowing gold; curls of hair shining flinted silver in the bright light of the moon, stars dotting the apples of his cheeks and bridge of his nose, mouth curved like the arm of the Milky Way, and eyes the deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul.

“Oh,” are Keith’s dying words, faint and echoing and awed. “Dad was wrong. Angels are real.”

———

The tips of cool, uncalloused fingers brushing under his hairline rouse him from slumber, frowning. Mom must be wearing – gloves? But that doesn’t make sense. He’s never seen her wear gloves before, even when he’s been sick. Her claws tear right through the fingers. It doesn’t make sense.

“Mom?” he murmurs, voice scratchy, trying and failing to force open his heavy, heavy eyelids. 

“Go back to sleep,” she whispers, not sounding like herself at all. She must be sick, too. “You’re still all fucked up. You need it.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow. He wanted to talk to her. There was something he wanted to say to her. There’s something faint and muted pulling at the back of his mind; something about his mother, about talking, about pain and sleep and sorrow. He needs to wake up.

But he’s so tired. And his eyelids are so heavy. And sleep pulls, at every corner of his mind.

“Okay,” he sighs, and sinks back into it.

———

“Whatever the hell you are, you’ve made a mess of yourself. Dumbass.”

———

There are voices again. Arguing. Fear pricks at Keith’s veins, and it’s enough to propel him out of whatever blackness he’s been resting in, enough to force his eyes open. He squeezes them shut again on reflex, hissing at the onslaught of sunlight pouring in from the wide, open window, counting to three before opening them again under the shield of his hand. 

He doesn’t recognise the room he’s in.

It’s strangely shaped. Almost cave-shaped, really, with rounded edges instead of sharp corners. Except the window is so big it bleeds light into every single crevice of the room, leaving no room for any cave-like impressions. The walls are painted with soft, muted murals, of hanging vines and falling leaves and ants marching a line on a tree. Dozens of shelves are filled with more rocks than Keith has ever seen in one place, even in his godfather’s labs and archives. The bed itself is huge, taking up half the room, enough so that Keith could sprawl if he pleased and not touch any edge. The comforter is huge and thick and almost stiflingly warm. The door is contrasting to the energy of the rest of the room, covered in vibrant stickers and sprawled in messages and almost graffiti-like lettering. It’s cracked open slightly, and through it Keith can hear two voices arguing: one stiff and demanding, the other angry and shrill.

“I have no idea what the hell you’re on about,” hisses the angry voice, defensive. “No one has shown up at my door. I’ve seen nothing strange. Everything is as normal as it always is. The only odd thing is the slew of trespassing assholes dressed in uniform who won’t leave me the fuck alone –”

Keith’s head lolls backwards, strength seeping out of his body. The sunlight is warm and smells good. The fear that had dragged him awake has ebbed, somewhat, because the voice – the angry voice – is protective. There is someone guarding Keith’s six. 

He lets sleep swallow him again.

———

He dreams, finally, of flying on wings of hollow bones and stretched skin, and being shot out of the sky. And of a bright yellow canary, snatching him from his freefall and floating him gently to the earth.

———

“If you woke up soon I’d appreciate it, you know. I’m running out of excuses to buy saline bags. Shit is getting suspicious and if the local town thinks I’m a vampire trying to keep my personal bloodbag alive, I’m fucked.”

———

Keith awakes, finally and fully, in the middle of the night. A half moon shines bright into a bedroom that feels unnervingly familiar, like the watercolour memories from a dream. The cloudiness that’s been ever present in his head has finally faded, and the only thing rolling in his stomach is hunger. There’s still a heavy ache in his leg, but it’s manageable. It’s dark enough that his eyes don’t sting.

His mouth tastes like something died, then was revived, then shat on his tongue. It’s unpleasant. 

Nervously, fully expecting a half-movement to crumble his body to dust, he peels back the disgustingly fluffy comforter, slowly pivoting his half-upright body until his feet are planted on the rug-covered floor. He rests there a moment, frankly a little breathless, but braces on palm on the nightstand and one on the bedspread and readies himself. Teeth grit in determination, he pushes, leaning on shaky arms until he trusts his legs to hold up his body.

They do. His one leg aches in a pain he’s only felt in Marmora training, but it holds him, and when he tests a tiny step forward, it holds him then, too. 

Slowly, conscious of his space and his body, Keith inches forward. 

It takes him longer than he would like to cross the minimal space between the bed and the door, but he does it, and he ignores the sardonic voice in his head that wants to do anything but celebrate. He rests again at the door frame, hand clutched at the top of it, stretched out in a way that feels unbelievably good (well, as stretched out as he can be with his head brushing the doorframe). His lips quirk up when he realises it’s made of wood, half-remembering his dying internal rambles. He wonders if building with wood is a common Earthen practice, or if whomever owns this cottage is just unbelievably wealthy. Maybe all Terrans are. 

Once his breath has evened again and he thinks he’s good to go, Keith peeks down the hallway, nerves dancing down his spine. The two rooms branching off are dark and soundless, but there’s a small light on at the end of the hall where it opens up, and the soft sound of clinking glass. Someone is awake.

He closes his eyes, pulling back from the doorframe and closing his shaking hands into fists. “Just do it,” he whispers to himself. It’s not like they don’t know he’s here – someone has been keeping him alive, after all. He didn’t just recover – well, half-recover – from a massive crash by himself. That kind of thing kills a person, actually. “Stop stalling.”

Jaw set and shoulders square, Keith stalks forward. It’s hard to stalk with a heavy limp, but he thinks he manages. His cousin has always told him that power comes from audacity, and she has plenty, so. He should be fine so long as he emulates her, which he would rather crash from space again than admit but he does often.

He turns the corner at the end of the hallway and it opens up into an open kitchen and living space. There are no overhead lights but lamps and candles litter the space, making everything glow quietly. A light floral scent fills the air, but Keith isn’t sure if that’s from the candles or the bouquet of purple flowers that might be lavenders placed carefully on the centre of a – wooden – table. More shelves line the walls, filled with more than just rocks this time, and the walls are painted with bright swatches of colours; muted in the low light but visibly more sunshiney and abstract than the bedroom. The fridge is covered in photos so thickly that the door isn’t even visible. The counters are a mess of opened ingredients, some of which Keith recognises, and a slew of utensils and bowls in various states of disarray.

A man stands at the centre of it all, back turned to Keith. 

Keith clears his throat.

The man whirls around, startled, and when he sees Keith he screams at the top of his lungs, mixing bowl clattering to the ground and splattering batter all over the floor and half the cupboards. Keith steps back, heart pounding in his ears, hands held defensively in front of him, mind screaming with various iterations of oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He’d thought he was safe, that his presence was known, that –

“Oh my shitballs,” the man wheezes, hunching over slightly. “Oh Joseph and Mary and Sweet Baby Jesus. Fuck. My heart just clawed its way up my esophagus and threw itself out of my mouth, actually. Holy shit.”

“What,” Keith croaks, still frozen in fear.

For a moment there’s silence. Then the man still stands crookedly, but straightens enough to look Keith in the eyes. And Keith – 

Keith stops breathing, because he knows those eyes. 

The deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul. 

“I am. So sorry,” he says, “for yelling. That is my bad. That is On Me. Probably freaked you out good.” He sighs, bending back down and scooping up the mixing bowl. He stares for a long moment at the mess of batter, weighing, then sighs again and more deeply and reaches for a rag. “I don’t mean to be xenophobic, promise. I swear I knew you were there. I just. Haven’t slept. In so many days. Would’ve screamed if anyone popped out, promise.”

“What,” Keith repeats, a little desperate. 

The man doesn’t seem to pick up on his tone, though, continuing to work on the rapidly drying mess and rambling. 

“– and it’s not your fault, anyway. Been a rough couple of weeks. You really freaked the hell outta the military, huh? I’m glad you’re up now because there was only so much I could do to keep them away. I’m sure they’ll come knocking again eventually, but we’ll figure it out then. Or you’ll go home? I’m honestly not sure. Whatever works. You can stay. I dunno. My brain’s on three percent at this exact moment.”

“You’re…not sleeping?” Intentionally, Keith avoids the whole military thing the man mentioned, because. Well. That freaks him out, if he’s being entirely honest, and he really doesn’t want to hear it. Right now he’s pretending that’s a problem for someone else. He has enough shit to deal with. 

The man sighs. He looks dejectedly at the mess. Slowly, so as not to startle him again, Keith walks over to the sink, careful to avoid smears of whatever the man was making, and wets a rag to help him. 

He figures it’s the least he can do. 

“Yeah, well. I’ve never slept great outside of my bed. It’s cool, though. Sometimes I blink for a few seconds longer than usual and it’s like a micro-nap.”

Keith looks at him in concern. He’s staring off into space, rubbing at a spot that’s been clean for at least two doboshes now. Keith’s not even sure if he’s noticed him beside him. “That seems bad.”

“Eh. Now that you can move around, I can sleep if you’re ever up. All is well.”

“...Wait.” Keith shifts so he’s deliberately in the man’s space, which makes him startle, proving Keith’s earlier guess. “I’m sleeping in your bed?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Keith flushes purple. “I didn’t know I was in your bed!” It’s not that he’s…you know…never slept in anyone else’s bed before, but usually he knew he was doing it. And never a stranger’s, as evidently kind as this stranger has been. 

The man blinks. “I have a guest bedroom, but you’re too tall for it.”

“Still!”

“Dude. You showed up at my door in the middle of the night after crashing into the woods so hard the trees shook, bloodied to hell and back and near death. I couldn’t just – shove you in a bed too small for you. It was my bed or the floor, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to make an injured person sleep on the floor.”

“That’s…fair, I suppose,” Keith concedes. But he’s still a little troubled. “But I’m good, now. I can – sleep in the guest room?”

He trails off a little as he suggests it, realising, abruptly, how absurd this whole thing is. He doesn’t know this person. He’s shown up as an unexpected guest to his home – hell, to his planet. And now they’re…making sleeping arrangements? Arguing about sleeping arrangements? Is Keith even planning on staying? What are his other options? How is he going to get home? What happened to his ship?

His head starts to pound again. The man must notice, because he softens. 

“Man, just sleep in my bed,” he says. “You’re still hurt.” He gently pries the rag out of Keith’s hand, tossing them both into the sink and standing. Hands still gripped together, he pulls Keith up too, careful of his hurt leg and generally aching body. He begins to tug Keith back to the bedroom, guiding him around the mess on the floor.

Keith squares his shoulders stubbornly. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of –” 

The man pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at Keith in exasperation. 

“This is what I get,” he says, shaking his head. “For not listening to Hunk about the light. I deserve this. This is Karma.”

“I’m not just going to steal your bed and let you be sleep deprived,” Keith insists. 

“Well, I’m not going to let you not steal my bed! And it’s my house, so checkmate!”

“Not doing it.”

“I’ll drag you,” the man threatens. “I did before. I will do it again, do not test me.”

“You dragged me when I was a deadweight,” Keith points out. He straightens to his full height, ignoring the screaming burning in his leg. He has a Point to make. “Go ahead and try when I’m actively resisting.”

The man glowers at him, arms crossed over his chest and fingers drumming on his bicep. He has very long fingers, Keith notices. Kind of – elegant. In a scrawny way. Keith kind of gets those vibes from him as a person.

“Oh,” the man says triumphantly, standing to his full height, too – although he still has to look up to meet Keith’s eyes. “I’ll just sleep on the floor. So you’ll have to use my bed. Ha.”

Keith shrugs. “I’ll just sleep on the floor, too.”

The man glowers at him for several doboshes. Keith stares right back, eyebrows raised. 

“Are all aliens this annoying?”

“Are all humans this stubborn?”

A smile twitches at the corner of the man’s mouth. “This is stupid.”

“It is,” Keith agrees, smiling back. 

“Just – sleep on the bed.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“What if I sleep in it, too? Compromise.”

Keith’s cheeks heat again, although this time he doesn’t look away. That would be – embarrassing. Far more embarrassing than simply sleeping in someone else’s bed – sleeping with them in it.

But it would get them both to sleep faster. Plus, Keith would be unconscious, so how embarrassing could it be, really? And the bed is huge, so double plus! They probably won’t even be that near each other.

“Compromise,” Keith relents, finally. The man beams, but notably there’s a bit of a flush to his ears, too.

“Come on,” he says, reaching down to grab Keith’s hand again. He does it very easily. Keith tries not to notice. “God, I’m so pumped. I love sleeping. This is going to be the best.”

“...Right.”

Keith follows him, meekly, down the hallway, straight through the second door on the left, and into the bedroom. It has remained unchanged – the comforter is turned over as Keith left it, and the light curtains are swaying, slightly, in the breeze from the open window. The man wastes no time crawling right in, on the right right, sighing loudly as he sinks into the soft mattress. Keith is much more hesitant. 

“There,” the man says, as they’re finally settled side by side. “Hopefully it’s not – the worst.”

“It’s not,” Keith tries to assure, voice strangled. He lies as stiffly as he can, careful to keep his limbs to himself, not to crowd. He doesn’t want to – suffocate the man, or something. Who knows. This is a real-life human. Mom says they are largely fragile.

“Goodnight,” the human whispers, several doboshes later. His voice is hushed, sleep-thick. Keith chances a look, and finds him melted into the pillows, eyes closed, face lax. He doesn’t seem to be – bothered. By Keith. By his clawed hands, or big ears, or height. Or proximity.

Keith exhales, and lets himself relax. 

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, and sinks back into unconsciousness. 

— — —

next

later in the universe

[art-missy]

The Angel and The Hound (Gekko x Reader)

Me ? Trying a fantasy AU ? I guess so. My brain agreed to write this but threw a tantrum when I tried to continue a one shot left in my draft for more than six months...

Anyway, thousands of apologies in advance for my torturous grammar and dull writing.

In a world of fantasy and mystery, where the scent of adventure drew people in like light attracted insects, where naives and arrogant fools were constantly eaten, where treasures and glory were as common as misfortunes and villainy, you preferred to live like a hermite.

Well, semi-hermite actually. While you preferred to live away from civilization, you stayed close enough to know about the recent news in order to avoid problem from said civilization.

Living alone in the Forest of Valorant wasn't as terrible as some people might think. Yes, there were creatures that could pounce on you and use you like their meals or chew toys, insects that could take a bite of your skin or a sip of your blood. There were mud and increases of risks of landslides after rains, winters could be lethal, nights scary and unpredictable and the whole area seemed to be design for people's downfall.

But it was your home.

It was only you and nature. Fresh foods, fresh air, fresh water, fresh life. You were far from cities and towns, therefore far from people and you were consequently better. You would sometimes help lost adventurers or parties, heal the wounded, guide them until the closest town or city then went back to your home. These people wouldn't be able to find your house again anyway, it was hidden in a large tree and protected by an illusion. According to some random people, you were known as the 'Woods' Angel' by the inhabitants of surrounding towns and nearby cities.

Finding it cringey, you would glare at any person calling you by this title.

Even your friends Skye and Clove started calling you by that name. It was a tease at first, but the druids kept calling you that way even when serious, unfortunately for you.

But despite everything, your life was peaceful and almost uneventful.

Almost.

Strolling and picking berries, you were just minding your business when you noticed a dog, no, a hound following you around. You were used to woods creatures and animals and most of them were also used to you. When one would cross your path, it would either mind its business or be curious and follow you around for some minutes before going away. You were used to it and it wasn't a problem. Yet, this animal was peculiar. This hound was huge and strong, much bigger than a grey wolf. Its brown fur higlighted the lime-green tips of its perky ears and its wagging tail. And despite clearly being a predator, this hound was playful in a goofy way.

You never saw that hound before, which led to the conclusion that it wasn't from around the area since you would have had remember it.

"New here, buddy ?"

Its ears perked up at the sound of your voice. Its tail wagged in excitement as it ran in circles around you. It kept following you around during your daily stroll, always pulling stunts to attract your attention. You swore you saw its warm chocolate-brown irises shine in delight everytime your gaze would meet its eyes. When it understood you were looking for berries, it literally rooted out a bush for you. It then looked at you, its eyes sparkling with expectancy.

"Thanks, buddy !" you smiled, bending down to collect the berries.

It let out an excited bark and roll on his back in front of you. Snorting, you gave a few belly rubs to this excited ball of fur and eagerness. With one glance, you noticed that it was a male. You raised an eyebrow, and straightened your back, looking at the hound who straightened itself on its four paws. He was so big and so tall that it had to slightly tilt its head down to look at you properly.

"Where the heck are you from ?" you muttered to yourself.

It tilted its head then nuzzled its snout against your cheek, his breathing warming your face. It clearly didn't seem to want to give you an answer, just wanted to stay close to you. It followed you during the totality of your stroll, running around you, rolling in the ground and sometimes asking for caresses, or belly rubs. And when the sun started to set, the hound started to whine and to be more clingy.

"Sorry buddy, but it's getting late."

It howled sadly and clinged even more to you. You pushed its head away.

"The nights here are no friends. Don't you have a place to go back to ?"

Its ears perked at your words and its back straightened, as if remembering something. Then, it let go of you with a huff, head low and a sad whine escaping its mouth. It gave you last nuzzle with its snout then ran away far in the woods.

"What a strange hound."

Strange indeed. You had no idea what breed it could be, probably a crossbreed. And when you friends came in your house to visits, you couldn't help but talk about your strange encounter.

"Aww !" Clove cooed as you poured them a cup of tea. "You made a new friend !"

Skye hummed, thoughtful. Sat comfortably in a plushed chair, she bit in a fresh made cookie.

"You said that you did not recognise its breed ?"

You shook your head, sitting in a chair as well.

"Yeah. I even searched in the book you gave me," you pointed said book on your cupboard. "I didn't find any breed of that height with the tips of ears and tail colored."

Skye's brows furrowed at your words as she spinned a spoon in her cup of tea.

"Colored ?"

"Mmhmm," you nodded. "Lime-green. I've never seen this color on a non venomous animal. Well, I don't exactly know if this hound is non venomous but you got me."

"Well I wonder if its even a hound," expressed Clove. "According to how you described its behaviour, it sounds more like a nice doggy. Its not attacking you, therefore there is no reason to be worried about it for now."

You leaned back in your seat, pondering their words.

"Fair point," you sighed. "Oh ! I've been meaning to ask. What is that village that burst out of nowhere at the south of the forest ?"

Clove perked in their chair, the new subject of conversation tickling their interest.

A few weeks ago, you had helped a few lost people who were asking the direction towards the south. The surprise you had when you discovered that instead of a meadow where you used to see goats and sheeps were now a whole and highly functional village had you stunned and speachless for a few minutes.

"A new village came out of nowhere ? How ?"

"The Mondragón Sanctuary," said Skye after taking a sip of tea. "Ruled and protected by the great sorceress Reyna. Tribeless outcasts of all kinds, runaways and survivors of the Kingdom tyranny are seeking refuge there. I've been reached out to teach the young druids of this village to master their abilities."

Clove's eyes seemed to sparkle. They reached out for Skye hands, squeezing them in theirs while doing pleading eyes.

"That sounds so cozy ! Could you put a good word for me ? I want to see that place ! And I could help youngsters too !"

"Sure," acquiesced the ginger druids. "The Sanctuary is actually asking for more professors," she then turned to you. "You could teach botanical and apothecary stuffs since plants have no secrets for you."

A grimace painted your lips as you shook your head. The simple idea of being the center of a crowd's attention made you sick.

"No thanks. The farthest I am from people, the better."

True to her words, Skye put a good word for Clove who are now teaching the young druids along side her how to master their elemental abilities. You often saw them exercising with children in a clearing in the south of the forest while picking incandescent berries. The sounds of laughters and squeals of joy was new but welcomed melodies in the sometimes chilly silence of the Forest of Valorant. You occasionally found yourself watching them from afar discovering their abilities, or drawing them in a sketchbook when you weren't searching for plants. Of course, there were times when Clove waved at you and that you had to jump in a tree to avoid being seen by so many eyes, but it was a new colorful routine adding new pigments into the once monotone painting that was your life.

Lulled by the laughter of children, you were now asleep in the grass, back against a tree. You were so deep in your slumber you barely noticed the young man walking in your direction until he was right before you. Startled, you jolted awake.

"Sorry," he smiled apologetically. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You eyed him warily, taking note of his light catching lime-green hair, the runes on his skin and the jewellery decorating his ears. Your gaze then met his —a very warm chocolate gaze— before falling on the constellation of freckle highlighted by his smile. Despite not knowing him, his face was vaguely familiar to you.

"I wanted to introduce myself correctly since I couldn't last time."

"Last time ?" you repeated, your brows furrowing in confusion.

His eyes momentarily seemed to shine at the sound of your voice roughened by sleep.

"Yeah," he nodded, taking a step further towards you. "My friends and I were lost but you helped us coming back in the village. Man, these woods are big ! We owe you big time !"

You stood up, cleaned yourself and took a step back.

"Oh," you said simply. He was with the group you guided to the Sanctuary a few weeks ago.

"I'm Mateo," he said with a nervous but happy smile. "But people call me Gekko."

You picked up your stuffs in the grass while telling him your name.

"I know ! Skye told us about you when we came back at the Sanctuary after you guided us, and Clove keeps praising your erudition. They also said that if we ever get lost in the woods, there were great chance to have an encounter with the Woods Angel."

"Snitches," you grumbled an unpleased grimace stretching your traits.

From the other side of the clearing, Clove's voice could be heard, calling for you and highly distracting. When Gekko looked back, you were gone.

★★★

Keeping people at arm's length was a skill you perfectly mastered after years of semi-isolation. You could disappear in one blink, lowered your presence or just hide in the shadows. Gekko seemed to have finally understood that after several attempts to strike conversations with you when you were out admiring your friends' educational prowess.

While you proud yourself in keeping people away, it was another story for animals. When you went out in the clearing today, the exact same hound from a few days ago was comfortably laid down at the foot of the tree you usually relaxed against. It immediately perked when it noticed you.

"You again ?" you gasped in surprise as it came nuzzling against you.

You let it cling onto you as you sat down against the tree. It immediately put its head on your lap.

"Do you belong to someone from the Sanctuary ?" you inquired, to which it let out a soft growl.

It kept looking at you as you mindlessly caressed its colored-tipped ears while drawing in your sketchbook, its eyes reflecting a confusing intelligence. It sometimes lifted its head to take a peek, sometimes nuzzled its head better against you.

And slowly, this hound slithered into your cocoon, being an element of your routine.

You often met at the tree in the clearing, relaxing together —sometimes to the point of taking naps together. You soon discovered how eager this animal was. You sometimes discovered bushes of berries at the tree where you often met. Or there were these times when it let out soft whines when you stopped caressing it. And you also found yourself laughing more thanks to it. You had a listener for your little rants and company when you needed it. Clove often teased you about the hound, saying that you've been adopted by it.

You once let him follow you to your house, showing him how to pass through the illusion that was hiding it. And since that day, you would often hear it scratching eagerly at your door or see it napping in your garden.

You were now used to hear your new friend around and the familiar noise of its claws scratching the wood. So one day, when you heard someone banging with strength at your door, you couldn't help but grabbed your daggers.

"Go away !" you shouted.

"Please !" the voice was masculine and familiar, the tone heart-wrenching. "It's an emergency !"

Biting your lower lip, you kept your guards up.

"How did you find this place ?"

You heard sniffling from behind the door and your hands clenched around your daggers.

"You showed me the way."

"Liar !" you hissed.

There were a silence and for one moment you believed he was gone. But then, you heard the familiar pattern of claws scratching the wood. Confused, you hurried to unlock the door and swung it open. A light yelp escaped you when you saw Gekko, ugly tears flowing down his cheeks and sobs shaking his broad shoulders. When he saw you, he immediately fell down to his knees and hugged your legs, burying his face in your stomach.

"I'm sorry for lying to you all this time but please, people are dying at the Sanctuary," he begged, his fingers clenching around your thighs. "I'll do anything ! I'll...I'll even stop seeing you if that's what you want, I promise but please, save them ! They're my family."

Momentarily paralysed at the sudden contact, you let the informations sink in your brain as his loud sobs were painfully clenching your heart. For a short instant, you saw your hound nuzzling against you.

"What happened ?" you breathed out.

He sniffled again and looked up at you, his eyes red of despair. He then pulled out two vials from his thigh sac. They both contained a dark grey sandy powder.

"We found soldiers of the Kingdom spreading these in the river and the wheat. People started feeling sick and our healers can't help the ill."

You took the vials, opened one and took one short inhale before cursing under your breath. Recognition hit you in the most unpleasant way possible. If you were right —and you furiously knew you were— you would have to act fast before the worst could happen.

"When did people start getting sick ?" you asked as you gently pull away from his arms, rushing inside your house.

He quickly stood up, following you.

"Yesterday afternoon," he wiped his tears as he watched you pulling out different bocals, vials and tools and put them in a large messenger bag. "People started dying this morning."

You tossed your messenger bag at him and grabbed a few notebooks before rushing outside.

"Did you inhale the powder ?"

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't. Why ? What does it do ?"

"It nullify abilities of magic users and weakened their immune system as well as draining their life force in a recording speed. Healing abilities won't work on the sick. You can't find the plants used to make this powder on this continent. The Kingdom must have imported it."

You saw his eyes widening in horror as you exited the illusion protecting your house. You then felt his hand grabbing yours, stopping in your track.

"Wait. Get on my back, we'll be faster."

And under your heavy but still surprised eyes, he turned into a hound.

Your hound. Looking at you with sad eyes while holding your messenger bag in his mouth.

You barely contained the disillusioned scoff that escaped you and his big canine body winced in response.

"Let's just go."

When you arrived at the Mondragón Sanctuary, a gasp of horror leaved your mouth. It was almost liveless. The once colorful and joyful village was now filled with gloom and sorrow. Gekko kept running through the streets until reaching what seemed to be a small hospital. You climbed off Gekko's back and he turned back to open the door for you. Another loud gasp escaped you at the maelstrom of panic in the hall. Healers and physicians were running everywhere, screaming orders and moving sick people.

Suddenly overwhelmed, you took a step back, your hands clenching on the strap of your messenger bag.

"Mateo !"

Before you even knew it, a tall woman rushed towards you two to cup Gekko's face in her hands.

"Where were you ? I looked for you everywhere !"

"I brought help."

Your attention was led behind you when a familiar voice called your name and when you turned your head, you saw Skye walking in your direction.

"Oh gods, Skye !" you whimpered, taking her in your arms.

Your friend looked so pale, so weakened. Walking seemed to take so much energy. Seeing her in that state brought tears into your eyes.

"W-What about Clove ?" you stuttered.

"They can't leave their bed," she coughed.

Gekko retrieved your attention by grabbing your hand again and gently calling your name.

"This is Reyna. The head of the Sanctuary and my mentor."

You looked back at the great woman and almost fell under the intensity of her stare. You felt like her deep purple gaze was analyzing each atom of your being. There were something about her that was confusing your instinct : on one hand, you felt very protected by her presence. On the other, you also felt like you walked into a lethal and sadistic trap.

"The infamous Wood Angel," she said with her sultry but imperial voice. "My protégé told me a lot about you. Clove and Skye also praised your knowledge and competency."

You side-glanced Gekko —who shyly looked away, and Skye who coughed again.

"I'll go straight to the point. Are you able to get rid of this illness ?"

Your body winced when you noticed the attention of everyone in the hall on you. You literally felt their eyes eaching your skin, their silent questions suffocating you. Anxiety raised silently raised its thread to make you its puppet. Your fingers raised to dig their nails in your wrist, but before you could hurt yourself, two hands gently grabbed yours. Your eyes searched for who they belonged to and fell into Gekko's warm ones. For an instant, you saw your hound's worried gaze.

Feeling oddly relieved, you took a deep breath then nodded.

"It's not my first time dealing with this. I brought my equipment but we need to be quick and I need space to create the remedy," you took another deep breath, taking a look inside your bag. "I brought my own plants and potions, but I want the antidote to be strong. And I need incandescent berries for that."

Gekko perked at your words, his hands squeezing yours again, recognition sparkling in his eyes.

"I know where they grow. I can go fetch you them."

Reyna sized you again, her eyes, glowing faintly.

"Very well," she agreed. "Mateo, tell Sage and Viper to quickly prepare their laboratory."

"Sure," Gekko nodded then looked back at you. "Come on, it's this way."

You let him drag you out of the hall.

"Skye, please find a bed to rest. I'll be as quick as I can."

"I know," she smiled weakly. "I trust you."

The walk in the different corridors was filled with a loud silence. His shoulders stiff with tension, Gekko avoided your gaze as much as he could. Yet, his hand never left yours, its grip strong but gentle. A heavy sigh escaped your lips and his body wince in response.

"Look, I'm sorry," he finally said.

"Oh ? You are now ?" you raised an eyebrow. "You know what ? Forget it. There is much more urgent than your deceiver tendencies."

He froze as his hand grabbed the doorknob of the laboratory. He then looked back at you with sad eyes. For a moment, your hound was back in front of you. Gulping, you diverted your eyes elsewhere.

"I played with your trust and that's not fair. I...I've been wanting to tell you for a long time. Really. But the more I waited, the harder it got."

Your eyes stayed away from his as your jaw clenched. You've rarely felt so hurt, but your feelings weren't the priority at the moment. Yet, for a rare time of your life, you had difficulties putting them away. Huffing, you harshly pull your hand out of his touch.

"I've felt less alone with you around," you lamented in a murmur. "I thought you were my friend."

"I am !"

"Friends don't deceive each other !" you scolded. "You played me for months ! And all of that for what, huh ?"

Your argument was quickly interrupted by the door swinging open on a tired looking woman scowling at you two, her green eyes glaring.

"Could you two be loud elsewhere ? I'm trying to focus."

An oddly exhausted huff escaped Gekko, but he took the time to introduce you to Viper, an alchemist who soon understood that you were there to help and the Sanctuary salvation. She welcomed you into her dizzyingly organised laboratory and you didn't waste time pulling out your equipment. You were pulling bocals out of your bag when you felt a hand patting your shoulder.

"I'll go fetch the incandescent berries," he murmured. "I'll be back soon."

You didn't answer. You didn't even look at him.

You gave Viper instructions, teaching her how to manipulate certain plants and certain mushrooms, answered her questions. Soon, Sage, a cleric, came to help the both of you and you ended up working in an efficient synergy.

Focused, you were manipulating boiling vials when a blue armadillo-like creature arised in your sight, its strange body slightly deformed behind your magnifying binoculars. Startled, you let out a yelp and, as you jolted back, your back collided with a torso.

"Gekko, how many times did I tell you to not summon your spirits in here ?" sighed Viper as she handed you another vial.

"Sorry," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "But we're back with the berries. Set the basket down, Wingman."

Another creature, this time yellow and almost axolotl-like, walked on the work plan and set down a basket full with incandescent berries. It garbled, cheerfully waved at you and disappeared into the runes on Gekko's arm.

"Please let me help you," he begged. "It's only fair that I–"

You cut him off with a loud exhausted sigh. You sized him from head to toe and groaned when you recognized the stubbornness in his eyes. You were used to see it on a canine face, but the blaze was the same. You had a quick flashback of that time when he didn't let you carry your basket of flower. He had only let you carry it once you were back at your house.

"Put on protection gloves and an apron. Incandescent berries are quite tough to deal with."

You didn't have the strength nor the will to argue with him. It wasn't the moment anyway.

Gekko proved himself to be efficient and quite reliable. Once you showed him how to manipulate incandescent berries without being burned by their juice, it was easy for him to fill a few dozens of bocals. Meanwhile, you were stirring the boiling cauldron. After Viper and Sage added minced mushrooms and plants into the odd-colored mixture, you took a graduated pipette to take the right amount of incandescent juice to pour it into the remedy with extra caution. Its reaction to the mixture would indicate if the antidote was reliable ot not. You took a deep breath and waited. The incandescent juice started to sizzled on the surface of the potion before bursting in small flame dancing on the liquid. When the small blaze went out, you let out a relieved laugh.

"It's working !" you announced, putting an amount of potion in two vials. "Where are Skye and Clove ?"

★★★

Rushing outside of the laboratory, you ran through different corridors and then burst into the room where your friends were. The poor druids didn't even have the strength to be startled. You handed a vial to Skye and helped Clove drinking theirs.

"Shyte ! It's spicy !" they grimaced. "I'll need a cookie to help pass the taste."

"You'll have all the cookies you want once you'll be fully recovered," you smiled. "It should take a few hours."

"Efficient as ever !" complimented Skye. "You're already done ?"

You nodded, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Only the first round of potions. Sage and Viper are giving the antidotes to the people in the building while Gekko and a few other emissaries are giving it to the rest of the village," you explained before narrowing your eyes on Skye. "You knew, right ?"

She didn't even seem to need more precision to what you meant. A sigh escaped her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, her tone sincere. "I thought he would tell you."

"Well he didn't. Since when do you know ?"

"The day you recalled us your first meeting with him. He has quite notifying traits when he shapeshifts."

Feeling themselves excluded from the conversation and completely clueless, Clove gently fist your top to attract your attention.

"Knew what ? Who are you talking about ?"

★★★

Back at the laboratory, you were crafting the remedy for the umpteenth time. You were so focused you barely paid attention to the small green bouncing creature on your left, or the dozing shark-like one at your feet. You had to supply a whole village, after all. You already managed to supply the totality of the building, the neighborhood, and to fill a two whole tables with vials. Emissaries came from time to time to take some. In a few hours, the ill that touched the village would be nothing but a bad memory.

"You've been working all night. Please take a break," you heard Gekko pleading.

"I can do that later."

He had been keeping you company for hours, without even flinching. You were done filling another vial when he gently grabbed you wrist and led you to a small couch.

"And you say I'm the stubborn one," he sighed. "You did enough for today. Sage and Viper taught the recipe to other physicians and healers."

He sat you down and kneeled before you.

"But—"

"Please," he begged taking your hand in his.

For a quick moment, you heard the whine of your hound. He nuzzled his warm cheek in your cold palm, his lids heavy.

"I owe you. Again," he was thanking you, but his voice sounded so apologetic. "You helped me when I was lost in the forest, listened when I came asking for help and saved my home and family without hesitation. All of this despite the fact that I tricked you."

Your eyes narrowed on him, almost glaring.

"Why did you even do this ?"

You felt him flinching at your tone.

"I've been thinking about you since we first met. Skye had warned me that you barely interact with people, so I approached you in my canine form. I wanted to tell you since day one, I swear. The day you found me again in the forest, I wanted to have more time so I could explain but it was getting late." he laid his head on your lap and guided your hand to his head. "Everytime I tried to talked to you as Gekko, you did your best to keep me at arm's length. So I turned back and used the hound to get close to you. I'm sorry. I would understand if you decide to not see me anymore."

A silent yawn stretched your jaw as his words echoed in your mind. You were mad at him. He learned so much about you without your knowledge, he slithered into your life and settled comfortably in your routines and heard your rants, he heard you expressing your mind. Hell, thinking about all the times you rubbed his belly made you deeply embarrassed. But he was good company and had the ability to turn your plain loneliness into a very colorful painting.

"I don't want us to part ways," you confessed. "I would miss you." you raised a scolding finger when he raised his hopeful eyes to you, interrupting him before he could say anything. "But, trick me again like you did and I'll make you drink a beverage with a balding effect. You hear me ?"

He nodded, holding out his pinky finger to lock it with yours.

"Pinky promised !"

He looked so eager at the moment that it made you realize that there weren't really any difference between your hound and him.

"Now that I think about it, you never named me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

"Named you ?"

"Normally, when people see an animal regularly, they end up giving it a name. Yet, I've been visiting you for months yet you didn't give me a name. Why ?"

Internally, you already had the answer. Giving a name or a nickname was like accepting and nurturing a growing bond between two individuals. By giving him a name, you would have accepted to be mire vulnerable to your hound that you already was. Due to past experiences, you had difficulties bonding with others, Skye and Clove being exceptions but it was mainly because they never left you and proved multiple times how much you meant for them.

You didn't want to give him an answer. Not for now. So you changed subject.

"What happened to the soldiers that poisoned the Sanctuary ?"

He noticed your abrupt change of topic but said nothing of it.

"Oh. Reyna took care of them," he shrugged way to casually for it to not be recurring, and chuckled at your raise of eyebrows. "Don't worry, they're still alive. Which is kinda sad for them, now that I think about it." His gaze regained its worry when you yawned again. He gently pushed you down so you could lay down on the couch. "Please have some rest. You've been standing on your feet for hours."

You couldn't even argue, your lids were closing on their own.

★★★

You woke up at the sounds of whispers and the scent of bakery. When you opened your eyes, Clove's radiant smile blinded you while a gelatinous paw patted your forehead. Your eyes then met lively white ones.

"Huh ?"

"Aren't they awesome ?" Clove exclaimed as you sat up, taking Wingman in their arms. You also noticed Skye drinking juice and Gekko bringing you a tray of food. "And they're so cute too !"

Gekko sat down beside you while you watched your friends interacting with the four very lively spirits. Even though Clove could now exit their bed, you noticed they were still very cautious with their movements. As for Skye, dark circles were still present under her eyes.

"Eat a little," said Gekko. "You didn't have dinner last night."

"How is—"

"Everything is fine," Skye cut you off with a reassuring tone. "The whole Sanctuary had their vial. Now eat."

You noticed the tables which were filled with vials the precedent night now empty. A small sigh of relief escaped you.

"Oh," you accepted the toast Gekko presented you and bit in it. "Good. I can go back home then."

You didn't notice Gekko's frown as you finished your tray and chugged down the entire pitcher of orange juice.

"I'll probably return to my town, just the time for the Sanctuary to recover fully," hummed Skye before turning towards Clove. "You coming ?"

Clove nodded, still playing with Gekko's spirits. Speaking of Gekko he gently nudged his shoulder against yours.

"You won't stay ?" he questioned and once again, he looked so much like your hound. "You never come to the village. I...I could show you around or even show you my place."

You shook your head, setting the now empty tray aside.

"I'll be fine. But thanks for the proposal."

You swore at that moment that he contained himself from whining.

"You sure ? The whole village wants to thank you."

"And this is one more reason for me to go back home," you grimaced standing up and stretching.

Clove and Skye silently watched your interaction, one with a knowing smile, the other with fond eyes.

"Okay," Gekko's shoulders deflated. "At least, let me walk you back home."

You accepted and let him take your hand to lead you outside of the building. On your way out, you briefly saw Reyna talking to Viper. When she noticed you, she nodded in your direction, as if appraising and thanking you. Once outside, Gekko shapeshifted into the hound and invited you on his back.

He ran through the village, attracting brief attention. Feeling awkward, you hid your face in his fur until he exited the Sanctuary. You immediately felt your body relaxing when he reached the forest and ran through the different groves, the rhythm of his paws drumming the floor almost lulling you. He only slowed down when he passed through the illusion protecting your home, and stopped when he reached the house. You climbed off his back and he didn't wait for leaving his canine form.

"Did you mean what you said last night ?" he asked almost shyly. "That you'd miss me if we parted ways ?"

"You're still welcomed," you agreed. "I love your company."

His eyes lit up before he suddenly took you in his arms. His embrace was as warm as his eyes, strong but so gentle. Surprised by his sudden and bold action, you remained stunned for a few seconds before returning the hug.

"Thanks again," he murmured in your eyes. "For everything. You really live up to your nickname."

He chuckled at your irritated groan before patting your back. And then, he did something you would have never predicted. He kissed the apple of your cheek.

"Please have some more rest," he said as he took a step back. "And don't be surprised if you find me napping in your garden."

On these words, he shapeshifted again and exited your sight. He didn't even let you the time to see how flustered he was by his own bold action.

My headcanon is that Clove wrote this fanfic to tease you and Gekko.

I don't know if I'll do a second part for this one. Honestly, I'm pretty doubtful. It was funny to write but I don't have any idea for a part two nor any inspiration left for it.

Thank you again for reading this. I wish you a nice day/evening/night ^^

[rpekitty]

daughter who's also half puppy & dad who owns her and looks after her and protects her.🩷🐶

daddy that rubs her ears and brushes her tail, gives her snacks when she obeys his tricks. 🩷 one day he'll walk in on his precious puppy daughter humping her chewtoy in desperation. letting out little whimpers as tears form in her eyes, nipples swollen and puppycunt all sore and puffy. 🩷

she's asking her daddy what's wrong with her and why is she feeling that way as he coos to her about how pretty she looks.

"See baby, When puppy's turn a certain age.. they get in heat and there little body needs to be bred. What your little puppycunt is feeling is normal. it's normal for puppy's your age to want to have babies in them."

"There, there. Let daddy help you hm? I'll take the feeling away baby. Let daddy help."

so daddy starts touching his little kiddopup.🩷 fondling and pinching her button nipples, watching her glassy teary eyes flutter up at him. Little pants escaping the dumb mutt as she drools all over her tits🩷

daddy bending her over in doggy style position🩷 bum up in the air as he starts to rub it.

"d..d..daddy... p.. please h..help me.. please.."

"tsk tsk tsk. baby your little pupcunt is leaking. you're so desperate for a baby in you...you poor poor thing. It must be so hard, such a small puppy like yourself feeling such a big girl feeling."

him taking his fingers and spreading apart the squirming pups little cunnie hole 🩷 sliding his fingers around it, spreading her leaky pup juice all over the rest of her cunnie.. slowly fingering his virgin pup and sliding his fingers in and out of her hole🩷

all she can do is squirm and wiggle and whimper.

" you poor thing. you can't even properly bark yet and your already desperate for a cock in you. such a dumb dumb slutty puppy.

My fingers aren't enough hm? I bet your little whore hole wants something else doesn't it? Something bigger huh, pup?"

"Go on, Let me hear my puppy bark. Can you bark for me baby? Cmon girl, Bark for your dad."

"..ah....ah... ah.. a..arf.. arf..."

"Good girl, Such a good little pup. Your cunnie is leaking so much now baby, You're making such a mess of yourself."

"d..daddyyyyy.. pleaseeee...."

"I know my baby, I know."

daddy taking his cock out all thick and hard from seeing his kiddopuppys body begging to be knocked up 🩷 him sliding the tip of his cock against her achy hole and watching as her little body clenches around his cock.

"Good little pup for me, hm? Clenching around your dad's big cock? Such a good girl. Daddy's going to slide it all in now okay? Bite down on your chew toy for me. Be a good pup. I'm going to count down okay? 3......2.......1...."

"a..ah... owie...d..daddy it h.. hurts..</3"

"Aww i know baby, It's going to hurt for a bit okay? Your little cunnie is so tight and small.. its hard taking such a big cock for the first time, isn't it mutt?"

him pounding inside his puppy daughters tight cunt for the first time 🩷 thrusting himself deeper and deeper, rubbing himself against her most sensitive areas.. his cock only getting deeper with every thrust 🩷

"Fuck. Baby. I can't believe your stupid whore body really likes it when your own dad is fucking you. I raised you better than to be such a dumb mutt."

his grunts only becoming more aggressive 🩷

"d...daddy... w..why do i f..feel this way..?? s...stop... d..daddy.."

him speeding up his pace when he feels his daughters cunt tightening around his cock. 🩷

"Good girl. Such a fucking good little mutt. Do it baby. Cmon, come on your dad's cock. Do it baby, be a good puppy. Stick out your tongue too. Let daddy know how much of a whore you are for him."

she sticks out her tongue, drooling all over herself.. tears in her eyes & cum leaking out of her puffy cunt. 🩷

he grabs her chin, pulling her face towards him and kisses her.

"Good girl, Let it all out baby. Let it all out on daddys cock."

🩷🐶

[thearcanecat]

Hatchetfield headcanons?

Let’s see…

Holloway has lots of scars from living for centuries and hides them with the jacket. These include:

Lightning scars

Wiggly: sucker/tentacle marks

Pokey: cracks

Blinky: eye like circular pattern. Red vein squiggles at end.

Tinky: hoof print

Nibbly: bite marks

Her accent gets stronger when she’s mad. Same for Duke, but you rarely hear it.

Original name was Holly-May Logan.

The strange carving it’s mentioned she has in Killer Track, is a part of Pokey’s mask.

Ryan Reynolds is the person running against Solomon for mayor. He’s pushing the problematic pooch story because it shows how horrible the town has gotten under Solomon’s rule. You’d think the disappearance of his wife right before he got elected would be a bigger deal, but no, time for our daily Peanuts the Hatchetfield Pocket Squirrel segment!

The Obnoxious Teen is actually different versions of Pete after an encounter with the Bastard Box. He now lives in a never ending hell of minimum wage jobs.

Grace’s birthday is September 9th, buy a priest a beer day.

The Honey Queen sacrifice takes place on the summer solstice at midnight.

Description of the tree that grew from Willabella: Gnarled roots extend from a bulbous center. No leaves hang from its crown of branches. It is not natural. Nothing grows near it, except the apples that grow for its branches, never ripe and always rotten. A hollow in the center is swarming with spiders whose web spans across it. Several scars are evident from where the Hatchetmen, once they realized their mistake, tried to cut it down. From its branches hand charms of protection and containment that replace old ones of worship. It grows behind the old Waylon Hall, over the sight of Willabella’s execution. Like the Hall, many rumors swirl around it and foolish children often dare each other to touch the bark.

The Blade of Truth that MacNamara uses on the Sniggles is one of multiple PEIP has constructed. With help from Holloway, they were able to harness the White’s energy into physical form. Each Blade requires a secret to be whispered into it as it forms, one no one has ever heard before. If someone tells a lie while holding the Blade, it shatters.

The Foster family are descended from Willabella and a Hatchetman with the last name Forester. Willabella had no love for him and only got pregnant to delay her execution.

The Stockworth family vacations in Hatchetfield because they have connections with the Church of the Starry children. Lucy is not aware if this.

Charles Coven was part of PEIP and went by Carlo at the time.

PEIP has ID numbers based on the Stith Thompson’s Motif Index of Folk-Literature. Basically a collection of a bunch of different motifs in folklore.

Wilbur: D1310.10.1. Magic apple gives supernatural knowledge.

Holloway (Holliway this identity): G220.0.1. "Black" and "white" witches. Malevolent and benevolent.

John: B147.2.1.2. Eagle as omen of victory.

Xander: J1291.2. Theological questions answered by propounding simple questions in science.

Douglas Keane Sr. was an informant for PEIP. Basically, PEIP goes around to various people in professions where the supernatural may be encountered (law enforcement, medical, park rangers etc.) and gives them a little presentation with very vague language about if they seen anything unnatural, or out if the ordinary, to give their office a call. Since Hatchetfield is such a hotspot, Douglas knows a lot more about the supernatural than most informants do and is on first name basis with several PEIP agents. (This is heavily based off a book called The Rook by Daniel O’Malley.)

[meli-writes]

Mechismo - No. 01 /// Shore-Girl

The red-boots girl circles the 180-Dock, prances over fuel and vomit spills.

Your shore-girl — ��cos pilots know civvies won’t ever get it. Your machine does, but you can’t fuck the machine — least per new regulations, and field-issue tech. So you take the closet thing; their warm, cock-waving, hole-haver flesh-hearts, and settle for that.

And civvies are soft, and weak, and… even over the smoke and oil she smells good.

You’re still in the combat-romper, short-short at the shoulder and thighs — mount-points for the gun show; her hands run on its centre-torso, over coolant hose that weaves into spooled intestine. No point in extra effort — ‘cos it’s never real with a civvie.

And she’ll just want a knight, in oil-stained armour, to strut her into the fanciest do on the station’s promenade and let her pouted lips sip on 200u cocktails — as if she’s bored.

“Who’s it now?” you ask, as if you’ll take her back when you’re on a merc’s pension.

“Repairman, see ‘em on C12-Deck on commute sometimes,” she says, matter-of-fact and eye-fucks the silverwear set worth more than rent. “Bigger than you, gets more scars from vending machines than you do yours—” There’s a pleased purr to the peg-lower. “—Waitress at Amputel — shit-hole dive on 270-Dock. Small like me, locs down to the ass. Think I could tangle up in her till neither of us can get free. And the—”

She runs on — down till you’ve hit the C-Deck Airlock — each ‘rival’ is hotter and richer than the last. They got fake at some point; maybe when they got better than you — but that’s near enough all of them.

Like she’s not worse.

“Do I have to remind,” you snarl at your H-Deck sump-rat — who owes dinner, boots, and half-rent to daddy. Owes you. “Why you’re supposed to wait for me?”

She stares past, at a passerby that looks you up-and-down, then her. You squeeze her hip, tight, as if to screw suspender bolts into your machine’s lower-torso.

She squeals sweeter than it does, “I did.”

The civvie gets a smile, different ones from both of you. You hover, interposed, till they’ve decided she’s yours, and crossed the lock in the opposite direction, then lift her up and onwards.

She’ll never get as high as the machine can; isn’t as good, “So where’s my gratitude?”

Lance-mates bark over your shoulder when your phone pings; confiscate it, and howl at her nudes and the closet moon while one falsettos out her texts in-between leering asks.

Shore-girl likes to be sweet, doesn’t it?

You like it?

Lance Sirocco’s got a new girl.

How fuckin’ tight is it?

Should ask her out. She’s real.

How’d you make it do that?

“I’ve paid enough for this ass,” you tell both, breathing on her tits as they stutter with her till she’s backed into her door. “Did all the fuckin’ work. I know-you-know you owe it to me.”

You stare at the cabochon that crowns her wreathed neck, at its reflection.

“Come on then — jockie-girl,” she bites. “Claim it.”

So your hand slides down, lifts her till she’s braced on the door and wrapped around you. Her fat oozes under the red velvet crop-top, like guts spilled from the pile-driven centre-torso of that dumb kid who should’ve ejected into the now-pink snow.

And she’s soft, and weak… when you press your lips to hers.

“And apologise,” she mutters into your mouth, and reaches for the door control. “You make me wait far too—” Zhweep. You fall into her quarters — on top of her, “Owww.”

It still wouldn’t hurt if she wasn’t soft, but it’s nice.

Your faint smile is target-locked, and she giggles; has to break character at last, and her roommate shadows the doorframe, “Ol’ Candlish called me, worried sick. Said you’d been accosted by a nair-do-well.”

She snorts, “Hey.” And rolls you over, ass-to-the-carpet. It’s not soft.

“So have I met your fabled pilot-girlfriend at last?” her roommate teases, it doesn’t seem to hurt. “Ya know, the one you can’t seem to shut up about?” Though there’s a bloom in her cheeks, the same colour as her top.

“Yes,” you cut in, in giggles too, before she says 'no.' An engineer would rip that soundbite outta the CCTV and make it loop in your machine on boot-up. You’d choke them out for it.

Get reprimanded.

Do it again.

“Guess I’m gonna go see Belle,” her roommate responds. “I heard she’s got the Core League footie on video. Ta-ta!”

It takes one hand to haul your girlfriend up.

She nestles in close, looks down; feels soft, and real. It’s nice to have someone to ground you, 'cos the machine won’t; to ground into the pillows, tell her what each new scar earned to spend on her. So she can be weak; herself. So the machine doesn’t take it all.

She reels back, still looking down — at the romper you’ve worn all night.

“Is that your strap under there!?”

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

originally written 15/07/2024 on cohost, in response to Making-up-Mech-Pilots' prompt:

Mech Pilot who wants what you have. Not the Machine.

for additional context, there was a running theme on cohost and its gorgeous, prominent mech fic about civilians never 'getting it' and this was a fun ode to/spin of those by making it exactly what a pilot might want. also i saw horny battletech art ngl that too.

[downbadmostofthetime]

Please go in depth on how you think wanderer isn't much of a red flag as he is now! I agree with you for sure, but I love hearing people's takes on him! Personally, I think scaramouche would definitely be a huge red flag, but I think as he is now, he'd definitely be really loving and caring towards his s/o

OF COURSE I CAN DO THAT!!!!

Scaramouche himself is definitely a very big red flag. From his ties with the fatui, murderous/abusive (to his subordinates) behaviour and as well as his rude manner of speech. He definitely isn’t the most pleasant person you’d want to date.

but Wanderer on the other hand is completely different. And because of this he is a much bigger green flag than Scaramouche and im genuinely so sick of people grouping them in together when he even said himself in game that he doesn’t want to be anymore.

So im gonna go over his green flags (more under the cut!)

1. Animals like him – He likes animals.

Wanderer is actually portrayed with animals in a lot of his official art (or aranaras), specifically birds and cats

His 2023 and 2024 birthday arts are literally just him chilling with animals. In 2023 he’s chilling with a bird and in 2024 he’s with a bunch of cats.

It’s not like he hates it either. sure it may seem like he does sometimes but he really doesn’t

-In his character demo he may have swatted the bird away when it came back at the end, but at the beginning he was completely fine with having it on him as he was walking. He probably only swatted it away because it was flying in his face when he was already annoyed with having to fight those fatui.

These two images are just him chilling with birds. The second one he even lets on his hand and HES SMILING he literally loves animals like they’re bffs in that picture ITS SO CUTE 😭😭

You can’t even argue that he’s only soft towards animals when he’s alone because of the scenario in his 2024 birthday art where the traveler meets him in the tree when he’s cuddling with the cats. It’s not like he’s even embarrassed or annoyed about them being there he’s just chilling with them!!!!! Sure he did tell the tabby cat off for playing with his vision BUT HE CALLED THEM FLUFFBALLS BEFOREHAND!!!! THATS A WORD THAT WOULDVE NEVER COME OUT OF SCARAMOUCHE’S MOUTH EVER!!!!! AND HE EVEN PROMISED TO PLAY WITH THE CATS LATER!!!!!! The white and grey cat also just lounging on his leg knocked out completely defenceless is also a sign. cats are usually very alert when they try and sleep unless they’re CERTAIN that they’re safe. and look me in my eyes and try to tell me that that cat isn’t feeling 100% safe sleeping on his leg.

This isn’t even his only appearance with cats minus him being portrayed as a cat. he has a chibi birthday art from 2023 that’s just him and a cat hanging out with a birthday present

The second piece of dialogue might make him look mad but the art literally proves it otherwise he’s just confused LMAO there is not a single angry wrinkle on his face nope NOTHING!!!!

2. His development with the Traveler

Wanderer’s attitude stayed around the same since he regained him memories, but it isn’t as bad as when he was Scaramouche. It’s very evident from how he talks to the Traveler before going to Irminsul and while they’re there for some time and then how he talks after regaining his memories. It’s much softer and he isn’t biting as much. Hell, he even asks the Traveler to give him a new name when he could’ve asked Nahida to or waited awhile before asking.

In his voicelines he’s still the same. Though the birthday one is something I’d like to focus on the most.

“Give me your hand. Heh, there's no need to be nervous. I'm just taking you to a vantage point.”

“How is it? The scenery here should be quite breathtaking. There's no need to thank me — I see little point in it.”

Wanderer went out of his way to do that for the Traveler on their birthday. He could’ve just barked that he doesn’t need to do anything for their birthday or that he doesn’t care or that they’re still enemies so he doesn’t need to celebrate it but he still does something nice for the Traveler regardless!!!Him initiating physical contact just to take them to a vantage point and reassuring the Traveler because they’re nervous is something he CHOOSES to do.

Now, I’ve always thought that he was flying the Traveler to the vantage point, but now that im rereading the line it literally doesn’t even mention him flying so LMAO

BUT ITS STILL SWEET IN BOTH WAYS

-He’s going out of his way to FLY the Traveler to the vantage point. And if he’d have to fly them there then obviously there’d be more physical contact than hand holding. That means he’s completely fine with having the Traveler in his personal space like that, so obviously he trusts them a lot more now to a certain degree!!!

-If he’s not flying to the vantage point, he’s still initiating physical contact with the Traveler even though he doesn’t have to.

LIKE OMG?????

In his birthday art scenarios, he’s completely fine with the Traveler hanging out with him. HE EVEN ASKS THEM TO STAY WITH HIM FOR A WHILE IN THE 2023 ONE IF THEY DONT MIND!!!!!

I feel like the 2023 one does a good job with explaining him and the Travelers enemies to friends (to lovers— GUNSHOTS) pipeline. He calls them meeting on his birthday a coincidence and gets ready to leave, but he’s completely fine with the Traveler not wanting to leave!!!! And when he asks them to stick around with him that’s clearly showing what he wanted the WHOLE GODDAMN TIME!!!!!!!

The 2024 chibi art scenario one is just them enjoying each other’s company. His regular birthday art for this year is kind of the same too. It shows how now neither of them dislike the other’s company, they’re fine with each other and they dont complain about it, no nothing!!!!!!

His Teapot lines are (OBVIOUSLY) the best examples of how he is when he fully trusts someone though.

Here’s a list of the things he does that are a complete 180 to how many people expected him to be:

-He apologises more often

-Criticises himself for criticising the empty spots in your teapot

-Perfectly fine with chatting whenever

-Despite saying to the Traveler that they should start the conversation because he has nothing fun or positive to share, he still dominates the conversation by talking about his tea preferences and how he came to like drinking tea in the first place

-Perfectly fine with sharing a meal with the Traveler that they prepared just for him

His goodnight line is really sweet too. Thanking the Traveler for looking out for him and telling them to go get rest. Like that’s so sweet 😭😭😭😭

I really do hope that he gets more plot relevancy in an event or in another archon quest because I really want to see more of his relationship with the Traveler now. They’re just so UGHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭

3. His behaviour towards other people

It’s not even just the Traveler that he’s nice to. He’s nice to other characters too!!!!

In A Parade of Providence he’s shown being nice to Layla and Tighnari

-He helps Layla by offering her advice when he overhears about her anxiety to participate in the swiftflies

-Gives the Traveler a water-skin to give to Tighnari because he fainted in the desert. Despite providing snarky comments about how fragile humans are to extreme environments he still goes out of his way to help Tighnari when he could’ve ignored what was going on to win.

I really hope we get some more interactions with Wanderer and the Sumeru cast because wtf!!!!! Why not!!!!!

In his 2024 birthday letter he mentions that his classmates surprised him for his birthday with a cake. And instead of being mostly annoyed about how they disturbed his peace and quiet, he’s more concerned about why they would even want to celebrate his birthday in the first place which is actually sad 💔

Wanderer doesn’t even seem to hate participating in events and things with other people either. In his 2023 birthday letter he mentions that he was dragged into a cooking interest group by a couple of students, and despite the fact that he could’ve just left or told them he didn’t want to participate or scared them off, he still participated in cooking with them.

As well as learning from an old merchant how to sew and stitch to recreate the tiny doll the boy from his past had made him. It specifically mentions that he went to visit Treasures Street to learn how to make toys, so this wasn’t just some run in he had, he CHOSE to learn how to make a doll so he could recreate that one. He even takes it with him while he travels and it notes how it feels like a travel companion to him 😭😭 AND THE ENDING PART OF THE TINY DOLL STORY

“"From today, you shall wander together with me."”

“He said softly, placing it in his pocket.”

LIKE THATS SO SWEET 😭😭😭😭

SO!!!! How would all of this impact him having a romantic relationship??

If you manage to become friends with him, it’s definitely going to take awhile to break down his walls. But in that time he’s definitely going to be snarky, but not outright rude to you. He’ll probably just get more annoyed if anything about being bothered a bit more frequent than he’d like, though he’d probably never say that towards you.

As you break down those walls though, he’s definitely going to soften overtime and he won’t mind your company. At some point he’ll probably be actively seeking it out.

And when you get together with him. He’s definitely gonna be loving and caring towards you!!!! Honestly I think his love languages are Physical Touch and Quality Time so he’s definitely going to seek those out from you, preferably mushing the two together.

Overall, in the beginning he’s probably going to be more tsundere-ish (ew… im never using that term again after this…) towards you but eventually with enough dedication from you he’ll break down his walls and let you in and show you his softer side.

And that’s why I think that Wanderer is more of a green flag than a red flag

Thank you for coming to my ted talk it’s 2am and I have therapy in the morning so uh whoops!!!!

If anyone wants to add anything please feel free too!!! It’s always nice hearing what other people have to say (as long as ur not rude about it)