#its very foggy wet and cold

[literatureandtrees]

me and roman walked through a cloud this morning

and the marina when we went to the bakery afterwards. foggy and beautiful

[bunbunlovestowrite]

Yandere!Tentacle Monster x Fem!Lighthouse keeper! Reader

Damn that title long

Cws: Tentacles are referred to as more than one, reader is a bit of a perv for wanting to bang monsters, consensual somnophilia, excessive cum, cumflation, penetration, the monster is buff ngl 💦, this is supposed to be freaky/kinky :p also reader is morally grey

SFW

You've always loved solitude. Even when you were a young girl in foster care.

Fog, mist, rain, thunder, dark clouds, all of those added to the feeling of being enclosed where no one else was.

You don't like sunny days. Not in an emo way but in a need for a calm, and the blistering sun couldn't bring you that.

Fast forward 20 something years and you struggle to stay at a job because of people. Rude customers, loud kids, lazy coworkers. Hell you got fired from your local grocer because you threw a cabbage at some entitled asshole.

And by some luck, you weren't in cuffs yet. Fate? Prolly lol

You were reading the newspaper one day and saw an ad for a lighthouse keeper. It must have been urgent if it was in the paper 4 times.

The people you met for the job were shady as hell. But they offered to pay good for you to just take care of the lighthouse completely alone for 6 months.

They put you on a boat and shipped your ass out to an island hours away from the mainland.

It had the lighthouse (duh), a cabin for you, a very small forest, and beaches covered in driftwood and seaweed.

It was foggy, cold, and wet with no sun peeking through the clouds.

Perfect.

The people who hired you were eager to get off the island. So immediately after showing you the basics they ran off.

The cabin was old and rustic, with a few holes in the roof that were covered by aged duct tape.

There was an outdoor shower and the place used gas lamps for light.

But you enjoyed it. The solitude.

Now let's skip to two months later.

You got the hang of keeping the light on and keeping it fixed. The stairs definitely worked you out though.

You spent 80% of your time using the small workshop to repair the cabin. It eventually looked slightly livable.

Everything was completely normal

Until that day on the beach.

You were outside your cabin showering.

The outdoor shower didn't exactly have curtains so you were exposed to the beach it faced.

The hot water kept you comfortable in the cold weather and you were relaxed...until you heard a growl.

You assumed it was an animal and looked around when you saw something light purple disappear into the ocean waves.

Coral you thought just coral

You went on with your week like nothing happened but you always felt watched.

It wasn't until one night during a storm you felt it.

A storm had hit the island hard, it was freezing and your shitty blankets did little.

You barely managed to fall asleep when something warm engulfed you, arms and slimy embraces.

You screamed in shock and fear but your unwelcome bedmate held you harder and wouldn't let you move.

It was only after you calmed down that it relaxed.

Light purple skin was what you noticed when looking down. With scales in areas that were slightly darker.

The tentacles were wrapped around your legs tightly, writhing in certain areas.

You got a better look when your holder put you on your back and sat above you.

A humanoid creature with light purple skin and what seemed to be a jellyfish head sat on its actual head. It had no nose and completely white eyes, not to mention a gentle smile.

It cooed at you, dragging it's hands up your stomach and sliding up your bra.

Slimy and warm, that was it's skin.

You normally would have thrashed and kicked, but maybe it was the pheromones the creature left out, or how one tentacle pressed right against your cunt through your damp shorts.

But you moaned when it touched you. A soft, unashamed moan.

The tentacle at your shorts practically tore them off, panties included, and it slid up and down your slit and flicked against your clit.

You watch as it's hand fondled your tits and pinched your nipples, its eyes slightly lidded.

You let your body roam down it's chest and saw it didn't have a cock. It was kinda like a ken doll. But the tentacles must have the same effect as one when you saw white precum drip from the larger tentacles tip.

More tentacles held your arms and legs open while the tentacle squirmed into you, thick and struggling.

There wasn't a part of you it didn't fill. Your stomach bulged slightly as it didn't wait and immediately moved in you, wiggling before pulling out and slamming back in.

The cabin was full of lewd wet noises and your cries, along with the creature chirps and coos while it pet your head that night.

NSFW

There wasn't a second it didn't have a tentacle on or in you.

Despite its main body being in the water there was a tentacle wrapped around your legs that you never found the start of.

It had an iron grip and wouldn't come off unless the creature itself was nearby.

When the tentacle wasn't dormant it would rub against your clit through your pants or would be in you, gently drawing orgasms after orgasms until you begged it to let you breathe.

The creature was never gone for more than a few hours. And when it came back it came with gifts.

Shells, pearls, fish, jewelry it made or rusty jewelery it found on the bottom of the ocean.

You noticed it liked it when you wore the jewelry during sex, mainly due to how much rougher it was.

Then there was the slight fear of getting knocked up.

Every single time you had sex you would try and tell it to pull out but it would just smile and pet your head before cumming in you for the third time that hour. And you loved it.

Sometimes, when you were especially needy, you'd put on more of a show when showering.

Even touching yourself when you knew it was watching. The creature loved it.

You'd see it stand in the water and would beckon you closer, to which you happily obliged.

You'd meet in the water and it would kiss you roughly before lifting your legs around its waist and kept you above the water as it fucked its tentacles deep into you. The water mixing with the (possible) gallons of cum that spilled from you

One of your favorite things was waking up to its coos and growls.

You'd be held tight by its tentacles while it found shoved it's tounge in your cunt, hitting deep spots with its flexible prongs.

Other times it would wake up to you using one of its tentacles, whining when you couldn't get it to stay stiff by itself. It would act asleep and slowly stiffens the tentacle so you could have your fun.

What a perv you are

But then again the sun's gonna blow up one day so :p

It seemed to have infinite stamina and an infinite libido.

It could be the most inconvenient time ever and all you need to do is give it a look before your suspended in the air by your hands while it curls a smaller tentacle around your clit and fucks you with its thick one.

The creature was possessive before you knew it was there, especially when people dropped off your supplies.

But now that your it's? A whole new genre of possessive.

On time you had to keep a straight face while talking to someone cause the mini tentacle was rubbed right against your g-spot while somehow rubbing your clit under your skirt.

It even started biting you hard enough to leave marks.

--

Requests are open :)

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐒𝐢𝐭 | 𝐂.𝐉𝐇 ♡

Day Ten - Thigh riding

【Synopsis】 : You couldn't sit still the moment you started drinking. Jongho ended up dragging you home to punish you by the end of the night.

『Word count』 :  1.21k

-> Genre: Smut.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jongho x Girlfriend!Reader

[Warnings] : Driving while drunk [don't do that, don't be an idiot]. Power play. Filth. Use of the name Slut. sir kink. Dirty talk. This man knows he’s good. I'm adding dub-con since they are both drunk but they’ve done this before so idk. Read with caution.

Networks: @cromernet @illusionnet @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @k-vanity

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Tip Jar ♡

You could feel the coldness dripping from your lover as he drove you home in silence. If it wasn't for your tipsy brain you might have barked at him for taking you home so early. But alas, you were tired since liquor makes you sleepy. And incredibly horny. Jongho knew this very well of course, and yet he kept handing you drink after drink, as much as your heart wished for. He might have spoiled himself also, blinking rapidly every now and then so he could keep his focus on the road. It was a night of celebration after all. A night to wish all your friends congratulations for yet another successful year... 

But the more you let the harsh, burning liquid spill down your throat, the more you craved for your boyfriend. You craved his touch, his lips, his tongue, fingers, cock. anything you could get you’d take. Jongho had to fight his own composure as you slipped onto his lap to whisper filthy things in his ear. He was lucky everyone was too busy focusing on Yeosang and Yunho doing a drinking contest or how Wooyoung was singing at the top of his lungs to whatever was playing in the surround sound speakers in the club. But when he felt your hips stutter against him, feeling his crotch brush against the wet patch that soaked through your panties and jeans, he was done for. 

He had gotten up without so much as a word, dragging you by the forearm outta the club before anyone would notice. Luckily you had time to grab your bag before Jongho shoved you into the passenger side of one of the cars he and his friends came in. He has to remember to apologise for taking it but that was a later problem. Right now all he could think of was getting into the safety of his home so he could punish his little minx of a girlfriend. 

“Jjong…are you going to speak to me.” Normally your cute pout would make him fold but in this moment, he remained focused on his mission, turning to drive into the driveway before swiftly parking the car. He didn't give you another moment to protest, as he got out of the car with a cold expression. You gulped, your heart racing as you watched your lover take the bend of the car before opening your door.

“Come…” The first word he had muttered to you since the evening began. You took his hand without a second thought, letting him lead you inside. By the entrance of the door, he knelt down to help you unstrap your heels and slip them off, rising once he was finished. He towered over you, his eyes boring holes into your soul. His expression was unreadable and it excited you. There were no words exchanged as he led you to the lounge room. You watched him as he sat with a slight grunt, spreading his legs wide, like readying a throne for its queen. “Strip.”

You tugged off your shirt before unbuttoning your jeans and slipping your belt through its hoops. All the while Jongho sat there, intensely watching your every move, making sure you obeyed him completely. Once your jeans were gone and you were left in your undergarments, your lover patted his thigh, signalling you to take your deserved seat. You placed one knee in the middle of his spread thighs while the other fell to the outer side of his right. You knew what he wanted from you, even in your foggy brain you knew the punishment card you had dealt. “Sir, I-”

“You throw yourself all over me…” He cut you off with a deep grumble, his fingers trickling down your bare back, gently brushing along your spine. “Act like a slut in front of our friends...” he bends his neck to give your shoulder a light daring kiss, one that leaves you shaking in anticipation. “All because you can’t wait to get me all to yourself.”

“P-please Sir I’m sorry…” Your pleading eyes did nothing to soften the blow of Jongho’s words, making this situation all the more pleasurable.

“Sorry?” He scoffs, “You’re not sorry.” His finger twists the band of your panties pulling the fabric taught before watching it snap back into place against your soft skin making you whimper in the slight bit of pain, “You’re my pretty little slut. You’re never sorry for being horny.”

He knew you all too well, the way your body works. How to get to your heart. He knew you inside and out, sometimes you feel he knew you better than yourself. And with the crack in your expression from doe eyes and a pout to a suddenly mischievous smirk, he knew you had dropped the act and given in to temptation. “Be a good girl now and fuck yourself on my thigh. Maybe then I'll let you have my cock.”

You gulped, widening your legs to place your soaked cunt on his thick thigh. Jongho shifted slightly, lazily placing a hand on your hip while the other rested on the nape of his neck as he leaned back. You start off slow, stuttering your hips to find a good rhythm. The way Jongho’s jeans are rough enough to add simulance to your sensitive clit makes your eyes flutter close as you focus on feeling your own pleasure. Your mouth parted slightly and little sighs started to spill out. This was what Jongho wanted, what he had been craving all night. To see his sweet honey get off on his thigh. Take her own pleasure from him. Sure this was a punishment in simple words but in truth, he could watch you for hours, taking your high one after the other until you were crying for more. He would never get enough of it.

And as your hands flew for his shoulder, stabilising yourself to snap your hips in a steady pace. Seeing your focused expression turn into one of bliss and indulgence. He knew you were already close, just a few more strokes. His hand tightened on your hips, helping you quicken the pace. Your brows crossing, your moans increasing. Everything was coming all at once, like a freight train until…. A snap.

“J-jongho…” You fell forward, your head buzzing and hot beginning to overheat. Jongho gently patted your head, soothing you while your high slowly lessened. But he didn't give you much time to relax into his loving embrace, as he pulled you up but the nap of your head, making you hiss.

“Come on Honey. Give me another.” You were in for a long night.

- ♡

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ ON A PILLOW OF

GRASS AND DANDELIONS ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

astarion ancunin x fem!reader

summary: you and astarion take much-needed time to yourselves in a field kissed by the sun. blueberries are the fruit of the occassion, as messy and sticky as they were. sometimes though, messy is a good thing.

warnings: 18+, smut, oral, ejaculation, deep-throating (??), a bit of nipple play if you squint hard enough, astarion's very vocal ( i don't make the rules ), astarion licks fruit juice off reader's chest, slight worshipping, not proof-read

a/n: wrote this at two am with a foggy mind and rusty smut skills. but alas, here's a small gift of an idea that refused to leave me. now, i can rest easily, bless.

The sun - a ball of fire in the abyss of the sky - is the brightest star. It burns the surface of your skin in vibrant rays of light, warming you from the inside; and setting you aflame. It wasn’t a foreign feeling, just one you learned to appreciate in the years you’ve been on this plane, a hug without drastic intentions, a heated embrace. Aside from the fruit in your hand; cobalt in color, soft-skinned, ripe, and dripping sour juices. It pools on the surface of your tongue alongside sugary essence once the sharp ridges of teeth puncture through; mixing in with warm spit, tricking down the chin and onto the expanse of your chest, loose, low-cut blouse leaving little to the imagination. 

The feeling you get from it is almost erotic, you think, as your lover laps at stray sweetness making its way to the base of your neck, right under the spot he adored so very much. The wet muscle of his tongue skims across your collarbone, his long, cold fingers hovering above your hip, the other keeping himself steady, hand sinking into the softness of the sheet below. His touches give off a certain urgency although his actions show otherwise. Astarion wants to take his time with you; albeit having seemingly all the time in existence to do so. 

A sigh escapes your lips involuntarily, airy as the hairs on your arms raise every millisecond that his body inches closer to yours, craving skin-to-skin through the thin layers of fabric. It causes you to straighten your spine, almost as if you were a stick wedged in damp soil, letting it mold further into you, keeping your soul in place. Every single bone within you was practically screaming. They didn’t mind being constricted like this, a small jumble of voices bouncing back and forth. 

It made you chuckle, a sound that had him humming against your skin in curiosity. “What’s so funny, my love?” 

Smiling,  you lock your irises onto a cluster of stray curls above you, hand moving to twist around them - an action that makes him visibly shiver.

“I’m supposed to be feeding you.” 

With a raise of his head, you could see just how big his pupils had dilated, ruby eyes just a shade or two darker than usual. His low-lidded gaze traveled down toward the valley of your chest, a purple tint left in streaks adorning your collarbone; evidence of his affection. “Are you not already?”

You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you shuffle about next to him on your side, propping your chin on the palm of your hand, elbow digging into the ground beneath the white linen of the sheet. “No, you’re far too busy being a tease.”

At your words, he chuckled, face dropping to the left side of your neck with such swiftness that you raised your hips further into his at the feeling of plump lips on your pulse point. Although you couldn’t see him anymore, the way his fingers squeezed at your clothed hip told you everything you needed to know.  

“If you wanted me to bite you, all you had to do was ask.”

A breathy sigh left your lips, nails moving from his silver curls down to his back, his tunic wrinkling under your touch, preventing him from escaping. Hot white heat pooled in your lower stomach; a longing to have him touch you in your most intimate of places - desperately. Desire envelops you whole, just like the sparkle of the sun.

“Please Astarion….”

Shivering at the coolness of his lips against your neck, your face grew hot in sudden embarrassment. The organ that was your heart hammered erratically in your sternum as he sucked on your flesh, setting your skin ablaze in a way where it was somewhat painful… a delectable pinch as his fangs pierced the skin.

Astarion was no stranger to drinking your lifeblood, and the act itself wasn’t a rare occurrence. He enjoyed it - no, he craved it as if it were the finest, most expensive brand of wine he had ever tasted in all his years. It satiated his thirst.

His cheeks hallowed as he sucked once - twice more before pulling away, thumbing at the corner of his lip before parting his lips, tucking his bloody thumb into the heat of his mouth. “Delicious…”

Astarion was sure that his body had started to relax as your blood flowed through his veins, sloshing around in the confines of his belly as if he were a drunkard. 

The ridges of your front teeth sunk into the pillowed flesh of your bottom lip, and you watched cautiously as he toyed with the edges of his tunic, lifting it to his naval. Slight hesitation embedded itself in his hands before he flexed them a bit, ridding himself of the fabric completely. Despite having been bare in front of you countless times - even if not fully on display, he found himself growing somewhat small under your fixated look, opting to stand and plop himself in a bed of grass a couple of feet away. 

He extended his arms outward, blades of deep green tickling his knuckles, creating an itch that he refused to scratch. Filling his mouth with fresh air, his chest rose before deflating, the hairs in his nose burning. “Sometimes, I forget how to breathe.” 

Lashes fan against his skin as he closes his eyes, his undead lungs trying to find a comfortable rhythm, steady.  You can’t help but admire him from your place, eyebrows unfurrowing from their constant state of distress. 

The light had moved in his direction, clouds changing their position to make way as it shone down on his figure, drawn to him like magnets to metal. It casts shadows on his face, carving out every gentle dip of his abs, the flexing of his biceps as he raises a hand in front of his face, blocking his vision from the viciousness of it all. Instead of irritation filling his undead heart, it was a foreign sense of calamity. A feeling that he held dear for as long as it lingered.

“This feels nice.” 

His ears perk at the sound of your feet crunching grass, alongside the periodic chirping of birds perched on enormous tree branches above. A gust of wind weaved through tendrils of curls, seeping into his scalp, metaphorically dousing him in cold water. For a second, he indulged in the thought of bathing in a nearby lake wherever camp was set up for the night, taking his time to let it take over every inch of his body. 

A clench of his stomach muscles sends his eyes shooting open, neck craning to stare down at your hand traveling down the ‘v’ of his naval, tracing patterns on the way. Your unexpected compliment was nothing but a whisper in the wind that made the tips of his ears grow as red as his eyes. 

“You’re beautiful.” Leaning down between his wide legs, your sticky lips graced his icy skin, sending a jolt of heat through him, a gasp caught in his throat as you painstakingly peppered his abdomen in an abundance of kisses. 

Astarion was by no means ashamed when it came to eliciting pretty noises in response to your touch; need apparent in the way his head fell back, cushioned by grass and a halo of dandelions, his adams apple bobbing as your fingers hooked in the waistband of his pants.

“Let me worship you Astarion. You deserve to be tasted.” 

He propped himself on an elbow, staring down at you with an expression that could only be described as that of some sort of challenge at your request, his unoccupied hand stretching out to grip your chin loosely in his hands, fingers tapping on the fullness of your cheeks. “Needy little thing.” 

The low tone of his voice caused you to rub your thighs together, trying to soothe the developing ache between them, a feeling you knew wouldn’t go away unless he helped you - until he conjured every single facet of his love and adoration for you to the tips of his fingers. “Who am I to refuse my love’s desires?” 

Loosening his grip on your face, he allowed you to tug at the fabric of his pants, lifting his hips slightly as you shed them off of him completely, fingers dancing up his thighs, eyes greedily taking in his cock that lay hard before you, slightly curved and sensitive. His tip glistened with wetness that formed a waterfall of saliva in your mouth to coat him with. 

It practically begged for attention, some sort of relief that you were more than willing to give by darting out your tongue, bobbing your head down his length, and taking him down your throat as far as you could.

Through spit-covered teeth, Astarion hissed lightly as you palmed him gently, the extra layers of skin doing little to help him catch his breath. It stretched at every tug of your hand, at every bob of your head as you took him further in your mouth, cheeks hollow and mouth wet, shining under mustard yellow hues from the surrounding landscape of the hidden field. 

He was fucking perfect lying beneath you like this, devoid of any sharp remarks, and scandalous comments - just a blubbering mess. A man formed by all things precious, and a subtle sort of stunning. 

“Gods, just like that, pet.” He bucked his hips upward, hitting the back of your throat so violently that you gagged, an encouraging hum causing his cock to throb in the expanse of your warm mouth. 

He could stay here forever, your lips closed around him, cheeks stained with tears, fingers from your other hand tracing figure eights on his pubic bone to occupy yourself further with pleasing him. Even with a brain filled with endless fog, the pale elf couldn’t recount the last time you had sucked him as if your entire existence depended solely on his pleasure. 

Hell, he wasn’t complaining at all. The noises escaping his esophagus were more than enough proof, and you were more than happy to make it known. 

You swirled your tongue around his tip, gathering the taste of him, pubic hairs tickling your nostrils as the tip of your nose made contact with the base of his shaft. His lower stomach couldn’t help but clench tightly, only contracting when your lips widened, jaw slacking as you quickened your pace. 

White heat coiled in his stomach, a sensation so euphoric to him that his back arched slightly, brows furrowing, a chorus of broken, muffled cries leaving his parted lips. He released his seed, spurting his arousal down your throat, something you swallowed without hesitation as you pulled away from him.

Finding the strength to open his eyes, Astarion narrowed them at the white puff of clouds painting the sky above through vibrant leaves, a tingle vibrating throughout his body as you straddled his hips, rocking against him gently as he peaked at you. “Isn’t there something else you crave?” 

The flesh of your mouth meets his pointed ear and his spine grows rigid, then he shudders in anticipation, in desire. His hands are under your blouse before you can utter anything else, following the dip of your lower back as you press yourself against him. 

“I want to be inside of you.” 

There it was. 

The seven words you’ve been wanting to hear ever since he took your hand and whisked you away into the horizon, a basket full of berries that currently sat discarded somewhere around the crumpled blanket, rotting away in the heat.

“I’d rip this off of you if you’d let me.” He whispered, thumbing at your shirt, hair tousled and out of its usual format of precise placement. 

He looked like heaven. He tasted like heaven. He felt like heaven. 

It was a mantra that you repeated in your head as he discarded the shirt that covered the swell of your breasts, nipples perking when he pinched them between his fingers, taking one of them in his mouth almost immediately after as if he were still famished. 

Fidgeting with the ends of your long skirt, you bunched the fabric up your thighs, fingers disappearing under the material to move your soaked underwear to the side, throbbing with need. “You know I would if the circumstances were different.” 

Ah, yes, the fact that you two were fucking like rabbits out in the open. A thrill that never ceased to make your heart beat quickly no matter how many times you both found yourselves in this position. 

“Yet you’re letting me take you in broad daylight.” 

It was hard not to smile at that. 

After all, he did have a point.

tags: @tallymonster, @astariongf, @scandalcus

[tan1shere]

Hi I was wondering if you could please write a billie fic where she comforts the reader? it could literally be anything at all i just like the hurt/comfort or angsty that ends off fluffy kinda stuff if that makes sense!! 💙

You're My Comfort

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: coming rightttt up !! Enjoy, babe <3 (this is a lil short I'm sawry ☹) -alsooo dunno If you just put that heart or want to be on my emoji anons, just lmk if so !

Summary: you had been struggling lately, and like always you bottled it up, til you were at your breaking point. But rest assured billie was there to pick you back up again.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, anxiety attack and slight depression, bit sad but fluffynezzz near da end 😇

Masterlist

You loved weather like this, it made you feel comfortable and secure in your own weird little way. You've always loved the rain. The foggy atmosphere. As crazy as it sounds it brought you joy. So when Billie found you out, laying in your guys backyard. Letting the rain drench your body. She knew you were at your happiest. Or were you?

No. The answer was no. You had been a tad more distant with her recently and it did worry her, you were always so bubbly but she was very aware of the depressive states you'd occasionally get into. It worried her more so, the fact she never knew when. You'd keep it to yourself because you never wanted to feel like a nuisance. Like you were troubling her. But little did you know she'd help massively. She came out, seeing your body laying down, back against the grass. It was pouring down, you were truly soaked and maybe even a little cold. You felt cold regardless. Icy.

She got on the ground with you. "Talk to me." She said calmly. Looking to her side at your face. You had silent tears which she thankfully couldn't see. You didn't respond at first. "Please." She pleaded, grabbing your hand and placing it in hers. You could be in mud and she'd still join you. You didn't know why you weren't worth the trouble. Your head turns to face her, blank. No emotion. "Isnt the rain pretty." You averted your attention back on the dull sky. Making her sigh. "Baby, Somethings really bothering you. Are you getting into a depressive state again?" Again, no answer. But if she kept going you might just break.

"Are you feeling gross-?" - "Yes billie. I'm feeling disgusting. I feel stupid and i don't even know why, maybe it was that dumb interaction I had with that lady the other day. Maybe I'm freaking out like crazy because I can't seem to get this little tiny demon. Out. Of. My. Head."

She stared at you in shock as you were shaking, you hadn't even noticed. But now tears were streaming out. Billie immediately wraps you in her embrace, saying nothing. Letting you cry in the safety net of her arms. Your eyes soon shut letting out all that pent up emotion, that you tried so desperately to get rid of. Turns out you needed what Bill was doing. You needed that kind of warmth. Being in your true happy place. Her hand strokes your hair sweetly, her chin resting atop your head. Wishing she could take all your pain away.

You sob into her chest, shaking uncontrollably. But not because you were cold. Your heart rate picked up, feeling every little thing come crashing down. She rocks you in her arms, giving quiet shh's repeating "You're ok. Its fine." Until your breathing eventually calms down, getting over that pesky anxiety attack. "There you go." She speaks, moving your wet hair out of your face.

"I'm worthless Bil." Her brows furrow. "Where on earth is that coming from love?" You shrug. "My brain, it keeps repeating it. Over and over." She looks in your eyes. "Well say that it's not true and tell it to go find some other mind to bug. You're not worthless baby, you're amazing. And strong might I add. Dealing with this almost every day. I'm proud of you." Your eyes gleam as she says those 4 words, having a small smile on your face after what felt like weeks. It warms her heart tremendously. Missing that smile heaps. Her arms wrap you in such a warm hug briefly.

"I get you angel girl. Always have, yeah?" She explains, pulling back to cup your face. "But you need to let me in. Please." You want to now. Even if you and billie haven't been dating for long, you knew you were in love with her. And that kept growing and growing each day. "Let me help you I'm here, and I always will be." You nod at her, a thumb swiping under your eye shortly after. The rain continues to cascade over you both. "Billie?" She hums in response. Admiring your features. "I think i love you."

A long pause emerges making you panic. "Well I mean- not think that sounds a bit mean and i-" Her lips meet yours in a soft kiss. Shutting up that silly rambling. "You're adorable." She laughs a little. "I love you." Your eyes light up as she says that. "You're truly my comfort Billie, thank you for that." She smiles big time, bringing you back into her arms. "Head up baby girl, I ain't leaving."

"Promise?"

Her smile grows.

"Going to put a ring on that finger. I promise."

:,)

[baby-tini]

i present my idea ✨knife kink dabi✨

TW: knife play, toxic relationship, Dabi hits her once, blood, threats, licking of said blood.

It was a weird request at first, he'll admit that. Then again, he's asked worst from you. His handprint branded into your ass proves so. While he does give you a little side-eye, he's absolutely not opposed to holding a sharp little thing to your throat while plead for him to not press down so hard. His pretty little princess wants him to hold a knife to their throat? Say less.

"Which one you wanna use, angel- actually, I probably shouldn't call you an angel anymore, huh? I think masochistic slut fits better, yeah?" Your lips form into a little pout, eyebrows furrowing as you pull on his coat. He chuckles at that, fingers fisting in your hair to pull your head back. His right thumb gliding over your little pout, index tapping your lips and slipping in to press down on your tongue. Sticky drool running down his hand as he finger fucks your mouth. Slipping his wet digit out to gloss your lips with your own spit.

"Why are you so mean Dabi," he scoffs at that. With a flick of his wrist, you're left with a stinging cheek and your head looking to the right. There's an immediate cry that's rips itself out of your throat, feet stumbling back. Quickly snatching your arm before you could fall, he brings you over to the set of knives he has laid out for you. "I won't ask again, either choose one or I will, and trust me... you won't like my choice. I promise you that."

With a meek nod, you glance at the assortment of switch blades, there's pretty black one with blue flames on it that you're positive Dabi would've chosen. But your mind's already made when you see a black steel-blade with rubies embedded into the handle. Pretty vermillion glare at you from its place on the counter. You slide your thumb over it at first, finger playing with the pretty gems. Picking it up to test the weight, you glide your palm over the blade. Sharp. So very sharp, Dabi could kill, given he presses deep enough.

"That one? The blue one is so much prettier," he finishes with a scoff as he pouts. You ignore his comment, nodding your head, you hand it over to him. Taking it from you, he gestures to the bedroom, twirling the deadly blade around his fingers as he stares you down. Glancing at him in uncertainty, you walk past him towards the room.

The room is warm, remnants of Dabis heat still trapped in the comforter, smells like him too, strongly of ash and cigarette smoke. It makes your brain foggy, he always smells so good, his musk is a comforting scent. There's the harsh sound of combat boots walking towards you, eyes snapping to the door, in a first-hand witness to his taunting eyes.

"You look shy doll, I couldn't possibly understand why, you came to me with this request, 'member?" You give a nod, inhaling a shaky breath as you lie on your back. He coos at you in faux sympathy, stepping closer and closer, like a lion, hunting, prowling.. but Dabi isn't one to lie and wait for very long. Especially when you look so innocent, like a helpless fawn who isn't yet aware of dangers like him. You're basically teasing him at this point, eyes too wide for to not think about fucking you, destroying you 'till there's nothing left.

You blink for a second, only for a second. It's quick, no- he's quick. The blade feels cold against your throat, sharp tip pressing a little too deep into your jugular for comfort. The smooth metal running down your throat to your tits, smoothing it over your nipples, perked for attention for the sharp tip. Your skin lifting in goosebumps, hair standing at the back of your neck when he twirls it around your left nipple.

"...I wonder, what do you think would happen if I just-" he presses the blade down harder in-between your breasts, "- ah, well.. would you look at that, hm? You're just as pretty inside as you are on the outside, oh how lucky I am." It doesn't hurt, just stings a little. The sticky scarlet immediately staining your clothes, dripping down your chest in little rain-drops. He eyes the wound for a minute before leaning down and licking it off your tits.

He hums, pulling back to look you in the eyes, "better then I thought, but not nearly as good as that little cunt I love so much." There's blood staining his teeth- your blood at that. The tip of his tongue licking away the remainder on your chest as he moves the tip of the handle of the blade to press into your clit.

There's an immediate jump-back, hand shooting down to grab onto his own, and he doesn't like that. Not even a little. "What? You got a problem with this but not when I'm lickin' blood off your tits? Some priorities you got, huh?" He swats away your hand as he presses the handle back into your clit, sliding it down over your underwear to press into your slit.

"I'm gonna fuck you with this blade, you know? See if it makes you cum quicker then my cock." You want to close your legs but he swats at them before you can even think to do so. "Try an' close 'em, and your chest won't be the only thing leaking pretty red for me." Your eyes twitch close when you feel the solid press into you, fucking you through your panties.

"Ahh, there we go, got that pussy leaking real pretty for me now, huh slut? You like this shit? 'Course you do, you're my bitch after all, ain't that right?"

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 80

Part 1 Part 79

Eddie hadn’t expected to wake up. He’d gone gently into the good night, ready to die by Steve’s side. Because as Steve flaked away beneath his palms, Eddie had felt something within himself fracture and flake away as well.

It had felt almost meant to be, as consciousness slipped like a flickering bulb: they would go out together in the same red world where this had started, one ashed connection taking both of them out with it.

So, it’s a surprise when he opens his eyes. Even more a surprise to not see the endless red of the Upside-Down sky, but the fluorescent lights of a hospital room.

He blinks up at the ceiling, brain too foggy for his befuddlement to truly settle in. But, then there’s a groan, and the bulb in his brain stops flickering. It turns bright and blinding.

He whips up, braced for Steve in bandages, Steve in ashes. It’s not Steve at all. Will’s laying, wan and small in his own hospital bed, curled into a small ball so that only his hair is visible past the bow of his knees.

“Baby Byers?” Eddie asks, clearing his throat when his voice crackles. “What happened?”

Will unfurls just enough to meet Eddie’s imploring gaze. He looks vacant enough that for a second, Eddie’s afraid whatever got Steve has latched onto him, too. But then he says, “I didn’t think we’d wake up,” unknowingly echoing Eddie’s previous thoughts in a floaty, not-all-there voice.

“But we did,” Eddie says, trying for reassuring and landing on wobbly. “Where’s Steve?”

Eddie closes his eyes, focusing on the place in his chest where Steve lives. He feels it there, pulling faintly, fainter than it’s ever been before.

Will sobs, just once, and when Eddie opens his eyes, he sees Will clutching his chest in a very familiar place, curled around his ribs like he can shelter the tether, keep its flame lit in his chest.

Eddie crawls out of his own bed on wobbly legs. He follows the flickering pull to the closed door, unsurprised when the doorknob turns and turns, but refuses to open the door. Locked, from the outside.

Somewhere out there, Mama Byers and Chief Hopper have to be making a ruckus. They’d been just on his tail when Eddie had dropped to his knees, reaching unthinkingly for Steve’s twitching body.

It’s a waiting game, now. But they’ll come. They always do.

So, he turns his back to the door, and shuffles back over to the space between his and Will’s beds, forgoing his own to shove Will over just enough to climb in.

Will doesn’t hesitate to press his wet face into Eddie’s ribs. Eddie circles his arms around Will and closes his eyes, keeping his old on the tether to Steve like Steve’s an unruly dog liable to slip his leash and be lost forever.

They wait.

And wait.

And wait.

There’s no setting of a clock or ticking of the sun, but a thousand years have passed by the time the door clicks open.

Dr. Owens steps in, already looking down at a slip of paper on a clipboard like this is a normal checkup for normal patients instead of a hostage situation. He even smiles genially at them as he settles into the chair at the bed’s side, patting the edge of the bed like he’s a grandfather patting his beloved grandson’s knee.

“How are you feeling, boys?” he asks.

Will, still curled up into Eddie asks, “where’s Steve?” His voice is wet, but there’s a note of steel in it that Eddie can feel in the fingernails clutching at the hem of his shirt.

“He’s perfectly fine!” Dr. Owens lies, “just resting. But we were hoping you could fill in some blanks in the meantime.”

He lifts up his pen, keeps it poised over the paper, ready to transcribe their assorted traumas and dissect them.

Feeling petty and mean, Eddie asks, “not gonna claim it's a delusion this time, doc?” He’s smiling when he says it, can feel it in the ache of his cheeks, but he’s never felt this cold.

Dr. Owens Adam’s apple bobs. “Perhaps there is more going on here than we initially believed,” he replies quietly.

Will scoffs, and Eddie squeezes him, loosening his hold as Will makes to sit up in the bed beside him. His eyes are red and puffy, the proof of his tears visible even as he glares at Dr. Owens.

“You knew it wasn’t fake,” he says, not looking away from Dr. Owens' face. “You just didn’t care.”

Dr. Owens face twists, mouth furling in on itself as he sighs. He notably doesn’t apologize. Or beg for forgiveness. Or admit to the wrong-doing Eddie can see twisting up his face. “Regardless,” he says, drawing out the syllables as if to emphasize the time they’re wasting while Steve similarly wastes away. “Your account of what happened will greatly help your friend.”

“I want to see Steve,” Eddie demands, settling his back into the bedrest, hard, letting the ridges of its poles cut into his spine.

Dr. Owens sighs, a bedraggled caretaker once more. “Unfortunately, neither of you have clearance to see your friend until we have your recounting of the events.”

He skirts around Steve’s name like not using it will make the damage to a real, living person by his hands less real. Eddie and Will trade looks, trading conversations with their eyes that neither can quite grasp.

Dr. Owens taps his uncapped pen against the paper and prompts again, “now, what happened yesterday?”

Yesterday, meaning there are hours unaccounted for in which anything could have happened to Steve. Eddie feels his mind slipping somewhere unknown and dark, interrupted only by Will beginning to recount the tale, from the shadowy creature entering Steve all the way up to the way he’d writhed and burned on the ground in the Upside-Down before everything went black.

His pen moves faster, a scientist’s curiosity gleaming in his eyes as he asks question after question about the way Steve found Hop, like it’s a marvel and not another step on their long, winding downfall.

When the yarn is complete, Dr. Owens smiles pleasantly and gets to his feet, and says, “come along then,” benevolently, as if he’s doing them a great favor, “didn’t you want to see your friend?”

When they finally reach Steve’s single room, down a brightly-lit, winding hallway, Eddie’s not sure how much of his friend is even left.

It takes a minute to notice. Because Steve is there. Pale and washed out the way only sickness and hospital lighting can, but blessedly not unblemished. Unburned. Whole. But he’s looking at Uncle Wayne with focused eyes, hunching back away from where he’s sitting beside his sickbed like they all have a dozen times. 

“Steve!” Will calls, running up to the bed, smiling up at Steve like he’s answered all his prayers. Like Steve will still save him.

Eddie lingers in the threshold, watching Steve’s face turn toward Will, focused eyes falling on Will with absolutely no warmth, no recognition at all. Just like he’d looked at Uncle Wayne, or Mama Byers, or talked about Hopper like he didn’t know him at all.

Steve had taken to saying Will and Eddie’s names with a reverence he hadn’t understood. Now he’s wondering if it was whatever had been left of Steve clinging onto the only memories he’d had left.

“Steve?” Will asks, taking a step back, eyes trained on Steve. 

He feels a tug from his sternum, pulling him toward Will, so he comes, even if it feels like approaching a predator. He lays his hand atop Will’s shoulder, squeezes tight, and meets Steve’s eyes.

 They’re the same brown that he loves, but dull now. Empty, a black hole sucking him in. Still, “do you know me, angel?” he asks, uncaring of the audience.

Steve doesn’t break his gaze, doesn’t give his usual shy smile at the nickname, just stares and stares and stares, before he says, “Eddie?”

But he doesn’t say it with relief he’d used before, or love, or even the exasperation from before Steve and Eddie became Steve-and-Eddie. 

He said it with nothing. Like he’d matched a name to a face and felt nothing at all. 

Eddie Munson breaks. It wasn’t getting dragged to a hellscape along with a boy he disdained that did it. It wasn’t even watching the boy he now loves suffocate by inches in the Upside-Down, no. 

It was looking into that same boy's eyes and having something else look back. 

Part 81

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 2000

Warnings: none

Part XXII | Part XXIV

The first night sleeping alone in your cottage didn't turn out well. Horrors of your past reappeared and you had to again watch getting your mother killed. It was that kind of dream you couldn't wake up from even though you wanted to, and you probably made too much noise.

"Y/N," slightly hoarse, but soft voice called for you, cold and wet snout touching your face. "Y/N."

Even without opening your eyes, you knew who it was. Hot tears slid down your face, uncontrollable sobs the only sound breaking the silence of the night. The nightgown soaked in cold sweat, stuck uncomfortably to your body. You were trembling. One heavy paw touched your forearm, then gently embraced you. The snout sniffed your face and cheeks, licking your tears away with small cat-like licks.

You moved closer to him, hiding your face in the fur of his neck as you held onto him. He didn't speak, your name and a few short simple words were the only thing he managed to say so far. But under your cheek you heard the frantic beats of his heart. He was probably worried. Your throat was sore as if you screamed for a long time. You must have scared him.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed. He shook his head and made a small whimpering sound. Tamlin moved, carefully climbing into your bed. The old bed creaked under his weight. He was so huge that only a small space was left on mattress for you. You two had to huddle together to fit in, but you didn't mind. He tugged you closer, holding you with paws as best as he could in this form, you hugged his torso.

This helped, his closeness and warmth scared the fear away and eventually you calmed down enough to fall asleep again, lulled by the sound of his rhythmic heartbeat and deep breaths.

You opened your eyes and looked around the foggy rose garden. You knew this place, you already visited it once in your dream. Without hesitation you headed to the pedestal where you found Tamlin last time. This time it was empty. You wanted to call out his name, but your throat closed up and no voice came out. You tried it again with the same result.

You slowly twisted around, hoping to see him somewhere nearby, but instead your eyes landed on a sprawling tree with low branches. It definitely wasn't here last time. There was something you couldn't explain, that drew you to the tree and so you followed your instinct. The tree seemed to be very old, its trunk was covered with soft green moss. Sighing you ran fingers over it and a few drops of a dew rolled all the way down to your wrist.

"Why are you crying, Y/N?" Well-known voice came from somewhere behind the tree. You hurried there, expecting to find him sitting down between roots. What a disappointment when you didn't find anyone. Did he play a hide-and-seek with you?

"Why are you crying, my pretty rose?" A hand reached down from a branch above your head, his long fingers wiped a tear off from your cheek. Your gaze snapped up in surprise. There he was, half lying half sitting on the branch, looking down at you. Tamlin looked sad, his emerald eyes dimly shining in the shadow.

"You're awake," you breathed out. His face still reminded a cold stone of statue, but there was a hint of life in his eyes.

"Have somebody hurt you?" His mind seemed to be just as hazed like the last time, but at least he was awake now.

"No.. it's just.. a memory.."

"Memories," his glazed eyes were gazing to the distance straight through you. "I have a lot of painful ones. Like the day you left.."

"I've returned," you squeezed his hand lingering on your cheek. "Do you hear me? I'm here with you now."

"No one comes back to me.." his voice was deep and cold now. You wanted to object, but the dream faded away.

You woke up in embrace of strong arms holding you on a naked broad chest that gently brushed your cheek with every breath. You were still tired. Sleep was the only thing you craved now, luring you to the world of dreams once again. You closed your eyes, pressing into the warmth of the smooth skin.

Wait!

Your eyes snapped open wide, your hazy mind cleared.

Hands? Chest? Skin? Could it be?

You abruptly sat up. Tamlin groaned in his sleep, his face half hidden under the messy strands of blond hair. His hands reached for you, trying to pull you back down.

"No, Tamlin, wake up," you pushed against him, overexcited with the sudden improvement.

One emerald eye cracked open a bit, gazing up on you. With another groan his long form curled around you, naked as the day he was born. You gasped, your face, ears and even neck set ablaze. You tried to avoid looking down where you could feel his manhood pressed to your hip, the thin nightgown hardly a barrier between you.

"Tamlin," you stiffened. His name came out in a high pitched tone.

Finally, he woke up. As soon as he noticed the state of his body, he fled from the bed and taking the pillow with him, he pressed his back against the wall and the pillow to his intimate parts. He watched you startled, trying to find his voice.

"It's okay," you stuttered, looking everywhere but him. "I ..saw nothing."

He blinked and fought a smirk that threatened to spread on his face. "I know," he rasped. Even though he could speak again, it seemed to cause him problems.

"Do-does it hurt? I mean your throat," you asked. Meanwhile you took a spare blanket from small basket at the foot of the bed, offering it to him. He accepted it with a small smile. You turned to the window and looked out to give him privacy. It was cloudy and windy morning, although you didn't notice any of it. Your mind kept swirling around the expanse of smooth skin you just saw and quite impressive length you felt.

"A little bit." He touched your elbow. Carefully you looked back at him. The blanket was wrapped around his hips, too low and showing too much of his skin, but it was better than before.

"I'll brew you a tea that will make you feel better. When Lucien comes I'll ask him to find you some clothes, but until then this have to be enough."

"Thank you."

His eyes roamed over your body as if he saw you for the first time after a very long time. You felt too underdressed and too self aware under his piercing gaze. You crossed arms on your chest in a poor attempt to hide at least something.

You cleared your throat. "I-I think I should change," you choked out, nervously fidgeting.

However Tamlin didn't move a bit, his eyes still fixed on you. You swallowed hard, your heart rate increasing. He took the last step that separated you, and swept you into a tight embrace. Your lungs filled with a rain and earthen scent, the most comforting smell ever. Pressing his nose to the crook of your shoulder, he shakily inhaled.

"It's really you," he murmured. "I thought I just dreamed you out."

Your heart melted at those words and you hugged him back. "This isn't dream. I've returned."

He stilled. "How long can you stay?" he whispered, his voice dull.

"As long as I want," you laughed.

His body relaxed. "Thanks the Mother," he sighed. His embrace tightened so much you couldn't breathe.

You patted his shoulder. "Tam, I can't-.."

"I'm sorry." His grip little bit loosened. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah."

His fingers tangled in your hair, stroking them lightly. "I missed you," he rasped after a while.

"Really?"

"Really."

"I missed you, too," you whispered in a small voice. "So many things happened.."

"Did.. did he treat you well?" You knew who the he was.

"Well, yes. They all were kind to me. My brother especially." There was probably something in your voice that wasn't so convincing. You felt a small sting at your back as Tamlin's claws came out.

"Uhm, I apologise," his hands fell down from the small of your back, untangling from your hair and he stepped back hiding them behind his back. You stopped him, pulling on his wrists and entangled your fingers with his. It felt so right that you had to smile. He seemed to be confused.

"I hoped you would come to see me," you swallowed, smile disappearing.

"I-.. I couldn't," he looked down to his bare feet, ashamed.

"I know, so I came to you."

Tamlin kissed the back of your hand, pressing it to his cheek. "I dreamed about you often. So often that I sometimes couldn't tell the reality from dream," he admitted.

"I had a few vivid dreams, too. They helped me at times."

He frowned. "Helped?"

"Yes, I didn't remember a thing until recently. It was hard to adjust to so many strangers and unfamiliar house and everything at first. It got better when Rhys helped me with the memory loss."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. But before he could say something, the door downstairs opened and closed.

"Are you awake yet?" Lucien called. "I've brought some fresh bread for breakfast and even picked up some of those herbs you use in tea."

Tamlin gave you a tight smile that promised you would continue another time. You nodded.

"Give me a minute," you shouted. Tamlin left your room, so you could change. You thought he would go down to talk with Lucien, but when you opened the door, he stood there waiting for you.

You found Lucien seated at table, swaying on the back legs of chair, hands behind his neck.

He turned to you with fox-like grin, some teasing remarks already on the tip of his tongue. When he saw frowning Tamlin with hands crossed on his bare chest standing behind you, his eyes widened. He lost balance and fell down, hitting his back and head hard enough to see stars.

When he was getting off the ground grunting, you started to laugh, immediately followed by Tamlin's deeper laughter. Lucien muttered something about naked beasts, gentlemen and ladies and winnowed away. In few minutes he returned with arms full of clothes. While Tamlin dressed in your room you prepared breakfast. Lucien, of course, helped you.

"How did you do that?" he muttered with undeniable interest.

You shrugged. "I did nothing. When I woke up in the morning, he was already.. back."

"I knew that you could help him, but I've never even imagined that he could improve so fast. He was.. completely gone. At this rate I think soon I'll be able to return to my friends. They already miss me, you know."

You wished you could say something, but there was nothing. You've grown fond of him these past few weeks. He was easy going person, chatty, funny at times, it was hard not to like him. But he had his own life to live. You knew he wouldn't stay forever.

"What is that face for," he teased you. "Already miss me?"

You rolled your eyes and grinned.

Fortunately, Tamlin was back and could speak again. You wouldn't stay alone with nothing to do and haunted by your past.

A single thought of your High Lord and the sight you got that morning made your pulse quicken and cheeks flush. When he returned dressed in simple green trousers and white shirt you almost spilled the tea you were setting on the table. You wondered what had changed. Why your body started to react to him like this so suddenly.

Unable to come with any explanation, you seated down and stuffed your mouth with bread that Lucien brought. The three of you ate in unusual silence.

Taglist: @impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania

[lefarte]

para cusando mis headcannons de pocketcat??🤭

hi so I saw you and I’m back and I wrote you a fic 😈

Also please heed the warnings on this one guys, its pocketcat so��. he’s like that

WARNINGS: stalking, pocketcat straight up jerking it but it’s not really smut he just does that*, he also licks you so keep that in mind

*No minors please regardless!

From your days in childhood, you remembered stories of him.

There were several retelling of the story; all with the same vague ideas. The pocketcat was about 7 feet tall, in some variations up to 10. He wore a smiling mask, sometimes of wood, sometimes of rubber. Everyone had a friend-of-a-friend who met him, supposedly, but nobody meets him themselves. People who do meet him don’t come back to talk about it.

They didn’t scare you at all. As a child, you used to feel so invulnerable. Even if something frightened you like an odd shadow in the corner of your eye, or a twig snapping in the woods, you could run home and hide in your bed. It was nothing but a passing thought back then.

Now, you were bleeding out on the floor. Your body ached dully.

You heard the sounds of heels on the tile, approaching your head. They near, and then stop. Then, something strange overtook you. Dizziness. A foggy haze, perhaps caused by dehydration or hunger or pain… and then a deep, low rumbling purr ringing in your ears. You couldn’t hear anything else from any side, it felt as if it was coming from inside your own skull.

“Hello again, my friend.~”

The masked man leaned over you. Behind the purring, you heard a wet, rhythmic noise against your ear.

“You don’t know how much of a pleasure it is to see you here. And here I thought you’d stop by and greet me; but you walked right by me, quite rudely! But you know me, I am a worrier, so I had thought ‘wouldn’t it be my luck that some schmuck come by and get them first’, and then look what happened!”

He kneeled onto the floor, peering down at you. The closer he got, the more it felt that your head was filled with cotton, and the low grumble within your ears was making your body heavier and heavier.

He reached out with a gloved hand. His hand almost seemed to tremble with anticipation. You felt him grab your chin. His hands were cold. He held you for a long, quiet moment, before tilting your head to the right. He stroked your jaw with one finger, admiring the curves of your face. And then the other side.

“I’ve missed you dearly,” You felt him panting heavily against your face. “Very dearly. These days have been so long without you… unbearably so…”

You reached out to grab his hand, and move it off of your face. “I’ve never met you before in my life.”

Your body jolted as a deep pain seared through your side. You bit your lip hard to hush your voice.

“Oh, oh, don’t agitate your wounds, dear, you break my heart! What a cruel fate this is! To have finally found you, and yet be unable to help you…”

Completely ignoring you, his hand went to touch your hair, gently petting you as if you were a doll. He ran his fingers through each strand, admiring them in utter fascination.

“I said,” you scowled. “I don’t know you.”

He lovingly caressed your scalp, his purrs dulling your senses and easing the pain a bit.

His fingers softly trailed down your temple and behind your ears, pushing your hair out of your face. “You are so stubborn. That’s what I love about you, you little imp. I can see right through you, you know?”

You bit your tongue to try to preserve your energy. You could feel the blood pooling onto the tile under you and then getting cold and clinging to your shirt. You’re far beyond the point of running away now. You don’t think you could even crawl.

“How tempted I am…” He cocked his head right next to your ear and whispered. “To pick you up and drag you away…”

You froze as you felt something wet on your face. His tongue. He dragged his tongue across your cheek. It was icy cold.

He paused his stroking, as if in deep contemplation. He sounded disappointed. “And yet, my master forbids me.”

You suddenly released a breath you had been holding, erupting into violent coughs and sputters, every single one of which burned like fire. He shushed you and petted your hair affectionately.

“And yet, it’s no good at all for you to die like this… what am I to do? Tell me, what is an old cat like me to do? What a dire situation…”

His hand ran down to your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “I know it hurts, my dear~ I’m not allowed to fix you, no… but how would it sound if I, perhaps, accidentally ran my mouth to somebody who can? Say, if another contestant finds you, what happens here won’t be considered meddling at all~”

“You’re going to send someone to find me?” Your eyes widened hopefully.

“Don’t I deserve a bit of praise for that one? It was smart, wasn’t it? Good enough for you to…. Pet my head or something, and call me a good cat….”

“Just go!” You wheezed.

“A joke, of course, it was just a joke! You are such a tease, dear…”

He gracefully stood up, stretching on his legs like a real cat would up to a dizzyingly tall height. He grinned down at you one last time before shifting on his legs. Your breath lurched. You realized what the constant wet sound in your ear had been.

“Farewell for now, my darling~.”

You touched your ear. Thankfully, it was dry.

“Take care of yourself. Perhaps, if we’re lucky, my master will allow me to come for you after the festival. Ooh, isn’t that a nice thought…. If not, I’ll have to sate myself with just watching again~.”

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Priorites: Part 2

--genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

--pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader

--word count: 0.7k

--warnings: anxiety (from both matt and reader), angst, kissing, mention of scars.

oh this gif kills me and then pisses on my grave.

requested by: @blackhawkfanatic

Maybe you were an idiot, or maybe you just wanted to see what Matt could come with by the time he came home. Nevertheless, you stayed, for whatever reason. 

You knew Matt would be out for a few hours at least, so you busied yourself in the meantime. You didn’t unpack your suitcase though. Maybe you would end up needing it. You decided to take a hot shower, washing the tears away from your face, along with the tension built up in your shoulders. There’s a moment of silence as you lean your forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall and take a deep breath in and out. 

Anxiety is coursing through your veins while your mind is racing. You would never expect to associate those feelings with your sweet Matty, never. But as you recall the events of this evening, it became more believable. 

Shutting off the water, you hear a thump outside of the bathroom door. It’s way too early for him to be back. It’s only been an hour. You reach for your towel, wrapping the soft fabric around your body as you open the door slowly, your hair still dripping wet. 

There he was, quickly undressing himself from his suit. Fully opening the door, you step through to the bedroom where Matt stands, facing the window. A fluorescent pink and purple light casts itself across his features, giving you a better view of his anxious state as you make your way closer to him. 

“You stayed,” his voice is low, but the relief in it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Sitting on the bed, you hug yourself, the cold air prickling at your exposed skin, leaving a chill in its wake. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I did. I don’t know why I did, though.” You can’t bear to look up at him. Of course, you were angry, but my god, you were so sad. You feel like you are losing him, slowly but surely. 

He sits next to you, but in your haze, you don’t even notice until the bed dips beside you. His fingers fidget in his lap, a bad habit you’ve noticed since the beginning of your relationship. You can’t help but glance at them and feel bad. “I’m glad you did.”

With his response, your emotions betray you as tears slip out from your already swollen eyes, a hand comes up to cover your eyes as you sob harder. This was your breaking point. “What’s going on Matt? You have to tell me why,” you practically beg, “why does it feel like I always come second in everything when it comes to Hell’s Kitchen?”

Matt sighs. Without his glasses, you can see him fully, especially his emotions. His eyebrows furrow as you can see his eyes start to water, “The only way I can protect you is by keeping the city safe…for you. It was never you or Hell’s Kitchen,” his hand resting itself on your bare thigh, his touch pulling another wave of tears out of your eyes. 

“I needed—need you here Matt,” you choke out, “Karen and Foggy need you here and present. We love you so much, and we will always be here for you, but it’s hard when you disappear from us, both mentally and physically.” You reach up to hold the side of his face, pulling him in to connect your foreheads, “Please stay, for us. For me.” 

Touch has always been important to Matt. He knew the worst of it, his scars proved as evidence, but he learned the best from you. Your touch taught him that the world could be kind, and loving. All things he hasn’t felt for a very long time. 

You two took a breath together as you soaked in each other's presence, a flood of warmth bloomed from Matt’s chest. He nodded as you released a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding. You leaned in to connect your lips, a passionate release you both needed after your hectic night. 

There was no hint of furthering things after the kiss. You just needed to express how much you loved Matt in a way he could feel. Your lips slow to soft pecks when you wrap your arms around his neck, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I love you, (Y/N),” he whispers.

“I love you, Matt. Welcome home.”

--author's note: PART TWO!!!!!! i love angst so much, but i can't read or write it before bed LOLZ. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog!! my 300 follower celebration is pinned on my blog, go check it out if you loved this! ok, ily bye<3333

[sochawrites]

Hello, everyone! It's been a long time, hasn't it?

This one is for @justagenderfluidstuff, based off of a prompt from them.

Please, forgive me for how long it took! 🥺👉👈

I wish you all a happy New year!

Hands

Bane x Male!reader

"Awfully convenient, you know. I have an empty hand... you have an empty hand..."

Reconnaissances were always so boring, so tedious, so monotonous. The hours stretched on and on as if the days didn't want to end, and the weather was seldom in your favour. It was safe to say you hated being sent on surveillance, even to the point of your blood boiling whenever someone mentioned it around you, bitching and whining and doing all you could to convince someone to go instead of you. But even then, there was one exception.

No one ever dared to refuse a direct order from the boss. So whenever he came to you with a command to join him on sentry, you couldn't say no, or, rather than that, didn't want to.

Everyone could tell Bane treated you differently than the rest of his mercenaries, but besides speculations, nobody really knew why. He was known to be ruthless whenever someone made the slightest mistake, made one wrong move or dared to talk back. But you? He let you off easy, rarely ever giving you any punishment. And you were always more than happy to exploit this.

You enjoyed pushing the boundaries, and he hardly ever stopped you. At times, when there weren't ears around, Bane even tested the waters himself, which entertained you even more. You grew rather fond of him, some would say you even developed a little crush. And although occasionally his wit could be a bit irritating, going on a reconnaissance together was guaranteed to be fun.

Or at least it would be if it wasn't cold, wet and foggy night. You could hardly see the targeted site, everything was damp, and you were freezing. Yet there was Bane, leaning against a wall with binoculars in his hand, patiently looking out into the mist and waiting for any sign of movement. Hot breath making its way through the slits in his mask was the only sign of outside elements on him, even though he was dressed in less layers than you.

You just couldn't help but throw him a very irritated look.

"That expression will freeze on your face if you keep it any longer." Bane hissed, watching you out of the corner of his eyes, though there wasn't any real menace in his voice. You chuckled as you continued to pace around, pulling on your gun strap to adjust it once again. "It would be a miracle if it was just my face that would freeze. It's so cold I can't feel my hands, and I don't know how you expect me to notice anything when I can't see shit!" you thrashed your arms around as you exclaimed the last words, being shushed immediately after.

"If you dressed up more, like I have told you-" Was he really criticising you for something he did himself? "Oh, you're the one to talk, mister 'exposed skin all day, every day'. Don't tell me you don't feel the cold-ass air at all." you looked at the masked man in a slight disbelieve.

You both locked eyes momentarily before he stared forward once more "The weather has not concerned me for a long time now, Y/N. You, on the other hand, have a tendency to turn blue…". You could practically hear the smirk, and it made a little smile appear on your negligibly blue lips.

"Come on, you make it sound like I'm some baby that cries at the slightest of inconveniences!" you whined. "Yet you complain." Bane fired right back, looking at you once more, "Do not come to me when you fall ill.".

He sounded serious, but deep down, you had a feeling he wouldn't complain if you did. But that didn't change the fact that you would definitely benefit from warming up, even if just barely. "Why don't we start a little fire then! There's some junk around that-"

"No."

Bane cut you off, starring you down, clearly against the idea. "Why not? It's not like those idiots over there will notice the light from the flames, and if they do, I may be able to at least pull the trigger." you tried to argue, but it was to no avail. He kept silently gazing at you as if he was done with the conversation.

Hanging your head low in defeat, you made your way slowly up to the tall man, leaning against the wall right beside him, whispering, "Awfully convenient then, you know. I have an empty hand… You have an empty hand…". You looked up to meet Bane's half-lidded gaze with one of your own, reaching out with your fingers to brush against the back of his hand. It was so warm it stung. "You are playing with fire…" Bane threatened in a low voice.

You could practically feel the heat radiating off of him, even though there was still some space between you, "Please, Bane, I'm so fucking cold…". The man closed his eyes, contemplating, the mask letting out a long, soft hiss, as his hand slowly turned, enveloping yours tightly.

A bright smile crept onto your face immediately, your body practically vibrating. The connection between you had been unspoken for a long time, but until now, actions were never truly made. "See? It wasn't so hard, was it?" you beamed at Bane, whose only reply was a groan and an averted gaze. You caressed his skin with your thumb, enjoying the sensation of the returning feeling in your hand and savouring every moment.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Bane cramming his binoculars into his pocket, but his body was just as stoic as before, still turned towards the warehouse. You tilted your head and furrowed your brows in confusion, about to ask what was happening, when he reached out and held your other hand softly right below the elbow.

Bane tugged gently, pulling you in front of him, "Not one word." was all he said when he met your gaze. You nodded, curious about where this was heading. He pulled your arms behind himself, hiding them in the warmed-up space between his back and his coat, before letting go and wrapping his hands around you.

It was a hug, and you happily reciprocated as you hid your face in the crook of his neck, or as close as you could. Bane slowly shifted the weight of his head over to the top of yours, and you couldn't help but grin. You fought against every sound that threatened to escape your throat, fearing Bane would cut the moment short.

"Have you considered that going on surveillances with me was meant as your punishment?" Bane spoke in a hushed voice. Of course you thought of that. What's a better way to punish someone who hates going on reconnaissance so much than to send them on one? Shame it was with the wrong person.

You nuzzled closer to his skin, daring to leave a soft kiss on his collarbone, "At first, but it never felt like it". You were breathing as one, calm and long breaths separating the gusts of steam. Listening to his heartbeat, you let your body soak in the heat.

[delicatereader]

after all... (Azriel x FC)

summary: Azriel gives in on his desires

warnings: fluff, angst, dirty thoughts, a kiss, swearing

a/n: took a break and came back with an acotar obsession I guess

➽────────────────────────────❥

She was dancing and singing in the comfort of a hot shower. A moment of peace, release and simple self-entertainment.

Someone knocked on the door, snapping her out of her own mind. "Enter" she commanded.

"Umm- hello?" a familiar voice muttered. Azriel.

"Here!" the heavy footsteps prowled closer to her location.

Azriel couldn't see anything through the smoke covered glass, but a faint figure. Even if she stopped dancing, her body was still swaying. Side to Side, taking in the burning water.

"I- I should probably come back later" he spoke up

"No need" she replied it a cold, neutral voice

Whilst she was waiting for him to continue, his mind was already someplace else. Somewhere he didn't dare to go before, even though it took him every inch of himself to restrain himself. He imagined, how it would feel to be in the shower with her. Their bodies pressed together, him taking up the entire shower so the only vacant place for her was his hips and his-

"Are you gonna talk or just stare?" she interrupted

"Cause if you are, the view is better over here" she teased. She always thought highly of herself, or atleast that's what she acts like. She wasn't wrong to do so, anyone would die to have such beauty and body.

"What?" he asked

"I mean it's nothing you haven't seen before, especially from my first day at Night Court, if you're that weak to be around a naked woman turn around!" she continued

"Your first day at Night Court?" he spoke up, still still as a statue

"That was what? 30 years ago? Mor had put me in the most slutty dress." she let's out a huff, reminiscing on her past

"31" Az cleared his throat

"What?"

"You've been in this court for 31 years since last month" he informed, looking up as if he could see her almost surprised face through the foggy barrier. She didn't reply or do anything, but kept swaying. She didn't make anything of Azriel knowing those facts, though.

"Very well. Again, why are you here?" she reminded Az

"Oh right." he took the tiniest step forward. "Rhys wants you to plan Feyre's birthday."

"I'm sorry, what?!" she shouted

"Feyre's birthday, it's in 3 weeks. Rhys wants you to plan it.", it felt like more of a command, especially since its from Rhysand. She and the High Lord never got along, but they hid their hatred for Feyre and Feyre's wellbeing only.

"I'm not doing that shit! Ask Elain" she denied, running a hand through her wet hair

"Well Elain is off with Lucien and won't return until the day before the Solstice", this time he spoke in a very...disapproving manner. However, it sparked her amusement.

"I see..." she said, wiping a hand on the smoke covered glass. Only to reveal her face and neck that dripped water. "Not a big fan, are we?" she mocked looking at him clearly, with a grin spreading across her face. His shadows couldn't be seen anywhere from her view.

"Lucien is a respectable and noble male" he stated, he wasn't lying. Even though he wished he was. He stood there staring at his shoes, with his hands tucked inside his pockets, clearly overthinking.

"Towel!" she screeched, startling Azriel put of his stance."Oh not you! the house!", she said in a softer tone.

"Hello?! Towel! Ok! Fuck you! You know you should really see someone about those mood changes!..." she kept going for a minute, complaining and swearing at the ceiling. Azriel grabbed the first towel he saw and swung it over the glass, not being able to handle the loud yelling for another second. For the next 30 seconds all he heard was a "thanks" and movement.

At last, she got out the shower semi dry, wrapping a towel around herself gently.

"What are his requirements?" she asked with pure annoyance written all over her face.

"Umm- he just wants you to put together a party that Feyre would like" he fumbled there, he didn't know if he should run like a coward or stay there and endure the conversation with her looking like that. Especially, since she is bending over all over the place in that tiny towel, which wasn't probably enough to cover all of her.

She wasn't doing anything intentionally, but didn't mind the attention.

She strode past him to a pile of clothes, and bend down to grab it. Her towel rode up just enough to make Az look up, away from her. His mind was on a frenzy, a thirsty one at that.

After that show, she didn't stop. She physically pushed past him and headed towards her armoire. "I mean, I get that he's trying to give Feyre a good birthday and all, and yes, it might mean it a bit more if it's me who planned it...but he does know that I'm not sat idle. Right?" she complained as she tried to reach the top row for a box. Before she could go get a stool, something pressed against her body. She turned around, revealing Azriel holding the box towering over her. His breath was uneven as she said " thanks...again". She didn't let him see a moment of weakness or anything that suggested that she was going absolutely crazy, having him press up against her. Against her almost naked body. She took the box from him, still staring into his soul.

"He knows you don't sit idle and you work hard everyday" he whispered in a deep voice. Suddenly, silence fell between them. More like tension. There was a force, trying to pull them together under all that heavy breathing. She pulled back her stare.

"I mean I get that I'm very good look at, especially almost naked, but you need to stop staring at me like that" she spoke up, giving Azriel a sultry look folding her arms.

"Like what?" he asks, with a faint grin knowing, where he stood and his power in this situation

"Like you're-"

Before she could finish her thought, his consumed him. He close the space between them, kissing her. His hands trailed from her hair to her neck. He devoured every sensation that came from a touch.

They pulled back from each other, faces flushed red. His redder and brighter than ever.

"Illyrians aren't such babies after all" she said tilting her with a cocky smirk, before leaning back into him for more.

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Days to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: abuse

wanna start from chapter one or read more? here’s the table of contents!

dick is finally in this chapter and I’m so excited — I only revised it 492 times trying to get it ✨just right✨

part four

❝ ENLISTED ❞

SATURDAY — 10:29PM

HIS FATHER DIDN’T LET HIM OUT UNTIL AFTER TEN THE NEXT NIGHT. Bentley could’ve gotten out himself — the door was unlocked — but he didn’t dare cross his father. Drinking or not, an order was an order.

The man merely glowered at the boy’s bloody pajamas. There was nothing about him that hinted that he’d been the least bit drunk. He looked at put together and tidy as usual, only uttering a stern: “Go change into the clothes laid out on your bed. You’re about to go to the Wayne’s.”

That was a three hours ago. 

Now, they were sitting in his father’s car, parked on the dark streets of Gotham. It had taken them a silent three and a half hour drive to get there in the sprinkling rain. It was still sprinkling, and the wind was whistling outside.

“Relay the plan to me,” His father finally broke the tense silence.

Bentley swallowed hard, glancing out the car window at the streets beyond. It wasn’t anything like Drew. Something about it felt… colder. Meaner. Not that Bentley got out of the house much, but when he did, Drew never felt like this. Although it could’ve been the circumstances making him so jittery, too.

“Lure one of the the vigilantes to me. Preferably Batman or Robin. Your… men will help me with that,” Bentley started.

He managed to shiver despite wearing an oversized red hoodie and dark jeans, something he was normally forbade to be seen in due to keeping up appearances. He tapped the toes of his red tennis shoes together.

“Tell them I’m homeless. My parents are dead. Foster care isn’t an option,” The child stiffened at the icy gaze that settled on the side of his head, boring through his skull and weaving into his mind.

“Get into Wayne Manor and destroy them from the inside out, by any means necessary. Weaken them to make your job easier,”

A sinister, crooked sounding laugh crackled from the driver’s seat of the car, rattling Bentley’s bones. “And if you don’t?”

The boy subconsciously brought his arms up, wrapping them around himself, flinching when he brushed some of the cuts on his hand. He had a nasty bruise blossoming on his right temple from his father’s punch, and the worst headache of the century. “I get punished,” He murmured.

“Very good. Tell me, how many days before I retrieve you from the Wayne Manor?”

“A hundred.”

“And if you haven’t succeeded by then?”

“I get punished,”

“Correct. Dismissed. My men are already in position for you,”

Bentley popped the car door open, the cool Gotham air rushing in and blowing his scraggly red hair out of his eyes. He shivered and climbed out slowly.

“Do not fail, Puppeteer. Do you understand?”

He didn’t dare look back into the vehicle.

“Yes, father,”

Bentley closed the door, and the car pulled away, leaving a trail of foggy vapor in its wake.

The boy jammed his hands in his pockets, jogging into the cold alleys of Gotham with his head down to fight the rain. The winter wind howled and whistled between the buildings, chilling him to the bone. The slight drizzle only helped to make it more unbearable — pelting his exposed face with an icy mist.

His tennis shoes padded on the concrete as he walked, avoiding puddles to keep his pants from getting soaked. If he ended up spending a night on the streets, the last thing he wanted to be was soaking wet.

Bold, coming from a kid walking in the rain.

He knew he was staying on Batman’s scheduled patrol route — his father had practically hammered it into the his head by making him stare at a map on the drive. Bentley wasn’t sure where he got all the information about them, but it wasn’t his place to ask. All that would earn him was punishment.

Despite everything moving forward according to plan, his heart thudded in his ribcage and pounded in his ears as he walked. His father’s men were nearby. When he’d been told that getting jumped by a group of grown men was part of this ultimate plot, a ploy to grab the superheroes’ attention, he couldn’t do anything but hope his father had bribed some weirdos from the streets. He might’ve been able to fight back against them, at least a little.

But his father was too sophisticated for that.

Bentley had no hope of coming out on the other side of the mugging unscathed. After all, his father’s men took their jobs seriously. And if that meant leaving their boss’s son to bleed out in a Gotham alley, they wouldn’t bat an eye. They only obeyed like toy soldiers. 

Bentley’s heavy breaths came out as clouds of vapor under the few dim lights in the alleys. The men were hidden somewhere along the route he was told to walk. So your fear will be more genuine, his father had insisted, even though Bentley was sure getting jumped by adults twice his size was going to warrant a fearful response whether it was planned or not. They were going to hurt him because that’s what his father told them to do. Because that’s what his father did.

The wind whistled again when he warily passed a row of smelly dumpsters. A newspaper blew across the alley and he jumped a mile, gasping quietly.

False alarm.

He sighed shakily, trudging ahead. The back of his eyes stung as he walked. He didn’t want to get hurt again. Not by these men. At least when his dad did it it wasn’t a stranger — he knew his tendencies most of the time. But letting strangers beat the tar out of him just to grab a vigilante’s attention? Who was to say one of the superheroes would even show? What if he just got jumped and left, for someone else to find? Or worse — turned over to the cops or social services by a passerby? What did he do then?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sniffling lightly from the cold. Anxiety buzzed under his skin like a swarm of bees. There were so many ways this awesome plan his father had devised could go wrong, so many ways he could ruin it and get in big trouble.

Bentley pressed forward, taking a left into a darker stretch of alley. There were no dumpsters, but it definitely looked like a few had been emptied on the pavement. There were old newspapers and broken bottles building up against the walls. He was nearing the part of Batman’s patrol route where he’d have to make a u-turn if he wanted to keep following it, and his father’s men still hadn’t shown.

“And what is a little boy like you doing out here, all alone, at this time of night?”

Bentley grimaced, spinning on his heel. There were three men in the mouth of the alley. The lights behind them made them nothing more than shadowy silhouettes, one dawning something long and pointy in his hand. Was that a crowbar?

He knew he wasn’t supposed to run. That getting hurt was part of the plan. But he still really, really wanted to get out of there.

“Leave me alone!” He exclaimed loudly, making sure it echoed upwards toward the roofs of the buildings, where vigilantes would be prowling. One of the men, a scrawny one on the far left, lunged and hauled the child off the ground by his torso.

“No! Get off!”

He was tossed toward the man with the crowbar, who dropped the tool to catch him.

“Get off me!” Bentley’s shouts grew from fake and acting to shrill and desperate in an instant as he tried to fumble himself out of the man’s grip. He had a mean scowl on his face, which Bentley didn’t dare look at for very long.

He shoved Bentley the other way, and he managed to stagger but stay upright. The third man came out of nowhere and landed a punch on the side of Bentley’s head, sending him careening toward a nearby wall. He fought the urge to whine at the stabbing pain that reverberated through his head.

Not a second later, a harsh hand gripped the nape of his neck, and he hardly had another moment to think before he was slammed face-first into a brick wall.

Everything went black.

It had only been a few seconds and he was down for the count. Would his father punish him for that?

His vision was swimming with blackness, and his ears were ringing so loudly it felt like his head would split in two. He felt the world spinning around him even though his eyes were closed. Unable to force any more shouts through his lips, he coiled up where he laid, and an ugly, wretched sob tore its way out from somewhere within, his eyes burning like lava and then spilling over.

Don’t you dare start crying.

It was raining big, fat droplets now. As he laid, curled in a ball in the wet, trashy alley, he pretended that it was only rain dripping down his face and not blood and tears. He heard people moving in the alley as his the ringing faded. Lightning flashed across the dark sky and, for a moment, he truly believed these men were going to beat him to death.

“Hey — hey there, kiddo. Can you open your eyes for me?”

The voice was gentle, and worried. A light tenor tone that was trying not to be too loud. When had someone else entered the alley?

Bentley did, indeed, peel his eyes open. His vision swam and doubled for a moment, before the person came into focus.

Nightwing was there. Dick Grayson. Bruce Wayne’s son. Batman’s son.

He was crouching in front of him, hands hovering over the boy apprehensively, but not touching him. His black and blue latex-like superhero suit stuck out against the gray alleys. His black hair was wet and haphazardly shoved away from his face so he could get a better look — but his domino mask was still on. He looked soaked through to the bone.

For a moment, he just traced Bentley’s figure, searching for injuries. Or at least that’s what he seemed to be doing. His eyes were only barely visible through the white lenses that covered his eyes, and the child couldn’t place what he was looking at. But he was really freaking close to him.

Bentley shoved himself upright, head spinning and vision swimming when he forced himself to scoot away from the vigilante. He pulled his knees to his chest and made himself as small as possible.

“Nightwing?” He asked weakly, attempting to quiet his tears by wiping his face with his hoodie. It hardly did any good since he was sopping wet and it was pouring.

The man smiled lightly. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Bentley chose to ignore the unconscious attackers laying in the background the best he could. Instead, he watched Nightwing’s hands. Tried to predict where they were going to go, if they would strike him. They hovered out in the open, his forearms resting on his knees. His posture was open and non-threatening. For now.

“You took a hard hit, kiddo. Can you tell me your name?”

Bentley sniffled. How much was he supposed to tell him without spoiling his father’s plan of ultimate destruction? One wrong move, one wrong word, and all Bentley got was more pain.

He guessed his name would be fine.

“Bentley,” He whispered, hardly audible over the pouring rain.

Nightwing’s faint smile never left. “And how old are you, Bentley?”

“Jus’ turned ten,” He replied softly, resting his chin on his knees. His head was throbbing spectacularly.

Nightwing grimaced. “Let me get you home so you can get your noggin’ checked out, okay?”

“No!” Bentley squeaked, shifting away from him slightly. Pain stabbed through his skull at the sudden loud outburst. “No. I mean, I…” 

He turned away from the vigilante when more tears slid down his face. God, everything hurt so bad. He just wanted to lay in the alley alone for the rest of his life.

Nevertheless, he said: “My parents are dead, I don’t… I live out here.”

It wasn’t a total lie. His birth mother was pretty dead. At least that’s what he told himself to make it feel better.

“Oh…” Nightwing’s tone softened more, if it was even possible, his eyebrows creasing behind the domino mask. “Alright. Why don’t I get you to a doctor, then?”

“No!” Bentley startled, flinching and holding out a hand toward Nightwing. A few more bitter sobs shook the child’s body. Doctors were not part of the plan. If he failed the plan, he got punished. “If you take me there, they’ll just call the cops and-and send me off to live with someone else. Someone pretending to be my mom and dad. Please- I don’t… please don’t make me. I don’t want to…”

An insatiable sorrow swirled inside of Bentley at the realization that the phrase someone pretending to be my dad fit very well to his actual father when others were looking.

“Okay, alright,” Nightwing’s expression darkened with something Bentley couldn’t quite place, and he extended a hand closer to the child. He quickly retracted it when Bentley flinched. “Okay, I won’t take you there. Promise.”

There was a moment of silence, and thunder rumbled the ground beneath them. The rain was growing harder and louder by the minute. Not to mention that the temperature was still dropping, and Bentley was using all of the willpower he had (which wasn’t much) to stop from shaking like a leaf. It wasn’t working very well.

“Can I sit with you?” Nightwing continued.

Bentley tensed at the thought of the man being so close to him.

Nightwing was quick to add: “-if not, that’s okay. Whatever you’d prefer.”

Bentley sniffled again, and it only made his head hurt worse. Everything inside of him was screaming. He didn’t want to go live with the Wayne’s. Reading their insane files had been enough reassurance that the family was just as screwed up as Bentley’s, maybe even more, and he didn’t want to get hurt again.

But they’re superheroes, muttered the part of him that just wanted relief. They’re good guys.

His father had made it abundantly clear that it was very easy to pretend to be a good guy.

When Bentley never replied, Nightwing opted for staying where he was.

“How long have you lived out here?”

Bentley sniffed again, burying his face in his knees to avoid speaking — lying — any further. He only sat there, trembling from the rain and the willpower it was taking not to keep crying.

“You must be really cold, kiddo,”

He said nothing. Instead, Bentley curled up tighter, inching farther from Nightwing. He didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to go with Nightwing. Why was this so complicated?

If he failed, he’d get punished.

“Tell you what,” Nightwing started, shifting just a hair closer to him. “Your head probably hurts pretty bad, and I’m sure you’re tired and hungry. I’ll take you somewhere where we can get you patched up, fed, and out of the storm. Just me and you, no one else.”

Bentley eyed Nightwing closely, searching for any queues that he may be hostile. He seemed completely and wholly genuine.

Just like his father had in the office when he lied about loving him.

Sure, he was definitely cold, tired, and all of the things Nightwing had said. And the rain was making the cold so much worse. But going with him somewhere? Somewhere with promises of sanctuary? 

Going with Nightwing was probably a free ticket into Wayne Manor. It was the plan.

If Bentley wasn’t hit by the Wayne’s, surely his father would make up for it. What did he really have to lose?

He sucked in a shaky breath and blew it out, whispering: “Okay.”

He went to stand, but realized it was a mistake when his head swam and he got taken by another wave of vertigo. He was hoping Nightwing hadn’t heard the soft whine that escaped him when he brought his hand up to his head, but the deepening of the vigilante’s frown seemed to show that he had.

“Okay. Alright,” Nightwing started, shifting his weight. “Want me to carry you?”

Bentley squeaked a breathy “No.” As he forced himself to stand using the brick wall behind him. His head spun at the simple movement, and pain shot through his skull like lightning. He found himself leaning more on the wall than actually standing up.

“Hey, I know you’re scared, kiddo. It’s okay to be scared. But I… don’t think you need to be walking,” Nightwing admitted, stepping towards Bentley with slightly outstretched hands. He would’ve flinched away if he wasn’t having to put all his brainpower into simply staying upright. 

Nightwing changed positions again, on one knee so he was of a similar height to Bentley. “I’ll carry you exactly where I said, just me. I promise. And I won’t touch you until you’re ready,” He extended a hand, closer to Bentley this time, but not making any moves to actually touch him. “Whenever you’re comfortable.”

Bentley stared at Nightwing’s hand. Was he actually going to carry him?

His father surely to goodness would never pick him up, and never had — not for real, anyway. Not without dropping him on his head right after. And he was sure he’d crack open if he took another hit to his head. Besides, Bentley was too old to be held, he’d been told. And while he was definitely on the petite side, he was still ten, and older kids could be a hassle to carry, his father had once said.

But he had to go with Nightwing for the plan. And as much as he hated it, he knew he couldn’t walk.

He glared at Nightwing’s hand. Than at his face. Then his hand again. 

Then he took it.

Nightwing didn’t seem to care about any of that too big to carry stuff when he began to move, slowly and predictably for Bentley’s benefit, scooping the kid up and balancing his weight against his own. He was carrying him the same way Bentley had seen him carry a sleeping toddler once in a photograph — he was pressed against his chest, Nightwing supporting his weight by holding his legs.

“Take a breath, kiddo. No one’s going to hurt you anymore,”

Oh, how Bentley wished that were true.

Nightwing muttered something about how small he was to be ten. Bentley said nothing. The man was surprisingly warm for having been frolicking around in the rain in late Autumn, but he couldn’t really bring himself to mind. Not with how utterly freezing he was. It, at least, eased his trembling a bit. The gentle up and down of Nightwing’s steps made him kind of dizzy. It stopped bothering him so much when he pressed his forehead into the hero’s shoulder so he couldn’t see.

He couldn’t bring himself to celebrate that the plan was going just as his father wanted. Because the vigilante, the man — Dick Grayson, whose name Bentley would have to pretend not to know — was rubbing his back while he carried him out of a cold alley. He was, at least for now, carrying a child whose entire purpose was to destroy his family.

Thankfully, he needed the whole Wayne family to trust him first… or at least be able to tolerate being around him before he started working his Puppeteer magic. And that meant he didn’t have to do anything right now.

And he was thankful. Because, right now, he was being carried out of a cold, wet alley by a warm vigilante who made promises about food and help and warmth. What was the harm in reveling in it for a bit, if it was really true, before he got down to business? 

And if Nightwing was just another person who would hurt him, he’d deal with that, too. Changing his mind would be futile now. He only hoped that maybe, for once, the good things he was promised were real, and he really didn’t have to worry.

His body seemed to agree. Because with the gentle rocking from Nightwing walking and the hand moving up and down his back, he fell into a deeper sleep than he had in a long, long time.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💛

[baughtio]

Falling into Honey

tw: violence, eye injury, implied suicidal thoughts, creepy whumper

Whumpee lay on the floor. Through the foggy mush of their mind they could hear the Hero thrashing about, pleading under those black polished shoes. The shoes glimmered in and out of focus like the blade of a knife swinging tauntingly before their ripped eye socket. Who knows what Whumper was doing to them.

By the time Whumpee had propped themselves up to a sitting position, Whumper had already left. It'd been a peaceful day, just lying about for hours with their back on the cold floor, rusted with their blood. The long gash on their torso still dripping with blood was their perfect excuse for not being a well-functioning adult who contributes to society. If only they could slide down a little more into the dark bliss of pet life; if only Whumper would pull hard enough on the chains around their neck, then nobody could blame them for falling even deeper into a selfless state...

"Go away..."

Whumpee opened their remaining eye at the sound of the Hero mumbling to themselves. Despite their gooey vision, they could feel the Hero glaring intently at the basement door. They still had both of their eyes which were glowing a brilliant gold. Pulling vivaciously against the heavy chains, they seemed to be taking a stand, as if the light in their eyes alone would burn this institution down. Whumpee gazed at the Hero, holding their breath as the gold jumped into their eye and flickered against their grey pupils.

"Die."

"Die..." wheezed the Hero.

Then they collapsed into fitful of wet coughs and the chains easily brought the Hero bowing on their knees. Whumpee blinked as the gold disappeared from their eyes. They'd turned back into the two puddles of honey which Whumper loved to let spill and feast from.

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

Click. Four cartridges left.

Whumpee bit their lips as they saw the bullet rip into the Hero's shoulder. The scalding metal crunched the bones above their palpitating heart.

"You take it very well honey."

Hero let out an agonising groan.

"It's honestly a bummer," said Whumper as he stroked the revolver, "that it fired when we were still on the second round. I wanted to build a bit more tension..."

Hero tried supporting their broken shoulder with their right arm, but the chains just dug deeper into the wound.

"...because it's fun seeing you scared like this. You know what? I'm going to get another one of these toys and let Whumpee over here pull the trigger for me."

Whumper threw the empty revolver at Whumpee's head.

"If you don't Whumpee, I'll drop you off at the company. And what will they do with a useless body that can't even speak, huh?"

And just like that, Whumper twirled around and left Whumpee stealing concerned glances at the whimpering mess of Hero. Whumpee wanted to comfort Hero, but even a broken Hero might not want to associate with them. They thanked the chains for making the choice to do nothing for them. They despised themselves for it.

"Die..."

It was Hero's voice again.

"Die..."

Whumpee closed their eye this time. Maybe Hero was telling them to die and that could come true if they kept lying in the pool of their own blood.

"... kill... "

How long had it been since the dreams of those sleepless nights had become their reality? Once dreams are fulfilled, the night becomes void.

"Go kill..."

Whumpee sat in the shadows of a beach. The empty revolver lay with them. Before them was the sea in its golden hour, dark waves flapping beneath an incandescent surface. They couldn't tell if the sun peering just above the horizon was rising or setting. When they blinked it blinked with them, and just for a moment, Whumpee felt like falling into its golden embrace.

[lichen-punk]

1, 3, 9, 20, 25, 27, 28, 39, 45, 47 SORRY THIS IS SO MANY LOLL

o my goodness ok im putting a cut here for everyone's sanity cause all these questions got me excited

Do you have a favorite place near you to “touch grass”?

theres a little woodsy park near my house just within easy walking distance which is easy to get into regardless of time of day or night and has an incredible hill where you can sit under an oak tree in the tall grass and watch the sun or the moon come up or set depending on time of day and year and i love love love it one of the only good things about my town i go up there for my Rituals And Things gkjhsf

3. If you could see any extinct species in the wild, what would it be?

im a sucker for megafauna id love to see an irish elk or an aurochs or a woolly mammoth that would be so so cool

9. Do you have a favorite nature photo you’ve ever taken?

here's some of the best photos ive ever taken in my life, and then some pictures from the hike back to the cabin when we realized the sun was setting sooner than we thought it would and it was about to get WAY too cold for how we were dressed

20. What’s your favorite poem or song lyric about nature?

definitely a gerard manley hopkins!!! he's my fave poet ever and half his work is about nature. i'm torn between two, tho: i think my favorite of all time, really my favorite poem entirely, is the windhover (ive been trying to copy and paste it here without ruining the formatting but it is not working alas so you must google it sorry), but the last stanza of another of my favorites of his poems, inversnaid, is also just. fucking killer

What would the world be, once bereft Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left, O let them be left, wildness and wet; Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

25. What’s your favorite plant to grow yourself?

i unfortunately live in a terrible spot to grow stuff, the yard of my family's little house is like. straight dry clay and entirely shady, so my thumb has never gotten even the barest hint of green to it. one day id like to grow wheat or corn or some such tho

27. What’s your favorite outdoor activity?

honestly????? i love to just Sit And Observe. i used to love love love swimming in creeks and lakes and things, but obv i havent swum in anything for a very long time. hopefully i will again one dayy im also a big big fan of a fire for singing around. and to be honest shakespeare doesnt feel right unless its performed somewhere outdoors and beautiful now

28. What’s your favorite local animal you see all the time but still love?

ALL OF THEMMMMMM we get raccoons and possums and squirrels and mule deer and black tailed deer and crows and ravens and pigeons and rats and mice and apparently frogs i learned recently and newts and theyre all my best friends and i get so excited when i see them

39. What ecosystem do you consider your “home” ecosystem?

absolutely all american pacific northwest shit i love a temperate rainforest with redwoods and doug firs and such and then the deciduous layer underneath all ferns and moss and little creeks and then the harsh cliffs down to the beach all cold and foggy and windy. that's where i Belong easy peasy. i do also associate the more aggressively californian Beige Grassy Hills With Lonely Scrappy Little Coast Live Oaks or Valley Oaks On Top type biome with home and growing up, but its always been a little too harsh and dry and sunny for me here.

45. What is your favorite wildflower?

o god thats hard i love wildflowers. im a sucker for daisies, obv, and i love forget-me-nots and california poppies and indian paintbrush and columbine and and and

47. What is your favorite species of tree?

o no thats hard too!!!!! ummm probably oak trees, especially white oaks like the valley oak or the oregon white oak, especially the really big old wise looking ones, but i also adore sequoioideae and other conifers, unsurprisingly, and rowans and apple trees among others hold personal spiritual significance, and theres this specific kind of maple or sweetgum idk what it is but they grew outside the theatre i grew up in so they always make me nostalgic. OH and i LOVE the smell of california bay laurel thats the Good Summertime Smell for me

[shippimagines]

woah first post..its hurt/comfort.. eat up partybeetle enjoyers

As Poob pieced the last part of their lamp back together, they felt themself coming back to reality. They always got lost in their head when they had to fix their house. It happened so often and it had become a routine; one that they absolutely despised. It started to become so depressing and repetitive that they began to distract themself by daydreaming as they cleaned. When they daydreamed, though, they didn’t feel real. They felt like everything they did was just themself playing a video game. Everything they saw felt like they were just watching a movie. The ceiling felt too low and the floor felt too far away, and Poob would forget that their fingers wouldn’t phase through every item they touched and would instead interact with the item. While this time wasn’t very different, there was one thing- Pest was with them. He tended to half of the house while Poob fixed up the other half. He’d finished faster, though, and joined Poob in their room to help them. “..Poob? Hey?” Poob had come to the realization that Pest was beside them, talking to them softly. “Um.. s-sorry. Hi.” Their words were forced and unnatural, and the sound of their voice surprised them. “Are you okay?” Oh, so Pest had noticed that far off look in their eyes and the slowness of their movement. The way they moved so oddly and robotically and their lack of emotion, even when they dropped something or clumsily knocked things over. He’d noticed their abnormal amount of silence and how tired they looked. He felt the absence of their normal energy and excitement. “Um…” Poob took a moment to process the words and form their own. “I don’t.. Uh,” Their thoughts felt so far away and foggy. “I don’t th-think so.” Pest asked if he could touch them and they said yes. He picked them up and took them to their bed. He treated them as if they were made of porcelain and would break with the smallest mistake, any movement slightly too rough, any wrong word, any noise above a whisper. He was so gentle. So nice. Poob and Pest now sat on the bed together, facing one another. The warmth of Pest’s paws on Poob’s slowly pulled their mind back into their body. It was a slowness similar to that of a scared animal, approaching a human who only intended to offer love and care. Pest waited for them. When Poob was back, they could feel again. They felt so much. Too much. Their face almost immediately scrunched up and a sob clawed its way out of their throat, a noise that made Pest’s heart wrench. Poob’s eyes burnt and became wet, and fat tears fell down their face. Those tears soon dampened the fabric of the hoodie Pest wore as Poob hugged him. Pest hugged back, gently. So gently. It lasted a while. Ugly sobs filled the room and Poob shook with each one. Pest’s shoulder was covered in tears and snot and spit. It was disgusting, unattractive, raw emotion, and Pest felt it. He didn’t cry as much or as hard, but he cried. He cried with them. And they cried on each other until, after an eternity, it died down to sniffling and soft breaths and whimpers. Poob was trembling and their throat burnt, but they weren’t sad anymore. They didn’t know why, but a laugh bubbled up in their throat. Despite the confusion he felt, the emotions still spread like a virus and Pest laughed too. To anyone else, they would’ve looked like they were losing their minds. Pest had the fleeting thought that maybe they were. At least they’d be doing it together. “I’m- I’m sorry,” Poob took their head off of Pest’s shoulder and wiped their eyes. “I.. you’re.. gonna have to wash that hoodie.” They tittered. “That’s okay.” Pest smiled at them. Pest put his paws on either side of Poob’s face and kissed their forehead. His hands were so gentle, unlike those of the robloxians in the elevator who would slap Poob. His lips were warm and soft, so dissimilar to the cold and harsh snowballs Poob would be pelted with in that elevator. “Do you want to tell me why you were so..” Pest trailed off, unsure of what words to use. Poob understood what he meant.