#first few renders in cycles!!

[efflorescencesims]

🗡 peace by vengeance brings the end ๋࣭⭑ **cas portraits

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 8, day 15

Good news! All 250 frames finished rendering without crashing or power farts :D

Bad news! I forgot some things XD Namely leaf shadows and some image compositing to make it look super extra fancy-good

But now I've added the things I forgot to do and this is gonna look so cool when it's done rendering all 250 frames of animation without crashing or power farts again :D

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 1

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Magical Orthodontry...

(I should probably mention that my thoughts about plastic surgery/any kind of cosmetic enhancement are pretty much that as long as the person who has it done likes the result, it does not matter if anybody else thinks they needed it.

It’s their body, their choice and if they think they look prettier with a new nose/straighter teeth/fuller lips, good for them.

For myself, I love what braces did for my teeth and what one of those heatless curler things currently does for my hair lol)

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

It was bad. 

Eira shouldn’t have expected any differently. 

Maybe it had been the promise of mail-order catalogues that had made her think that maybe this time she wasn’t going to want to die halfway through her biannual week of torture…

But there was nothing the shadows could do, short of giving her pain potions that rendered her unconscious and plying her with soup. 

She let them. 

She was too weak to protest, in too much pain…feeling like a baby bird that needed them to slowly spoon broth in her mouth so that she only needed to swallow. 

But at least they were there. They didn’t leave her alone. Regardless of when she woke up…at what time of day or night…they were there. 

Ready with pain potions and armed with soup, and when she just needed something to get her mind off the pain, they told her stories. 

Little fables of Illyria and Prythian…children’s stories. 

Maybe one day she could tell the same stories to Nyx. 

It took 4 days… halfway through that week, when there was a knock at her door. 

Elain, the shadows whispered into her ear and she held back a groan. 

She didn’t want to deal with her sister. 

“Come in!” she called nonetheless and only then realised that she still had the key in the lock. The shadows swarmed out to turn it and then disappeared, scurrying underneath her desk. 

She forced herself to sit up, wondering how much of a mess she looked…probably like death warmed over twice, but to be completely honest…she wasn’t pretty on a good day, so what did it matter? 

Becoming Fae had somehow perfected the faces of her sisters. They still looked like themselves, but the cauldron had seemingly made them much more symmetrical, their limbs longer, their ears pointed…and for Elain, the cauldron…it had turned her from beautiful into otherworldly gorgeousness. 

For Eira…it had made her ears pointy. 

No, wait that wasn’t true…Her hair was seemingly even more unmanageable than it ever had been as a human…and her teeth…the less was said about that was better. 

She had already been self-conscious about them as a human. As a fae, surrounded by ridiculously attractive people every day, it was…something else entirely. 

“Good Morning,” Eira said quietly. Elain stared at her, surprise etched on her face. 

“Have you really spent the few days moping in your bed?” she asked, judgment clear in her voice. Eira wanted to bristle. Hadn’t Elain done the exact same thing when she had first been made? And Elain hadn’t had the excuse of a cycle for it. 

“Yes, Elain,” she said back quietly. “It’s….It’s that time of the year,” she mumbled, looking at everything but her sister. If Elain couldn’t even smell the thick cloying scent of blood that was clinging to Eira, she couldn’t help her. 

Elain just harrumphed.  “Look, I do realise that I may have been needlessly harsh,” she said, crossing her arms. Somehow managing to sound gracious even now.“But you do need to realise, Eira, that that is never going to go anywhere.” 

Eira blinked. Twice. 

Somebody put her heart into a vice and crushed it. 

Of all the things she had expected Elain to say…this wasn’t it. 

“Azriel is completely disinterested,” Elain continued. “And it would be better for you if you finally realised that.” 

“What does it matter to you?” Eira finally managed to bring out, her voice thankfully not shaking…And still….she sounded…weak. That’s what she sounded like. 

“I want you to be happy. And thirsting after a male that will never return your affections you won’t do that,” Elain said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not going to change his mind, Eira.”

Eira flinched at Elain’s words. She couldn’t help it. 

Even when she knew…she knew her sister was right. She knew that…

“You should just stop your pathetic attempts of flirting with him. All you manage is to make him uncomfortable,” Elain continued with a roll of her eyes. 

Pathetic attempts of flirting? What did Elain even mean? Her nervous ramblings? Her stolen glances? The way her heart skipped a beat when she got to see him? 

She had never asked him out…on a date or anything else…she had never even mentioned courting in his near vicinity. She had done nothing, said nothing to Azriel that made her feelings obvious to him. 

It was all just…

“There are plenty of fish in the sea…” Elain said with a sigh. “You’ll find somebody else one day,” Elain told her, sounding some mixture between pitying and bored, as she turned to go. “Do you want me to ask Feyre to send Madja?”

“No, thank you. I have pain potions,”  Eira whispered, and Elain turned on her heel, marching back out of her room. 

Eira listened to her sister leave…she buried her face in her pillows.  

“Would you lock the door, please?” She whispered. 

Nobody else. Just her.

Why shouldn’t Elain once again stab her in the same wound…why not?  Why…

And then…somehow it was like somebody flipped a switch. 

She turned angry. Angry at Elain, at her twin sister. Who hid behind this veil of sisterly worry and only used it to hurt Eira?

She was so…she was so…She was so angry. 

She never was angry.  But right now it was swelling beneath her skin and she wanted…she wanted… Not revenge. Not really. 

She made Azriel uncomfortable with what? With nervous ramblings and stolen glances? 

Fine. She would stop that. She would stop all of that. 

She wouldn’t even talk to him again, so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. She would ignore him. She would be icily polite and that was that. 

And she would find herself a husband and have all the babies she wanted and that would be that. She would find herself…somebody else. Somebody who wanted her.  Somebody for whom she wasn’t annoying…who she didn’t make uncomfortable.

Somebody for herself. 

Something for herself. 

She would fill her room with stupid trinkets she bought herself because nobody else would do it for her. She would buy pretty dresses that tried to mask that she wasn’t as pretty as her sisters. She would do all of that. 

And what her sisters thought about any of that…well, she didn’t fucking care. Not anymore. 

She wasn’t the only one angry. The shadows were hissing, spitting, swirling menacingly, nearly filling the whole room…and she wasn’t scared. That didn’t even cross her mind.

How dares she? The shadows hissed. She owed you an apology, not…not this.

Maybe for the first time in her life, Eira Archeron wanted to be utterly and completely selfish. 

Nobody was going to put her first. Not if she didn’t do it herself. 

“I’ll be buying myself something horribly expensive,” she finally said, her voice shaking. 

Do it, the shadows said, amusement bleeding into their voice, still angrily swirling, coming to wrap around her wrists. Buy whatever you want.

They dropped a catalogue next to her hands, and Eira reached out to take it with shaky hands. 

Whatever she wanted. 

The problem was only, she had no idea what she wanted. 

Maybe a new dress? Maybe some jewellery…like a necklace? Or a bracelet? 

A ring?

Like the rings her sisters had? Given to them by their mates, who loved them? 

Feyre’s Sapphire? The Ruby that encircled Nesta’s finger since her mating ceremony? 

Or maybe Elain’s ring…gold and diamond, looking like the rays of the sun, so fitting for the future wife of the heir to the Day Court. 

No. No jewellery. 

These godforsaken pearl earrings had been enough. 

Something Eira wanted. Something Eira needed. 

Eira could use a new pair of shoes. She already had brought her old ones to the cobbler thrice. Maybe…that wasn’t a ridiculous request after all…

She opened the catalogue, paging through it until she found the shoe section. She stared at the little pictures accompanying them. Humans hadn’t yet figured out how to do print in full colour, but the drawings on this page were brightly colourful. Clearly not a problem here in Prythian. 

She quickly slipped over the pages that had silk slippers and pretty heels on them. That wasn’t practical to run after Nyx with, right? Then she found a page with practical leather shoes… decisively female, a small heel…they weren’t that dissimilar to human fashion. 

She examined them closer. “Laces or Buckle? What do you think?” she asked the shadows. The ones with shoelaces were cheaper…but if she bought one with the buckles, she could also change them out, buy extra buckles…swap them with a crystal-embellished buckle or silver for gold…

All of that was possible. 

The ones with the buckles! The shadows said quickly. 

“They are pretty, aren’t they?” Eira commented and marked the page by folding down one corner as she turned the page. 

Definitely one contender. 

She couldn’t remember ever having done anything similar before. 

When she had still been human, as a child her mother had reigned over her wardrobe with an iron fist. They had never been allowed to pick out anything. 

And then later…after they had lost their fortune…well, picking out anything involved turning around every clipped copper coin. 

She had never been able to just…leisurely look at things and find the pretty and think about buying them…without even really looking at the price tag attached to them. 

Eira flipped back to the shoes, the tip of her finger tracing the writing…she had always been atrocious at reading. The letter tended to change their position, and it hadn’t changed as a Fae either. and she could never tell that to anybody, because the one time she had, her finger had been violently rapped by a wooden ruler and that had been that. 

If she just took her time…carefully…it worked. Just took her longer. She found the price attached to the shoes, knowing that even without the shadows, she could afford them. 

She had stashed away money in the chest at the foot of her bed after all. Not a lot but…enough for the shoes. 

Eira paged through more of the catalogue…oohing and awwing over dresses, where the shadows tried to talk her into buying herself a ballgown much to her amusement, though in the end, they agreed on a pretty blue-grey dress with billowing sleeves cuffed at her wrist…

Eira would never feel comfortable in the Night Court fashion of cropped tops and pants…she would much rather be covered up completely. But that dress…that looked quite pretty. 

She turned to the next page, and the next after that, trawling her way through skirts and cardigans and shirt waists…

And then Eira found the fabric section, biting her lip. Any time she had gone to a fabric shop in Velaris, it had been to buy fabric for a gift for her sisters. Never for herself. She didn’t need anything. 

That’s pretty, the shadows whispered in her ear, seemingly solidifying to point out a specific cotton print on that page. 

She wondered how they even saw anything. They didn’t have eyes. But then magic seemed to be the answer to nearly everything in Prythian. 

It was pretty. A ditsy little floral print…white ground, green leaves…It was pretty. So was a white cotton gauze with little dots…that was the one that she considered seriously. The price was good…she could use a new dress for her birthday…

She marked that page as well, flipping over to the next…and there it was. 

It was an advertisement that caught her eye, and she was nearly flicking to the next page as she caught the word teeth. 

“Faes can fix teeth?“ she asked weakly, as she read that advertisement, a promise about cosmetic procedures…like full lashes and eyebrows and…perfect teeth. 

Perfect teeth. 

“Could they fix mine?” she asked, desperation bleeding into her voice. 

Her teeth were…well, her greatest insecurity on a good day. They were…fine. It wasn’t painful at least. It was just that her two front teeth were too big for her face…which made her look like…

What’s wrong with your teeth? Do they hurt you? You’ll need a healer for that, the shadows said immediately, worriedly. 

“They are too big. Just the two front teeth. I look like a rabbit,”  she admitted in a whisper. Or a mole rat. Her mother had preferred the latter. 

Everything else could be fixed one way or another…but nothing could be fixed for her teeth. 

When she had been a child she had still hoped that she would grow into them, but that had never happened. 

And not even the cauldron had thought it would be prudent to fix them. Leaving her with them…still standing out starkly. 

They were the reason why she never smiled widely, why she made sure to talk with her lips pulled over them…why she didn’t wear bright lipstick. 

A few dozen things that she didn’t do because of them. 

You do not look like a rabbit, the shadows disagreed with a snort…and then after a moment:  Do they bother you?

They asked that like it was a near foreign thing…like…

“My mother used to…She used to tell me that…” She tried to bring the words over her lips but she choked on them. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t…

Once you feel better, you can go and have them changed to however you want to look, the shadows told her softly. Do they truly bother you that much?

“I know that I won’t ever be the beautiful one. But…if…If I could just feel…just feel pretty…just once,” she whispered, staring at that advertisement. 

If they could just fix her teeth… 

As soon as you feel better, the shadows promised her. But that’s not ridiculously expensive. Neither is one single pair of shoes, that dress….or a few yards of that fabric. Nearly teasing. 

But it was nice teasing. Sweet teasing. Teasing that did nothing but make a small smile appear on her face. 

“I could always buy more fabric,” she gave back, biting her lip and the shadows tugged at her fingers in response. 

But if magic could fix her teeth…maybe it could also fix her hair. 

A light brown mess on her head that never did what she wanted it to do… 

“Is there something for my hair as well?” she asked hesitantly, and the shadows flipped through her catalogue until it brought her to a page with hair care supplies. 

There are potions you can use…enchanted brushes too, they told her. You’ll want something for naturally curly hair.  

They didn’t need to tell Eira that twice. 

The morning she stopped bleeding she was out on the streets of Velaris as soon as the sun rose…dropping off the dresses she had hemmed, and picking up her newest commissions and then walking to that shop that promised her perfect teeth. 

It was a woman, a female, her age who looked up from the magazine she was reading, took one look at her, asked for a handful of gold coins…gave her a mirror in her hand and then drily said: “Just say stop when they have the size you want.”

And that was that. 

Eira could have wept with her gratitude. 

Her teeth looked perfect. Just like she had so often hoped they would look. 

The same could be said about her hair after one bath with her new potions and a run-through with her enchanted brush. 

Unmanageable frizzy hair that never looked like she wanted it to look? 

With magic no more. Thick, perfect, glossy curls fell over her shoulders in fat ringlets. 

To say that she was in a good mood after that…It was the understatement of a dozen centuries at least. 

Eira was ecstatic. 

She loved it. She felt…she felt so pretty. For once. 

“Good Morning!” she chirped as she entered the dining room. Not even the sight of Elain pouring over her wedding binders could put a dent in her happiness that morning. 

“Good Morning,” Elain responded, staring at her like she had gone mad but Eira didn’t care, as she poured herself a cup of tea, took a slice of toast, smeared jam all over it... 

“It’s a beautiful day outside, isn’t it?” she asked brightly, as she took a bite, chewed, swallowed…

Elain stared at her. 

“Eira…what did you do with your teeth?” her sister asked her, staring at her. 

“I got them fixed! Isn’t that great? Magic can do that!” she enthused. They were perfect! They looked just like she wanted them to look!

It was like thunder pulled over Elain’s expression. “You can’t be serious!” she snapped. “What were you thinking?!”

“That I got my teeth fixed?”  Eira gave back questioningly. What did it even matter to Elain? Couldn’t she just be happy? Eira was so fucking happy about her choice. 

“This doesn’t change things, Eira!” Elain said harshly. “It’s still never going to go anywhere!”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was beaten to it. 

“What is never going to go anywhere?” Feyre’s voice came from the doorway as she entered, Nyx on her hips, staring around the room…waving chubby little arms in Eira’s direction that made her smile at him brightly. 

“Eira’s little crush on Azriel,” Elain said evenly. “He’s completely disinterested. and she has gone and gotten her teeth fixed in some hare-brained attempt to…”

“What does it matter to you?” Eira interrupted her. This had nothing to do with…him. This had been for her. Because she was the one her teeth bothered, long before she had ever even met him.  “They aren’t your teeth.” 

Feyre stared at her and Eira smiled brightly, showing all her teeth…something she would have never done before. But now she did. 

“Your teeth were fine before,” Feyre told her, staring at her like she couldn’t quite believe that Eira had gone and done this.  

“My teeth were too big for my mouth,” Eira disagreed. And really, she didn’t understand why she even needed to defend herself on this. “The last time I checked I was allowed to do with my body whatever I wanted,” she murmured under her breath. 

And this…this was harmless. This was just fixing her teeth. It didn’t hurt anybody. Not her, not anybody else…

Feyre didn’t seem convinced. “How much money did you spend on this?” her sister asked her, a sharpness sinking into her voice and Eira crossed her arms. 

“Not a single coin that belongs to you or your mate,” she gave back, her voice cold. “I spend my money, money I earned, on something that I wanted.” 

She was allowed to want things. Whatever she wanted, the shadows had promised her and they had kept that promise. 

“Did you do this because of Azriel?” Feyre asked, softening slightly. “Eira, that’s not going to work.”

She knew that. 

“My whole life does not revolve around other people,” Eira said calmly, meeting her sister's gaze. “I wanted it.”

“He’s still not going to be interested in you,” Elain snorted. 

Once again. Hitting that one weak spot her sister had sussed out. 

People always thought that Elain was oh-so-sweet. What they forgot was that even the most beautiful, most fragrant rose had its thorns. 

She said nothing. Didn’t flinch away. Didn’t say anything. 

“It’s true,” Feyre said with a sigh, actually agreeing with Elain. “I have wanted to talk to you about that, Eira…” her sister said, visibly uncomfortable. “Could you at least try to get over him? It’s…it would be better for…this court.”

Of course, it would be. This court. 

Because that’s what mattered, right? That’s what mattered to the High Lady. 

That the court was functional. That the spymaster wasn’t uncomfortable…that her sister wasn’t having a ridiculous puppy crush on another member of this court.  

And what was Eira supposed to say to this? 

What was she supposed to say to that? 

Eira’s feelings didn’t really matter anyway. They were nothing but an inconvenience. 

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice quiet, staring at her hands so that she didn’t need to look at two of her sisters…so they wouldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. “I’ll make sure that my feelings won’t inconvenience anybody else ever again.”

“That’s not…” Feyre started, but Eira shook her head.

“I understand,” she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth, all her appetite gone, as she stood to go back to her room. 

[transformers-spike]

"Is this why the Autobots are fond of humanity? To indulge their sweet heat cycles? How many human mates has Optimus taken for himself? It seems as though their motives to protect them were never altruistic, much less noble." PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE US A SUB-STORY WHERE THIS TIME IT'S OPTIMUS AND A HUMAN SO IN THEIR HEAT CYCLE PLEASEEEE

Idk am I creating a humans in heat universe for the TF Fandom? I know people like making the bots go through it but I think the humans being affected is so much funnier. Just begging these massive robots to fuck us lmao

How must it feel to burn from the inside out? Betrayed by your own body, rendered unable to function by the fire in your core. You described it as an aching, an insatiable need to appease the hormones overtaking your nerve endings. A mere touch is enough to worsen the ache, it’s what your body dictates in the throes of a heat cycle.

Cybertronians are forged by Primus Himself, their interfaces exist for recreational pleasure and bonding, but your species is biologically programmed to reproduce, like most of the fauna of your planet. It’s a systemic sacrifice, one rendered obsolete by the sentient status of your species. Drugs have been produced to suppress your heats, or at least lessen the effects. Unfortunately, among a dozen varieties of medication, you are either allergic or completely immune to them, leaving you susceptible to your hormonal whims. He is sorry. You must go through so much pain every few months, but you barely show it, brushing off his concerns with a laugh, saying “it is what it is” and moving on as though your body isn’t on a timer. He admires you for it. In spite of your discomfort, you haven’t given up. Once, you told him: “So what if they don’t work on me? I just gotta roll with the punches and hope for the best, it’s been my M.O. since I got the damn thing.” Meeting them for the first time… was turbulent to say the least, but you’re safe and sound, relocated to Jasper, having adjusted to your new life with the help of Agent Fowler. You’ve told them many times you’re infinitely grateful to be in their lives (barring the near death experience at the servos of an Insecticon). For them it’s a pleasure to ease your burden. You’ve eagerly established your consent, although only Arcee is the right size to properly take care of a human. Digits and glossas can only do so much compared to a spike. He tries not to pry, your privacy is yours to divulge at your leisure, but he cannot ignore the charge building up behind his interface when he sees you with the others. Yes, he is an occasional participant, but he will rather cover shifts and allow them some well-deserved respite in your berth. They deserve it. He dares not imagine Arcee’s spike pumping in and out of you, satiating your aching body, filling you to your limit as you beg for more. 

Your scent lingers in the air, caressing his sensors, a gentle hand tugging him along by the servo, pulling him in your direction. They try to keep it to themselves, but his team is beyond a doubt intoxicated by your presence alone. Thankfully, it has (almost) never impeded their judgment during missions; perhaps it has even served as motivation to make it back to base in one piece. He tries to ignore the gleam in his old friend’s optics after quelling your urges, if only for a night. Or Bumblebee's praises coming to you as a slow stream of beeps while he nuzzles your face. Or Bulkhead cradling you to his chassis like a precious artifact as you discuss what late night movies you should watch. Or catching Arcee kissing you over the mezzanine and pulling back with a smile she hasn’t worn since Cliffjumper’s death. You bring them together in your own special way, even if you blush and sheepishly deny it, claiming you should be thanking them instead  Recent discoveries have yielded an impressive increase in energon and brought forth new opportunities. With unparalleled quantities at their disposal, they can now mass displace. The transformation is no small feat, it exhausts their system and rapidly drains their energon level. But he will not forbid Bumblebee from using it to play with the kids as long as it’s not in excess. Nor to join you during heat cycles. Much like Bulkhead. And Wheeljack. And especially Ratchet. Primus forbid, his old friend has every right to enjoy himself to the fullest after all of his back-breaking work. He’s been meaning to pay you a visit, but he hasn’t found the time until now. In the temporary abode you set up in the base, away from the prying eyes of the kids, you prepare yourself for another heat. Some refurbishing was done to meet your needs (in no small thanks to June Darby and agent Fowler’s financial help); the mattress and the mini fridge was a given, but you’ve added a variety of personal belongings and entertainment; a television, a writing desk, a few “bean bags” here and there, and a pile of old magazines to scrapbook. He wonders if you consider this place your home more than your actual house in Jasper. You greet him while downing a bottle of water, holding up your hand to signal for him to wait. Once emptied, you place it next to the mini fridge, among a wide array of bottled water crates. That would explain the groceries June had brought in with Arcee’s help. As a medical professional she’s especially fretful over your condition, doing her best to prevent the risks of heat cycles, bringing you plenty of calorie dense fuel to combat the massive loss of nutrients. He has not forgotten the fear they experienced when they found you shaking from the deficit, having completely overlooked your hunger in a midst of desperation. In this form, he can appreciate the full extent of your body without fear of hurting you, kneading the supple flesh beneath his digits as you giggle and pull him into you. He does not tower over your reclined form as much as he encases you in a careful hug, hearing the rapid thrum of your human spark directly against his audials; he may sense your pulse rate, but experiencing it is a new wonder of its own. You tell him you missed him and you wish he would let himself go and come out to “obliterate your pussy” more often. He nods and apologizes for his absence even as you shush him and insist he enjoy himself as well. He is… the largest Cybertronian you’ve taken, you remark while adjusting to his size.

“Except maybe Wheeljack,” you add cheekily, already bucking into him. Your composure evaporates as he works you up, not to say that he is much better. He steadies himself over you, charge trickling down his interface as your walls clench around him in a vice-grip. You beg him for more, plead that he frag you until you can’t take it anymore, but he has grown used to your requests and knows when your body has reached its limit. You whimper and claw at his back plates, flush against his frame yet dragging him closer as though to merge your human spark to his.

If only he could.

Slow and steady, he frags you through your overloads, each one adding a new surge of spark down his frame until he comes to his end. You are small and shaking, but in this form he can properly hold you against his chassis and comfort you through the afterglow, bringing you another bottle of water and a Clif bar (chosen for the human scaling a mountain with “If you eat this you can kill God” in big bold letters).

You stir and sit up on shaky knees to accept his offerings. Halfway through your meal, you eye him up and down.

“Are you going to stay some more?” you ask with hopefulness, still chewing on the “ultimate nuts and banana power” concoction advertised on the packaging.

“I’m afraid not, Ratchet has been hard at work deciphering Decepticon encryptions, I will be taking on his duties for the night,” he tries to break it gently, expecting crushed expectations, not your bemused expression looking up at him.

“So you’re sending him my way?” You give a chuckle. “Wish we could have spent more time together, but work is work. Just…” you crawl into his lap and hug him as tight as you can, head resting against his chassis. “Please come back tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. I miss seeing you this way. I won’t get between you and… whatever you have going on, but please visit me more often. You have no idea how nice it feels to be around you.” His gaze softens, glowing faintly against your hair. “So I’ve been told,” he says, a smile on his lips. “As long as it lightens your burden.”

[kitten4sannie]

ʟɪꜰᴇ ɪꜱ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ, ʟɪꜰᴇ’ꜱ ᴀ ʀᴀᴄᴇ

ʜᴀᴛᴇ ꜱᴇx/ʜᴀɪʀ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ➠ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

pairing: seasoned model! seonghwa x newcomer model! reader (fem) x models! woosan feat. director! hongjoong

genres: modeling au, smut

summary: walking for this season’s collection means everything to you, and you’re not about to let anyone get in the way, especially not a man who’s dead set on taking your place, no matter how insanely pretty he may be.

w.c: 4.8k

warnings: everyone’s an asshole here lol, use of drugs/alcohol, dom! seonghwa, bratty sub! reader, dom-ish poly! woosan, usage of the word ‘mommy’, mutual masturbation in the back of a limo, handjobs, tension, name calling/pet names, degradation/praise, brat taming, manhandling, choking, thigh grinding, kissing, brief spit play, hair pulling, marking, nasty hate sex in a club bathroom, creampie, brief breeding/bulge kink

a/n: i wanted to write like 10k words for this fic bc modeling aus just make me lose it fsr esp when ateez is involved 🧎🏻‍♀️maybe i will one day <3 i had sm fun with this one arrghhh!! alsoooo i can’t believe there’s only one more story left to share with you all like huhh ??? 😺time flies man ;~; anyways please enjoy xx

Now Playing:

ᴘɪɴᴋ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙʏ ɪꜱᴀᴀᴄ ᴅᴜɴʙᴀʀ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

Modeling, for some, was about being a part of something bigger than them — the head-turning brands, the constant development of fashion and what was considered to be hot and new, the runways, the avant-garde collections, the hazy after parties that supplied them with drugs, alcohol, and sex. All the excess, the gaudiness of it all, kept your cohorts going, kept them content, kept them chained to the modeling world, all the while they scratched at their pearl-adorned necks and begged for more. 

All of that was fun, sure, but what kept you on your hands and knees, what fueled you to continue dragging yourself up through the ranks, what gave you the strength to bow down and service executive after executive, what propelled you to treat your body like the ultimate temple, was the glory. The moment you were up on that stage, basking in the blood and tear soaked limelight, cameras flashing, rendering you blind, your dear director’s arm hooked securely around your waist, your perfect face ready to be displayed on every magazine cover; that’s why you sacrificed everything. That’s why you gave all of yourself to the fashion beast — let it consume you whole, spit you out, and mold you into something they wanted. And you weren’t about to let anyone get in the way. 

On the way to your esteemed director’s latest show, you let your mind go blank in the back of the spacious limousine, resting your half-empty glass of champagne in between your legs, not paying any mind to the boisterous conversation your modeling friends were having from either side of you until one of them suddenly grabbed onto your arm and tugged on it.

“Hey, baby, you’re gonna want to hold onto your tits…” San, your best friend since your first real shoot, warned you, before popping a few pills into his mouth and downing them with some sparkling champagne. 

“Why? What’s going on?” you asked concernedly, not ready for anything bad to happen on your big night. 

“Look at this…” Wooyoung, your ride-or-die, who was a part of the package deal when you initially met San, spoke up beside you, leaning across the padded seat to show you something on his phone. 

You took a slow sip from your glass, your eyes studying the large, obnoxious headline that sat at the top of the celebrity news article, having to cover your mouth to keep yourself from spraying champagne all over.

Fashion Icon Park Seonghwa Joins Kim Hongjoong’s Spring Collection Due to Last Minute Inspiration 

You started to read more of the article but you felt sick to your stomach with the way they were giving Seonghwa that Samsung spin cycle sloppy toppy 9000 through their embellished wording. “This cannot be happening…Tell me this is a joke!” you gasped, grabbing onto Wooyoung’s silk sleeve and San’s leather-bound pants, pleading with both of them with your teary eyes. “If he’s going to be there, everything will be fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.” 

“Everything will be fine, doll.” Wooyoung pressed his plump, glossy lips to your cheek and lips, trying to calm you down, running his fingers through your hair. “Just relax for me…”

Your rigid body slowly began to relax, leaning further into the kisses he gave you, almost forgetting around your second counterpart, until he placed a gloved hand around your upper thigh and squeezed it, causing you to face him. “Sannie…” 

“I’m sure you’ll still be the center of attention, baby.” San continued to rub your thigh, his hand moving further and further up your bare leg, compelling you to look down at the logo engraved on his expensive glove until it disappeared underneath your tiny skirt. “I mean, look at you,” he continued in a low tone, giving you a perverse smile, motioning to the tight, sleek black designer dress you were wearing, one that Director Kim himself created for you, his star pupil. 

“He’s right, doll,” Wooyoung agreed, bringing his pinky up to his nose to snort something powdery, before leaning over to kiss you on the neck, his own hand making its way to your other thigh, pulling it open just as San did, their fingers slipping up and down your bare cunt from underneath your skirt. “You’ll always be everyone’s favorite…Our favorite too.” 

You basked in your modeling friends’ depraved attentiveness like you always seemed to do, all three of you just drinking in the pleasing sight of one another, your hands rubbing over their hardening cocks through their expensive clothing, eventually finding your way underneath it, much to their enjoyment. 

With one hand around each of their cocks, you jerked them off with frightening accuracy, knowing when to squeeze around their glistening cockheads and what vein to rub at with your thumbs to make them whimper and whine in your ears, using their leaking pre-cum to lube them up. “Aww, does that feel good? Are you two going to cum just for me?” 

“Yes, Mommy,” Wooyoung let slip out in a shaky breath, his wrist starting to cramp up from how hard he was finger-fucking you, leaving messy kisses across your collarbone. 

“Gonna cum for my favorite girl,” San exhaled into your pierced ear, pinching his gloved fingers tightly around your clit, watching you spasm with a smirk on his flushed face, his pretty pink lips forming an ‘o’ as soon as his cock began to throb. 

All three of you began to shudder and jolt against each other and the leather seats behind you, finishing your typical pre-modeling ritual with a much needed, drug-enhanced orgasm. 

Once San and Wooyoung began to fix their clothes and hair using their phone cameras, taking a few pictures of themselves to capture their alluring afterglows, you reached forward to knock on the partition that separated you and the driver.

The window slowly rolled down, bringing you face to face with the seasoned driver. “We’re just around the corner to the venue, Miss.” His eyes widened slightly when you held your hands up in front of him, his soft, jovial expression forming one of shock. 

“Napkins, please,” you requested softly with a cordial smile, as if you didn’t have your friends’ cum dripping along your manicured fingers down to your 24k gold bracelets. 

࿏࿏࿏

“If Director Kim gives the final walk to Seonghwa, I’m going to kill him…” you hissed through gritted teeth, not able to look directly at Wooyoung or San when you spoke, instead having to look upwards so that the makeup artist could properly run their brush along your lash line. 

“Director Kim or Seonghwa?” San perused, immediately sucking in his cheeks a bit, the person in front of him brushing more contour along his already sharpened cheekbones. 

“Seonghwa…that beautiful prick…” Your eyebrows furrowed together, picturing the irritatingly gorgeous man in your mind’s eye with your eyes closed shut. “I swear to god if he takes what’s mine, I’ll…” 

“You’ll what?” you heard someone say in a silky smooth voice, one that made your heart just about burst out of your chest. “What is the pretty little new girl going to do, besides talk shit behind my back, hm?” 

You opened your eyes just in time to see Seonghwa standing behind you in the mirror with one hand on his hip and the other swishing around some bubbly alcohol inside a champagne flute, his infamously piercing gaze settled entirely on you, your jaw practically on the floor. 

“Face crack of the century…” Wooyoung whispered to San, the both of them grabbing onto each other and flipping out, waiting impatiently to witness what was about to go down between two of Director Kim’s most prized possessions. 

Seonghwa carefully ran his ringed fingers through his hair, taking a few steps closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it somewhat roughly, looking down at you like you were the mouse he had just pinned underneath his claws. “Is this what they consider to be hot these days?” he grimaced, eyeing you up and down, running a finger along your jaw, knowing exactly how he’d get under your skin. “Times certainly have changed…” 

You suddenly stood up and got in Seonghwa’s face, your stilettos giving you enough leverage to almost meet your sworn enemy at eye-level, pressing a finger into his chest plate through his perfectly tailored, button-up blouse. “You may be one of the hottest people in here, but you’re old news, Seonghwa. The only reason you’re considered an icon is because of Director Kim’s influence, okay? Let’s not kid ourselves.” Noticing the way Seonghwa’s face flinched, you knew you struck a nerve. Now it was time to deliver the final blow. 

Seonghwa’s hand clenched tightly around his glass, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. He took a step closer to you, so close now that his breath hit your chin. “You better watch your fucking mouth…” 

Your friends let out silent screams, hardly able to let the makeup artists do their jobs with the way they were shaking each other. A few other models had stopped in their places to figure out why there was suddenly so much tension in their beloved workplace, their eyes on the both of you, whispering amongst one another. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, tilting your head to the side, ready to project your own insecurities onto Seonghwa for the sake of making him look so bad, he would hopefully decide to just storm out. “Why are you so mad, Seonghwa?” You reached up to run your fingers through his silky, wavy hair, giving him a fake pout. “Is it because everyone knows that the only reason you got into this show is because you let the director fuck you like all those times before? We’ve all seen the photos, you know. They got leaked everywhere.” 

It wasn’t until Seonghwa threw a full glass of champagne on you, that everyone around you let out an even bigger gasp. Your hair was wet and sticky, your mascara began to trickle down your contorted face, and worst of all, the outfit you were going to wear down the runway in a few minutes was completely ruined. Filled with a sudden sense of hatred that bordered arousal, you grabbed Seonghwa by the collar, tugging him toward you, your lips almost touching. “You…fucking…cu–” 

“Oh, sweetie…” Seonghwa reached his hand up to caress your cheek with an odd gentleness, smearing his thumb down your cheek just to ruin you a little more. “There’s no need to be jealous of me. It’s okay that you’ll never be Hongjoong’s favorite.” He gave you a sweet smile, one that was so angelic, you almost missed the devilish look in his eyes, his thumb now pressing into your bottom lip. “No matter what you do, no matter how much executive cock you suck, you’ll never be me. Accept it and you’ll be less angry…You’ll have less wrinkles too.”

It was just then that the director himself came strolling up with a few members of his frantic entourage, gasping in horror at your disheveled appearance. “Y/N, jesus, what on earth have you done to yourself, darling?” Hongjoong pulled at your sleeves and parts of your garments, tsking every now and then, absolutely appalled with your appearance. “There’s no way in hell you’re walking down my runway like that.” 

“Director, please, I haven’t even gotten a chance to walk in tonight’s collection yet!” You shook your head adamantly, getting drops of water onto Hongjoong’s pristine clothes, causing him to grab your shoulders and squeeze them, giving you a look that made you shut up and accept defeat. For now. 

Hongjoong turned to Seonghwa, his grimace being replaced by a radiant smile, reaching up to twirl a lock of the model’s shiny hair in between two fingers. “I can’t have problems like these in the middle of my show…Take over Y/N’s place for me, will you, sweetheart?” 

Seonghwa gently grabbed Hongjoong’s wrist and pressed a kiss onto his knuckles, leaving a lipstick print behind. “Anything for you, darling.” 

Hongjoong blushed and walked away with Seonghwa, his entourage following close behind them, fawning over them in a way that made your blood boil. That should’ve been you, not Seonghwa, not someone who already had their chance in the limelight. 

“Y/N, are you okay after… all that?” Wooyoung asked softly, rubbing your shoulder, frowning a bit at the small nod you gave him.

“Yeah, that was brutal to watch…” San mentioned, getting smacked in the shoulder by Wooyoung, pausing to give him a look, before bringing up a cloth to dab it against your dripping face. “You’ll bounce back from this, baby, don’t worry.” 

After a few moments of silence, you suddenly pulled the both of them closer to you. “I’m going to be the final one walking down that runway, if it’s the last thing I do.” You leaned in to press a kiss onto both of their lips, looking up at them with big, teary eyes, your bottom lip jutting out.  “You’ll help me, won’t you?” 

Your friends gulped and looked at each other for the consensus, then back at you, their pretty faces full of the same mischievous tenacity you displayed. 

࿏࿏࿏

Seonghwa never felt more alive than when he walked down the long, lit-up runway, sashaying his way to the end of it and doing a small elegant turn to the side, smiling ever so softly at the sounds of cheers and clapping coming from the vast crowd, their phones flashing as they eagerly captured the moment and posted it to their socials, most definitely gushing over Seonghwa’s beauty combined with his director’s creative vision, his body swathed in form-fitting, eye-catching cloth. Knowing he took that moment from the bratty newcomer and got to savor it all to himself was simply the cherry on top. 

Even when he made his way backstage and sat down to have his hair and makeup redone, the buzz didn’t seem to leave him. The attention didn’t seem to either, his eyes flitting to the side when he began to tune into Wooyoung and San’s conversation as soon as he became the topic. 

“Talk to him already,” Wooyoung encouraged, pushing on San’s broad shoulder to get him to move. “You wanna fuck him or not?” 

“I’m too shyyy,” San whined obnoxiously, giving his best friend a pout, before covering his face. 

“Oh my god, I’ll fuck him then.” Wooyoung casually moved his chair over to Seonghwa, draping one of his hands over the seasoned model’s thighs once he sat down again. “I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly hot you were when you put Y/N in her place earlier…It made me want a turn.” 

“Is that so?” Seonghwa studied Wooyoung’s enticing features, his gaze settling on the mole that graced his glossy lips. “What exactly got you all hot and bothered?” 

Meanwhile, San meekly sat down on the other side of Seonghwa, gently pressing one hand into the older man’s thigh like he was making biscuits. “For me, it was when you threw the champagne in her face…That got me hard…” 

Seonghwa turned to look at San, nodding at his pretty, feline-like face with approval, before his chin was grabbed by Wooyoung, his fingers pressing into his cheeks. “For me, it was when you called her out for being a whore…All I could think about was you making me your whore instead…” 

“Me first,” San whined, leaning on Seonghwa’s shoulder, trying to pull Seonghwa’s attention from Wooyoung, who gave him the evil eye. 

“You cum too fast, San. He should fuck me first,” Wooyoung countered, smiling smugly, wrapping a lock of Seonghwa’s hair around his finger. “I’m versatile, by the way. We can do whatever you want to, baby.” 

“Mm, tell me more…” Seonghwa requested, bringing his arms back and around both of their shoulders, enjoying the feeling of being fawned over by two extremely attractive models who seemed to be competing over his attention. Of course they would be. He was an icon. 

At this point, the makeup and hair stylist had wandered off to take care of the other models, not having nearly enough time to care about Seonghwa’s current quest in getting his dick wet. 

Your plan had all been riding on whether Seonghwa would be self-serving or not, and much to your relief, you spotted him whispering things into the ears of your friends from across the large room, taking the opportunity to fit yourself into the black form-fitting blazer that was matched with a simple black trouser, a few silver necklaces hanging from your exposed collarbone. As it was made for Seonghwa at the last second, the blazer had nothing underneath it, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination. It was explicit, to say the least. You already knew in your heart that your director would love it. 

And, just like that, Hongjoong came back around the corner with a coffee cup in hand. Upon seeing you, he gasped loudly, stopping dramatically in his tracks, taking a long swig from his cup and handing it off to one of the nameless people next to him, causing everyone around him to look at you, including Seonghwa and your partners in crime. “Darling. Look. At. You.” 

“Do you like it, Director?” you asked softly, running one of your fingers along the perfectly stitched lining of your breast pocket. 

Hongjoong stood in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders, letting them slowly slide down the sides of your arms, his eyes surveying your perfect form, unable to take his eyes off of your exposed chest. “This is going to turn heads…This is…going to change everything,” Hongjoong sighed out, dollar signs in his eyes and inspiration pouring out of his very soul. He suddenly turned you to face the crowd of people, clutching your shoulders, ready to shed a tear. “Do you see this, everyone? We are witnessing a new era in fashion occur in front of our very eyes. Out with the old, in with the new.” 

Your director continued on with his inspiring, soul-gripping speech, which resulted in a sea of tears and a wave of applause from your roused colleagues — yet you couldn’t hear a single thing. All you could focus on was the way Seonghwa’s dark eyes bored into you, his lips screwed into a deep grimace, his fingers gripping his chair so tightly he left indents. He was just waiting for the moment he could tear you apart. And for some odd reason, you welcomed it with open arms as you walked past him with your dear director’s arm hooked around your waist, blowing him a kiss on your way to the main stage to be on display for everyone to see the collection’s final jaw-dropping look. 

࿏࿏࿏

“Y/N, baby, you’re trending!” San exclaimed loudly, having to raise his voice so you could hear him over the loud, thumping music that was blasting through the club’s speakers, repositioning himself on the large leather couch you all sat on. He kept his arm securely around Wooyoung’s waist, leaning across him to show you countless posts that showcased you strutting down the runway.

Wooyoung squeezed your shoulder, taking a drink from his glass, giggling to himself. “I think at least five million people have seen your tits already.” 

“And, here’s to five million more,” you mused, holding your own glass up to clink it against Wooyoung’s and San’s, and a couple other drunk models that sat around the VIP lounge. After you downed your drink, you got up, wobbling a bit. “I have to piss. I’ll be right back.” 

“Hurry back, okay? We have to take more celebratory shots!” San shouted at you as he watched you give him an ‘okay’ sign, before you disappeared into the large, sweaty crowd. 

Little did you know, a cat and mouse game had begun inside that overcrowded club, your trek to a bathroom that didn’t already have someone pissing or fucking inside it no longer a solo adventure. Seonghwa weaved in between patrons, following close behind you, his dark gaze alone deterring anyone from trying to stop him and get in his pants. 

It was when you found a lone, empty bathroom that he knew it was his time to strike, to teach you a much needed lesson, to show you who was really on top. 

You barely had a chance to check the current state of your makeup when Seonghwa came barging in, pinning you to one of the sinks before you could catch your breath. “S-Seonghwa? What are you doing here?” 

“Don’t act surprised now, you slut,” Seonghwa spat, shoving one of his thighs in between yours, his high heel clicking lightly against the tile floor below. He leaned in so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You thought you could beat me, yeah? Thought you could parade around like a whore and take my place? Take what’s rightfully mine?” 

The more you tried to resist him, the more he shoved his thigh into your barely clothed core, the friction causing a small gasp to leave your lips. Not wanting to give in, you reached up to caress the huffing man’s cheek, smiling sweetly up at him. “Oh, sweetie, is this about Hongjoong? Are you upset that you can taste my wet cunt on his cock when you suck him off?” 

Seonghwa suddenly grabbed you by the throat, his grip just tight enough to make your head go fuzzy, leaning in just close enough that his lips ghosted over yours, chuckling lightly at the strained moan that escaped your parted lips. “You’re such a goddamn brat…Why is that? Is it because you want me to put you in your place, Y/N?” 

At this point in time, you were so wet, you were actively leaving a wet patch on Seonghwa’s expensive suede pants, unable to keep more sounds of pleasure from bubbling out of your tight throat when Seonghwa grabbed your hip with his free hand and began to actively drag your cunt across his thigh, able to feel his straining cock pressing into your heat.

“Answer my question, whore…Or are you that empty-headed already? Got cock on the brain?” Seonghwa questioned, hooking his fingers into the hem of your pants and pulling them off of you, not surprised to see your cunt in all its glistening glory, positioning you back onto his thigh so that you could eagerly grind yourself along it.

“Please fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me, Seonghwa,” you asked in between breaths, holding desperately onto his shoulders, incidentally pulling his thin blazer from his shoulders, revealing his perfect, glowing skin underneath. 

“I do hate you. I hate your fucking guts,” Seonghwa growled, suddenly ripping your blouse completely open, grabbing and groping at your tits, squeezing your nipples roughly between his ringed fingers. 

“Then rearrange them,” you growled back, grabbing either side of his jaw, the both of you meeting in the middle, your heated kiss consisting more of teeth and tongue than anything else. 

Seonghwa lifted you up onto the sink, fumbling with his designer belt, encouraging you to reach down and help him pull it off for him, feeling his heavy cock drop into your hands. He groaned into your open mouth when you began to jerk him off, breaking the rough kiss to begin attacking your neck, making sure he left you with pretty purple bruises on your sensitive skin. 

“Fuck, Seonghwa…” you moaned, hooking your thighs around his impossibly slim waist, feeling him starting to rub the length of his cock across your aching cunt, the pronounced ridge of his cockhead repeatedly hooking onto your clit. “Do you have a condom?”  

Seonghwa shook his head, cementing one hand around your waist, guiding the head of his cock into your tight entrance, your inner walls straining to take someone of his size inside. “You’re going to take my cock like a good slut, yeah? Going to let me fuck you raw, aren’t you?” 

“Nnngh, n-no one fucks me raw, not even Hongjoong,” you whimpered pathetically, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him impossibly close, unable to do anything but take Seonghwa’s hot, pulsing length inside you inch by inch, about to melt into a puddle by the time he was fully sheathed inside you. 

“Well, aren’t I a lucky man?” Seonghwa purred softly into your ear, just as he began bucking his hips up into you, reaching up to create a makeshift ponytail with your hair, tugging it each time he brought you down onto his cock, unable to keep himself from letting out a few breathy laughs of pure satisfaction, due to watching you completely fall apart inside his arms. “You like this, brat? No one’s fucked you on their cock like this, have they? No one’s ever treated you like the shameless cum dump you are. What a shame…” 

“S-eong-hwa…!” you gasped, unable to speak with the way your breath was getting punched out of you each time the furious model slammed himself back into you, swearing he was going to bruise your cervix with such rough treatment — and you couldn’t have been wetter. “Please…!”

“Please, what? No, you know what? I don’t even want to hear what you have to say. Now, open your fucking mouth,” Seonghwa grunted in between brutal thrusts, reaching up in between your sweaty, disheveled bodies to force your jaw open, sending a wad of spit directly down your throat, feeling your cunt clench around him when he did. “Oh, you like that? Of course you do.” 

“Aaah,” you whined, letting your tongue hang out of your mouth, feeling almost completely blissed out when Seonghwa sent another wad of saliva onto your tongue, the both of you watching it drip down, before you swallowed it. “Gonna cum…” 

“Course you are, you pathetic little cock slut…” Seonghwa reached down to rub his thumb roughly against your clit, still pounding into you with so much vigor, he had to time his breathing so that he didn’t get too lightheaded, routinely blowing wet locks of hair out of his focused eyes. “I’m going to cum too…going to fill this whore cunt with my load. Fill you up so deep, I’ll knock you up…I’ll own you…” 

It was then that you began to cry, holding onto Seonghwa so tightly your fingers cramped up, your lower half cramping up in a similar fashion, feeling your warm arousal soak the both of you, allowing Seonghwa to slip in and out of you even easier than before. “Cum…inside…make me yours, Seonghwa…” you whispered, finally submitting to the man that you had been fighting with for who knows how long, about to willingly let him pump a baby into you.

If only your friends could see you now. They’d probably livestream it and give the audience a play by play from the sidelines, those sick fucks. You loved them for it. 

“Hey, eyes on me. Don’t fade out just yet, not while your tight little slut hole is milking me dry,” Seonghwa mumbled against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip to catch your attention. He slid out fully and slipped back in one more time, holding you completely still, letting out groan after groan as he pumped his cum into you, not stopping until every last drop made it into your womb. He grabbed your hand and pressed it to your heaving abdomen, making you feel the pouch he created inside you, giving you butterflies from the sensation. “Feel that, Y/N? That’s the proof of my ownership. You’re no longer a mindless slut for just anyone’s cock, are you?” 

“No…” you murmured, shaking your head, so dizzy from being fucked into submission that you simply leaned forward and rested your head against his heated shoulder. “I’m yours, Seonghwa…” 

Seonghwa felt a sudden swell of pride inside his chest, his brain and body tingling with pleasure, like he was back on stage again, surrounded by a crowd of people that praised him, that so desperately wanted what he had to offer. He hugged you close, pressing his lips against your ear, his lips forming a soft smile. “Say that again.” 

You smiled into Seonghwa’s neck, almost not wanting to let go of him, an unfamiliar warmth that rudely accompanied your hatred now present within your chest. “Now, let’s not get carried away.” 

fff taglist: @itza-meee @chnt1 @k-hotchoisan @wonyobie @vampiregirl215 @christmastodoroki @luvt0kki @goldnhwa @choisanboobenthusiast @icyb3rry @maximofftrash @choism @yunhosmelonbar @nebulousbookshelf @astayinwonderland @slutologyy @10nantscompanion @ddaeing @pandagirl-016 @horanghae8 @smally97 @ateezzzser @bubblegumbird @midnightmaja @i2nsstuff @asimpelslut @wisejudgedragonhairdo @deathbyyeekies @firefox79 @wildesreblogs @everyonewooeverywhere @raspberrysannie @channiespup @abby-grace @seonghwaddict @mxnsxngie @jeongwangjessmina

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[utilitycaster]

I love the discussion out of game (mostly in Cooldown) and the hints in-game of why the Betrayers and Primes split along the lines they did. It's something that I feel only gets explored during the era of Calamity, perhaps rightfully so; it would have to be then or during the battles of the Schism, as the Divine Gate renders a lot of that division moot in terms of what they can actually carry out in the world.

Taliesin in Cooldown says that The Wildmother is not opposed to leaving a natural cycle of life, including beings killing each other, to play out as it would; the issue for her was that she cannot leave Exandria for something else; it is essentially a part of her. If she could leave, perhaps she would have been a Betrayer. The Lawbearer on the other hand is discussed in and out of game as not dedicated to mortals as "her little guys" but dedicated to, well, dedication and promises; while intervention has its dangers that she acknowledges, it would be quite literally a betrayal of responsibility not to do so. There are deities who genuinely seem to hold affection for mortaldom, like The Dawnfather and The Everlight, but many had other motivations.

Something I find really interesting is Tishar (The Ruiner's avatar) and her clear distaste for Zaharzht (unconfirmed but heavily implied to be The Crawling King). One of Gruumsh's tenets is that the only two emotions are "fury and joy", and many of the Betrayers and their avatars, particularly Zaharzht, seem dedicated to the idea that all is suffering. For some, the act of betrayal itself seems baked into their nature (Asmodeus, Lolth, Zehir) and for some, a worship of pain (Torog) or of nothingness and end itself (Tharizdun) but but Gruumsh, Tiamat, and Bane ultimately boil down to "if the strong try to kill the weak, let them" and Gruumsh in particular is dedicated first and foremost simply to destruction but does not seem to have any true hate for mortals as some of the others do. Rather like Melora, it is only a few details that determined his side in the Schism.

Just as the gods became who they are out of the need to survive the destruction of Tengar, and found themselves locked into those aspects of what was once an infinite self, I think by the time of Calamity, the gods found themselves on existing sides based on the choices that are no longer entirely pertinent now that the battles of the Schism are over. Within those two camps, the gods hold a wide range of opinions; some of the Betrayers genuinely do wish for the elimination of all of mortaldom but some would probably be happy to just leave if the Primes were willing. It's just that the Primes, for a wide variety of reasons, are not.

Calamity is, essentially, the Betrayer Gods fighting a war they lost centuries if not millennia before. I don't think their cause was ever actually in favor of the Titans, but if it was, a revival of that war ended in the instant of its beginning with Laerryn's act. At this point, they're fighting the Primes to make them join them again; even if all mortals died I don't think they'd get what they wanted, and surely if all the Primes died they wouldn't either.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

The cycle of life

Azriel x Reader

Fae cycles suck, thank the mother for your attentive mate who is there to provide you with all of the smut and fluff you desire.

warnings: smut, language, self-esteem and body image struggles, anxiety, slight breeding kink

She didn’t know when the self-loathing crept in - although it was always the first sign. The week had been busy, she’d poured herself into her work. Being a bookkeeper for such a wealthy court was… tiring to say the least. It was fulfilling work, especially when it came to the Court of Dreams. Balancing ledgers and creating budgets for various charitable endeavors was a duty she was proud to take part in. The High Lord and Lady’s efforts in keeping their court thriving was admirable. Most would find the work mundane, and she supposed it could be, but accounting always felt like a puzzle to her - using her brain to solve problems and contribute to the advancement of the Night Court was rewarding.

She wasn’t perfect though, despite that desperate desire within herself to be. She’d push, and push, and push herself completely overlooking all the good she did and absolutely berating herself internally when the occasional mistake occurred.

Azriel was her number one supporter. She’d always imagined him to be better suited for the likes of a fellow warrior such as Mor or a Valkyrie like Gwyn. Perhaps even someone soft and lovely like Elain, a glowing beacon to come home to. Y/N had told Azriel as much when he began pursuing her.

“Why me?” She’d wonder to herself as she assessed her figure in the mirror - overlooking the enticing feminine curves that all but screamed “squeeze me, grip me, take me”, the way her plush lips bowed into a perfectly kissable pout, how her radiant skin that nearly glowed rendered her ethereal. She only saw imperfections. Not to mention that she wasn’t graceful or stealthy, she couldn’t cook or keep plants alive to save her damned life, and she had a tendency to get stuck inside her mind.

Truthfully this week was more than busy, it was hard. She’d pushed herself to meet deadlines that she’d gotten behind on due to an influx in workload. She’d made a few mistakes that nobody had issue with - except herself. Nuala and Cerridwen were taking well-deserved time off, leaving the essential household tasks on the back burner. Between working endless hours, Azriel being gone on a mission, and a flare up of the anxiety that she’d put so much effort into working through over the years - she was exhausted.

Physically her muscles ached, stomach cramped, and her head pounded as the all-too-familiar symptoms of her impending semi-annual cycle took root. Her mind and spirit were utterly fatigued from the busy week, the flare up of anxiety, and the overall stress of life. She was desperate for Azriel to return from his mission soon.

It was around 9PM when she coerced herself into wrapping up work on Friday night, she spent three hours afterward tending to the house and catching up on neglected tasks from the week, too tired to even bathe as she crawled into bed - sleep claiming her immediately.

She awoke the next day to a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hello beautiful.” Azriel whispered against her skin, pulling back to allow those intense hazel eyes a chance to examine her. Her eyelids fluttered and brows furrowed as she let out an exhausted groan, “baby…” a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she reached toward him in a needy manner that made his heart ache. He hated leaving her for missions though she always understood and supported him. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her body, letting his warmth seep into her bones as she melted into his embrace.

Azriel noticed the flinch she made as the sun shone through the window into their room, quickly flaring his wings to block it from view until her eyes adjusted. “What’s wrong, love?” He whispered, though he already had an idea. The heat of his breath against her ear sent chills through her, prompting her to give a quick nip to his neck before kissing it.

Gods, she’d missed him.

“Nothing baby.” before he could call her on her lie she continued, “what time is it?”

“Well, you missed breakfast.” He smirked.

“Ugh… how did I sleep in so late?” She sat up, rubbing her tired eyes.

Azriel shrugged “Your body must have needed it.”

“Says you.” She scoffed. “You were off all week doing physically demanding work and busting your ass for this court… while I sat on mine balancing ledgers.”

“Y/N…” he spoke, his low voice barely more than a warning growl. “We’re not going to do that. You are allowed to feel tired, allowed to let your body rest. Your work is important.”

She sighed, knowing better than to press on. She knew to pick her battles and that this one was not one she would win.

“Fine.” Y/N shrugged, eyeing a paper bag on the bedside table. “What did you bring me? Please tell me it’s something with chocolate.”

Azriel’s lips curled up into a grin that she’d never tire of seeing, handing over the bag. “See for yourself, darling.”

———

Azriel knew from the moment he stepped into the quiet house that she’d need extra love and attention today. His loving, caring, selfless mate who typically rose early - he swore the sun rose on her accord and not the other way around - was still sound asleep in bed.

He immediately exited the house before she could sense his presence and stopped by her favorite bakery along the Sidra. Chocolate croissants were a necessity in times like these. She’d need a pain relieving tonic, epsom salts and soothing oils, and a bouquet of flowers couldn’t hurt either.

He went ahead and picked up ingredients for a few quick meals and a new book she’d mentioned recently as well.

He had to laugh at the irony. His mate often questioned her worthiness of him. HIM. She couldn’t see what he saw. A passionate, intelligent female who cared for her mate, her court, and family more than anything. Always putting her own needs last but the first to volunteer when help was needed. The cauldron truly found his equal - someone who gave and gave but it was never enough. Someone who couldn’t see her own worth, her pure heart, her devastating beauty - while the rest of the world marveled at it.

She’d been the catalyst in his own self-acceptance. He’d spent centuries believing he wasn’t enough, that he was unworthy of a mate, of his position, of the power he was born with - just to meet this intelligent, radiant being who could bring an entire room to a halt and assume they were only seeing flaws. Not the beauty that could make even kings fall to their knees if she’d only ask. When the bond snapped, he decided then and there that he would show her just how worthy she was. In the decade they’d been mated, she finally started to see her worth, how precious she was to him, to those she graced with her presence. But life is complicated and triggers are inevitable, especially when it came to the flare of hormones that accompanied an impending cycle.

—————

The chocolate croissants were a win if the drawn-out contented sigh Y/N let out upon finishing her third one was any indication. He’d shared details of his mission as she indulged in the pastries and she gave him a few details of her week - frowning as she went into detail about the “mistakes” she’d made.

They were common mistakes that anyone would make, truthfully, some weren’t even her fault, but he listened as she let it out. He’d learned over the years that sometimes she just needed to get it off her chest and not advice. Simply hearing each other out had become a key element in the foundation of their relationship - when thoughts became too much - they were always listening ears for each other.

Once she’d gotten it off her chest she changed the subject by asking, “What do you want to do today?”

Azriel had a lot to do - but his mate took priority this weekend. He gave her a wicked grin, “I want nothing more than to waste away in this bed with you all day.”

“But?” She replied.

“But nothing.” He flicked her nose. “I want to spend the day in bed with my mate - is there something wrong with that?”

Azriel could see the war in her mind. Debating whether she deserved to take a day off, or should tend to other tasks. Before she could object he leaned in, lips capturing hers in a deep, loving kiss. She immediately opened for him, his tongue lazily tangling with hers. “Fine” she murmured.

“That’s my girl.” He cooed before returning to claiming her mouth, the shell of her ears, her neck.

“Mmm” she purred into his kiss while he palmed at her breast through her silken cobalt night gown. Her swollen breasts immediately peaking beneath his touch.

“So responsive” his low voice growled into her neck, sending fire straight through her, igniting her core. “Is that beautiful pussy as ready for me as these are?” He asked, tweaking a nipple through her gown.

The responding moan told him more than enough as he hitched the hem of her nightgown up to her waist, exposing the dripping cunt practically begging for him underneath. His eyes rolled back at the intoxicating scent of arousal drifting up into his nose. “Holy shit, Y/N.” he groaned, clearly pleased with the sight.

He ran a finger through her slick core, adding a teasingly light amount of pressure to her clit but before he could insert a finger she moaned “No Az, I can’t wait. Please.”

“You don’t want my fingers?” He teased, slipping one inside of her. Mother, she was absolutely soaked.

“Az…Fuck. No. Please.” She pleaded. Reaching down to palm the hardened length beneath his sweatpants. “I need that inside of me. Now”

Typically he would reprimand her for being so demanding, robbing him of his playtime with her sweet, dripping sex. But the desperation in her voice left him desperate to oblige her.

“Since you asked nicely.” He replied, to which she frantically helped him out of his pants.

Before she could reconsider taking more fingers, he thrusted his length into her. Hard. Every thick, aching inch of him, stretching and filling her completely.

“Like that?” He asked as her moans filled the room.

“Yes. Yes, Az.”

“Fuck.” She cried out. “Just. Like. That.” Each word coming out individually timed to the thrusts of his cock.

There was no way he was going to last long at this pace, especially after being away for a week. “Not gonna last long like this. Fuck!” He ground out.

She grit her teeth as his thrusts became harder, more erratic. “Then fill me, Az. Need your cum.”

Slipping a hand between them, he pressed his thumb to her clit, moving it in that perfected motion he’d finessed over the years as he diligently studied her body, a scholar whose sole discipline laid in pleasuring his mate. Locking his eyes with her, he gently commanded “Cum with me baby.”

With that they both let go. Their releases filling the room like a song. A melody Azriel would never tire of, one he replayed in his mind somehow far too often, yet never enough during his time away.

Azriel stayed inside of her until their breaths settled, evening out into sync with eachother. He reveled in the warmth of her. His perfect mate - physically, emotionally, spiritually. He’d never take this for granted.

Finally he pulled out of her in one long sweep, she looked down to admire the still considerable length of him even when partially softened. Her stomach dropped to see blood mixed in with their combined releases.

“Az, oh, I’m so s-” She started but he cut her off.

“Baby. It’s just a little blood.”

She almost looked ashamed. “I know but- I’m embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” He puzzled. “It’s completely natural. Do you really think blood bothers me? Come on now beautiful, we’ve had sex during your cycle before. Why shy away now?”

“I just didn’t expect the bleeding to have started already. It explains why I’ve felt so lethargic, I suppose.”

Azriel went to get a warm cloth from the adjoined washroom, returning to wipe her. Her cheeks flushed at the intimate action.

“Stop overthinking it. Besides, we’re mates.” He smiled, a soft look overtaking his eyes. “If you still want to have children with me someday, your cycle is kind of an essential step of the process.”

Y/N flushed at the comment. The thought of carrying his babies was something she’d dreamed about for years now. Thank the gods for her distant Illyrian ancestry and the genes that blessed her with curvy hips capable of birthing winged babes.

“You know, with my cycle returning… we could always start trying? If we stopped taking our tonics now - it should be out of our system in time for ovulation. Rhys has offered recently to let me bring on an assistant book keeper, which would be excellent timing.”

Azriel’s heart fluttered at the thought of it. His mate round and glowing as she carried their baby, a babe that would know so much more love than he ever had as a child. Something so pure and beautiful that could come from the love between he and his mate. They’d talked about it for years now, a dream of theirs. He had to quickly blink away the silver lining his eyes at the gift she was offering him, his selfless mate in all her infinite love. There was no way he could verbally reply in the moment without choking up so he sent waves of adoration, joy, and gratitude down the bond.

She sent every bit of love right back to him, propping up on her elbows to capture his lips in a promising kiss.

———-

After they came to a decision, Azriel carried Y/N to the bathing room where a hot bath full of the oils and epsom salts he’d picked up that morning were waiting. She nearly cried at the relief of the welcoming heat that greeted her.

Before she could object, Azriel quickly stepped out to change the sheets, promptly returning to slide into the bath tub behind her. He washed her hair, massaging her scalp to which she nearly purred like a cat. He carefully washed her entire body massaging her back, thighs, calves, shoulders, and breasts in the process. By the time he was done tending to her, she’d nearly fallen asleep.

Ever the caretaker, she tried to wash him in return but he insisted that this was about her - passing her a rolled up towel to place behind her neck while she relaxed, letting the oils from the bath soak into her skin as he lathered himself. He got out first, toweling himself off before lifting her out of the tub and drying her off with a heated towel.

Though she insisted she could do it herself, Azriel wasn’t having it. This was his day to care for his mate so he helped her into cloth lined linens and selfishly left her topless, slipping her underneath the fresh blankets.

He assured her he’d be right back slipping out to the kitchen to heat up her favorite gnocchi soup and fetch a tray he’d prepared with her pain relieving tonic, bouquet of flowers, and more chocolate.

It didn’t take much to bring his mate joy - the genuine gratitude she’d send down the bond at even the smallest gestures was never lost on him. Perhaps it was self-serving but he couldn’t resist surprising her, coveting each warm smile she’d give him as if he’d never feel warmth again.

He prayed their future babes had her smile, her eyes, any of her features, truly. But most of all, her heart - maybe then, beating within the most precious gift the mother could offer them, she’d finally see just how beautiful she really was.

————

He had to beg and plead like a mad male but finally she agreed to spend the entire weekend in bed with him. Who knew that he, the one who was typically the workaholic, would be the one to grovel at his mates feet begging her to take a break.

Fortunately, she was not immune to his charms and obliged him. At one point, she snuck out of bed in an attempt to accomplish a few tasks around the house before her cramps humbled her. Azriel was promptly startled awake from the nap he’d drifted off to as she loudly exclaimed from down the hall, “Fuck it. Back to bed.”

They spent the rest of the weekend making love, whispering of their dreams for the future, indulging in sweets, and reveling in each others touch with no shortage of laughter and kissing in between.

——————————

A/n: So I’ve totally been under the weather this weekend with no motivation to write but as I laid in bed with my own partner tending to me with whatever I needed, I couldn’t resist writing this. I intended it to be a Drabble but the words just kept flowing. I stan fluffy Az. Anyway, thanks for reading!

For those of you waiting on new parts to my current fics - I promise they’re coming along and will be out soon! xo ♥️

[mypuchiart]

Day 11: Spamton after not surviving

made with blender (cycles)

i've spent two days playing with fluids. i couldn't do exactly what i wanted but i managed to get something close enough

also my pc almost died a few times while trying to render this 70-frame animation using physics + textures + colors

audio is a mix from these two videos:

1) Our first Frog Spawn slime: Eye Candy

2) CRUNCHY SLIME

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi hello I had brain rot and popped this out! Idk if it’s an incoherent horny ramble or not but SKIDIBOP MM DADA BOOM💥💥🤯🤯🤯

Rating: Explicit

Tags: A/B/O, Alpha!bucky, omega!reader, reader is inhuman and former hydra asset, confessions of love, mating cycles, TW//non-descript sexual assault, horrible self talk, hydra trash party tendencies, Sweet fluffy big boy Buck, breeding kink, marathon sex, pnv!sex, kinda feral ass behavior, scenting n marking

@lovelykhaleesiii @godrakin @borikenlove @ilikeitbetterangsty @connorsui I think I got my Bucky slores all counted out ;)

Feral. - B. Barnes

Bucky was panicking, sour pheromones leaking from his pores. He was an alpha, technically, but would be entering his first rut after years of chemical castration by Hydra. Rendered him beta. Now it was coming up on him, soon— you could smell that much.

Being one of the few omegas around that offered to help him out, your own powers would ease the inevitable roughness of a feral Alpha. Bucky chose you due to your close friendship, both Hydra superpowered assets. You guys could relate to each other. Although you never had to miss a heat, your handler taking full advantage of your needy state.

Bastard.

Bucky had all the signs of rut coming up; aggression, hypersensitivity, appetite, and smelling up the entire room. Stark had banned Buck to his apartment citing, “It fucking stinks, go wear him out for the love of God.” You had grabbed your clothes and favorite nesting blankets to join the brunette soon after.

Subtle cramps made you shift, the fuckers scent alone would send you into a synced heat. He smelled good, like a woodsy smell, a winter’s day, all that sappy nonsense. Bucky grunted, “What if I hurt you? Like bite your mating gland without meaning it?”

You tapped your neck, nail clicking on an invisible collar. Bucky stopped in his tracks, brows furrowing. “They have guards for that. You can lick and scent all you want but no bitesies Barnes.” He groaned, “Thank god for the future, I guess.” Another cramp hit you, hissing involuntarily at the pain.

Blue eyes flicked to you, him coming close to you. He asked gently, “What’s wrong?” You clenched your teeth and gritted out, “You. Going to send me into heat soon so stop fighting it and worrying.” Bucky’s eyes widened and he gulped, coming to terms with the reality of the situation. Fucking his good friend, you, who he had intensely mooned over for a while now.

The brunette nodded and gestured, “Do you need to nest first? I’m just going to, uh, eat a little more.” You rolled your eyes at his obvious stress eating. He was cutely fluffy now from the transition of Romania to the Avengers compound, trying to adjust. Cramp, ow. Grabbing the blankets you mounded and moulded them to your own liking. Bucky’s scent only made it better, you taking a deep inhale.

You cried out as the first real pang of heat hit you, slick gushing forth, sending you into the nest face first— drooling and whining for Bucky. Usually you used suppressants, hating how submissive and fucking stupid you got, the intense emotions brought up old memories. But not this cycle, waiting for Bucky had you back to stupidtown.

Bucky almost snarled in concern, swallowing down his protein bar and crawling onto the bed. You clawed at your clothes, ripping off the top easily. “Buuuck, help, leggings, stupid!,” you managed. The brunette yanked down your legging and underwear, growling, “Don’t call yourself that— fucking hell!”

Oh. There it was. He’d finally hit it. 

Bucky groaned deeply, taking off his clothes haphazardly, you could hear the ripping and tossing while drooling on a blanket, biting down in agony. You whined, “C’mon Alpha, knot, need it, fill my pussy up!” The normal you cringed on in the inside, but Bucky nodded along. He rasped, “Fuck yes, yes, gonna fill my pretty ‘mega up.”

You could almost purr at Barnes referring you as ‘his’.

Buck’s mismatched hands gripped your hips, sliding an impossibly fat cock between your weeping folds. A shiver wracked your spine, mewing and crying his name at the feeling. He rumbled in that Alpha timbre, “Be a good omega and just take it, make it look easy, please.” By the end of the sentence your sweet Bucky had leaked out some. Turning around to gaze at him he slid in your cunt with a grunt, fangs bared and eyes blazing.

Swollen and fucking hot he speared you fully, stretching and overfilling underused pussy. It had been so long since you’d fucked someone and damn you were glad it was him. Your pussy ached and widened around him, gushing profuse slick. Buck groaned and snapped his hips forward, dragging along everything. He let out a strangled moan, “Fuck, dolly, so goddamn tight. Gonna bl-blow fast.”

“Hurry up and fuck me then!”

A rough smack to your ass had you shutting up with a whimper. Bucky jackhammered your pussy, grunting and gasping, poor thing’s dick probably hurting. His hips smacked into your own, a metal hand pushing at the small of your back for a different angle. You wailed, Bucky cursed and pressed his soft belly to your back, chomping and nosing eagerly at the protected mating gland.

He couldn’t get enough of it, moaning and lapping like a baby alpha fucking his first rut toy. Big hands explored your body, one coming down to toy with your oversensitive clit, making you gush further. The closeness and angle had you whimpering, need forcing you to whine, “Oh, Buck, kiss me, please!”

He blinked dumbly at you, lips swollen from mauling your scent glands. You whimpered, emotions immediately jumping to: oh he hates you, used up omega. The alpha frowned and seized forward clumsily, noses mashing together as he kissed you. He still fucked you raggedly, cock swelling and pulling at your walls.

A pink tongue darted out to claim you, Bucky getting the point and tilting his head for better access to your mouth. He moaned desperately, lips driving across yours wet and messy. You threw back an arm to cradle silky-soft brown hair, fucking back onto that thick cock. “Fuuuck, knot me up baby, need it.” Bucky rasped back, “Yeah?”

“Want it, wan’ your knot, feel s’good,” came the resounding whimper.

Bucky kissed you harder, moaning into your mouth as he fucked deeper, more shallow thrusts than anything now, thick fingers pulling at your clit. He growled, “Omega, so tight— mine.” He shoved your hips flush to him, groaning chest deep and guttural as his knot popped and blew inside. You wailed and scrambled around him, that hot cum painting your insides.

Bucky whined deep in his chest, gasping against you, holding squirming hips still as he filled you up. The Alpha lapped and scented you further, murmuring dazedly, “Won’t be able to smell like another alpha again. Never.” His fingers dug into the softness of your hips, locked in now. You panted and shoved your face into the blankets, overwhelmed.

“Jus’ move to the side,” you said quietly. He gently, so very gently, eased the pair of you to the side. The knot pulled a bit, making both of you hiss. Now spooned in the fucked up nest, Bucky seemed to be dozing off, nose shoved into your mating gland, puffing softly. He slung an arm around you, making sure his entire body was plastered to your own.

Some alphas were clingy like that. Not many. Heat abated by Bucky’s knot— your mind inevitably cleared up. Emotions and old thoughts swirled in your brain. Sometimes you’d have to go through heat with a random elite of the world, them getting a present with the inhuman omega. Once you’d been through the humiliation of being used they’d dump you off with your handler, Sitwell.

He made sure to let you know you were nothing but a whore for Hydra. Used to the point where you were nothing but an easy fuck. “No self-respecting alpha would mate you,” he’d tut while inside you. Your chest clenched up, stupid stupid stupid emotions making your eyes burn.

In the same horrid voice as Jasper your mind hissed. Bucky wouldn’t want you. He knew you were easy and used to ruts. You couldn’t wash off the years of filth and scars on your nape. The great Bucky Barnes would get through this first rut and go find a more demure, self-respecting omega. Hot tears pricked at your eyes, chest beginning to heave.

Bucky’s hand came up quickly, cupping your cheek to get a look. His thick brows furrowed at your likely pitiful expression. “What’s wrong sweetheart? Woke me up when ya’ soured, you hurting?” His concerned expression made you cry harder— chest aching for this to never end. The alpha tightened himself to you, a big thumb wiping your tears. His sculpted lips pulled into a frown.

“I-it’s stupid, been a long time for me too, sorry,” you apologized.

He didn’t seem phased, concern wafting off him in waves. The former assassin practically cooed, “Hey now, seriously, what’s wrong? Spit it out baby, I know you better than that.” You stared into dead serious eyes, knowing deep down Buck would win this contest. Mouth gaping in horror you had no clue how to respond.

“C’mon ‘mega, breaking a man’s heart,” he begged soft and sweet.

Turning away from his gaze, Buck’s hand gently pulled you back with a huff. Taking a deep breath you rambled manically, “I stopped my heats after getting out of Hydra. It brings back…stuff. But I wanted to be there for you and I know I’m an easy option and all, I mean being the pass around for whatever need obviously I know how to handle Alphas.” A titanium thumb in your mouth had you rendered mute with a sudden squeak.

His face softened, pheromones swelling and making you feel woozy. Strong fucking Alpha. The anxiety in your chest abated from the scent. He asked, “Do you really think I’d care about your past?” You shrugged lightly, unsure. Blue eyes turned hard, “Give me a list and if they ain’t dead I’ll personally go castrate them.” Bucky took a deep inhale of you again, relaxing some.

“Look at me.”

You peeped nervously.

“When you offered to help I thought my dreams were coming true,” he pecked your temple, “You’re the only one I want, was gonna tough it out if the only girl I care about didn’t volunteer.” You smacked a big shoulder in shock, squeaking, “No- no you’re lying- this is a joke.” Bucky shoved his knot a fraction deeper inside of you, still swollen to hell.

He deadpanned, “Does this seem like a joke to you? I wish the damn thing would deflate so I can fuck your pretty self already. Been lovin’ you for awhile now.”

Whimpering in desire you clenched down involuntarily, Bucky’s eyes rolling back with a groan. He kissed you again, breathlessly laughing, “I thought you’d think I’m too crazy, overweight, and a load of baggage.” Smooching him back you shook your head to declare, “No, no, you’re perfect as is. This is perfect. Don’t want it to end. Love you too.”

“It doesn’t have to, babydoll,” he cooed into your lips.

After confessing one’s feelings, fucking your official Alpha was much more intense. You’d talked it out with him waiting on the knot to deflate, both of you self-conscious balls of anxiety causing the miscommunication. In full, fuck Hydra with a fiery sword.

You’d grown more heat dazed first, losing any touch to speak normally, writhing around. Buck played with your clit until you’d cum two times, chanting his name like a litany. He was goading you on with a smirk the entire time, cocky as hell now, “Yeah, that’s it, squirt for your fuckin’ Alpha.” Or he’d groan in your ear, “Good girlll, yeah, smell so sweet.”

His knot finally went down and now half crazed you rutted back on Bucky’s cock with hoarse shouts, biting into a blanket. He met you eagerly, slapping your ass and talking non-stop. The brunette moaned, “Goddamn baby, fucking ah, sh-shit!” He nudged thick thighs inside your own, using strong hands to pull you onto him. The whole place smelled of sex pheromones.

“Gonna be my big Alpha and breed me up?,” you teased deliriously, not even sure where this came from.

Bucky rumbled deep in his chest, one of those possessive hands pulling you upright to lock around a slim throat. He rasped in your ear, hot breath puffing, “I’ll fuckin’ give you some pups, s’that what you want?” His hips stuttered, cock beginning to swell again as you wailed. Please please please.

“Make you mine for good,” he nipped at the covered mating gland again, “I’d kill anyone who’d take my precious omega away from me, killing anyone who hurt you, mhm.” You turned your head to kiss his swollen lips, hand digging into his hair as the Alpha dug into you. His soft belly fit perfectly into the arch of your back, hips clapping against your slickened cunt and ass. Your brain purred about how big and perfect he was, a good protector.

Bucky begged suddenly, thrusts sloppy and stilted, “Rip th-that collar off, lemme bite, c’mon love— only one I want, make you a mama.” His lips insistently kissed, hands almost frantically grasping you. A bolt of heady arousal spiked up your belly, the need to be claimed and mated taking over. Bucky as yours sealed with his pretty white teeth, you dripped more at the thought.

Pressing the release on the collar you rocketed into a perfect, quiet, blank euphoria at the feeling of Bucky’s teeth piercing your skin. Things felt complete. You sighed in relief, the held on disgust and shame floating away. Coming back to within seconds you snarled and locked onto his pulsing neck, sealing the bite with a lap. Bucky gutturally groaned, knot popping once again, him following you down to the bed.

The pair of you didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity, hoarsely catching breath, living in the moment. Bucky nosed at the now swollen patch on your neck, commenting dopily, “Wonder what Tony’s gonna say when you pop back out with this.” You hummed and squeezed the big arm around your waist.

“He’ll probably stutter for a minute and then act like he knew all along. Steve won’t be surprised.”

Bucky laughed, “He never is.”

His hand splayed out against your stomach, murmuring, “I know you’re on the pill but I meant what I said. Wanna make the ‘mega I love bred up.” You possibly couldn’t get another orgasm out but his gravelly tone and words made you clench. Touching the bond mark you replied, “Wanna make the alpha I love a daddy.”

He groaned, blues rolling up, “Fuck, yes.”

[satancopilotsmytardis]

(Getting) Better Together

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by an anonymous user. Dabi did not know that he was an omega, and he can’t say that he ever really wanted to find out that he was. He just wanted to join the League of Villains and destroy his father. But when the League’s doctor refused to clear him for active duty, he really thought the next step would be getting kicked out. He didn’t think that he would suddenly have the guy who tried to kill him trying to help him through this entire situation. 

Contents: ABO, Alpha!Shigaraki, Omega!Dabi, Recovery from malnutrition/starvation, Mating Cycles, Heat/Ruts, Sex Ed, Discussions of past child and spousal abuse, Infertility, Sex Toys, Porn, Loss of Virginity/First Time, Anal Sex, Grinding, Cumming in Pants, Wet and Messy, Praise Kink, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Knots, Dabi has genital piercings, Shigaraki has a massive cock. 

Word Count: 19249

Given that the new boss nearly killed him, Dabi really didn't think that the situation with the League of Villains would have anything over the usual jobs that he's done with other crews of criminals. But the next day, when he and Toga come back in after getting the few things they had kept at the safe house Giran had them held up in, Kurogiri informs them that they'll be living on the floor above the bar with Shigaraki. They each get a private, barely furnished room with a lock on the door, and they'll be able to buy whatever they want to decorate their space with the money that they're going to get for being on retainer, training, and running whatever small jobs the League has for them before they debut. They are also informed that there is a grocery list on the refrigerator and that as they need things, they can add it to that. On Wednesdays and Sundays they'll get a delivery of whatever they're missing. He's also not expecting them to be told that the League has a doctor on-call and that they will need to schedule a check-up with him over the course of the next week to ensure that they're healthy and that they have any medicine that they need as they get started in the organization. That's pretty strange. 

But nothing is as strange as the doctor coming back into the examination room he's been sitting in for half an hour, and getting a somewhat bewildered look. 

"What's up, doc?" He asks, not appreciating that he's somehow managed to be even more of a freak than he already is. 

"I have the results from your test." 

"What do I have, like seventy incurable diseases or something?" It would be his luck. 

"No," but there is definitely something, given the tone. "You reported being a beta?" 

"...yeah?" 

"I have to inform you that your designation is actually that of an omega." Ujiko tells him, looking him dead in the eye. Dabi stares back. 

"What?"

"It appears that you've had extended periods of malnutrition and are severely underweight for your height. Being in such a state, your body seems to have essentially 'turned off' all of the sex traits of your designation, allowing you to pass for a beta. You'll need to have another examination to determine the health of your reproductive system." 

Dabi is so stunned that he doesn't even find the words to protest. 

///

It's another hour and a half later when he is finished, feeling a little humiliated after the entire thing, though luckily a different doctor, someone else on AFO's payroll who is actually an expert in Omega anatomy took care of that, and they're in the room with he and Ujiko to determine what he needs to do going forward. 

"Mr. Dabi--" 

"Just 'Dabi'." He says numbly. 

"Dabi," they correct, their voice gentle. "I am very sorry to inform you, but it appears that the damage sustained by your body from your burns as well as the extended period of malnutrition and high-stress has... rendered you infertile." 

Oh. That's supposed to be a bad thing. Omegas are supposed to be all about having lots of pups. But Dabi feels some relief sweep through him for the first time since he got the news. "Okay, is that why I've never had a heat?" 

"In part, maybe. But that is more likely to be related to the weight and malnutrition. We're going to prescribe some shakes that you can drink to help get your daily nutrients more readily, and we recommend you start eating a diet that is rich in fat and protein." The omega doctor gives him a pamphlet that outlines how he should be structuring his meals to ensure that he's putting on weight and Ujiko goes in for the kill, 

"Until you gain ten kilos and have your first heat, I am not marking your chart as 'field ready'." 

"What? But I've been fine. I can do my job! Just give me suppressants!" 

"Not having your heat for so long is not 'fine'," The other doctor tells him, using that infuriatingly gentle tone again. "Extended stress like this can cause a whole host of severe medical issues that can dramatically shorten your lifespan." Like he doesn't already have a short one of those. "Now that you'll be getting the nutrition your body needs as well as having a safe place to sleep, you're going to start off by feeling much, much worse as your hormones begin to equalize." They keep talking for a while, loading Dabi up with about five more pamphlets for him to read and Dabi wonders if the League was really worth all the trouble it's turning out to be. 

///

When he gets back to base that night, he goes straight to his room, and spreads out the pamphlets on his bed, trying to read through them all, but feeling like all of the information is just sort of slipping off of his brain from his shock. It takes until there's a soft knock on his door for him to realize that it must have been hours, that he skipped eating, which he's probably going to be in trouble for if AFO doesn't just decide that he's not worth the trouble of keeping around and throw him to the streets again. 

He manages to get up and go to the door. 

Shigaraki is standing on the other side, and yeah, it must be late, because he's not even wearing the hands anymore. "Here," Dabi looks down at his hands and finds a small box that claims to have a phone in it. "My number and Kurogiri's is already programed in. If you need a teleport, just text him and he'll open a portal." 

"Oh. Thanks." 

"...The doctor didn't clear you for missions." It's not a question. But the tone of it rings a bell in the back of Dabi's mind that, for as much as they're villains, means that Ujiko didn't tell Shigaraki why he wouldn't clear Dabi. "If you're using anything harder than weed, you shouldn't be here." 

"I'm not on drugs." He says a little numbly. "I'm an omega." 

He says the words half because he doesn't know if he believes them. Says them out loud himself and makes them horribly, achingly real. 

Shigaraki blinks, and then frowns, his hand moving to scratch at his neck as Dabi just holds onto the phone box like somehow that will help him feel grounded from the mess of his emotions surging through him. "...If you're pregnant then this isn't a good place for you either. We're going to start a war, Dabi. This isn't a place to raise a pup if that's what you want." His voice isn't gentle like the other doctor's was. It's clinical. "If you need treatment as you decide what you want to do, we can provide that, but we won't be able to keep you here if you can't be active. I can speak to Giran, he might be able to take you in as a broker-in-training--" 

"I'm not pregnant." Dabi tells him. "I didn't know." It sounds so pathetic when he admits it, and he doesn't know why he does. He tried to kill Shigaraki two days ago. He doesn't even like him. 

There's another long pause, and then he hears Shigaraki take a slow breath. "Okay. Do you want me to come in?" 

Dabi doesn't know what he wants, but he steps aside. Shigaraki closes the door softly behind him and sits on the crate that is serving as his desk, picking up some of the scattered pamphlets from the bed. Dabi manages to make his legs move so he can sit back down. 

Shigaraki starts to read him the pamphlets, pausing to make Dabi repeat back the things he's read so he knows that Dabi is starting to pay attention. 

///

He's going to be a mess. Once he comes out of the shock of learning his real designation, Dabi finally has that sink in. He is going to have his hormones flooding him all the time and because it's going to be the first time, it's likely that he's going to have such intense emotions that he's going to cry at the drop of a hat or get particularly vicious out of nowhere. He shouldn't be around any other omegas that he doesn't want to form an intense pack bond with, and he should be very, very careful about what alphas he associates with, because he's probably going to go back and forth from wanting to be mated to his brain turning completely off and able to be commanded without even needing a real order. None of the rest of the League are omegas though, so that's something. But Shigaraki, it turns out, is an alpha, along with Muscular, Magne, and Toga, though she's young enough that his body won't register her as a potential mate. 

Shigaraki keeps him away from the other alphas, and offers to have Kurogiri be the one who brings their work back and forth if that will make him more comfortable. But Dabi hasn't told any of the others. As far as they know, his scars are the reason that he's not allowed to do field work right now, and he's been avoiding them, hoping they think he's got an infection or something so that they don't ask what's going on. But Shigaraki is the only other person he's told, and he doesn't know if he'll manage to figure out how the fuck to do this on his own if he has to.

Shigaraki, thankfully, doesn't say anything about that yet. They don't know when his first heat is going to hit, but he doesn't ask, or assume that he's going to be allowed to knot him like a toy-- use him the way that Enji used to use his mother. And Dabi keeps his mouth shut. He goes online and reads forums and websites that are dedicated to helping omegas through their cycles and people are constantly arguing back and forth about if a toy or a person is better to get them through their heats faster, but that's not the first thing he has to deal with. 

No, the first hard thing that hits him through this transition is trying to eat. 

It's so stupid, he has been half-starved and has eaten spoiled food, or even rotten food when things were really bad, so many times in his life, but having to put on the weight he's being asked to is hard. He is supposed to start his day with a nutrient dense protein shake that has a chalky flavor that is absolutely not 'vanilla' no matter what the bottle says it is, and is so thick and rich with fat it coats his tongue like there's a waxy film on it. He fucking hates it, and it's so much liquid that he feels like he's stuffed to the gills before he even starts the day. After the shake, he usually gets an hour or two of studying villain shit, apparently taking on some of Duster's administration work, of which there's a lot, because he can't go into the field. During this time, he's supposed to have another high protein snack, even though he's already full. Then he gets to go work out. Putting on muscle is a good way to get his body up to weight, and he has always liked training, so that isn't a hardship. It's just that afterwards he has to eat a full lunch that is also high in protein. In the afternoon he is supposed to finish anything that he didn't in the morning and have another snack. He usually finishes around mid-afternoon, and then he waits for dinner, alone in his room, makes himself eat again, and has to have one final snack before he gets to go to bed. 

His isolation also means that all of these meals are taken in his bedroom, which now has a proper desk, a mini-fridge, microwave, and a hot plate. He can actually cook rudimentary things if he wants to, and he doesn't even have to wash the dishes, he just puts them in a bin that goes outside of his door so that Kurogiri or someone can take them downstairs to the dishwasher. But he can't bring himself to cook. He can't bring himself to do much of anything but the bare minimum, and that's not good enough. When he goes back to the doctor for another checkup, he's only gained .3 kilos at the end of the week which is lower than the average person who is on a refeeding treatment. At this rate it will take him far too long to get to a healthy weight, well after the League is supposed to debut in its new form. It takes about half an hour of him nearly pleading to get the goalpost moved. Seven kilos and one heat, if he can hit that and comes out of it not half-dead or having lost the weight again during the heat, then he'll be cleared for the summer camp job. 

It doesn't feel like a victory though when he goes back to his room and has to sit alone inside of it, staring at the fridge full of food he doesn't want to eat and trying to hold back tears as he feels his body betraying him again.

There's a soft knock against the door and Dabi shuts the fridge and calls, "What, Duster?" Because Shigaraki is the only one who ever comes to see him now. He must want the files that he was reviewing. Potential recruits for the summer camp job, that he's not going to be able to go on unless he gets his shit together. There's a slight pause, but Shig opens the door. He's not expecting him to step inside, flinch, and then close the door swiftly behind him. 

"Are you okay?"

He's really not expecting it when just that is enough to push him over the edge and have his seams aching as blood beads up under them. He made himself stop crying years ago. He thought that all of his tears got burned off with most of his skin on the mountain. But Shigaraki asks him one question, and he immediately bursts into the closest thing he has to tears. 

"Shit, Dabi--" Shigaraki moves into his space, his hands reaching out towards him, and Dabi can't help it, he flinches back, sparks leaping up to his skin to defend himself. He knows that this is pathetic, that this isn't what Shigaraki thought he was signing up for when he brought him to this place. But he can't help it. That doesn't mean he's going to let the other kill him though. Shigaraki immediately takes a step back, holding up his hands, his smell starting to pulse out through the room. It's gentle and comforting, not at all the acrid angry smell that he'd been when he first tried to kill him, and that scent takes all of the fight back out of him as he sobs harder. "Can I touch you? I promise I'll be careful." 

It takes him a second. He’s never wanted anyone in his personal space before, but he feels like he needs Shigaraki right now. He manages to cool his skin down, and lets out such a pitiful sound, a watery whine that he's never heard himself make. And then he gives a tiny nod. Shigaraki moves over to him and chuffs comfortingly, reaching with one hand, a finger curled into his palm, to wipe away the blood from his cheeks, and the other wraps around his shoulders as he pulls him into a hug. He keeps him close and it... feels so good for someone to comfort him. No one has done that since Natsuo, and as much as he loves his brother, even in his memories he wasn't great at it. He was young, they were both young. He shouldn't have put that on him. 

It takes an age for him to stop crying, and when he does, Shigaraki just gets him to sit down on his bed, and Duster goes over to the bathroom and wets a washcloth before he joins him and starts to wipe the blood off of his cheeks. He does it so softly, but his seams are aching so badly from the wounds being freshly torn open. He waits until Dabi's face is all clean and he's just letting his shame saturate his body before he speaks again. 

"Sorry... hormones, I guess." 

"You don't have to apologize, Dabi. When your cycle is under control, you'll be back to normal and driving me absolutely insane again." Shigaraki sounds more patient than Dabi would have ever given him credit for before. "Your room reeked of distress before you started crying, do you want to tell me what's wrong? Did something happen during your check-up?" 

"... I'm not gaining weight well enough, and I've already been struggling to eat as much as the doctor is telling me to." He admits softly. "This is a waste of time. I'll get my shit and go--" 

"I think that's a bit premature, Dabi." Shigaraki tells him. "It's only been a week. If you're having a hard time with the meals, there are other things that we can try. What don't you like about them so far?" 

It takes him a minute, but Dabi makes himself talk, and Shigaraki surprises him again by sitting there the entire time and listening. 

///

The next morning Shigaraki comes into his room with his groceries on one arm. He splits Dabi's nutrient shake in half and makes him put half of it in a weird cup that he then puts in the freezer, and only has him drink the other as Shigaraki chops up an onion, a red pepper, chilis, and minces some garlic. He puts one of the pans on the little burner and moves to put the vegetables in, but Dabi steps in, not wanting to be completely babied and also--

"You can't cook them without putting something in the pan, they'll stick!" 

"It's a non-stick pan." 

"It's a shitty non-stick pan that looks like it's been hacked at with a machete for ten years. If you don't put something into it, they'll stick." 

"Fine, you can help." He almost sounds smug when he says it, and Dabi wonders what the play is, other than making his room smell like onions. "Put a couple of spoonfuls  of the Greek yogurt into a bowl with the garlic and season it with whatever you like on your eggs." 

"What the fuck are you making?" Dabi asks, in utter confusion as Shigaraki opens a can of tomatoes which he hasn't ever used in a breakfast dish before, and once the other vegetables are sweating, pours the tomatoes in as well. 

"It's a loose take on shakshuka, I used to have it when my teacher and I were in North Africa." He cooks them for a little while as Dabi goes ahead and adds the garlic to the yogurt and digs out a bottle of hot sauce that he got and puts in a couple of splashes of that along with some salt and pepper. When the liquid in the pan has reduced a lot, Shigaraki adds some seasonings to the pan, and then uses the spoon to make two wells in the vegetables, and cracks in two eggs. He covers the pan and takes out a small thing of pita bread. 

In a few minutes, once the eggs have set, he takes that pan off the hot plate and puts it on a trivet, so he can warm the bread in a second one. That doesn't take long, and when it's all finished, they sit with the big pan between them, a plate and bread in front of each of them, and Shigaraki puts the yogurt sauce on top. He uses the pita bread to break the yolk of his egg and scoops up some of the mixture. Dabi hesitates, but he's usually not a picky eater, and he has to eat anyway. So he follows his lead. 

It's definitely different from anything he's had before, but it doesn't taste bad, and after how miserable his meals have been for the past few weeks, he isn't about to complain. Not really. He is going to badger Duster though. "Needs salt." 

"Add salt then." 

"Why did you make me breakfast?" 

"I made us breakfast," Shigaraki tells him, "That's high in protein, and hopefully tastes better than your shake?" 

"...Yeah?" 

"Good. Eat." And that's all he says about it. 

Dabi decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth and they eat the shakshuka as Shigaraki changes the discussion to the files he was working on yesterday. That discussion goes on for so long, that he doesn't notice when they finished off the pan, or when the dishes and trash got cleared away into the bin and bag to be removed, but when they're done, Shigaraki is still talking as he gets out three small containers and a few more pouches from the grocery bags. 

He only gets derailed momentarily when Shigaraki asks, "Do you like sweet things, savory things, or salty things?" 

"What?" 

Shigaraki doesn't repeat the question. 

"Uh, I don't love sweets." He says after a second.

Shigaraki puts one of the pouches back in the grocery bag and steers their conversation right back to work. He keeps Dabi talking as he finishes with what he's doing, and when they've pretty fully debriefed, he suggests, 

"I'm going to go change, and then we can go to the training room together." 

Dabi glances at his phone, surprised that it's already after ten. "Oh, okay. Why are you joining me? I promise I'm not about to have another breakdown." He's not sure if that's true. He might. He doesn't know. 

"I need to work on rebuilding muscle too," Shigaraki tells him, reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulls the fabric up and Dabi sees that the other man is nearly as thin as he is, though he doesn't look hollowed in the sick way that Dabi is now seeing in the shape of his body. But the vivid, angry raised circular scars that dot his side speak to exactly why Shigaraki isn't at his physical peak. He knows from the reports that he also got shot in the leg at UA. "I figured that it would be easier if we did it together. Is that alright?" 

He doesn't want to be babied. He doesn't need to be. The hardest things he's ever done, he's done alone. He can get through this too. But there is a little voice in the back of his head that says he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be alone again. 

"Okay."

Shigaraki smiles at him, and it's a very tentative thing. It almost looks like it hurts, like he hasn't smiled for any reason in a long, long time, and his face kind of forgot how to do it. Dabi isn't sure he remembers either. 

An hour later when they're both catching their breath between sets, Shigaraki pulls the three little containers out of his bag and offers him his choice. One has cheese, nuts, jerky, and a few grapes in it, another has a homemade trail mix with a few different kinds of nuts, some pretzels, and dried fruit, and the last has some slices of celery, a little portable cup of peanut butter, and some raisins. Dabi picks the trail mix, and Shigaraki eats the celery, before they get back to work. 

When they go back to base, Shig lists out a few options for lunch and lets Dabi pick one, and they cook it together. He hasn't cooked with someone else since he was a child, and he feels small again cooking next to Shigaraki. But it's different than it was when he was young. He was... always anxious when he cooked back then, always waiting to ruin something and prove to Enji that he was right to cast him aside. With Shigaraki he doesn't have to worry about that, because Duster clearly does not know his way around a kitchen and breakfast was a fluke. But they make lunch. And they make another snack to have between that and dinner, and when dinner rolls around, they have that too. Before Duster leaves for the night, he has Dabi take the shake out of the tiny shitty freezer and Shigaraki makes him shake the cup for a minute, and he hears the stuff inside get thicker and thicker. When he opens it, Duster offers him some different ice cream toppings, from toasted peanuts to strawberry sauce. Dabi doesn't like sweets, but he puts the chocolate sauce and some peanuts on top and eats the second half of the shake like it's ice cream. It's still not great, but it is miles better than it was all the past week, and Dabi tries to remember how to smile too as he thanks him. 

///

The rest of the week follows this trend. The day after the first, he and Shigaraki sit down and they plan their meals and snacks for the rest of the week, sending whoever goes out to do the grocery shopping to do that, and then Duster kicks out all of the others so that Dabi can go down to the kitchen. He didn't realize how skittish he would be, but yeah, the thought of being open and exposed is making him want to ignite or pull his skin off. They cook and meal prep for the rest of the week, but by the time they're done, Dabi is letting out the most pathetic sounds that he's never heard from himself before, and he's shaking like a leaf. Shigaraki chuffs at him again and leaves everything downstairs a mess as he ushers him back up to his room, but even that doesn't feel safe anymore.

Shig makes him sit on the edge of his bed and pulls out his phone. A second later he goes to the door and pulls a shipping box through it that's nearly as tall as Toga. Dabi doesn't have his head on straight enough to even manage to ask what the fuck that is, and he doesn't end up needing too as Shigaraki drags it over. 

"Okay, here. Why don't you make a nest, Dabi?" 

Dabi knows that nesting is a thing that omegas are supposed to do on their heats, and when they're still sharing a bed with their pups. It's supposed to be a comfortable, secure place that helps make them feel safe. It's supposed to be instinctive, but as Shigaraki starts to take out the piles of pillows, blankets, and sheets, he feels lost. Shig waits for him to move and Dabi hunches in on himself, 

"I... don't know how." It's supposed to be easy, isn't it? But looking at all of this shit, he can't imagine how he's supposed to make the pile of it more comfortable than just curling up on his little bed and pulling a blanket over his head. 

Shigaraki pauses. "Okay. Neither do I." Dabi wonders how he can keep being made to feel even more inadequate than he was before. "But I've made a blanket fort before. Do you want to try that instead?" 

"...Okay." 

He and Shig move the two chairs that they've been using to work in front of the bed, about a meter from the edge of it and apart from each other. Then Shig looks around until he finds one of the specific packages and has Dabi tear it open and spread it out in the square of space that they've made for themselves. It's a pad of some sort that has been vacuum sealed and compressed in on itself, and when they leave it alone on the floor, it starts to re-inflate, and fill out the space. Shigaraki has him opening the other blankets while he gets the thin into a mattress cover that crinkles, the label from that proclaiming it will fit most nest pads and that it's waterproof so that, Dabi blushes, slick won't leak through and ruin it. They start to put down pillows and blankets together, and there are so many of them. Some say they're very soft, some say they retain smells better than others, some say they're waterproof, and a million other things that Dabi didn't know that omegas would want, or not want in their nests-- and it occurs to him then, that maybe Shigaraki doesn't know either. Maybe he just bought a little of everything hoping that one of them would work for Dabi. 

It takes them about half an hour to get all the blankets and pillows settled inside, the nest nearly twice the size as his bed, and at the end, they use the backs of the chairs as posts, holding up two sheets that they secure together with clothes pins over their head that they stretch in a canopy over the nest by tucking one side under the edge of his mattress and draping the rest. It casts the underside in shadow and Shig holds open one of the flaps of the fort. Dabi hesitates, but crawls inside, and watches the flap close. He listens to the other moving around the room for a few minutes and feels... so small as Shigaraki cleans up the mess from all of the packaging. He feels small, but... not bad as he stays in the fort, feeling the heat of his body seeping into the air around him. It's going to get very hot in here if he leaves it like this. 

Dabi kneels and reaches for the joint in the sheets, and he unclips a few of the clothes pins in the middle of the sheets, using them to open up a vent that also serves as a skylight, letting in a little more light and allowing the heat to vent a bit more. Then he's left sitting alone and the doubt starts to creep in again. 

"Can you either come in or get out? I feel like a dumbass sitting in a pile of blankets with you just staring at it." 

"Who said I was staring at you?" 

"Are you?" 

"...Are you sure you want me to come in?" 

Dabi pulls one of the pillows close, making himself as small as he feels. "...Yeah. Not going to jump on your knot. I'm not in heat yet, Duster."

Shigaraki moves around the room again for a second, and then he hears him kneel down. He opens one side of the sheet and hesitates another second before he climbs in with him. They move around a bit, getting to a point where they're both comfortable and Shig gives him his afternoon snack. Dabi isn't expecting for that to make a warm contentedness roll through him and banish away the stress that had come from being downstairs so thoroughly, but as soon as he has his trail mix with three jerky strips, he starts to... purr. 

He's never heard that sound out of his throat. He's never even heard an omega do it in person. His mother certainly wasn't purring at all in his memories. But he starts to make that sound. It's awful. It's rough and stuttery, like his body is trying to shake off a decade worth of rust to figure out how the fuck he's supposed to show that he's... happy. He doesn't know if he's been happy since he was five. Shigaraki lets the sound ride, just sitting with him, taking out his phone as Dabi eats his snack and clicking away on some mobile game.

They stay in the nest for the rest of the day. And when Shigaraki leaves for the night and Dabi has to contemplate taking down the sheet so he can get into his bed, he can't bring himself to do it, instead climbing right back into the secure pile of pillows. It's only when the other man is gone, that Dabi realizes the alpha left his scent all in his blankets. That even though Dabi's natural scent is all but gone because of his burns, that Shigaraki's has layered through the space. It's soft and warm, telling Dabi that he was content in this space too... that the alpha was pleased with what they put together, which makes him purr again. And beyond the emotion the can place in the scent, his nest just smells good with Shigaraki's smell like chai tea and the breeze on a stormy day. He didn't used to like the rain. It could fuck with his quirk, it made finding places to sleep absolutely miserable, and it invited sickness into his body. 

But it's hard to think of a time he's ever felt safer or more cozy as he curls up with Shigaraki's smell in his nose. 

///

Shigaraki makes the doctor move back his appointment for the end of the month, and when he goes back, he's up by two-point-three kilos. He looks like it too, able to see the way his stomach isn't so flat that it's practically concave, and his face doesn't look so sallow anymore, his cheeks rounding out a little again and making him... look a little more like his mom. Fluid retention, the doctor tells him, since he's also been exercising and trying to gain muscle and not just fat, he might lose the water weight again and start to see that weight increase much more gradually. He stops having to drink the nutrient shakes now that his diet is more balanced, as long as he replaces the calories that he loses if he removes that from his diet. 

He gets back to base and finds that Shig is restocking his fridge with snacks and bursts into tears again because of his stupid hormones, and from the relief. This is all even more ridiculous given that as soon as he is allowed into the field, he'll be racing towards the confrontation with his father and his inevitable end. But he's realizing now that if he hadn't ended up here, if Shigaraki had kicked him out the second that he found out he was too weak to be useful right now, he probably wouldn't have ever even made it to standing in front of his father, let alone able to fight him. Duster takes his outburst this time with more grace, immediately chuffing at him and pulling him close. He holds onto him for a few minutes as Dabi ruins his shirt, and then he makes Dabi sit so he can lose his jacket and shoes, before he ushers him into their nest. He climbs in too, bringing Dabi's water bottle, and letting him get the stupid amount of bloody tears out of his system. 

In about half an hour, once Dabi has stopped crying and he's gotten most of the gross blood off of his face, he manages, with a fair amount of embarrassment, "I'm on track for weight gain again." 

But Shigaraki doesn't mock him for having a meltdown over good news. He just smiles, and it looks better than it did at the start of the month because he's been doing it a lot more. "Good. As long as you have your heat, no matter what the doctor says, I'll let you come on the training camp mission if you feel up to it."

Dabi blinks, "What?" 

"You're underweight, and you need to keep getting better, but if you want to debut with the others, I'll let you. My leg is still recovering. I won't be able to run when we need to, so my teacher has decided that I have to stay here and monitor your progress over coms. Someone will need to stay out of combat and coordinate movements. You can make sure that no one can get near you, and I can have a nomu keep an eye as well. As long as you don't overdo it, as long as you think that you'll be ready for that, I'll let you go." 

He is very, very lucky that he doesn't start crying again. "Thanks, Duster." 

"Just keep this up. Go wash your face, I'll get lunch." 

Dabi does as he's told, and they resume their schedule for the rest of the day. When they're finished much later with all of their work and have eaten their meals for the day, they tend to stay in the nest for another hour or two, Shig playing his game and Dabi reads, sometimes. Sometimes he just listens to Shigaraki's soft breathing, and soaks in his scent.

He's sleepy and content when he mumbles, "You're a much better alpha than I thought you were when we met." 

He's not expecting the long stretch of silence that comes after those words and he wants to take them back. He didn't mean for them to be an insult, but they definitely sound like one in hindsight. 

"I don't think I was a very good one when we met." Shigaraki tells him. "My teacher doesn't have a designation because of his quirk. Neither does Kurogiri. I wasn't allowed to socialize with many other people. I don't think I knew how to act before then. But... being around you is helping." He says it like a confession, turning to look at him finally. "I know that you're still the same rude asshole that I hired-- against my will--" Dabi appreciates the jab. It makes the rest of his words feel like they aren't scraping his skin raw. "But beyond that, you're someone I am responsible for. Someone I need to look out for and make sure that you're taken care of. I'm starting to feel the same way about the others. Starting to think about what it would be like to not be alone-- to... have a pack." 

Dabi doesn't want to start crying again, so he tries sarcasm to push through the lump in his throat. "If you give me a nomu, I'll tell everyone that you're a perfect alpha." 

Shig laughs, a short, soft thing that makes his insides feel warmer. "And what do I have to do to make that something other than lip service?" 

"Be perfect." 

"I'll do my best." 

Dabi isn't sure which one of them moves first, which is probably strange because they move so slowly. But neither of them stop until their lips are pressed together. Dabi doesn't start to panic until the second after they're kissing, as he feels the cracked texture of Shigaraki's lips against his and he has to immediately wonder what his scars feel like under his skin, if this was stupid, if he should pull away quickly and make an excuse about his hormones acting up to get the other to leave him alone and not bring up this again. Then Shigaraki wraps a hand around the back of his neck and tilts his head to the side slightly, changing the angle and making it feel like their mouths were made to press together like this. Dabi's breath is caught in the back of his throat as he realizes that this is the first kiss he's ever had. He's pretty sure he shouldn't be kissing his boss who also tried to kill him once, but it's hard to focus on that when the movement of their lips makes his skin tingle softly. 

When they part, Dabi hopes the ache across his seams is still just from him bawling like a baby earlier, and that he's not turning red. But it gets a little more intense when he sees Shigaraki's eyes searching his face, a heaviness there that makes that tingling in him feel even more intense. 

He doesn't think he means to say, "Spend my heat with me?" As the first thing out of his mouth when he finds his voice. He doesn't know if it's really a good idea to go from his first kiss to asking for Shigaraki to be his first time when he's going to be out of his mind from his hormones. But Shigaraki doesn't balk at the suggestion, doesn't immediately shoot him down and makes his embarrassment any worse. 

"I'll stay with you and help you prepare. Ask me again when it's closer. After you've had a little more time to think about it, okay?" He pairs the words with pulling Dabi close again, his lips falling against the crown of his head this time instead of his own, and Dabi feels so warm, the words not stinging like rejection. 

"Okay." His hands curl into fists against the blankets so he resists the urge to tangle his fingers into his shirt and press his nose against his neck so he can drink in the warmth of his smell. Shigaraki stays with him for another hour, and that's enough for now.

///

They don't touch like that again, but Shigaraki does make him sit down with his laptop no matter how loudly Dabi protests as humiliation roars through him, and makes him actually look at heat supplies. Those range from more waterproof blankets and special smoothies like his nutrient ones to make sure that he stays hydrated and keeping his weight where it's supposed to be while he's on his heat, to toys. 

"I am not buying a dildo." 

"Technically the League of Villains is buying you a dildo." Shigaraki says without blinking. "And you're going to want it if you decide you want to spend your heat alone. Having a knot is going to be the only relief you'll get from everything, trust me. I had to spend a few of my ruts without anything to help and I was miserable and about two seconds away from decaying my own dick." He pauses, "You might also want to get some quirk canceling cuffs if your quirk is going to be so high. I don't want you to set your nest on fire." He just goes on like this is a perfectly normal, and not entirely humiliating thing to be talking about, "The doctor mentioned you might have cramping, didn't he? We should get you a heating pad too." 

Dabi throws up his hands and slinks down into the nest. "Fuck it. If you're not going to listen to me, then you can buy the heat supplies! You know more about it than I do!" He grabs one of the blankets, pretends it's not deliberately the one that Shig was laying on last night and burrows underneath it. 

"You're acting like a child." 

Dabi blows a raspberry at him to prove his point, flicking him off as he does. But Shigaraki closes the laptop and shifts their conversation to the much more comfortable topic of work, and he hopes that means this discussion is over. 

///

It's two days later, very deliberately when Shigaraki has his own appointment with the doctor, that Dabi hears the thump of a package being delivered outside of his door. He hesitates before he climbs out of his nest, feeling like even just the distance between his nest and the door is too exposed. Still. It might be groceries, so he has to get out of the nest and he makes himself go over to it, poking his head  out and seeing a large box. He pulls it into his room and closes the door swiftly, finding a knife to cut open the tape. He chitters happily when he pulls out another new blanket for his nest, but removing that lets him see some of the other boxes beneath it. On top is a heating pad in a long flat box and beside that is another that happily proclaims that it is an eight inch dildo with an insertable knot in 'glacier blue' that comes with an attachable suction cup or pillow strap base. 100% silicone and body safe. 

Dabi lets out a humiliated keen. 

///

It takes him about an hour, but he eventually forces himself to take everything out of the box and sees that Shig did get him plenty of the heat smoothies that he loads into the fridge until they're needed, along with some quirk suppression cuffs, and special cleaner for the dildo to get it sanitized and ready for use. He really doesn't want to use that, doesn't want to take the dildo out of the box, but he's so morbidly curious about what a knot even looks like, given he hasn't ever even seen one before, that he can't help opening up the packaging. The garish box makes way for bubble plastic and a silky black bag to put the toy inside after use, and an entire booklet of warning and safety tips. He is genuinely worried he's going to need those quirk cuffs if he keeps getting any more overheated from his embarrassment, but he proceeds anyway and opens up the second layer of packaging and gets his eyes on the toy. 

Eight inches is a lot bigger than he thought it was. Dabi lets out another miserable keen. The dildo looks very realistic-- other than the fact it is the neon blue of the packaging, of his quirk, but the head looks like a real cock, and the shaft is detailed with thick winding veins that go down to the last three inches of the toy and then abruptly swells with two bulbous shapes on either side, changing the shape drastically from his own cock and making him a little dizzy. How the fuck is he supposed to get this inside of him? Dabi would have a better chance of shoving an orange up his ass. He is still staring at the thing, completely intimidated, before he hears Duster's soft knock before he lets himself in, the same way he has been for weeks now. 

Dabi looks up at him, not knowing at all what his expression might be saying, but at least Shigaraki immediately loses any words as well as he sees the neon toy in his hand as the door shuts softly behind him. 

"You're a fucking pervert!" He throws the dildo at the other and then darts down into his nest, grabbing one of the pillows that is saturated with Shigaraki's scent and pulling it close to his chest, like that can comfort him. Duster's smell is comforting, even if he has half a mind to kill him for this humiliation. He doesn't hear the thunk of the toy hitting the other or the floor which means that it's probably dust now if he caught it, and Dabi doesn't know if he's glad to be rid of it, or if he really shouldn't have done that. Shigaraki is trying to help take care of him. He's not supposed to be an ungrateful brat about that. 

But Duster moves towards his nest and he sees his shadow as it falls across the front flap of the entryway. "Why are you upset, firefly?" Shig's voice is gentle and patient and the pet name makes Dabi's cheeks feel even warmer. 

"I don't want heat toys." 

"Can you explain why not?"

It's so hard to try and think straight through the high whine of panic that feels like it's going through his head, but after a minute Dabi forces himself to start talking.

"I don't want to have to use those. I don't want to be helpless for a week, in pain, and vulnerable. I don't want to be out of control again. I-- I don't want to get pregnant, I don't want to be claimed, I don't want someone to hurt me like-- like my mom." He can taste smoke on the back of his tongue, hates how weak he already sounds, "I don't want to be an omega." 

Shigaraki is quiet for a long moment as he processes Dabi's latest fucking breakdown, but when he does start to speak, he lets out a soft sigh first. "Dabi, you know that you can't change that." 

"Fuck you." He also knows he's being over-emotional, but he doesn't actually want to hear that right now. 

"You can't, firefly. This is something you're going to have to deal with for the rest of your life. But you won't be in pain forever," he keeps his tone low, though that doesn't impart as much gentleness as Dabi might have expected. "It will only be as your glands wake up for the first time. You won't be helpless. The cuffs I got you can be taken off whenever you want to, and they can't be locked. If anyone tries to hurt you, no matter how deeply you're in your heat, you'll be able to set them on fire, Dabi. Your heat is going to make you extremely, extremely horny, but it's not like what people say about being 'out of control'." Shig promises. "You won't completely forget where you are or get so mentally fatigued you lose your sense of self-- not unless you're completely dehydrated, and that's not going to happen because you're going to have your full fridge of smoothies to drink while you're in heat. The doctor told you that you can't get pregnant, and if you're still scared about it, a silicone toy won't be able to do that for you anyway, Dabi." 

There's a small pause and then he goes on, "I don't know what happened with your mother," and if there is a verbal signpost for 'and I don't want to touch that with a ten foot pole', Shigaraki is waving it, "But as long as you're here, you are not going to be claimed by anyone unless you change your mind and decide you want that. You're going to have your heat in here, in your nice, safe room, with the locks on your door, and everything you need so that you don't have to worry about anything but making yourself feel good. By the time you're finished, you're going to feel so good, and I'm going to let you use Kurogiri as your personal errand boy and let you send him off to get you anything you want as you recover. You won't have to see anyone until you're ready to be a pain in everyone else's ass again-- and especially mine." 

Dabi doesn't say anything for a long moment after he stops speaking, but when he does, he's still got his face half-buried in the pillow. "You're a bastard." 

"Why?" 

"You just called me irrational for like five minutes straight instead of being even vaguely sympathetic, and you completely shot me down while doing it like I wouldn't notice." 

Shigaraki snorts and seems to think his petulance means that he's not likely to get kicked out again, and he pulls half of the sheet aside so that he can start to crawl into the nest to join him. "I can be sympathetic if you want me to be, but you know you're being irrational." Dabi's face goes hot again when he sees that Shig is holding the dildo. "I wasn't shooting you down, firefly. I'll stay and help if you want me to, but I want you to have explored all of your options first. I don't want you to ask me and regret it." He didn't dust it by accident, and as he crawls up to him, Dabi hides his face in the pillow to block him and it from his sight. 

"And you bought me a dildo that I won't ever be able to use!" He hears the toy thump into the blankets and Shig chuckles softly before he's carefully catching Dabi's wrists. He pulls a bit, but Dabi holds the pillow tighter. He'll smother himself with it if it means that he won't have to look at him right now.

When he won't let up with the pillow, Shig gives up on it, and just presses a kiss to the top of his head instead. "Why not, Dabi? Even if we do spend your heat together, if my rut doesn't trigger during it, you'll still need something inside when I can't give it to you." 

Dabi didn't really think of that, but he isn't about to say that. Besides, it doesn't address his biggest gripe about the toy, namely, "It's huge! Knot aside, eight inches of anything is not going inside of me!" 

He's not expecting for his outburst to be met with a sudden shift in Shigaraki's scent. Something that he's never smelled off of the other man before and that surprises him so much that he immediately forgets his stubbornness and looks up to see Shigaraki's face. His eyes are a little wide, his mouth parted in slight surprise, and embarrassment is spilling from his pores. 

Dabi's brain comes to a screeching stop and neither of them say anything for a handful of agonizing seconds. 

"Wh-- D-Did you get that because--?" Dabi's eyes flick down, but at this angle, he can't really get his eyes on Duster's crotch. "No. No. You wear skinny jeans all the time. You couldn't possibly--" 

"I thought," And Duster's voice is a little higher, a little more breathless, "that would be a good warm-up. But we can get you something smaller if you'd prefer." 

"'Warm-up'?!" 

///

It is devastating in such a particular way to learn that Shigaraki apparently has a monster cock that Dabi is going to have such a hard time of dealing with that the other man thought he would need something to practice on even when his body was going to be absolutely gushing for it, but they don't actually linger on it for too much longer that night. They eat, and they talk about other distracting things, and pretend that they aren't both embarrassed about the way they are fumbling towards... sleeping together. 

But Shigaraki has decided that embarrassment is the enemy by the next night, rather than the natural next step in this whole situation, and comes to Dabi's room with determination, a bottle of whiskey and a six pack of soju, and his laptop, not even blinking when he asks, "How much sex ed have you had?" 

Dabi almost immediately overheats from the instantaneous spike of adrenaline. 

Shig won't be dissuaded though, and once they've had dinner and are settled into their nest, he queues up the first video that he's downloaded for them to watch. 

Dabi isn't expecting the video to be almost presented like a nature documentary, though it's all animations with a soothing female voice narrating. It starts at the very beginning, stating that all humans start as betas in the womb, but that just like their primary sexes, another set of genes gets activated resulting in alphas and omegas, and if those genes aren't activated, then betas are born. Alphas and omegas are both recessive traits that have a complex presentation that crosses over a couple of different gene markers like eye color and hair do, which can result in them being much less common than betas, who don't have any of those genes to turn on or off. That's also why it's so rare for alphas and omegas to be born from two betas having pups unless they have an alpha or omega ancestor. 

The video goes on from there, describing that the early markers for their designations are in their DNA from early in their development, but that they can't be judged by anything but medical testing from when they're born until they hit puberty, despite common superstitions. During puberty, the genes turn on again as the pituitary gland activates the pup's primary puberty. When that activates for male alphas, it means they develop their ability to knot, while female alphas will find what appeared to be their clitorus lengthening, which is actually their penis pushing out of their body. Their testes stay internal, which can make it harder for them to produce healthy sperm, but they also should, unless there's a medical problem, have a working uterus as well which allows them two avenues for their fertility. That's interesting, if nothing else, but when the section about omegas starts to play, he does his best to not sit up straighter as he listens. 

Female omegas have larger glands along their vagina than a beta or alpha female that help them with the extreme production of slick, as well as a secondary set of muscles inside of their vaginal opening that allow them to 'lock' a knot inside, helping to ensure a higher chance of impregnation within a single mating session. Male omegas don't have a typical vaginal structure, they have something like a cloaca, with the slick glands in their anus along with the additional muscles for locking in a knot. But when those glands start to swell to produce slick, some weird skin flap that the video compares to the thing that closes the esophagus and trachea when eating, closes off the actual rectum, ensuring waste can't be pushed into their vaginal canal when they're being mated. 

The video goes on from there, explaining how when an alpha goes into rut, they will grow more sensitive to smells, more restless, and more aggressive with other alphas, or anyone who seems like a threat to the idea of them getting a mate. Omegas, on the other hand, start to have anxiety about their environment, and will instinctively seek out comfort, food, and the companionship of those they trust, to help take care of them when they're in their heat. It's apparently not uncommon for omegas to gather for their heats at times, creating a large group nest if they don't have mates to take care of them, and then spending their cycles together, taking care of one another, male omegas even producing sterile heat fluid instead of semen. A good heat, one where the omega has the supplies they need, if they've been eating, staying healthy, and feel safe, won't be the agony that Dabi has thought of it all of his life. His mom wasn't safe at all, she definitely wasn't healthy when she was so stressed out of her mind he remembers her leaving frost on everything that she touched. She had a bad mate. Her heats saturated their house with the scent of her pain and misery-- though that was under Enji's possessiveness and determination. 

The video finishes, and Shig finally cracks open the bottle of whisky, having refused to let him start drinking until he watched the video. 

"Questions?" He asks, seeming to still refuse to be bothered as Dabi happily takes the drink and doesn't bother to sip at it and enjoy the flavor, just wanting the burn of something that isn't his blush. 

But he doesn't get a refill until he's managed to mumble, "Not really about the... biological stuff. That was... pretty thorough." 

"So what about the non-biological stuff?" 

Dabi is definitely blushing hot enough that it's probably visible even through his scars. "I don't know. I guess what it's actually like?" When it's not awful, "What's your rut like? Have you been with an omega on it before?" He wouldn't have had the balls to ask that a month ago, but Shigaraki is the one insisting they do this whole song and dance instead of just letting Dabi get overwhelmed when his heat triggers and go from there. 

"I am territorial, I get more irritable, the itching under my skin gets," he winces slightly, "really bad until my cycle actually starts. The first few times, I didn't have anyone around, and I didn't have any toys, and I felt like I was going to stroke myself raw. Later on I got a couple of things that made it easier for me to deal with in the periods of time when I wasn't consumed with my lust." He hesitates for a second, "I have had two of my ruts with an omega." 

Dabi waits, but more details don't seem to be forthcoming. "C'mon, Duster, you can't leave me hanging. Was omega pussy not all that it was chalked up to be?" Maybe that's why he's being so dodgy about this. Maybe he doesn't want to spend Dabi's heat with him. Maybe he doesn't... want him.

"She was fine. During our cycles, I would say she was exactly what I needed, but I didn't know her very well, and I was glad to be rid of her when our cycles were over. I only shared my cycle with her because I needed to lower the scent of my hormones so that I would be able to make my debut at UA and have the scent patches actually work."

"Oh." Dabi hasn't ever heard of an alpha or beta using scent patches. Normally omega use those so that they can pass as betas, because omegas are still often thought of as nothing more than baby making devices. With the patches, they can pass as betas. "Okay, sorry for pushing, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"It's fine, Dabi. It's just not something I can give you a lot of details about. Sex, especially on my cycle, is good. I enjoyed it, she seemed to as well, but it really wasn't that different from sex in general, it was just a lot more frequent and longer than usual. Whatever you're used to, it will be like that, just heightened." He hesitates, "You were upset about the dildo," Dabi blushes and pours himself a new glass. "Have you... never tried anal before?"

Dabi is glad he's pouring because it means that he doesn't have to look up when he admits, "Never tried... anything before, Duster. Think my hormones were too fucked up to let me have a sex drive." He's sure he's going to burn his ears the rest of the way off from how hot they are, "Never even touched myself before."

He doesn't know if he was really expecting mockery. Shig has been really, really good about not mocking him about any of his inexperience and not asking about why he's so fucked up. But he doesn’t think he was expecting the other's natural spicy scent to go so much hotter and roll out through the air in their nest and send a different kind of warmth under his skin. Dabi nearly fumbles the bottle as he looks up and finds red eyes boring into him.

It takes him a second to find his tongue and croak out, "Oh my fucking god, you are such a pervert."

Shig has the good grace to look a little chastised, trying to reign in the way Dabi's admission spiked his arousal so completely. "It's just... very flattering that you would ask me to be your first."

"Yeah, super flattering, so flattering that you finally smell excited about getting to stick your enormous dick in my ass. I can't believe that you have a virginity fetish. You're a weird reclusive gamer. You're supposed to be the virgin!" Dabi huffs.

"Is that so?" Duster doesn't bother to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Yes." He refuses to look at him, actually taking his second drink a bit more slowly, trying to pretend he doesn't feel a little dizzy from how good he smelled when he was getting hot, and like that smell isn't sitting in their nest all around them. He doesn't want to embarrass himself anymore.

"Are you just going to pout for the rest of the night, firefly?"

Dabi doesn't answer, obstinance the only path forward for his dignity.

"...Do you want to watch some other... unconventionally educational videos about shared cycles?"

"What the fuck does 'unconventionally educational' mean, Shigaraki?" Dabi asks. The other doesn't offer up an answer immediately and Dabi puts the pieces together, "Porn?! Are you asking me if I want to watch porn with you?"

"You asked me to spend your first heat with you and what it would be like. I'm not saying that all porn is realistic, but porn with actual actors on their cycles is much more realistic than anything else. Because instincts are so high, they can't have a crew on set, they just hunker down, turn on the lights and cameras, and do their thing for their cycles, and then it gets cut down to the hottest parts in the editing room. But that might help you get a better idea of what it looks like from an omega's perspective when it happens." 

"You just have an answer for fucking everything, don't you?" 

"If I didn't try, you wouldn't want to follow me , would you?" 

Dabi wants to light him on fire. But that would mean burning up their nest that is so cozy and smells so good with the lingering threads of Shigaraki's arousal in it. So Dabi drinks his second glass, and then curls up more snuggly in the pillows and blankets. "Fine." 

He barely keeps himself from giving Shigaraki so much shit when he doesn't have to go searching up this kind of content, instead just navigating over to his saved files. 

///

They watch three videos. The first is with a male alpha and female omega, the second with a female alpha and male omega, and the last with a male alpha and male omega. Each of the videos has a different porn premise attached to it that Dabi is extremely embarrassed over, the first being a repair person who wanders into the house because the omega hit her cycle too fast to cancel, and she all but throws herself at him. She seems to have a very, very good time though. The second is a femdom playing with her sub, with leather, latex, whips, and chains all in play in addition to their cycles. And the final one is about an omega who has gotten in too deep with his loan shark and is offering up his cycle in exchange for a clean slate. Dabi learns two things from these videos: One, Shigaraki is absolutely a massive kinky pervert whose brain is totally rotted from porn because he doesn't even smell hot while they're watching these together. And two, that... it will be different than he thought it would be. Because the actors remember that they're actors even when they're in their cycles. Their movements get a little sloppy, the cameras having a hard time finding good angles sometimes because they forget that they don't have a crew or director to move the cameras, but they never forget the scenario when they're spouting off their dirty talk. 

Seeing that he won't be completely gone or catatonic the way his mother had always seemed before she went into rut and after she came out of it, means that watching all of these was worth it in the end. It's a relief that he doesn't really even have words for when they finish. He'll still be him in his heat. Duster will still be himself if he goes on his rut too. They're still not finished with the last video, but Dabi uncurls himself from the nest and reaches for Tomura's sleeve. 

Shig blinks, turning to him immediately, "Is it too much, firefly? 

He shakes his head weakly, feeling his embarrassment make his temperature rise again. He pulls on his sleeve a little more insistently and Shig gets the picture, turning his body more towards him, and Dabi leans in. Duster wraps his hand around the back of his neck again, touch always so light and careful, and pulls him in for the kiss he wanted. 

The kisses they shared before were soft and slow, and this one is definitely both of those things, but it's different this time. Because this time, there is a spark that is coursing beneath it. Something that makes Dabi's skin tingle before he's even started to open his mouth for it. And when Tomura's tongue slips inside, Dabi can't help it. He loses control of his scent the way Shig had earlier, and even though his glands are extremely damaged across his neck and wrists, he's only wearing thin sleep pants, and the faint sugary smell of his arousal starts to fill the space between them. He's about to pull away and make some kind of excuse, he doesn't even know why he would do that when they are... something. Definitely having serious conversations about fucking as soon as his heat hits at the very least. Being aroused with him shouldn't embarrass him, and when Tomura's scent starts to get hotter in response, Dabi's relief is immeasurable. 

Tomura knows what he's doing, so he takes charge of the kiss as the sound of the couple fucking spills through the speakers. He licks inside of Dabi's mouth and shows him how that can feel good. He encourages him to tilt his head, to move his lips, to use his own tongue, nervous as he tries to mimic the movements. He doesn't know if he's doing well or if his inexperience is what's making this hotter for Tomura, but he stays smelling warm with his arousal as he kisses Dabi again and again until it's Dabi pulling back with a soft gasp before his teeth are clenching down to keep any other sound out of his mouth. 

There's a deep, unfamiliar ache that is starting in his pelvis and it sours his scent with pain. 

Shig pauses and looks at him, confused. "Are you alright, baby?" 

"I-- I think," he swallows his pride. They were barely making out. "I think my glands are trying to work." 

Tomura blinks, and then his whole expression brightens. "That's good, firefly." 

"Tell that to my fucking nerve endings." 

Tomura has the gall to laugh, but then he moves to press another kiss to his forehead and pause the video. "I'll get you some pain medicine and your heating pad. If it goes away, then you're not in pre-heat yet." 

"And if I am?" 

"Then I'll stay with you, if that's still what you want, Dabi." 

He makes himself meet his eyes. "Okay." It's easier to say that than so bluntly admit to him that's all that he wants. Shigaraki has been with him through every step of him trying to get healthy. He's... the only person Dabi has ever trusted like this. He knows that he'll take care of him and make sure that he feels good. He believes him when he says that he'll be a perfect alpha for him just to prove that he's worthy of everything Dabi has chosen to trust him with. 

And he thinks the other knows him well enough to infer all of that from the simple answer. It earns him another kiss against his forehead and then Shig confiscates the alcohol and gets out of their nest. When he comes back, it's with one of his water bottles from the fridge, the heating pad, and some medicine, and he stays with Dabi as the pad heats and medicine kicks in. 

The ache goes away after about half an hour, but Shig stays for at least a little longer than that, with Dabi curled up against his side, his arm wrapped around him, and tracing the patterns of his scars over his shoulder. He must stay for a little while because he lingers long enough that Dabi falls asleep and can't remember being moved. 

///

Dabi wakes up with sweat soaking his skin, and the pain from the night before so, so much more intense than it was then. Intense enough that Dabi lets out a pitiful whimper and immediately fumbles to turn on the heating pad again, even though it's already sweltering in the enclosed canopy of their nest. Their nest. His and his alpha's. Dabi whines softly, looking around. Tomura isn't here. He doesn't usually stay the night, he knows that, knows that he always comes to see him early in the morning, but he wants him now. 

Okay, well, if he has to wait for him, he can at least fix their nest. Dabi liked being closed inside of the fort, but it's far, far too hot for that now, and the blankets and pillows are a mess. He takes down the overhead sheet, opening up the nest to the cool air of the rest of the room, and then he starts to shift things around. He lays out the waterproof blankets just over the round futon that makes up the base of the nest, to keep it clean, and then he starts to push the pillows around, building up an edge around each part of the bed until there is a rim around the entire thing that makes it feel secure. Dabi feels a tickle in his throat and tries to cough it away, but it persists, and as he lets out the next slow breath, his whole chest starts to hum softly. It takes him a second to realize that despite the discomfort in his pelvis, he's purring as he puts all of the super soft downy blankets Tomura got for him back into the nest. The blankets smell like them too, and as much as Dabi just wants to curl up in the mound with his face in those, he knows that he has to keep being good if he wants to retain permission to go out on the League's debut. 

So Dabi crawls over to the minifridge, really not trusting his legs to not shake badly if he were to try and walk there instead. He doesn't feel hungry, he's just hot, hurting, and anxious. Doesn't matter. He has to be good and make sure he eats something. He usually waits to have breakfast with Tomura, but he wants his alpha to make him feel better, and he will always prioritize making sure that his physical needs are met first. So Dabi takes one of the heat smoothies, something that he can have cold, and something he won't have to worry about having to prepare in any way. Tomura got him the fruity kind instead of the artificially sweet ones and Dabi likes it a lot more than his nutrient shakes. He drinks it quickly, liking the way the chill settles in his stomach, and then refilling his water bottle from the little pitcher in the fridge before he gets the pain meds from the night before and crawls back over to his nest. He turns on the heating pad even though he's already a little too warm, and takes the pills. It's with some hesitation, but he digs out the quirk cuffs from the 'heat box' and puts those on, allowing his temperature to lower enough he doesn't think he'll bake himself alive curling up tight in the blankets with the heating pad until Tomura comes in.

He pulls the blanket that the other man had been laying on the night before right up to his nose. His smell is so good. All that hot spice of an alpha, but the calm pulse of rain going over it all. It's so... reassuring. Tomura has made himself kinder, softer, more responsible for him. He's been spending every day with him despite all of his own work just to make sure that he's alright. He's embarrassed him a lot, but all because he wants him to feel better. Because he... believes he's worth the time. He didn't just throw him away when he needed that help to be everything that he thought he would be when he hired him. He cares about him. Dabi doesn't know if he's had someone who has done that since he was a child. 

It takes another half an hour before Shig knocks on his door and steps inside, and as soon as he does, Dabi is squirming because the discomfort and anxiety switch abruptly to a sharper pain and an overwhelming pulse of heat that goes through his body and tells him that yeah, this really is happening. It's not just a little pang like the night before. He's going into his heat. 

Not even twenty-four hours ago, that prospect terrified him. Now Dabi starts to purr loudly as soon as Tomura takes a step into the room. The pain is more intense, but that's okay because it means his body is doing its best to try and get itself ready to help make both he and his alpha feel good. 

"Tomura," he whines, trying to push himself up in the nest, wanting to bring him closer as fast as possible, even if that means trying to put weight on his shaky legs. 

"Oh, firefly, don't move--" He throws the lock shut and slips out of his shoes at the door, before crossing the room and immediately kneeling down at the edge of the nest. But he doesn't come into it right away. 

"Duster," he sounds more petulant this time, reaching for him again. 

"I know," he says placatingly, "but are you sure--" 

"Get in here and show me how this is supposed to feel good or I'm going to set you on fire!" 

Tomura laughs at him again and reaches into his back pocket, taking out a set of leather gloves with the index finger cut out of them, and slips those on before he climbs into the nest with him. "Okay, baby boy, don't be cranky." He pulses out the smell of his contentment, and Dabi whimpers as that pain gets a little bit sharper and makes him squirm as his legs press together instinctively. That hurts, but the rest of his body is starting to feel tingly, and the smell of Tomura's happiness makes him a little light-headed. He wants his alpha happy. It means that he did a good job remaking their nest. And Tomura doesn't just stop by reassuring him with his scent, he also gathers Dabi close and nuzzles along his shoulder, dragging his nose up the side of Dabi's neck as he holds him, and murmurs, "You did such a good job getting everything ready, Dabi. I promise I'm going to take care of you just as well." He rubs his scent into Dabi's skin and all of the sudden that pain inside of him snaps. 

Dabi lets out an animal keen that he didn't even know he could make as the pain disappears and instead his system is absolutely flooded with the arousal that he thought he should be expecting as an omega in heat. He feels his slick pulse hot down his legs and soak through his pajama bottoms immediately as his cock hardens to the point of aching in a matter of seconds. Holy fucking shit. Dabi doesn't think he's ever felt arousal like this-- no, he's positive that he hasn't. That this is the most intense form of need that has ever been pushed through his body. That he wants to be touched right now, more than he'd even wanted to stop burning in the moments before he'd died. Dabi tangles his hands in Shig's hair, feeling how soft and thick it is, and pulls his face up from his neck so that he can crash their mouths together. 

Tomura's scent is going thicker in the air, even as he lets out another breath of laughter against his lips, which is why Dabi doesn't bite him hard enough to draw blood as he tries to get his tongue into his mouth the way it was last night. His alpha chuffs at him softly, and his hands, made gentle to protect him, are wrapped around his body, pulling him closer even though Dabi is making such a gross mess as the slick smears all over his skin. Dabi saw how much those other omega's could produce, he knew that people called omega's on their heats a 'slip 'n slide', but he had still half thought that it was a figure of speech. He understands just how sincere those things were now as he feels his pajama bottoms clinging to his legs as every drag of Tomura's tongue behind his teeth has a fresh bit of his slick leaking out of his hole with no signs of stopping. Dabi is pretty sure he won't stop until Tomura has his knot sunk deep inside of him and he's full of his cum. 

He doesn't think that last night he was thinking about how good his alpha tastes, but underneath the flavor of his toothpaste, he can find traces of his scent lingering on his tongue, and Dabi would give up breathing entirely if he could just keep licking out that flavor from his mouth. Dabi lets out a moan loudly enough he's a little worried about how thick the walls are as Tomura makes him part, but consoles him by licking across the seam of his chin and nipping at his jawline like his scars aren't even there. Dabi is pretty sure he should be bitching at the other for being gross, but instead the thought of being tasted, of being claimed by the alpha is making him even harder. It's a surprise to him when he realizes that his legs aren't clenched tight together anymore to try to smother the pain of his glands, and instead he's opened them up. That he's wrapped them around Tomura's thigh so that he can rub himself against his leg, his cock aching and leaking almost as badly as his hole as he tries his best to get the other to keep making him feel good. 

Tomura lets out a growl that he's never heard before, a sound so deep and low that it vibrates through Dabi's body and leaves him gasping out another moan. "That's it, baby boy," his voice rumbles against his skin as he noses at his neck, licking at the place where his scent gland should be burned away and making Dabi moan again. He is pretty sure he didn't want to be claimed, but when Tomura gives a gentle nibble against that place, Dabi gets dizzy from how good that it feels. Shig's hands wrap around his hips and he coaxes Dabi's hips into moving against his leg. "I want you to feel so good, firefly. Show me what you like." 

Dabi feels dizzy from how thickly their smells are swirling around the air between them and he's pretty sure that he should just push down his pants so that he can fist his hand around his cock, but he doesn't want to stop clinging to Tomura. Like if he lets go of him, the alpha might abandon him even though he's being swaddled in the reassuring scent of his arousal. But it feels so good to rub himself against Shigaraki's thigh. He's more solidly muscular underneath his jeans, and the thick denim is giving him a tantalizing texture even through his pajama bottoms. He ruts his hips up against his leg again and moans, dropping his head back against the pillows. Tomura chuffs with his approval, leaning over him and grinding his thigh up between Dabi's legs more deliberately, putting more of that wonderful friction against his body. 

"That's it, beautiful. You can have anything that you want. Just let me make your body feel good." 

He's pretty sure that if he weren't plunging deeper and deeper into his heat, he might have protested. He might have been embarrassed over how much of an absolute mess he already is, but it's hard to care about anything else than how good his body is feeling and how nice it is that his alpha is being so sweet and gentle with him. Tomura presses his neck to Dabi's as he lets him move his hips more and more frantically against his leg. The touch of their skin there bleeds out across their entire nest and somehow sparks pleasure behind his eyes like a firework nearly as bright as the actual friction that he's getting against his dick. The way that their scents tangle makes the whole room smell like completeness. He's not alone. He's not hurting. He's with his alpha, and he's going to be safe, cared for, he's going to get to feel good for the first time in his life, and he doesn't have to be scared. He's not going to be abandoned. 

Those thoughts, possibly more than anything else, are what allow Dabi to let go of the last lingering threads of stress in his body and let him sink deeper into the hazy warmth of his heat. He ruts his hips harder and faster, until even just one more little twitch is enough for him to feel his orgasm washing through him for the first time in his life. It isn't like the way that he expected it to be. He thinks that he expected him to feel like he was going to ignite again, and maybe he would have if he didn't have the suppression cuffs tight around his wrists, but instead what he notes is that the pressure growing along his length makes his balls draw up tight to his base like if he were cold, so tense and feeling so full that he's not surprised that he can't keep it all inside. And at the moment of release, his entire cock feels like it's pulsing the sharpest pleasure he's ever felt along each inch of him. It makes the muscles of his thighs shake and fall slack as he feels the forceful ejaculation spill all over the front of his pajama bottoms in ropes that almost ache as he feels each spurt of his cum release from his body. Dabi is breathless from how good it feels, and it takes him a long moment to realize that he's moaning so loudly that his voice cracks as the sound rattles out of his throat. 

"Fuck, that's it, Dabi. You're so cute, little omega," his tone is so teasing, but he can't even protest it when being called that has him letting out a little chirpy noise of bliss. He's the omega. He's the one who's being cute. No one has ever called him cute before. No one has ever helped his body feel good like this before. "And you smell so good." Dabi isn't sure that he's been paying attention to anything but how good Tomura smells, but he does try to find his own scent in the tangled mix of them. He normally doesn't think that he smells like anything other than smoke and burning, but now he can smell himself. There is an overwhelming sweetness coming off of his skin, something that reminds him of caramel, though there is still a little tang of burning in it. The edge of his fire that darkens the smell with a touch of his smoke. He doesn't think it smells that good, but he doesn't really like sweets anyway. "Let me get you out of those wet clothes, baby." 

Dabi is reluctant for it, only because it means that he, apparently, has to let go of Tomura. But his alpha makes it an easier thing to do by making sure he's laying against the nice warm nest, and presses kisses to his lips and across his face, letting out his own deeper, satisfied purr as he does it. Tomura leans back and pulls away his own shirt, his skin, Dabi notices distantly, starting to get warm for the first time against his own. His body is always so cool to the touch, but he likes this a lot. It makes it feel like he's actually seeping into the other's skin. Then he reaches for Dabi's soaked pajama bottoms and Dabi trembles as he makes his soupy muscles work to lift his hips enough for Tomura to pull the fabric off of his legs. 

When he's naked, Dabi is still feeling off-balance, but he tries to push himself up so that he can roll over. Tomura pauses him with his hand against his chest, eyes roaming over Dabi's body like he wants to eat him alive. "Where are you going, firefly? Do you want to stop?" 

Dabi whimpers. He doesn't want that at all. Not when his cock is still just as hard as it was before his entire length was dripping with his cum. His insides feel like they're coiling tighter and tighter, desperately searching for a knot to hold on to. "No, alpha," he doesn't think that's what he meant to call Tomura, but the word slips off his tongue before he can stop it. It doesn't seem like it's a bad thing though. The other man gives another one of those low chuffs of approval and Dabi swallows whatever's left of his pride and keeps going. "...I was going to present," he feels his cheeks go a little hotter. "The way all of the omegas in the... videos did." 

"Oh, precious," Tomura leans in and nuzzles their noses together before peppering his hot face with kisses. "You don't have to do that unless you want to. I would be perfectly happy for you to stay just like this so that I can see how cute your face is when I have you cumming on my knot." 

Dabi lets out a whine that is nothing but humiliation as that has his hole clenching needily and sending a fresh pulse of slick down his thighs. "Need it, Tomura. I-It hurts." He thought he was supposed to stop hurting once he got so hot, but he feels miserable as he waits to get more. 

"I'm sorry, firefly, I'll help you feel better." He promises, his eyes dragging down his body. His hands follow the path of his eyes, tracing over his shoulders, down his chest and rubbing his thumbs over his nipples. The feeling of the soft leather against his skin makes him moan again. His nipples are already more sensitive from his piercings, but the way that they feel now is far more sensitive than they ever have been before, and Dabi finds himself moaning and arching into each touch. Tomura starts to let out a continuous, deep purr as he touches him, hands moving away far too soon so that he can bring them down along Dabi's stomach, one dipping between his legs, and one covered finger, and one uncovered, running up his aching cock, and smearing through his cum. "Never been touched before, but you couldn't help decorating your pretty cock just like the rest of you, could you, baby boy?" 

Dabi can't form a coherent sentence to answer him, he's too busy spreading his legs even wider and scratching his nails up Shigaraki's back. Tomura wraps his hand around his cock and gives him a stroke from root to tip, his length already so soaked that his glove glides across his skin and sends fresh pleasure going through his body. His hand doesn't stay there either though, and Dabi is about to beg for it back, before he sees that Tomura's eyes are starting to glow from how high his instincts are going. And then his hand is moving down, knuckles rubbing against his balls, and then pushing back-- 

He can't believe that just having Tomura's fingers rubbing against his hole can feel almost as good as it did to ride his thigh. "Alpha!" 

It gets him another growl, Shig's scent going hot and him moving his hand to the back of Dabi's thigh, holding his legs open as wide as they can go, and then grinding his still clothed cock against his hole. Just that pressure there has Dabi mewling, his breath hitching in his throat. "You were so nervous before, little one." Tomura's voice sounds deeper, richer in some way that Dabi doesn't quite understand, but that makes his own instincts feel like they're about to go insane. He wants to have him, wants to have more, but he doesn't know how to get it. "Are you ready to feel what your body was made for now?" 

Yes, yes, that's exactly what he wants. "Please, alpha," he pulls at Shig's shoulders, trying to get him to lean in again. He'd give him his mouth, his throat, every inch of his body if he brings him through this the way he promised to. 

Tomura kisses him again, but Dabi is sure he's doing it mostly to distract him from immediately protesting when his hips move away from his own again. But the kiss is good, beyond that, because his alpha's fangs have dropped, and Dabi realizes what that rumble in his voice must have been. The edge of command that he was trying to keep at bay as Tomura starts to fall into his rut right alongside Dabi's heat. He can't help but chirping and purring, wrapping his arms around his neck and arching up against his body to show his pleasure as his alpha proves exactly how badly he wants him as his hormones rush to meet Dabi's own. 

The other moves over him for a second and then there's the sound of heavier fabric hitting their nest before Tomura is lowering his hips back between Dabi's legs again. His hands curl around his hips and he angles Dabi's body up a bit more so that he can rub the hot head of his cock through his slick and between his cheeks, before teasing against Dabi's hole. Whatever thread of sense was left in him frays apart in his hand at that feeling. Tomura is big. Anything is big against his hole that hasn't ever had something trying to push inside, and he is breathless as the worry that it won't fit comes rushing back. But the wave of lust that follows immediately on its heels drags him under the tide and makes him delirious. 

Whatever tangled scent he's putting out, the tiny whimper that slips from his throat, has his alpha chuffing and nuzzling against his cheek. He licks his skin and that helps to soothe his anxiety a bit. "It's alright, firefly, do you want to start slower?" He shifts to get his hand back between them, bringing his fingers against his hole again which is definitely less intimidating, but not at all what his body wants. "Can open you up just like this. Have you bounce on your pretty toy until you're desperate to be full of my cum." 

His instincts are screaming against his nerves, telling him that he wants that, not to be stuffed up with some toy. He wants his alpha's knot. He wants Tomura to be the first person he has inside of him. He wants to be good for his alpha and help him through his rut the way he promised he would help Dabi through his heat. The way he's been helping Dabi ever since he got here. It's so hard for him to find his words, but he has to manage it if he wants to do any of that. "Just want you, Tomu." His voice is weak and breathless, the need pulsing under his skin like a second heartbeat. 

"Yeah?" There's no mistaking the possessive, pleased rumble in Tomura's voice as he says that. "Okay, baby boy, do you want me to help you relax? It will make it easier." He asks, nosing at his skin and scenting him as many times and ways that he can as he moves so his cock can rub against his hole again. He teases around his rim, both of their skin getting even more soaked as he does so, because Dabi's body is so close to getting what he needs and he can barely string together a coherent thought in his head. He doesn't manage to make a coherent word, just whining high in the back of his throat as he nods his head frantically, holding tight onto the other as he tentatively grinds his hips back so that he can feel him a little more as well. Tomura gives him another slow, deep kiss, and then he breathes, his eyes glowing so bright as they look into his, "Relax."

Dabi's muscles go so weak. He didn't even realize how much he was holding back, but he barely can keep his hands over the other's shoulders, and his legs fall open as wide as they can. There's a fresh gush of slick pouring into their nest as those internal muscles finally loosen from the perpetual tautness that has been plaguing him since he woke up this morning. He lets out a low breath and starts to purrs softly as Tomura starts to press inside. 

He is big. He's so big, and his head is blunt, and he surely can't actually be made to fit a knot inside of him the way he saw those other omegas take it. But his body is helpless to try and tense as Tomura rubs against him a few more times, each rock of his hips teasing him with a little more pressure until his hole is being forced wider around him. 

The moment that his head presses inside of him with a soft pop, Dabi sees stars. The pressure of having something inside is beyond anything he's ever felt before, and even just his head is so much and his instincts cry out how good it is. He hasn't ever felt this good in his life. Even his first orgasm can't possibly compare to how wonderful he feels having his alpha starting to open up his body and push inside. Tomura chuffs and licks at his neck, telling Dabi without words that he's still so safe, that he's not going anywhere, that he's going to keep giving his body this pleasure that he doesn't have words for. He is going to make him feel better and better, until he can't keep it contained anymore and he falls apart completely, and then Tomura will probably keep giving kisses to all of his scattered parts. 

His alpha goes so slowly, pressing in inch by delicious, agonizing inch, and there are so many of those. Dabi didn't get a good look at him, but he would absolutely believe from how blindingly full he's feeling, that he's definitely getting more than eight inches of him. And by the time their hips are flush, they're both panting. Dabi's whole body is shaking, his eyes squeezed tight, some bubble of emotion in his throat that he doesn't have a name for as he's given what he needs. Tomura presses kisses to his face, over his forehead, his eyelids, along his cheeks. He purrs for him in response, and slurs around his own tongue that seems to have gotten heavier with his pleasure and heat, 

"Shh, it's alright, firefly. You're okay. You're doing such a good job, baby. You took me all the way inside your very first time. Your body was made for this, precious. You're perfect." 

Perfect. Dabi hasn't been perfect for such a long time. He thought he didn't believe in perfect anymore. But when Tomura says it, when he manages to open his eyes and look up at him, seeing his hair wild and mussed from how he's been pulling at it, seeing the flush across his cheeks that has finally brought life into his pale skin, his red eyes that are still glowing so brightly as he looks at him with no hesitation, no doubt, only a naked, searing affection-- Dabi can believe it again. Maybe not about him. But Tomura promised he would try to be a perfect alpha for him. Dabi isn't sure what else he could possibly do to prove he is like this. He doesn't know what the fullness behind his ribs is, but it's almost as distracting as the fullness inside of his hole, and the way that his body chooses to deal with the first is by forcing more bloody tears down his cheeks in a soft sob as he clings to Tomura. 

"Alpha," he doesn't have to explain that he's not crying because he's scared, or because he wants to stop. Tomura can feel him, can smell him. He knows what Dabi means and he just starts to purr for him again, even louder, as he licks and kisses the bloody tears off of his cheeks like he doesn't have to be ashamed of his ruined body. He proves to him that he wants him anyway when he rolls his hips into Dabi's, moving his cock inside of him and making every inch of his desperate hole light up with the need to be filled even more. 

"Let me love you slowly the first time," Tomura murmurs against his skin. "And then I'll give you anything else you could ever want for the rest of our cycles, firefly." 

All Dabi can do is give a weak nod, more tears trickling down his cheeks. He doesn't think he's heard anyone use even the vaguest concept of 'love' when it comes to him in over a decade. He'll take as much of it as he can get from the other man right now though. 

Tomura does go slow. He starts just by rolling their hips together in slow, undulating movements, teaching Dabi's body how to move along with them. Each one makes him a little more breathless than the last, the movements warming up his insides, getting them a little more relaxed, and not already clenching onto his cock so tightly when his knot hasn't even started to swell yet. He does it no matter how much he must also be wanting to fuck him hard and knot. He gives it to him gently because he wants Dabi's first heat to be enjoyable more than he wants to make up for the two unremarkable ruts he had before him. But when he's starting to whimper and try to make the soft rhythm a little more impactful, Tomura starts to draw his hips back. He slips a few inches of his cock out of Dabi's body and then rolls his hips again, sinking back inside. And oh! The pressure was good before, the rolling movements were so nice to stretch him open and made his insides feel warm and soft. But the friction of having Tomura's thick cock slide back as deep as it can go, that is delicious. Dabi keens, and the sound hitches on his breath, and then is nothing but a purr as he wraps his legs tight around Tomura's waist so that he can keep having that immediately. 

Tomura kisses his skin so gently, kisses his lips, keeps making sounds that tell Dabi how good he's being for him, how good they're making each other feel. But he keeps their pace slow, like he said he would. He doesn't pound into his hole the way they watched the other alphas do to their omegas in the videos. He just gives him his cock slowly and perfectly over and over again until there is nothing but their pleasure cycling between their bodies. 

Dabi's second orgasm feels so different from his first as it builds in his body. The health video said that the internal stimulation would pull the attention from his cock, and it absolutely has. He's sure he would be complaining about how long he's been so hard if it weren't for the fact that every measured thrust inside of him is turning every muscle in his body into liquid heat as his pleasure builds under his skin until he's sure that he's going to erupt. But he isn't going over the edge. It's like Tomura is holding a lid over that peak, and he is absolutely helpless not to obey and wait for him as he tries to get more. 

He doesn't understand what he was making him to wait for until he starts to feel his hole being forced to stretch a little wider again as he feels his alpha's knot start to swell. "Are you ready, firefly? I want to make you mine so badly. Want to have my spend soaking your insides, want your slick to smell like me for the rest of your cycle. Want to see you crying as you cum on my knot as I push inside." Tomura's voice is so thick with his own arousal, his growls and purrs slurring the words, his fangs glistening, and eyes still ruby red as he speaks. 

Dabi doesn't have words for how badly he wants that too, but his body is able to answer for him, a fresh gush of slick going across his thighs to help open him up even more for his alpha's knot, as he feels a pain in his jaw for the first time as his own fangs drop to show his alpha he doesn't just want his knot, but that he would take his bite as well if he deigns to give it to him. 

Seeing his teeth like that seems to strip away the last little bit of Tomura's measured control. He can't help the snarl he lets out, the sound demanding, possessive, and good instead of frightening. A sound that tells Dabi that he's so completely and deeply wanted that his alpha would kill anyone who might ever be stupid enough to try to take Dabi away from him. He kisses him hard and their fangs click, and their lips bleed, and that tangle of their blood on their tongues might as well be a drug from how high it sends Dabi into the clouds. He doesn't think that he'll ever have words for how perfect he feels like this. Even more perfect when his alpha builds their pace. Dabi holds onto him tighter, meets each one of his harder thrusts that has their bodies making obscene sounds as they move. 

The moment that Tomura's knot forces its way inside of him, swelling completely as he starts to cum, Dabi's nails tear through his back as he arches hard and cums with him. Stars explode through his body, that eruption actually a series of supernovas going through him as his alpha makes him feel so good that Dabi is certain without the cuffs, he would have become a sun from how he feels. His walls clench down so hard on Tomura's length, letting him feel every perfect, pulsing inch of him as he cums so much. Dabi has been soaked practically all morning, but nothing could possibly have prepared him for feeling the way that this does, now that he's being filled with the other's seed instead of just having his slick rush out of him. There's so much of it, it makes him feel blindingly full, and it is so satisfying in a way that his animal mind can't possibly articulate. He just knows that he's supposed to be satisfied. That he's supposed to feel like his purpose has been met and be ready to settle and cuddle for a while until they unlock. 

But Dabi wants it even more, and he's barely noticed that he's spilled his own cum between their bodies for a second time before he's starting to roll his hips again. Tomura chuffs at him, the sound absolutely amused. He can't thrust inside of him the way he was before. Not when he's locked inside. But he can do that good rolling thing that they were doing before. 

"You want more, precious?" 

Dabi manages a nod, and Tomura gets a hand under the small of his back and uses a strength that Dabi didn't know he had to lift him. Tomura lays back in their soiled nest and gets Dabi's knees wide around his hips, pressed into the bedding. "Okay, firefly, find what feels good," he murmurs, his eyes still glowing and his own arousal not fading in the slightest. "If you do a good job, I'll get to fill you up again without even taking my knot out of your pretty hole. Won't that be nice, baby boy? You'll be so full of my cum." He moves his hand to Dabi's lower abdomen, not minding the cum that gets smeared obscenely over his gloves. "Mm, maybe you'll get so full that I'll be able to see it." 

That has no right to make him so blindingly needy so immediately on the heels of his last orgasm, but Dabi can't do anything but keen and start to try to work out how much he can actually fuck himself on his alpha's cock before his knot shrinks. 

///

The rest of their cycle is a blur for the most part. Dabi just knows that he felt perfect, that Tomura took such good care of him, that he made sure he ate even though all he wanted was to mate and sleep. That he held him close and kissed him. that he never once tried to bite him, no matter the fact that Dabi essentially used his throat as a chew toy after their first round because he wanted Shigaraki to own him so badly. But he didn't let his neediness sway him. He also has the vague memory of being stuffed full of the dildo and his alpha's cock at the same time and how good that felt too, how his alpha called his hole so greedy even though it was his first time, and how that embarrassment had just made everything feel even better. But he doesn't think about that too much when they come out of their cycle. 

What he thinks about instead is the fact that Shigaraki doesn't pull away. He helps Dabi clean up his space and remake his bed. He orders them a bunch of food and then they both go into the shower together and wash each other's hair and skin until they're clean. He brings Dabi right back to his now clean bed once they're dry, and then he slowly and meticulously scents every inch of Dabi's skin, and lets him do the same. Then he holds him close and lets him lick and nuzzle at his throat, purring all the while until their food arrives. Tomura makes sure he eats every bite of what he needs to make up for all the activity, and in a day or so, when their hormones have cycled lower, and Dabi admits that he's dreading having the examination that he was told he would have to after his heat, Tomura asks if he wants him to come with him. 

He holds his hand the whole time, and gets Dabi bitching and arguing with him over nothing to distract him from how vulnerable he feels laid out on the doctor's table. 

///

"That's dumb as shit, Shigaraki." Dabi snaps as they debrief with the others. 

"Toga--" 

"Already has an assignment. If she can get the blood of as many students as she can, then we'll be in a way better position to infiltrate the school later on, either by using her, or Twice's doubles. Unless your almighty teacher is going to actually disclose who the spy he has in UA actually is?" He challenges. He swears to god that Spinner and Compress have backed off a little from the table, but he doesn't give a shit. If they think that this is going to escalate and want to be pussies about it, then that's on them. 

Shig scratches at his neck, his mask on and hiding his expression from Dabi, but he knows that the other man isn't pleased. But he made Dabi the leader for this job. He's going to lead, and he's going to prove that no matter how much time he was absent from the training with the others, that he's not weak. He's back, he's better, he absolutely deserves the position that Shigaraki has given him, and not just because all of them know he's taking his knot as often as he can get it, even with their cycles over. "Fine." 

Dabi tries not to be too smug over that and goes right back to laying out where the others will be when they hit the summer camp. 

By the time the meeting is done and Dabi has done the requisite socializing with the others, he's more than ready to be back upstairs in their room. Duster still technically has his own room, he still pretends to sleep there when his teacher calls and asks how things are going, but not five minutes after Dabi's inside, the door is opening again for his alpha, who steps inside and immediately pulls the hand from his face. It soothes him immediately to see his face again. He got so used to being able to see him, that whenever they're doing villain shit with the others and he's hiding, Dabi feels an uncomfortable distance between the two of them. 

But Tomura looks at him, and he's not frustrated with him snapping or talking back to him during the meeting. He knows exactly what to expect from Dabi at this point. He just looks lightly chastising as he steps into his space and wraps his hands carefully around Dabi's hips. Dabi starts to purr immediately as he leans in to get his kiss, but Tomura doesn't give it. "You skipped your afternoon snack, firefly." 

"Moonfish was having one of his, and it put me off my appetite. Figured we could make up for it tonight and order something terrible." 

Tomura hums and gives him his peck then. "Yeah? Terrible how?" 

"Something super greasy and bad for us so we end up not wanting to move for the rest of the night." So they can curl up in his bed together, cuddled close while Dabi watches Tomura play his games and he gets to feel cherished the way that Tomura hasn't stopped letting him feel since their cycle. 

He gets another kiss and a soft purr out of his alpha too. "If you wanted pizza that badly, you didn't have to make an excuse, baby boy. You want potatoes on it?" 

"Yeah," he doesn't need to stay in Tomura's space, he barely let him even get into the room, but he likes being close, and his alpha doesn't seem to mind, letting him tuck his head against his shoulder so that he can breathe in his scent like he's been starving for it all day. "Thanks." 

"Anything for you, firefly." He presses a kiss to Dabi's temple, and Dabi lets his own purrs start to rumble quietly between them. He knows that. Tomura will do anything for him, and at this point, Dabi is pretty sure that despite all of his good sense, that sentiment goes both ways. 

He enjoys this closeness for every second he can get it, only relenting when his stomach growls, and then, as soon as they've actually ordered their food, they're settling into the bed to be close again until it arrives. He thinks that he might not be the only one who was a mess before he got here, but he's just glad that they're both so invested in getting back on the right track. Just glad that he has Tomura with him, because he doesn't think he would be able to enjoy being an omega as much as he does now if he didn't have such a perfect alpha right beside him. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment/ask!

[selfishdoll]

❛ HIS FAVORITE FAN...❜

You're my four-leaf clover | I'm so in love, so in love ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ JAPANESE DENIM.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

hcs of pro gamer! gojo satoru & his favorite fan, you.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

ooc gojo, cocky gojo (ofc) mature themes in some of them, him being a little shit, fluff, geto & shoko mention, etc.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

will make an actual fic later. these are messy, sorry for that </3

pro gamer! gojo wasn’t someone you got along with at first. he was cocky, arrogant, and didn’t like following the rules. over extending when playing with his teammates, you just hated watching him play. you remember commenting something on a stream of his, the man eager to go back and forth with you for a while before you decided to leave the stream all together. yet, instead of letting that drop you suddenly received a message on your social media.

“didn’t have anything else to say?” was what it read, a shit-eating grin emoji placed beside it. and well, the rest was history. how you got swept into his arms was beyond you, really.

pro gamer! gojo who has a picture of you as his desktop wallpaper. but not just any picture, a pin up of you in a bikini. he saw a fellow gamer with one and practically begged you to do it, declaring he would pay for it. everything. your hair, bikini, the photographer. all you had to do was bring your pretty ass there, (he proclaimed). after some playful reluctance you gave in, the man basically buzzing with anticipation waiting for the pictures. the moment gojo received them he was uploading it as his wallpaper, cropping it perfectly so your plump ass rested just below his favorite game.

the man has, accidentally clicked off a game to his desktop when on stream, declaring he had to check something. really, it was a message to anyone interested in him or you.

pro gamer! gojo who encourages you to come with him when traveling for events. promising to spend some time with you personally and that he just needs his lucky charm there. most times you’re able to take off work in time, others you aren’t— leaving the poor man upset. satoru will still go to the event, but his heart is definitely not in it; pouting like a child. you’ve gotten messages from geto, complaining about his behavior and making you promise to come to the next one.

pro gamer! gojo who is so good at multitasking it should be a crime. who’s able to have you on his cock, crying and being stuffed full; all while clutching his matches. face cam off, switching his mic on and off between your gasps and moans, rising his hips to adjust in his seat— grinning at the way you nearly toppled into his chest. pressing you against his desk when the match gets intense, shushing you softly when you whined.

finally after the match is done he’s releasing his controller, hands falling to your waist and bouncing you up and down his length. with the cockiest grin ever he’ll say; “you’ll have to hurry and come, baby— the game’s starting soon.” yet will slow you down, just to watch the frustrated tears build in your eyes, and the dreaded sound of the game starting again. so quick to release you, attention turning back to the game as if nothing happened. the cycle continues for so long you swear you’ll break, face pushed into his neck as soft gasps escaped you.

the torture would finally end when the last match of the game is finished, gojo tossing his headphones off his hair, grabbing your hips whilst standing. he would waste no time in turning around, heading towards the bed to drill you into the mattress. satoru just loves the way you beg and beg for a release, all while pretty tears trickle down your face and the gold plated anklet of his name jingles right beside his ear. yeah, he’s coming in minutes, stuffing you so not a drop escapes.

there have been a few times gojo has tossed his headphones a little too hard, rendering geto’s and shoko’s poor ears to your activities. the pair now know to click off the call quickly when they know you’re home.

pro gamer! gojo who feels his heart swell when he sees you at his tournaments in the front and wearing a shirt with his name. it’s cheesy, he would tell you, earning a playful slap on his shoulder. yet satoru loves it, happy you’re there to cheer him on. definitely try hards just to hear you praise and scream for him.

pro gamer! gojo who is pretty cold with his female fans. he’s nice, sure, but with every conversation he’s somehow bringing you up. “oh, my girlfriend likes that color..” “yeah, my girlfriend loves that band.” “no, my girlfriend wouldn’t like that.” constantly reminds them he’s taken and happy. doesn’t entertain anyone that flirts.

pro gamer! gojo who teaches you how to play, mostly fighting games and will be a sore loser if you somehow beat him. the type to bump into your shoulder, smack your controller out of your hand, or even tickle you. also will definitely ask for a rematch, claiming he wasn’t ready (he was).

pro gamer! gojo who will drop a stream just for you, doesn’t matter how little the request is. doesn’t care who’s annoyed by it. you’re priority to him.

pro gamer! gojo who has threatened to fuck you on stream before. maybe you’re waving at his face cam and talking too sweetly to his fans, maybe you’re walking in the camera in your cute little shorts, or maybe you’re just breathing around him. gojo is quick to snake an arm around your waist, pull you close, and whisper the threat right into your ear— all while smiling innocently. it takes everything in you not to challenge him, as gojo satoru, never backs down from a challenge.

pro gamer! gojo who has his issues, but loves you dearly, much more than any video game.

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

Heat Cycle

I have seen a few creators on here write about the Teifling heat cycles and I fancied trying my hand at it, it's probably a bit longer than most because I can't help myself from taking too long to set anything up. 18+ and smut obv

Working at sorcerers’ sundries was a simple job for you, you had always had a knack for the arcae arts and being able to work a job that centred around it was a true joy for you. Helping customers find a long sought after tome or even directing them to the counter where their specialties lie was a joy to you, helping others is what you truly enjoyed in this job.

Life at Sorcerer’s Sundries was different, you were the main assistant to the ever hidden away wizard of the tower, too busy to engage frequently in the shop he shielded himself away in his books, trying desperately to make sense of the mess the previous master had left before him. In the early days you would bring him tea and food, leaving them in his room as he ignored you for his books, slowly each day you would speak with him more, encouraging him to open up to you, you were going to be his assistant and how could you assist if you did not know about him.

Rolan would eventually warm up to you, enjoying your visits, taking time to chat with you, speaking about his family and asking about yours with a smile on his face, his gold eyes lighting up when you passionately spoke about your work and the research you had been longing to do. It was not long before Rolan started inviting you to dine with him in the evening, after the shop had closed and the last workers had gone he would invite you into his tower. A bottle or two of wine would be had on occasion and a sumptuous meal would be shared, these nights would be savoured by you both, a budding chemistry blossoming between you, stolen glances across the table had become commonplace now. You had become increasingly close now, intimately aware of each other’s fears and wants, all that was left to explore was your feelings for one another. You had wanted Rolan to make the first move, you wanted him to sweep you off your feet in a grand gesture, yet he was yet to do it, you could see the look in those golden eyes of his, he wanted desperately to say something, yet every time he tried to his mouth would dry up and he would be rendered speechless.

Tonight over dinner you would address this with him, you had become tired of waiting for him, the soft brushes against you in the hallways and accidental knocks against you in the tight cupboards were no longer enough for you, you wanted more from him, you craved his touch desperately, many nights you had imagined his delicate hands tracing your body, fingers moving as intricately as they did whenever he conjured up an item or image for your entertainment, while you did enjoy the spells he cast your eyes were ever transfixed on his dexterous hands, imagining what they could do if put to more intimate uses.

This would be another night with the accompaniment of wine, it was the end of the week, and you would both stay up late enjoying each other’s company with a nice vintage, this week it would be Rolan’s turn to supply the wine, and he had such a wonderful palate, it would rival even your own which was an impressive feat in your opinion. The walk up the tower was quiet, normally you would hear the shuffle of books or Rolan muttering away to himself, yet it was silent as you approached the door to his study, wine glasses in hand as you gingerly pushed open the door.

Rolan was sat on the floor against one of his bookshelves, sweating profusely, his chest heaving as if he could not catch his breath, you hurried over to him, placing the wine glasses down on what every available surface was along the way, they were not your concern for the moment. You knelt next to Rolan, his eyes were clamped shut and his hands were balled up tightly, you went to place the back of your hand to his forehead to check if he had a fever but was stopped by his hand on your wrist.

“Please Tav…” Rolan’s voice was desperate, you did not know what he was pleading for, confused even further by the state he was in. Although you had become close, sharing secrets and fears, one thing Rolan never explained was the “Teifling Heat Cyle” to you, he assumed it would not matter, that he would make up some excuse as to why he had to be away from work for a week or two, after all he know when it would happen every year. Rolan’s heat cycle always fell in the autumn, he knew when it would be approaching once he could smell the leaves on the dewy grass in the cold autumn mornings, or when he finally had to start lighting a fire to keep warm in the afternoons. His cycle had never been an issue before, he would be aware of its arrival and take a trip to ride it out, he did not want to rut baselessly with another, whenever he felt affection or desire for another he wanted to mean it.

You had been his distraction this time, Rolan had not noticed the tell tale signs of the impending autumn, his thoughts had now been clouded with you, the way you walked gladly into his study every night, the way your robes hung delicately against your curves making his mouth water ever so slightly as he imagined to himself what you were hiding under them, hell he even noticed the scent of your hair when it was freshly washed, it was peonies and elderflower. Rolan had missed all the signs of his impending heat cycle and now here he was, on the floor sweating profusely, trying hard not to give in to his urges as you sat there before him innocently, his body desperately craving release, wanting to ravage you and make you his.

There had been a few moments of silence, your wrist still within his grasp, confused by what was happening, you wanted to help so badly, it pained you to see him in such distress, you were now begging him to let you help him somehow as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter. Your desperate pleas did nothing to help Rolan’s situation, you were begging him, pleading to help and his resolve was now faltering. Through gritted teeth Rolan all he managed were the words “Heat Cyle”, it took you a moment to process but you understood, you had a Tiefling friend in your youth that had to explain once a year why she had to go away for a short while. The realisation hit you, saying “Oh” in barely a whisper as you sat before him. He looked in pain, desperate for release, before you could even process what your next move was you heard the words fall from your own mouth “I can help if you want.” The words came out soft and delicate, you did not have time to process them before Rolan finally looked at you, his eyes now open and crazed, the look of lust was all that was in his eyes at this moment.

“Are you sure? If you say yes I can’t hold back” His voice was deep and smooth, it was like you were under his spell as he spoke, you had wanted to be intimate with Rolan for a while and now here he was, lust filled eyes before you, ready to devour you and savour you. It took only a moment for you to decide “Yes I’m sure Rolan”

It was barely a second after you spoke his name that he pulled you on top of him, making you straddle his waist as his lips devoured yours hungrily. The usual gentle touch he had for you was now rough and desperate, his hands making their way underneath your skirts as he pawed hungrily at your thighs, digging his nails into the fleshy skin of your ass, hoping he would leave marks so he could claim you as his. The kiss was rough and passionate, it took a second for you to adjust but responded fervently, your own desire taking over, spurring Rolan on even further making his touch even more erratic on your body. The weak version of him you saw laid out on the floor was now gone, he stood up lifting you with him, his hands gripped underneath your thighs making you wrap your legs around his waist. Without breaking the passionate kiss you were both still enthralled in, he walked you over to his desk and dropped you roughly onto it, caring naught for the documents that were now underneath your body. As he stood between your legs he finally broke the kiss, moving to mark your neck and nip your skin, removing his hands from beneath your skirt he brought them up to your covered chest. Without missing a beat he dug his hands into the fabric and ripped it open, from chest to waist he ripped your dress to pieces, throwing away any errant fabric covering you, leaving you laid naked upon his desk whilst his hands roamed and squeezed every curve of your body.

It was like bliss to you, you could now feel the cold air on your body, and it only made the warmth of his touch even more exciting, you did not realise how much you had wanted this until now, laid before him, desperate for more. After Rolan had enjoyed nipping and sucking at your body, leaving delicate bruises along your skin he decided he could not wait any longer, fumbling at the lace of his robes his cock sprung free before you. You did not get a glance at it before he needily thrust it into you, he knew you did not need any excitement before he did this, he could feel the tremble of your skin and the moans of his name as he was kissing your neck, you were just as ready as he was.

You could feel the painful yet wonderful way that he stretched you, half thankful you had not seen his cock before he entered you as you would have thought you couldn’t have managed it. Rolan’s hands were now firmly gripping onto your waist, his nails digging into the soft skin of your hips as he used his grip to pull you towards him, thrusting hard into you, a deep moan with every slam. In his eyes you were a sight to behold before him, laid naked upon his desk, tits bouncing with every thrust and your eyes watering from the size of him, you looked like an angel laid before him taking him so well and it wasn’t the hormones of his heat cycle speaking.

Rolan’s grip on your waist became softer as he removed one of his hands to explore your body as he continued to thrust into you, exploring your soft skin, a thumb tracing over your nipples and moving his way down your body until his rough hands found your clit, you whined desperately as his fingers ghosted over it. The sound of your whines made Rolan’s ears perk, he moved his hand back there to elicit more of those beautiful noises from your lips, feeling your body shudder under his and your walls tighten around his length. A few rough rolls of his fingers on your clit and your body was in ecstasy, the feeling of pleasure rushed over you as you moaned for him, feeling his own pleasure spill forth inside of you as you felt his body tremble.

Rolan finally collapsed on top of you, his forehead slick with sweat he laid it on your chest and kissed your skin softly, stroking his hands up your waist affectionately, a stark contrast to what had just happened, his tail was now gently swaying and moved to wrap around your leg, he wanted to hold you close in every sense. You laid there panting for a moment as Rolan gently kissed some of the bruises he had left on your skin, silently proud of them. “Thank you Tav” His voice was a gentle whisper as you smiled, breathless and unable to reply, yet you stroked his hair gently, affirming to him that you were thankful as well.

[mysticstronomy]

DID TIME OR SPACE EXIST FIRST??

Blog#450

Saturday, November 2nd, 2024.

Welcome back,

It’s the question that always comes up when thinking about the origin of the Universe: what came before the Big Bang?

And if there was no ‘before’, what was the cause of the Big Bang in the first place?

Until a few centuries ago, the answer was easy: some eternal deity set everything in motion.

Even Isaac Newton believed that God created the Universe, some 6,000 years ago.

Later, many scientists, including young Albert Einstein, assumed the Universe itself to be eternal and everlasting.

But when cosmic expansion was discovered, Belgian cosmologist (and Jesuit priest) Georges Lemaître realised there must have been a beginning – a scientific version of Genesis, so to speak.

Not that everyone immediately agreed.

Well into the 1960s, Fred Hoyle’s steady-state theory was quite popular among iconoclastic scientists as well as lay people.

Hoyle accepted the expansion of the Universe, but he didn’t believe in the Big Bang.

Instead, he assumed that a slow, continuous creation of new matter could keep the average density and the general properties of the Universe constant over time.

The 1964 discovery of the cosmic microwave background was the major nail in the coffin of the steady-state theory.

Ever since, supporting evidence for the Big Bang origin of our Universe has accumulated to a point where there’s hardly any doubt left.

Still, no one has the final answer to the question "what happened before the Big Bang?".

Could there have been a Universe before the Big Bang?

Most scientists simply ignore the question, as it seems to be too hard a nut to crack.

When astronomers talk about the Big Bang, they usually do not refer to the very beginning of the Universe (time zero), but to the incredibly hot and compact state of the Universe in the first couple of minutes of its existence.

To some extent, this is because no one has a real clue about the true nature of time, let alone about the beginning of time.

British physicist Julian Barbour, for one, has argued that time doesn’t even exist, except as an illusion in our minds.

According to others (including Stephen Hawking), time came into existence together with the Universe, rendering the whole concept of the word ‘before’ meaningless.

Asking what happened before the Big Bang would be like asking what lies north of the North Pole, or what distance is shorter than zero.

Then again, we simply don’t know whether or not there was time before the Big Bang.

According to the once-popular idea of the cyclic (or oscillatory) Universe, the current expansion of space could one day revert into a contraction, and the resulting Big Crunch could bounce into a new Big Bang, starting the next cycle of an eternal sequence.

It’s just one of many hypotheses in which our Universe is not unique, but part of a possibly infinite multiverse, one way or another.

And if the multiverse is also infinite in time, we’re back to the idea that everything has existed forever, conveniently circumnavigating the nagging question of a beginning.

Finally, South African physicist Neil Turok thinks the Big Bang not only spawned our Universe, but also an anti-Universe, composed of anti­­­matter and running backward in time.

Again, an intriguing idea, but there’s also no chance of confirmation (or rejection!) via observations.

In the end, we have to admit we’re ignorant about the true beginning of the Universe.

And even if we lean towards an eternal multiverse with no real beginning at all, we don’t know why there is something (or, more to the point, why there is everything) instead of nothing.

Originally published on https://www.skyatnightmagazine.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, November 6th, 2024)

"Astrophysics vs. Astronomy: What's the Difference??"

[katakaluptastrophy]

So, it's the last days and a weird-looking guy called John is yelling about the end of the world.

AKA, it's Advent and we've reached the stage of Alectopause where I'm apparently writing Bible studies for the weird goth teens that hang out in graveyards... So let's talk about portentious guys called John and why a nun might have joined a necromancy cult.

Anyway, you know Advent, the cheerful and cozy time when we all think about cute baby Jesus as we get ready for Christmas, right?

WRONG

It's currently the second Sunday of Advent, and in lots of churches that follow the liturgical year, people will have been hearing about John the Baptist today (Me: "John". My phone: "Gaius?". Me: "John the-". My phone: "Necromancer?").

Without going into too much detail, John the Baptist is important because he's a prophet that points to the coming of Jesus. He first does this rather impressively in utero, but is probably best known for wandering the wilderness wearing camel hide and eating locusts, shouting about how the end is nigh and, hence the name, baptising people to cleanse them from their sins. People are pretty impressed by all this and start asking him if he is the promised messiah or one of the great prophets come again. He answers no, his job is to point towards one greater than him. He baptises Jesus, the heavens open, and not long afterwards John annoys the authorities and ends up with his head on an ornamental platter.

Now John the Baptist obviously isn't the main Biblical John evoked by John Gaius. That dubious honour probably goes to the beloved disciple John the Apostle, also known for The Gospel According To and The Apocalypse Of, aka the Book of Revelation, the Bible's account of the end of the world.

But John the Baptist (no, autocorrect, not "John the Necromancer") is relevant too, and not just because he's a guy called John, chosen by a higher power to lay the groundwork for better things to come and who falls afoul of the authorities with dramatic consequences.

Let's cycle back round to Advent for a moment. The reason Advent can both be aww cute little baby Jesus and also WHERE ARE YOU GOING WHEN YOU DIE?! is because in Christian theology, Jesus' birth and the end of the world are linked: the first and the second coming of Christ.

In Nona The Ninth, we learn that John and his friends are living in a world on the edge. Without some incredible plan - the cryo ships, the promise of FTL - everyone is going to die. Humanity has rendered the world uninhabitable. Although we get very few details of the broader geopolitical situation, we have to assume it's one rife with natural disasters and conflict.

In the Bible, Jesus talks about a world with famines and earthquakes, wars and rumours of wars, where to find yourself in those days with children would be a tragedy and to be pregnant even worse (maternity problem, anyone?). Specifically, this is when he talks about the signs of the end of the world and his second coming.

So what about M-'s nun? The first time we meet her is when she's advising John against his all-day Jesus Christ Superstar healing ministry.

And John's anxiety about meeting her is pretty apt. He says: "I was worried I was going to get the Antichrist bit from her too". Note the "too" - by this point, John has already been accused of being the Antichrist. Why? Because alongside those rumours of wars and earthquakes, Jesus gives another sign to watch out for: false prophets.

But M-'s nun saw John and his powers and - for reasons we never learn - believed they were miraculous, a gift from God. She appealed to the Vatican to investigate and recognise this. And her presence and this campaign apparently made a significant impact in reducing some of the issues they were facing. Somehow, she met awful, smarmy John and his corpse buddies and thought she was seeing the hand of God miraculously at work in the last days.

This bears repeating, because I've seen suggestions that she believed he was God, or was somehow converted to the cause of necromancy, but at least by John's narrative it's much simpler than that: right to the end she's praying for him in very Catholic terms to find clarity in his purpose.

This is the last we see of her:

She just smiled at me. She said, John, don’t misunderstand. I want to help you. I truly believe that in our most terrible hours we don’t instinctively reach out to God; we push ourselves away from Him. Don’t feel bad for not rising heroically to the occasion right now. Fear doesn’t help us achieve a state of grace; it deafens the heart. John, I truly believe you can save everyone. So concentrate, please. She said, Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. And she shot herself.

While obviously you are probably not walking a straightforwardly orthodox path if you're shooting yourself to help the leader of a self-proclaimed necromancy cult locate the soul, her language here is very focused on the Catholic understanding of sin and death. A "state of grace" refers to the condition of your soul when it's not burdened with serious sins. It's the state you're in after you're baptised or after you've been to confession. Being in a state of grace is one's soul being on a wavelength with God; it's the necessary state to enter heaven.

And the Hail Mary? Catholics believe that Mary has the power to intercede for them with God. And the most important moment at which she could intercede would be at the point of death where the state of your soul determines your eternal destination. This isn't a wacky necromancy cultist talking. I suspect she sees this less as a suicide (which the Catholic Church has historically not had the most nuanced views on...) than a fulfilment of Jesus' teaching to keep his commandments and that there is no greater love than to lay down your life for your friends.

We're not privy to exactly what she thought, and I don't think anyone's suggesting her approach was entirely orthodox, but if he's not the Second Coming, and he's not the Antichrist, and there are wars and rumours of wars and floods and earthquakes...did she see him as a prophet of the apocalypse? A sort of John the Baptist of the end times, who in demonstrating the reality of the soul would bring people to Christ before He came again?

Unfortunately for M-'s nun, John was not what she fervently believed him to be. And unlike John the Baptist, who said no when asked if he was something he was not, John used M-'s nun's death as a springboard to claim the trappings of both divinity and Catholicism for himself.

Unfortunately for John, judgement is coming in the form of an angry teenager Harrowing Hell and the very power he usurped, armed with a very big sword.

[mothiir]

the watcher from the wastes

Mortarion jerks it. That’s it, that’s the fic. @moodymisty and @kit-williams to blame, specially @kit-williams since I basically stole her entire idea.

cw: wanking. self loathing, sort of. mort being a creep and having issues with bodily autonomy. self harm in a weird 40k way. did not mean it to be this gross but ended up that way because morty.

—

—

This process is deeply unpleasant, and Mortarion prefers to go through it as little as possible — and yet you, cursed thing that you are, have forced him to drastic measures.

First of all: the mask must be removed. He unhooks it from his ears, curlicues of oily smoke escaping as the suction gives way. He holds his breath, keeping the toxic fumes nestled in his lungs as long as possible, and sets the mask onto his desk. His work-chair is hewn from the sort of raw pig iron that has Horus despairing. Brother I can have something nicer made — even something with a cushion —

Mortarion does not need such frivolity. It is a chair. He can sit upon it. Thus it serves its purpose.

He can hold his breath for hours, should he need to, but that would defeat the whole purpose of this exercise. With a moment to brace himself, Mortarion exhales the last of the gas, momentarily covering his face in a rank green shadow.

It dissipates, and Mortarion waits for a few heartbeats to pass before inhaling.

He tastes his own flesh: half-cooked, and putrefying.

It is not an unfamiliar taste — it’s almost nostalgic. For a moment, he is a boy once more, nailed to the bowels of an alien planet, eyes fixed on the distant, uncaring sky.

He inhales again. Sharper now. The glutinous phlegm his sinuses produced in a vain attempt to capture the worst of the toxins is starting to thin. He coughs it out into his sleeve, then spits on the floor. Another breath. His throat is always the worst. The gas rots the tissue within, destroying the tender membranes, rendering his voice raspy and ragged.

Without the constant application of the gas, his body has time to heal. And oh how the healing hurts. He hacks up a glob of snot, and then of quivering red tissue. Inside, his cells multiply frantically, like they know that they only have a scant space of time before the mask is reapplied and the perpetual injuring begins once more.

Another burst of coughing; then a frankly revolting sneeze — again, captured into the billowing sleeves of his robe.

He inhales again — and curses, because the healing has moved faster than last time, and his sense of smell has returned with a vengeance. By the Emperor’s ballsack, the stench is overwhelming. What —

He looks down at himself: robes stiffened with effluvia from experiments and battle, fresh gobbets of snot and rancid blood dripping off the end of his sleeves. Hm. Yes, well — that would explain it.

—

By the time he has finished bathing, his body has healed as much as it will ever be able to, and he feels acutely uncomfortable. Even without the influence of the gas, his voice is still a guttural rasp, vocal cords ruined from years of experimentation. His shoulders still hunch instinctively, used to crowding through narrow corridors; his eyes — though brighter — still have sclera of sulphur yellow, polluted with broken blood vessels.

When he inhales the poison of his homeland, at least he has an excuse for how broken his body still is. Without it, his weak flesh stands in testament to the monumental failure of his youth. Not only did he fail to slay the monster who held him captive, he failed to recover from its abuses, remaining a broken-limbed mess of a Primarch.

And yet — and yet a part of him enjoys this feeling. There is no pain in his throat, or behind his eyes; he is not subject to the constant cycle of his lungs rotting into slurry and healing themselves once more. His gums are shiny and pink, not sloughing off his teeth in grey scraps.

Best of all, his senses have returned to their Primarch peak. Even constantly poisoned, and half-crippled, he can smell and taste and hear better than any baseline — pathetic little things the lot of them, no better than scurrying ants.

Apart from…well. You smiled at him You did not cower from the pallour of his flesh, or cringe from the huff and click of his respirator. You looked him full in the face and you beamed.

Lord Primarch, you called him. Lord Mortarion.

And afterwards, to your friend, where you thought he couldn’t hear you: you never said he was handsome.

He pointed you out to Typhus, a little later. Asked his eldest son why they were so desperate for staff that they were now employing defective baselines, like you, who clearly had an incredibly limited range of vision — if you weren’t blind entirely. Typhus had informed him that he didn’t think you were blind — indeed, you had cleaned his armour to perfection just this morning — but if you displeased Mortarion he could have you —

No, Moration cut in. No, that wasn’t necessary.

Not blind. Just — stupid, possibly.

Probably.

Anyway — if you are stupid then he is a fool as well. And worse: he does not have the excuse of being mortal.

Soapy and slick, white hair hanging in a curtain down his back, Mortarion sits in the deserted communal showers and stares at a little plastic sleeve in his left hand. It’s sealed tight — waterproof, preserving the object within as well as can be hoped for. He wonders if you have noticed the theft yet. Probably. Serfs aboard the Endurance do not have many possessions — they do not need them. More than likely he’s caused a little bit of grief, with you either blaming yourself for the loss, or snapping at one of your fellows, blaming them.

He cannot bring himself to care.

His clothes are long gone. The serfs will incinerate them, and bring him new ones when he sends for them. Perhaps this time, he will not go so long without cleaning them. Humans have terrible senses, but he wagers that you would probably prefer —

He amputates that thought abruptly. It does not matter what you prefer. It does not matter what anyone prefers. This is a temporary indulgence to end his madness, and then he will move on.

The plastic crinkles as he opens it, his tongue dashing out to wet his lower lip. The garment is plain cotton, with a little green bow at the front.

Garment. Fabric. So many distancing words to cover up the fact that he has stolen your underwear. He can never let Horus find out. He can never let anyone find out. Even though there is no one here to witness his shame, he feels a flush creep up his back. His cock leaps eagerly as he takes himself in hand, his toes curling on the wet floor. It has been so long since he last touched himself.

It’s pathetic. It’s revolting. And yet —

Mortarion buries his face into the gusset of your underwear, inhaling deeply as he strokes himself. Your scent is faded, but still clings to the fabric, thick and musky and sweet. He can imagine burying his face between your thighs, just inhaling. He’d bite your soft flesh, leaving bruises the exact shape of his teeth �� and he would not let them heal. He’d do it every night until they scarred, and you could not change clothes without remembering exactly whose bed you were crawling into.

His breath stutters; his drool seeps into the cotton as he sucks. He’s never taken anyone to bed — there have always been more important things — but he knows what he wants to do. He knows that you would smile at him, and stroke his scars with gentle hands, and welcome him in so deeply that no one would ever be able to pry him out. You’d let him ruin your insides, stretch you so no other man would ever be able to satisfy you again. He’d fill you up to the brim, and then he’d do it again, and again, and again. He’d make you swallow him until you were coughing his seed up, he’d cum in your hair and —

His orgasm rips through him like a tempest, so abrupt that he cries out in shock, cum spurting up over his chest. His flanks heave, and he comes back to his senses in a humiliating rush — he’s chewed through your underwear, shreds of fabric stuck between his teeth. He picks them out, grimacing.

A shameful display. He cannot wait to do it again.

[ihatedtoadmit]

A biteful memory [1]

pairing: OT8 x fem!reader

genre: werewolf AU, fluff, crack

warnings: next to no self-confidence

word count: ~4.0k

summary: Your usual, boring days filled with learning are broken once a certain someone takes initiative, breaking this hellish cycle of yours.

↳ Masterlist ↳ Next chapter ↳ Previous chapter

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

The lectures were boring, as usual.

Every single day I would wake up, my back cracking as I would get up from the horribly thin and uncomfortable dorm bed that housed countless questionable stains that were long ago crusted in there. Sometimes my roommate would still be there, snoring away, other times it would only be me in the small room, despite waking up extremely early for my biology classes. Blinking at the white, crumbing walls for a few seconds, I would sluggishly get ready and be at least a bit presentable. I didn’t really care about looking good, never did. Probably because I was the quiet loner in the class, and my resting bitch face didn’t exactly help with that whole situation. No matter, at least people didn’t really approach me and drain my already weak social batteries, something I was cursed with as an introvert. After glancing at myself in the mirror that was by the door, I would walk over to our lecture building, headphones tightly secured on my ears, giving me the only serotonin I would get for long hours. I would only take them off once I had been seated, necessary supplies like a notebook and several pens neatly laid out before me. Nobody would really sit near me, as I had usually taken a seat in the front -look, i had bad vision-, so after the teacher arrived and the class started, I would only pay attention and take notes, nobody there to distract me from it.

It was a hellish cycle I’d grown used to scarily fast.

Sometimes I wished it wasn’t like this, but then that anxious, shy voice in my head told me that it was better this way, that these so-called friends would only tire me out endlessly, rendering me worthless and unable to focus on my studies.

So I listened to it, not even trying to look a bit friendlier, not correcting the slight furrow of my brows or the downwards arch of my lips, even though I was thinking about happy things, like eating my favourite chocolate back at the dorms I could finally afford.

It was fine.

Truly, it was, right until he decided to approach me.

It started out subtle, his form settling down at the other side of the same row I sat in. There was no interaction, my mind forgetting about him the moment the class started. I couldn’t even be sure that when I had noticed him was the first moment he had sat in that row, his presence so faint and hidden from my focused mind.

But over the week, he sat closer and closer, shortening the gap between us 1 seat at a time. Whenever our eyes met, he would send me a little smile, somehow even looking sheepish in the process.

It was weird, but it was a free country, he could sit wherever he wanted to. So after a questioning glance thrown at his now closer and closer form, I mentally shrugged and ignored him, just like how I had done ever since he’d shown up.

But then a week later he stood next to me, his shorter stature shadowing my sight.

“Hey, is this seat free?” - his deep voice asked between his pearly whites that were on full display from his bright smile, nearly blinding my poor eyes.

I could only blink up at him as I sat there, confused. My finger raised by itself, pointing at my own body, brows deeply furrowed.

“Of course I’m talkin’ to ya, silly.” - he laughed, as if this whole situation was normal.

It really wasn’t normal at all, no. Never believe that for a single moment.

This man was one of the most popular in the entire university, his heavenly looks and velvety voice accompanied by the kindest, brightest of personalities that attracted everyone to him, like moths to a flame. It shouldn’t really surprise you when I say that his whole friend group was filled with similarly popular and sought-after guys, making me, a voluntary outcast, avoid them like the plague. I didn’t want drama like in one of those stupid, teenage shows made in america. I just wanted a quiet life, to get my stupid degree and leave, preferably quietly and without anyone noticing my presence through this long, hellish procedure.

But no, out of all the people to approach me, despite all my efforts to deter them mind you, it had to be fucking Lee Felix, a ladykiller and popular dude. What was this? Some kind of sick, twisted joke? A, a manga where the loner gets pitied and becomes friends with the most popular student? Was that it? The mere thought of it twisted my insides painfully, wishing it would never become reality.

And yet, after staying quiet for god knows how long, I nodded at him slowly, watching as he gleefully sat down to my left and set up his laptop, as usual, ready to take notes. I naively thought that was the end of our interaction, so I turned back to the front where the board sat, grabbing a pen and lightly playing with it in my hands as I waited for the lecture to start.

“I’m Felix by the way, nice to meet ya.”

Oh god, he was not done talking to me. With dread in my eyes, hidden away, I turned back towards him, pursing my lips and uttering my own name in a quiet whisper.

“You always sit here alone, so I thought this was a horrible seat, maybe cursed or something. But no, this is the perfect distance from the projector and board, AND you get to hear the teacher speak clearly. Why does no one else know this?” - he questioned and I could merely shrug my shoulders.

I really didn’t know the answer, I only sat there for some peace, besides all the reasons he just uttered. Overall, this whole situation was better for me, since I was left alone, so I was completely fine with it.

Then the teacher arrived, and thus, our 2 hour long suffering had begun.

It was weird.

I could clearly hear as his fingers gently glided over each button and the quiet clicking sound it emanated in response. I could feel the warmth seeping from his form, stronger when his arm almost brushed against mine. I could hear the quiet grumbles he made when he was annoyed at either the teacher or his own typos, his rhythmical button pressing turning slightly aggressive in return.

It was really weird.

I tried my best to ignore these and continue to write down my messy notes hastily, this particular teacher not giving us mercy by talking fast and giving out shitty powerpoint presentations for his lessons. Without your own notes, it was near impossible to understand them, let alone learn from them and pass the lesson. So I wrote and wrote, pages being quickly filled with blue ink, my mind consumed by the boring topic of statistics and equations in evolution ‘til the end of the lecture.

A groan took my attention as I let out a silent sigh, gently massaging my writing hand as it had started cramping the moment I’d put down my pen.

“This was more brutal than usual, I swear Mr. Dunkins is a sadist. Halfway in and I lost what he was talking about, because of course he had to talk at the speed of light.” - it was Felix, his voice a bit muffled as he dragged a hand over his pale, freckled face.

I nodded at him, completely agreeing. This teacher's lessons were some of the worst, and that was an accomplishment and a half in itself.

“Hey, would you mind comparing notes? I know I don’t have a lot about the second half of the lesson, but I still have the other half’s notes.” - he asked with a sheepish smile and doe eyes, making my own set of eyes widen and my mind stop.

I still couldn’t believe that he was talking to me, so casually at that. And now he wanted to compare notes? With me?? My mind blanked and before I could process anything, my mouth opened to provide an answer to his question.

“I uh…sure.”

“Yaaaaaaay, thank you so much! Are you free next period? I don’t have another lecture ‘til one, we could grab something to eat too.”

I was even more taken aback, as if that was possible. I couldn’t help but look around, waiting to spot someone hiding somewhere with a camera in their hand, filming the prank.

Because that was all this ever could be, no?

But I found nothing, the room was essentially empty, besides the few lingering students besides us two. The boy was still looking at me expectantly, his eyes shining as if the stars from his cheeks somehow crawled in there instead.

So I nodded at him mindlessly, because coincidentally, my lesson that would usually take up that time period was cancelled that day.

And that was how we met.

After that day, Felix would sit next to me in the few lessons we shared, him being in a different major than me. But that never deterred him; he always greeted me with a big wave and an even bigger smile from the door of the classroom, gaining not only my attention, but everyone else’s. No, without missing a day, a lecture, he excitedly sat next to me and started rambling about the game he’d played the previous day, about his friends and how one of them -Changbin, i believe- ate his food that he was craving all day.

He was a ball of sunshine, bright and infectious, not caring how I only hummed or nodded at his words usually, my own lips sealed in silence.

That was the exact reason why I’d avoided him before. Because while I could bask in his warmth these last few weeks freely, those who couldn’t set their hateful, jealous gazes on me.

It started with the staring, their eyes following me everywhere, even to my dorms. Then the messages appeared, sticky notes blinking up at me at the seats I always sat at in my lessons. They were childish, empty threats that I never took seriously. Thankfully, I never really left my stuff alone or in an unlocked locker anywhere, so they could never really take it further.

But those soul-piercing stares were starting to get to me after the second week, goosebumps never failing to accompany them. The intense images of those eyes settled into my gut, my marrow, burrowing there and whispering into my ear hurtful things, using my insecurities to their advantage.

I hated having attention on me, making this a living hell personally designed for me.

The only way out of it was clear: become a loner again and return to those bitter days of loneliness.

“You have a lesson after this, right? We can meet up after that, have a late lunch and hang out.” - Felix beamed at me as usual, making this so much harder for me.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can make it today. I can send you my notes in chat though, so don’t worry.”

His reaction was immediate, the smile on his face slowly melting away, sadness taking over its place. He quickly tried to mask it, plastering on a fake smile, but his pain was obvious to my knowing eyes.

“No, it’s alright, we can meet up another time. Good luck on your remaining classes!” - he told me as I was walking away, wishing him the same in return.

And so, our time together followed this pattern, his smile not radiant anymore. No, there was a permanent sadness to it, to his warmth that turned colder. My heart ached, the guilt of being the reason for it eating away at me slowly, but surely. The worst part? The staring and bullying didn’t even truly stop, it only lightened up a little.

And after a whole week of this utterly useless circus?

I had enough.

“Lixie, do you want to hang out today?” - it was a simple question, barely audible as we were walking out on the hallway, but it created the wanted effect easily.

Felix’s form abruptly stopped, as if not believing what he’d heard. Then, the brightest, widest smile broke out on his face, his eyes lighting up with a myriad of stars. Unable to contain himself, he hugged me, causing me to stiffen up as I was not a fan of body contact -something the poor aussie had a hard time coming to terms with-.

“Yeah, of course! You could meet the others too, we planned to have a movie night since it’s friday anyway. Oh, it’s gonna be so much fun, you’ll see!” - he was rambling as he squeezed me to death, then suddenly holding me at an arm's length to look at my shocked expression. “What, no, Lixie, I don’t want to intrude. We can meet up another time then, really, I promise you.” “Oh come ooon, we’ve known each other for what, two, three months now? It’s damn time I introduce you to the others. They’ll love you!” “Lixie… you know I have social anxiety…”

His expression softened along with his hold on my shoulders, thumbs gently caressing the clothed skin underneath.

“I know, and I won’t force you. Just know that you really wouldn’t intrude on anything. Remember Jisung? He has anxiety too. And yet, in our presence, he turns into one of the loudest, funniest guy in our group. Something he has in common with you, you kno’.” - his smile was gentle, his dark eyes holding a warm shine in them as he looked up at me.

“You can have the scariest expression on your face, dressed in all black, but I know that under all that lies one of the kindest and funniest person I know. Just no one ever put in the effort to dig down deep enough to reveal it. I get to have you all to myself this way, so it’s their loss to be honest.” - I blinked down at him through my rapidly blurring sight, my jaw shut tight in an effort to not let my lips quiver.

But it was all useless, as a single tear cascaded down my face, more following it shortly after.

Felix panicked and started wiping them away, apologising for hurting me. But he didn’t.

“Damn it Lixie, I didn’t want to cry in the hallways, you big sap. If you compliment me one more time, I might even start wailing, so shush. Just shush.” - I murmured out as I suddenly hugged him, my bigger frame easily engulfing his tiny one.

He was stiff, caught off-guard by my sudden hug, which was understandable. I never initiated skin contact before, as touching people made me uncomfortable. But he burrowed himself so deep into my heart, I was fine with it. He was too important to me at this point, so much so that the hug not only failed to make me uncomfortable, no, instead it calmed me down as I just gently burrowed my face into his fluffy hair, inhaling his strawberry shampoo filled scent.

Felix didn’t hesitate much longer to hug me back, his cheeks pressing into my skin, no doubt from the smile he had formed.

“Now, let’s go, before someone decides to use this as blackmail against us.” - I muttered out, releasing him. “It would only take a glare from you and they would delete the evidence instantly, and you know it. But I agree. Let’s go, I’ll walk you to your dorm so you can grab some stuff for your stay at our place.” “Wait what-” “Don’t tell me you thought I would let you come back to your dorm at the dead of night, all alone? Besides, no bus would still drive around by then, and I don’t think you would like walking for hours, because I KNOW you wouldn't let us drive you back.” “...Is it too late to cancel?” “Yep, already messaged them all and they’re excited to meet you. So get your butt in gear, we’re going to get your things.” “I fucking hate you.” “Love you too!”

And he truly didn’t lie. He really escorted me to my room, made fun of me with my own roommate, who was surprised at first about the fact that the Lee Felix was in our room, but then she quickly got over it and even started teasing me. I wanted to dig a hole and hide in it, but alas, under the watchful eyes of Felix, I could only pack some necessary things into my bag, flustered to hell and back. Some clothes, a few notebooks to study from and some toiletries sat in their place firmly, urging me to nod at myself as the imaginary list of necessary items was now done.

Having packed everything, we bid our goodbye and left for the bus stop, chatting about everything and nothing, my mind at a different place. 

He was really excited about this whole thing, but I was just a nervous wreck inside. Judging from how he gently massaged one of my hands and spoke just about every silly topic you could imagine, just to take my attention away, he’d probably noticed the state I was in.

I appreciated it, more than he would ever know.

Sure, the people I was about to meet soon were Felix’s good friends -i mean, come on, they lived in a house together, all 8 of them-, so I really shouldn’t have been so nervous. But in reality, I was nervous exactly because of that. What if they hated me and Felix would start hating me too? What if they made him choose between them and me, essentially leaving me alone once more? What if th–

A gentle squeeze of my hand brought me out of my worsening train of thoughts.

“We need to walk for like 20 minutes from here. I would have normally asked for a ride, but my hyungs were all busy, sorry.” “It’s okay, a little walking never hurt anyone.”

So we walked, side by side, his hand never leaving mine as he gently swung them back and forth at his own pace. I listened to him ramble about an anime he’d started watching recently, reminding me of how I’d ignored him recently and missed out on all of his little stories. It ate me alive, the guilt squeezing my throat shut. Thus, I listened to him in silence, nodding sometimes to show that I was paying attention. And I truly was, carving his happy expression into my mind, the way he scrunched up his nose occasionally in happiness when he remembered something particularly funny.

I missed this.

Eventually, we reached an enormous family house, almost worthy of being called a mansion. Felix stopped in front of it, punching something into the dial on one of the fence columns, causing the gigantic steel gate to slowly swing open. Surely not… Surely, this wasn’t where they lived, right?

Oh my god, it was…

I befriended a rich person, holy fucking shit.

“I think some of them are already home, so you can meet them gradually.” - he said happily, but I was just mindlessly following him as he dragged me along, still not over the fact that I somehow ended up in this hilariously unreal situation.

And indeed, some of them were already there. Half-naked, that is, their shirts for some reason not on their body. I could only blink a few times as I processed this as they were just blinking back at our frozen forms that were just standing at the entrance.

“I better leave.” - I muttered out, my ears and cheeks probably heated as I quickly tore my gaze away, along with my hand from Felix’s hold. “Oh my fucking god, I told you she’s coming over and you couldn’t even put a fucking shirt on?! You better be decent by the time we come back, if she hasn’t run out of the city yet!” - Felix shouted so loudly, I could still hear him crystal clear, even though I was almost at the gates by then.

You see, their property was huge, a small garden dividing the house from the front gate, the greenery leading all the way around to the back, where laid an entire forest -or at least that was what i could say after only a glance-. Still, I ran to the front gate and decided to climb over the small, stone columns, not knowing how to open the steel barricade by myself. I heard Felix shouting my name, pleading with me to stop and go back as he hastily closed in on me, but I was too flustered to do that.

I was way too shy for this shit.

“Please don’t go, I swear they're better than this!” - Felix panted out, his hands latched onto one of my calves, most of my body already up on the top of the column.

I shook my head, causing him to tighten his grip and try to drag me down, my own grip on the stone construction tightening in return. He pleaded with me as we had this silly tug of war, none of us willing to let go.

Just as I was starting to feel sore and think about letting go, I heard a buzz and the quiet creaking of the gates as they opened, footsteps approaching us.

“Do I even want to know what’s happening?” - a male voice asked, gaining Felix’s attention and loosening his hold on me. “Hyune, just please help me get her into the house, she’s gonna injure herself even more at this rate!” - my friend cried out, all the while I shook his grip off of me, ready to finally climb over.

Well… only planned to, really.

Because the next thing I felt were hands gently gripping my sides, prying my weak hands away from the rough stone and slinging me over a shoulder.

“You better explain this to me, Lixie.” - the man, Hyune(?) said. “You know how I said I’ll bring a friend over today for our movie night?” - Felix answered, falling into step next to the taller man who had me in his unbreakable hold. “Yea, of course, you were the most excited I’ve seen you in a long while. Why?” “... that’s her.”

Silence enveloped us as the tall man abruptly stopped in his tracks.

“You mean to tell me that our guest here was trying desperately to escape already?” “It’s because of those idiots, Jisung and Changbin! They decided to flaunt around the house with no shirts on, even though I told them my friend was finally coming over!” “... I guess we should be thankful Chan’s still at work.” “Don’t even tell me, gods. I’m going to fucking choke them to death if they so much as look at her wrong.” - Felix growled out, surprising me as I’d only ever seen his soft, sunshine self. “Oh don’t worry, I don’t think they want to piss you off even more. Besides, we’ve all been curious about this certain friend of yours, who you always speak so highly of.”

Did they…forget I was there? Hello?? I could hear everything??? And what did he mean by that?? I was just an introvert weeb, what the actual fuck!

“Alright, here we are. Do you wanna check in first?” “Yea, hang on for a sec.” - and with that, Lixie opened the door and soon closed it.

“Alright, the coast is clear.”

I was gently let down from the tall man’s shoulder, who I could finally face and see normally.

Next chapter