#lovely picture of the cloud beast too

[darkclouud9]

giggling at my acnh passport. crafty ghost. currently dead. thank you '22 cloud for these lovely definitions of yourself. actually I mightve definitely had these before I last played. think crafty ghost at least might’ve been there almost since I first started playing. ish anyway ^-^ still dead btw :3

[redvexillum]

A/N: FFS, Kit stop telling people I lick doorknobs. For the record, I do not lick airport doorknobs. >:U ALSO! Wow! We already finished the first week! Let's keep it going!

SUMMARY: You betrayed Alastor once, back when you were alive—not out of desire, but because your family forced your hand. But now, in Hell, you've been given the chance to reunite with him. You loved him then, you love him now, and you still love him.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, sub/dom undertone, spanking, oral sex, fingering, p in v, gentle sex, alastor is bad with feelings

Alastor’s chest tightened, a tempest of emotion swirling just beneath the surface. Rage, jealousy, and a deep, aching need coiled around his heart, squeezing until it was impossible to think of anything but you. The words you had spoken earlier echoed relentlessly in his mind, like a haunting melody he couldn't escape. 

You had mentioned the party—a festive celebration hosted by Voxtek. The way your eyes lit up, excitement flickering in your expression, had ignited a spark of something dark in him. At first, he demanded you stay, his voice sharper than he intended. But then you had looked at him, crestfallen, your bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. And he had relented. 

Still, he knew. 

He knew. 

Vox was no fool; he was an opportunist. A conniving rat who always lingered too close, his smarmy words dripping like honey as he tried to worm his way into your good graces. At first, Alastor had laughed at the futility of it all. Vox might have charm, he might have power, but the truth was unshakable: 

Alastor owned you. Your heart, your mind, your very soul—they all belonged to him. It wasn’t merely a matter of possession; it was an eternal truth etched into the fabric of existence itself. 

And yet... 

You...You...You...

...a despicable, awful, woman let that pathetic man touch you.

Now, in the shadowy alley behind the glittering building, his fingers trembled with a barely controlled fervour. The strains of distant holiday music were a cruel backdrop to the scene unfolding. Alastor’s tentacles curled possessively around your waist, hoisting you into the perfect position. Your body, pliant and eager, responded to him as it always did. 

You were his. You would always be his. 

He thrust into your mouth with a feral desperation, his cock sliding between your soft lips as if to reaffirm his claim. The wet, obscene sounds of your throat wrapped around him filled the air, mingling with his low, guttural groans. His sharp teeth shredded the delicate fabric of your panties, exposing the slick heat of your centre, and he let out a breathy moan as the scent of you clouded his senses. 

“You’ve been naughty, my dear,” he hissed, his voice laced with a venomous sweetness as his tongue licked a slow, deliberate path along your folds. “Flaunting yourself before that ridiculous picture box—did you think I wouldn’t notice?” 

Your muffled cries, paired with the way your thighs quivered against his relentless grip, sent a jolt of satisfaction coursing through him. Each gag, every shuddering breath, was evidence of his dominance, a reminder of where you truly belonged. 

“Look at you,” he murmured, his grin faltering for a fraction of a second—a rare, fleeting crack in his mask. “You make me into this... beast. And yet, I can’t stop. I won’t stop.” 

His tongue plunged deeper, his lips pressing against your core with a fervent hunger, while his hips snapped forward, pushing himself further into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth. The juxtaposition of his lips worshipping your most intimate place while his cock ruthlessly claimed your throat was almost too much. 

“You were mine long before you knew it,” he growled against your slick heat, his voice thick with emotion. His mind churned, unbidden memories surfacing of a time when things had been simpler. 

He had first seen you in a haze of jazz and cigarette smoke, your laughter ringing out over the clinking of glasses. You, a beautiful flapper with stars in your eyes, had captivated him in a way nothing else had. For the first time in his life, he had felt alive. But then you had torn that life from him, walking away to marry a man of prestige, of power—a man who had sneered at Alastor’s kind. 

And now, here you were again, in his grasp. He hated you for the way you had broken him back then. But he hated you even more for the way he still couldn’t let you go. 

“You think I don’t remember?” he whispered darkly, his voice trembling as he withdrew from your mouth, his cock glistening with your spit. His eyes glowed crimson in the dim light, a twisted mixture of longing and loathing burning within them. “You think I don’t feel it every time you look at me? That guilt, that hesitation?” 

He pressed his lips to your trembling thighs, his voice softening to a near-whisper. “But it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Because no matter what you do, no matter how far you run...” 

His grin widened, sharp and dangerous, as he surged forward again, burying himself in you completely. 

“You’ll always be mine.” 

Alastor despised you. 

Not in the fleeting, surface-level way one might dislike an inconvenience—but in the all-consuming manner that twisted his every thought into something jagged and raw. You haunted him, your voice like a phantom's whisper, your smile lingering like a scar on his chest. He despised you so much that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. 

When the news reached him—whispers of your untimely death—his hatred burned brighter, fuelled by the injustice of it all. You had slipped through his fingers, robbing him of the satisfaction, the honour, of ending your life himself. 

And yet, there you were in Hell, as if fate had conspired to deliver you into his hands. He had found you, fragile and broken, tears streaming down your face as you clung to him. When you willingly offered your soul, he should have revelled in his triumph. Instead, he had been caught off guard by the softness in your touch, the sincerity in your gaze. You were an enigma—a soul he craved, a woman who ignited both his wrath and his desire. 

“Darling,” he growled, the word dripping with mockery as his hips pressed forward, his cock twitching against the back of your throat. His crimson eyes narrowed, his grin sharp and unyielding. “Did you forget who you belong to? Did you think that picture box would save you? Vox doesn’t care for you—or anyone, for that matter. He played you, just like every other man in your life.” 

His voice cracked, bitterness weaving through his words like poison. He hated you for the way you charmed and manipulated, for the power you held over those foolish enough to believe your honeyed lies. But most of all, he hated you for making him one of them. 

You were in Hell for a reason. And he had chosen to be your punishment—a torment crafted from your past sins and his boundless hatred. He wanted to destroy you, to remind you of what you truly were: a deceiver, a heartbreaker, a woman unworthy of the space you occupied in his mind. 

And yet... 

When he heard the soft, pitiful sobs you made as you struggled to take him, his resolve faltered. For a brief moment, the edges of his hatred blurred, giving way to something gentler. His thrusts slowed, becoming shallow and deliberate as his tongue traced languid paths through your slick folds. 

“Even now,” he muttered against your trembling core, his voice softer, more uncertain, “you make me forget myself.” 

The words of venom and rage faded into silence as he gave himself over to the intoxicating sensation of your body. He hated how easily you unravelled him, how the sound of your gasps and moans ignited something vulnerable within him. In truth, he wanted more than to punish you. He wanted to dote on you, to shower you with gifts, to claim you in every sense of the word. 

He wanted to give you his heart. 

But he couldn’t. 

He wouldn’t. 

You had fooled him once, and the memory of that betrayal still cut deep. He would not be made a fool again. 

His grip on your thighs tightened as his lips closed around your clit, his thrusts quickening. The pleasure building within him became a storm, his breaths hitching as his release drew near. He groaned, a low, guttural sound muffled by your body, and with a final thrust, he spilled himself into you. His cock pulsed, his seed marking you, claiming you in a way words never could. 

“Don’t waste a drop, darling,” he panted, his grin returning as he pulled back just enough to watch your trembling form. His gaze slid to your glistening, pulsing core, so close to release and yet untouched by his mercy. 

The night was far from over. 

Your punishment had only just begun. 

Your legs trembled as Alastor set you upright, the ache between your thighs a pulsing reminder of the pleasure he’d denied you. Need coursed through your body, raw and unrelenting, as you struggled to catch your breath. Your lips still tingled with the taste of him, the ghost of his harsh, possessive thrusts lingering like an unshakable memory. 

“Let’s go home, darling,” his voice was soft—a deadly whisper that cut through the quiet of the night, sending a shiver down your spine. 

With practised precision, he smoothed the wrinkles in your dress, his movements strangely tender despite the chaos that had unfolded moments ago. His crimson eyes glowed in the darkness, piercing through the shadows like embers. You stared at him, and your heart twisted painfully in your chest. 

Alastor was a contradiction. 

He spoke to you with venomous disdain, fucked you with a ruthless edge that left you breathless and shaking, and yet… there were moments. Moments of sweetness so fleeting, so fragile, you wondered if even he realized they existed. 

You knew why he was like this. You had hurt him. 

The memory of your betrayal was a weight you carried, one you could never fully cast off. You hadn’t wanted to leave him, but circumstances had forced your hand. When the bills piled high and the well-being of your family hung in the balance, you had done what was necessary. You’d married another man—a man with wealth and power—at the cost of your own heart. 

When you found Alastor again in Hell, it felt like a second chance. You had thrown yourself into his arms, your soul willingly offered to him without hesitation. But despite your efforts, his ever-present grin always seemed strained in your presence, a thin veneer that barely concealed the bitterness lurking beneath. 

Tonight had been no different. Whatever fragile peace existed between you shattered the moment Vox kissed your hand—a simple, polite gesture. You barely had time to react before Alastor whisked you into the shadows, his jealousy erupting in a storm of raw, unrelenting possession. 

On shaky knees, you reached out, your fingers brushing against a wrinkle in his suit, an instinctive gesture to calm him. But he recoiled instantly, his grin tightening, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits. The surrounding air buzzed with tension, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. 

“Alas—” you began, desperate to explain, to assure him that Vox meant nothing, that he was the only one who mattered. 

But Alastor silenced you with a clawed finger pressed firmly to your lips. His silent command was absolute, and you acquiesced, nodding meekly. He didn’t speak, instead seizing your wrist and hooking it through his arm with a rigid formality. To any onlooker, you were the picture of a lady being escorted by a gentleman—a perfect facade that belied the thick tension between you. 

The walk back was agonizingly silent. Each click of your heels against the pavement echoed your unresolved tension, your body still humming with the unfulfilled promise of release. You dared a sidelong glance at him, your gaze searching for any crack in his grinning, stoic mask. 

For a moment, his eyes met yours, glowing faintly in the dim light. His grip on your hand softened, his fingers covering yours in a gesture so gentle it made your breath hitch. It was fleeting, but it was enough to stir a faint, fragile hope in your chest. 

Yet, the truth was undeniable: Alastor didn’t trust you.

He didn’t believe your words, no matter how many times you told him you loved him. Your declarations were met with laughter—sharp and dismissive, as if he were bracing himself for the moment you would betray him again. 

Guilt crushed you, heavy and suffocating. You hadn’t known back then. You hadn’t understood the depth of his affection, the way he hid his true feelings behind that perpetual mask of joviality. You’d thought yourself a passing amusement to him, nothing more than a toy to be discarded when he grew bored. 

But now you knew better. 

You pressed closer to him, your body leaning into his. This time, he didn’t pull away. His arm remained firm, steady, as if silently allowing you this small comfort. 

You wished, more than anything, that he could hear your heart. That he could see the truth etched into its fragile walls. 

You wished he understood how happy you were to see him again after death, how you’d felt as if fate had granted you a second chance to be with him. 

You wished he could believe you when you said you loved him. 

Truly. 

Wholly. 

Sincerely. 

The air in the room was heavy, charged with an energy that made your breath catch. As you stepped inside, your eyes fell on Alastor lounging in the armchair, his long legs crossed, one hand draped lazily over the side. For a fleeting moment, you saw him—the man he used to be. 

You saw the earnest young radio host, his brown hair neatly combed, glasses perched on his nose with a faint sheen of determination in his gaze. His cherubic smile, so genuine and full of promise, flickered in your mind. 

The man you’d fallen in love with. 

But the illusion shattered as quickly as it appeared, replaced by gleaming crimson eyes and blood-red hair. His sharp grin stretched wide, the radio-static undertone in his voice a constant reminder of what he had become. 

“Undress and come here, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice dripping with dangerous intent. 

Your breath hitched, anticipation thrumming through your veins. You knew this game, this dance between the two of you, by heart. It was filthy. Debauched. Entirely improper for someone like you to even think of, let alone crave. And yet, Alastor always had a way of stripping you bare—not just of your clothes, but of every pretense, every wall you tried to erect. 

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the clasps of your dress, his gaze burning into you with an intensity that made your skin flush. The plush fabric of the armchair yielded beneath his claws, his grip tightening as he tracked your every movement. His arousal was evident, the bulge in his trousers straining against the fabric. He was enjoying this, savouring the power he believed he wielded over you. 

Slowly, deliberately, you let the dress slip from your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet. His sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed as his claws dug deeper into the armchair. Your underwear was long gone, already ripped to shreds earlier in a fit of his possessive anger. All that remained was your brassiere, the final barrier between you and his unrelenting gaze. 

With a steady hand, you unhooked it, letting it fall to the floor. You stood before him, bare and vulnerable, his eyes raking over you like a predator sizing up his prey. 

“Come,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with unbridled lust. 

You dropped to your knees without hesitation, supplication etched into every movement as you crawled toward him. His fingers flew to his belt, unlooping it with deliberate slowness, savouring the moment. The unmistakable sound of his zipper filled the room, and finally, you found yourself nestled between his thighs. 

His cock stood rigid and proud, the bead of pre-cum at its tip glistening in the dim light. Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss to the head, eliciting a sharp hiss from his lips. 

“Will you forgive me, sir?” you whispered, your voice sultry and low, already sinking into the familiar role you played with him. Your fingers traced the length of his shaft, teasing the prominent vein that pulsed beneath your touch. “I’ve displeased you. How can I make it up to you?” 

Your lips brushed against him again, dragging slowly from the tip to the base, each kiss a silent plea for forgiveness. 

Alastor’s grin widened, his voice a low croon. “My, look at you,” he hissed, his claws tangling in your hair, gripping tight enough to make you moan. The sound was sinful, and his cock twitched in response, eager for more. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he bit out, spreading his thighs wider, guiding you to lay across his lap. 

You obeyed, your body draped over him, your hips raised slightly to expose yourself completely. His hardened length pressed against your side, the weight of him a reminder of the carnal desire you two shared. One of his hands stroked the curve of your ass, the sharp tips of his claws teased your folds, light enough to drive you mad with need. 

“What will I do with you?” he murmured, his tone laced with anger. “Am I not enough? Will you leave me again for another man who can drape you in false promises and riches?” 

His words were a sharp contrast to the seductive haze that had enveloped the room. You stilled, your brow furrowing as his voice wavered. For a moment, you heard something beneath the surface—something raw, something fragile. 

Alastor’s mask cracked, if only for a heartbeat. That hitch in his voice, that tremble he tried to suppress, spoke volumes. 

He sounded almost… vulnerable.

The tension in the room was palpable, every sound amplified by the quiet. You hesitated, glancing at Alastor’s face to gauge his mood. Concern flickered in your chest, but before you could speak, his hand shot up and came down sharply on your bare bottom. 

The smack echoed through the room, and you lurched forward with a startled yelp. Your fingers instinctively gripped at his tailored suit pants, your cheeks flaming from both the slap and the molten heat pooling in your core. The sting spread across your skin, sharp and electric, and you couldn’t stop the way your body responded—wetness already slickening your thighs. 

“Who else,” he hissed, his voice low and venomous, “would accept you like this but me, sweetheart?” 

Before you could answer, his hand met your flesh again, harder this time, the force driving you against him. Pain bloomed across your backside, a delicious ache that made you gasp, a sob breaking free before you could swallow it down. 

“How improper of you,” he grunted, delivering another slap. And another. Again and again, his strikes rained down, unrelenting, until your body trembled beneath him. By the sixth strike, your resolve shattered, replaced with a shameless moan as his fingers slipped inside you. 

Three fingers plunged deep, spreading you with a squelch that made your face burn. His touch was deliberate, unyielding, and all-consuming. He curled his fingers just enough to brush against that sensitive spot within you, the one that always made you see stars. 

“Hmm,” he mused, his tone cold and calculating. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but look at you,” he murmured mockingly. “You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?” 

Your body betrayed you, hips bucking to meet his hand even as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The raw, stinging burn of his palm on your ass mingled with the intoxicating pleasure of his touch, leaving you reeling, your sobs interwoven with desperate mewls. 

“Tell me, darling,” he growled, his voice darker, more guttural, “how many men have used this hole?” His fingers plunged deeper, reaching places that made your entire body shudder. “You’re insatiable, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you let any man take you? Any cad?” 

His words stung worse than his strikes. There was no pretense now, no game of playful cruelty. His tone was raw, unfiltered, the sharp edges of genuine anger slicing through you. 

You felt the first crack in your heart. 

“That’s not true!” you cried, voice cracking as his fingers pressed mercilessly against that spot inside you. The pleasure was unbearable, teetering on the edge of pain, but the fissures in your heart hurt worse. “It’s not true!” 

Tears welled up, spilling over as you trembled against him. “It’s not…” your voice broke into a whisper, trailing off as he stilled, his fingers buried deep but unmoving. 

You wished...

You wished he could hear your heart. 

“Alastor…” you whispered his name, turning your head to meet his gaze. Your vision blurred with tears, the crimson glow of his eyes melting into the haze. “Alastor,” you repeated, voice trembling, your breath hitching on every syllable. 

Would he believe you? If he could see past his bitterness and anger, if he could look into the depths of your heart, would he understand? 

“Alastor, I—” 

Whatever you were about to say was cut off as he yanked you up, positioning you to straddle his lap. His cock pressed against your abdomen, rigid and insistent. 

Before you could process it, his hand tangled in your hair, dragging you down into a bruising kiss. His lips crushed against yours with a ferocity that left no room for tenderness. It was rough, messy, and possessive. Your carefully styled hair tumbled from its pins, falling around your face in wild, chaotic waves. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, drawing a gasp from you that he swallowed eagerly, his mouth relentless. The kiss was as biting as his words, filled with frustration, anger, and something deeper he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—admit. 

It was a kiss meant to silence, to dominate. But beneath the chaos, you could feel it: his desperation, his need. As his claws raked gently down your spine, you wished again, silently, achingly, that he could believe you. That he could see your love laid bare. 

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the storm of his touch—the cruel, the cold, the gentle, the warm. It was everything that made Alastor who he was, a paradox of a man who commanded both fear and fascination. Despite the sharp edges of his demeanour, the unrelenting cruelty of his words, you couldn’t deny the truth in your chest. You had fallen for him once, and even after death, that love hadn’t faded. 

A single tear escaped, tracing a hot line down your cheek before breaking free, a silent testament to the emotions welling within you. But that solitary drop was only the beginning, soon, more tears spilled freely, one after another. Still, your fingers curled tightly into his lapels, pulling him closer, refusing to let go. 

His breath hitched, and his trembling fingers brushed against your cheeks, wiping away the tears in hurried, almost desperate strokes. But for every tear he caught, more followed. His touch was achingly gentle, a whisper against your skin that made your heart ache. 

Without a word, he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you as if you were something fragile. The earlier roughness of his kisses softened, turning into feather-light brushes and tender licks against your swollen lips, soothing the wound he had created in a moment of heated passion. 

The world blurred as he carried you to the bed, laying you down with a reverence that made your chest tighten. Slowly, deliberately, he began shedding his clothes, each piece falling away until he stood bare before you. Vulnerable. Honest. For once, he hid nothing. 

He joined you, his weight sinking the mattress beneath you. His lips traced the tear-streaked paths on your cheeks, pressing reverent, almost apologetic kisses to each salty trail. His red eyes softened, glowing dimly, as if they too bore the weight of his unspoken emotions. 

“Alastor,” you whispered, voice trembling, your hands cupping his face. “I love you.” 

He stilled, his gaze locking with yours, searching for something—doubt, deception, anything to justify his disbelief. But all you could wish was for him to see your sincerity. 

“How silly of you, darling,” he murmured, his voice low, tinged with a faint tremor. He leaned closer, his body caging yours, until your vision was filled with nothing but him. “How awfully silly of you…” 

His words trailed off into a kiss, his lips brushing yours with uncharacteristic gentleness. The weight of his body pressed against you as the head of his cock nudged your entrance, his movements slow and deliberate. He filled you inch by inch, a quiet exhale escaping his lips as he stilled, buried deep within you. 

Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer. “Alastor,” your voice cracked, thick with emotion. Tears welled in your eyes again, the ache in your chest threatening to consume you. “Alastor, I promise you—” Another tear slipped free, trailing down to join the others. “You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.” 

Your lips trembled as you pulled him into another kiss, soft and tender, pouring every ounce of your love into him. 

For a moment, his body tensed, his muscles locking as if bracing against something too painful to bear. Then, as if a switch flipped, the vulnerability in his expression shattered, replaced by that cruel, familiar grin. 

“Do you now?” he sneered, his tone laced with mockery. Without warning, he pulled back and slammed his hips forward, driving into you with enough force to make you cry out. 

“Do you,” he hissed, his voice ragged as he thrust into you with a brutal rhythm, “say that to every hapless chum who gets to fuck you?” 

His pace quickened, each thrust harder and faster, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. The bed groaned beneath you, its protests rhythmic and loud, but you barely heard it over the pounding of your heart. 

Tears streamed down your face again, but this time, they carried the weight of anguish and longing. 

You wished, oh, how you desperately wished he could hear your heart. 

If he could, he might understand the truth in every word you spoke, the depth of your love that not even death could diminish. But as his sharp movements pushed you closer to the edge of bliss and despair, you realized he wasn’t ready to hear it—not yet. 

Each thrust pulled fragmented cries from your lips, your breath hitching in broken rhythm, tears pooling and spilling from your eyes. But amidst the tears, you smiled at him. That smile—he’d always said it was your best feature, hadn’t he? 

Your trembling hands rose toward him in a gesture of surrender, of devotion, as you spoke the words again. “I love you,” you whispered, voice quaking but resolute. 

No matter how many times it took. 

No matter how many years it took. 

You would keep saying it until he believed you. 

“I love you, Alastor,” you repeated, your smile radiant despite the ache in your chest, a smile that was both a gift and a plea. The words came from somewhere deep inside, a place untouched by bitterness or regret. They were the words you knew he longed to hear, words that should have been exchanged long ago when you were both young, innocent, and untouched by the cruel weight of time and tragedy. 

His hips faltered, the relentless rhythm stuttering for a moment. His breath quickened, and his crimson eyes flickered with something too raw, too human. His ever-present grin tightened, becoming almost brittle. He shook his head as though to dispel your words, to reject them outright. But before you could catch the emotions flickering behind his crimson gaze, he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

His breath was hot against your skin, and his movements shifted. The sharp, punishing pace gave way to something slower, something more deliberate. He rolled his hips, dragging each motion out, as though savouring every second. 

Your hand moved to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands. You pressed your cheek against his head, holding him close. He released a shuddering breath, his chest heaving against yours, and the tension in his shoulders began to soften. 

His lips found your neck, planting small, tentative kisses along the delicate skin before he sucked gently, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. 

“Say it again, darling,” he murmured, the edge in his voice softened, though a cruel laugh still escaped him. “Go on, tell me your hilarious lies.” 

But his arms tightened around you, holding you as if you were the only thing anchoring him to this world. 

“You always were the best liar,” he added, though his words wavered, and his voice dropped to a whisper so quiet you barely heard it. “...Cher.” 

Your heart clenched. If only he could see it—if only he could feel the truth that pulsed there with every beat. 

“I love you, Alastor,” you said again, this time brushing a kiss to his head. Your voice was steady, your words unwavering. “I’m happy to be here with you.” 

He shuddered, his movements continuing at their deliberate pace. Each stroke dragged the head of his cock along your walls before plunging back in, drawing soft moans from your lips that mingled with his quiet gasps. The symphony of shared pleasure seemed to echo in the room, each sound weaving together, building into something raw and tender. 

“A-again,” he gasped, lifting his head. His forehead pressed against yours, his crimson eyes locking with yours, the intensity in them almost overwhelming. “Again...cher.” 

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. “I love you,” you said, the words flowing as naturally as breathing. “I do.” 

His lips captured yours, hungry but not desperate, and he kissed you again and again, as if each kiss could carve the truth of your words into his soul. He pressed against all the places that made your body sing, his gentle rhythm slowly driving you closer to the peak of pleasure. 

Your body tensed, every muscle quivering as you neared your release. He stayed with you, maintaining the same steady pace, his hips rocking against yours with a tenderness that stole your breath. 

“Again,” he moaned, his voice raw with need. “Cher...cher...cher,” he chanted the endearment like a prayer, each repetition pulling you closer to him in every way. 

And you gave it freely, your voice trembling with devotion and truth. “I love you, Alastor. Always.” 

The words trembled on your lips, broken by the ebb and flow of your breath. “I—I love you,” you gasped, your body taut with tension. The heat coiling low in your abdomen finally snapped, and a wave of pleasure cascaded through you, its intensity both gentle and consuming. 

Your walls clenched around him, drawing a guttural moan from Alastor as he shuddered above you. His breaths grew ragged, each thrust slower but deeper, as he chased his release. 

“Oh, cher,” he rasped, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions as his climax overtook him. His cock pressed as far into you as it could go, and with a deep groan, he spilled into you. 

For a moment, the world went silent. The only sounds were your uneven breaths mingling with his, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. 

And then you saw it—just for a fleeting instant. 

His crimson eyes softened, the hardened mask of indifference slipping. It was the same look he gave you back then, during those nights at Mimzy’s speakeasy when he’d watch you perform from the shadows, his gaze filled with quiet adoration. Back when your love was a tender, secret thing, untouched by the cruelty of time. 

Your heart swelled, and you smiled at him, hopeful. 

But the moment shattered like glass. 

Alastor blinked once, twice, and then the mask returned. He pulled away abruptly, leaving a cold emptiness where his warmth had been. The sudden rush of air prickled against your skin, and his release spilled from you, unwelcome and raw. 

“Well,” he began, laughter forced and hollow. “That was quite the performance, wasn’t it?” His grin stretched wide, but it lacked its usual bite, his eyes darting anywhere but to yours. 

The sight of his softening cock, glistening with the evidence of your union, seemed to mock the tenderness that had just been shared. 

“Now, run along,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. His tone was too sharp, too loud. “I’ve had my fun, and I’m done with you.” 

Each word cut deeper than the last. 

You sat up slowly, the ache in your body a bitter reminder of the connection you had just shared. His ears flicked back for the briefest second, betraying the tension he couldn’t hide. His claws dug into his thigh, his knuckles white with restraint, as he avoided your gaze. 

You could have left. Perhaps he expected you to. 

But instead, you moved closer. 

Crawling onto his lap, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight. He stiffened immediately, his hands flying up in hesitation, hovering uncertainly in the space between you. 

“I won’t be the one to walk away this time, Alastor,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. You pressed yourself closer, your warmth meeting his cold edges. 

His breath hitched, and his hands hovered, trembling, before finally coming to rest against your back. 

“If you want me to leave,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to meet his wide, startled eyes, “then you’ll have to be the one to walk away.” 

For a moment, time stood still. The air between you was heavy, laden with the weight of unspoken truths and unresolved desires. 

And then, in that fragile space where the past, present, and future seemed to blur, Alastor’s arms closed around you. Tight. Almost desperate. 

His hold was not gentle, but it was real. 

You rested your head against his shoulder, and for the first time that night, you allowed yourself to believe that perhaps—just perhaps—he had seen your heart, if only a little. 

And you held on to that sliver of hope, knowing it was all you had. 

For tonight, it was enough. 

Please follow #DRP Smutmas 2024 to get all the latest updates of our stories!

Wanna hang out with me? Come talk to me at Voxtek Server!

[takumiraine]

Once Upon a Time chapter 9

Danny is still going through it, but it gets better I promise.

Taku note: jesus fuck putting the links in on these ones was a beast. I actually had to LOG IN to tumblr on my COMPUTER. ick.

<first> <prev> <next>

There is some texting abbreviations here. The abbreviations are: B, meaning Bruce, obviously. It is saved as just ‘B’ in his phone. R, meaning Replacement which is Tim. Tim is saved as Replacement. DB is Damian, saved as Demon Brat. D, is Dick, and is just saved as an eggplant emoji in Jason’s phone. This may or may not be relevant later.

—-

Okay. Okay. He needs a plan. He needs to think and form a plan. He needs a computer. He grabs a notebook. Scrambles around his upturned apartment until he finds a pen. Starts writing equations. The equations will solve to binary numbers. Each one a different letter. His brain is humming. He double checks his work. Triple checks it. Tears the page out.

Checks the work again.

He grabs a bit of his remaining cash. Climbs out onto his fire escape. Phases his hand through the glass to carefully reset the trap.

Move on silent feet, sticking to shadows. Hoodie on and hood over his head. Silent and fast. Alert. Find an Internet cafe. Buy an hour of computer time. Log onto the conspiracy site. Send a new private message.

Carefully type in the equations with shaking hands. Time ticks by so slowly and yet so fast. Equations come back to him. Solve. Translate. Read. Send more back. More frantic than before. They have to run. They have to hide. They cannot come here.

He received a picture of a chocolate bar in return.

They’re coming here. They’re coming. They’re coming and Danny can’t stop it. Can’t stop any of it.

He deletes the messages. Logs out of the website. Clears the history. Takes the paper. Leaves the building. Burns the paper to ash.

Hears a van. Pulls his hood further down over his head. Has to get to the observatory. That was the agreed upon meeting place. Has to get there. Has to hide.

Has to find a way to keep them safe. He’s out of practice. He doesn’t have the upper hand. He’s so scared. Scared for his friends. He gets to the observatory. It’s dark in there. Locked. Danny finds a ladder. Climbs. On the roof. The dome is solid. Cold. Damp. He sits in the shadow of the lens. He waits.

Time moved. Time stood still. Heavy cloud cover meant he couldn’t watch the passage of time in the moon and stars. That was Gotham. Last clear night or day was a long time ago. Danny couldn’t breathe.

Loud footsteps. He pressed himself deeper into the shadows.

“D…?” The voice was familiar. Danny peered out into the darkness, and saw two familiar faces.

“Tuck… Sam…” he croaked, voice raw like he had just spent hours Wailing.

“Hey Danny, good to see you.” Sam sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The Fenton Creep Stick laid across her lap. Tucker came to join them, sitting on his other side and rifling around in his backpack. Before Danny could process it, a couple high protein granola bars and a bottle of strawberry pedialyte was put on his lap.

“Eat. Panicking burns calories and you need them.” Tucker insisted, nudging him gently. Already Danny felt the panic subsiding, leaving him exhausted. He ate the protein bars mechanically, forcing himself to focus on the taste and the feel of them between his teeth. He needed the nutrients desperately. After the protein bars were eaten, Danny chilled the bottle of strawberry drink and popped the cap off, chugging it.

“Alright. Now that you’re sort of fed and hydrated, breathe. You know I love the whole dead vibe as much as the next girl, but you’re still half human.” Sam rubbed his leg with her free hand and Tucker rubbed his back. It was soothing and almost involuntarily he took a deep breath in and out, then another, and another. He felt his mind settle. When he could finally think clearly again, he pulled them both close in a hug.

“Ancients, I’ve missed you guys…”

“Us too man. Us too,” Tucker agreed, squeezing Danny back just as tightly.

“Now, not to turn you back onto a doom spiral, but what the hell happened?” Sam asked once they pulled back from the embrace.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story. But I’ll tell you everything.” And Danny did. He started with getting enrolled in school, which they knew, because Tucker helped. Then with the cute guy that befriended him out of nowhere, and although he kept the name to himself, Sam clocked his crush almost immediately.

“It’s okay Danny, I have a radar for that. You were in love with me for how many years now?” She teased. “I am now able to spot a Danny-crush from a hundred yards.”

Tucker laughed with her and Danny groaned putting his head back in his hands. “I hate you so much sometimes…” he moaned.

“Yeah we love you too buddy.” Tucker patted him again. “Keep going with the story.”

He did. The tutoring, the meetings with red hood, and then finally, the week before and that evening. Again he left out the fact that he recognized Hood’s real identity. Sam and Tucker wouldn’t tell, but he couldn’t out another hero in good conscience. Even if they were fighting.

“Shit man.” Tucker scooted himself closer, while Sam did the same on his other side. “That was…”

“I’d rather fight Skulker and Technus together without my powers or a thermos…” he mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing his face into them.

“Okay. So here’s what we’re going to do. Tucker is going to make sure none of his trip lines have been tripped, I’m gonna make sure no creeps sneak up on us here. You’re gonna take a nap. You look like you’re about ready to drop dead again.” Danny nodded into his knees, and Tucker got out his pda and got to work.

Slowly, Danny’s breathing evened and slowed then stopped almost completely. Having his friends nearby meant he was safe. Safety meant sleep.

Jason was out looking. He started at Danny’s apartment, but he wasn’t answering, there was no sound of movement, the thermals were all ambient, so he moved on.

The longer he looked the more he realized, he barely knew anything about Danny. Danny was great at hedging around questions about himself. Turning the conversation back to Jason, or topics that were safe. The weather, the best places to get burgers, the best type of tree to climb, the best dangerous animal to be freed from the zoo. That last topic was courtesy of Damian but…

Then Jason remembered. They had been eating outside after dark. Danny had looked up at the sky and sighed, then pointed fries accusingly at Jason. “Your dad is like, richer than anyone else here right? He should really do something about all this smog. Seeing the stars at night is one of life’s great pleasures.”

“You could go to the observatory,” Jason had suggested, fairly used to Danny occasionally having ideas for Bruce’s money without any real interest in using it for himself. Always for the betterment of the city as a whole.

“That’s a last resort option. Nothing beats constellation spotting laying on a rooftop. You should be able to see Orion’s Belt over….” Danny looked up at the sky, head shifting as he oriented himself to north and then pointing “over there, somewhere.”

“Well, I’ll bring it up and see what WE has in the works for ecological initiatives.” Jason had said, taken in by how certain Danny was. He could have been bullshitting Jason, but sure enough when he looked it up later, Danny had the right idea, even if he was a few degrees off in his estimation.

Not having any better idea, Jason sped off towards the observatory.

Danny had been asleep for maybe an hour when the motorcycle was heard pulling up. Tucker turned off his modified PDA, the backlight in the screen would have given them away in a heartbeat.

Once the motorcycle turned off though, Sam woke up Danny. He woke with a silent start, looking around to see what had alarmed his friends. When he felt the familiar press of another halfa’s core he pressed a hand to each of their knees and wrote a small smiley face on them. Danny did not miss the way Sam’s grip on the creep stick tightened.

Jason didn’t immediately think anything of the observatory as he circled it. There were two hot spots on the roof that were likely just horny teenagers. He would make his loop and then head off. At least, that was the plan until he spotted the ice cold person shape between the two warmer ones.

Nobody ran that cold except Danny.

Jason stood at the base of the ladder and considered his options. He didn’t know who Danny was up there with. He didn’t know if Danny was in danger. Though the pit in him wasn’t any more riled up than it normally was. He didn’t know if Danny would throw his ass right off the roof. There wasn’t anything around here for him to grapnel onto if he was.

‘I did not know your trip into the pit made you a coward, Todd’ he could hear Damian taunt in his head.

Shaking the thought of his brother off, Jason climbed the ladder. The moment his helmet popped over the roof Danny’s eyes were fixed on him. “Go away J-Hood.”

Jason was momentarily surprised, Danny had obviously not expected him to come in costume, but corrected himself fairly flawlessly. Not outing him to the two people who were holding him protectively. Must be Sam and Tucker.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Are these your friends?” He asked, not moving any further up the ladder. Danny nodded, continuing to glare over his knees.

“Sam and Tucker. They knew me… before everything else.”

Jason nodded. Climbed up enough to get a good look. “I have a safe house nearby. Can we go there and talk?”

“Is more of your little guano group” Sam snickered at the name and Tucker gave Danny a fist bump, “going to hunt me down if I don’t?”

“No. But you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Danny looked between his friends for a minute, before slowly uncurling and standing, helping his friends up. “Fine.”

Once they were all on the ground they walked to the safe house, a couple blocks away. Once they were inside, Jason pulled off the helmet.

“Jason Todd. Also known as Red Hood.”

He noticed Sam give Danny a look, and he made a face back at her. Tucker rolled his eyes. “You talk to the Bat?” Danny asked, rather than confront his friend.

“Yeah. But that’s not the important part. After we talked tonight Oracle noticed something. The firewall was an automatic scoop. Anything related to your parents’….hobby got thrown into a…. Technological bucket. It’s why your messages never made it to the League.”

Danny took a step back, and Sam and Tucker automatically moved closer, supporting him. “You…. Heard the messages?”

“There was video too. Of… an attack.”

“Of course those assholes were filming it.” Sam tightened her grip on the creep stick as she spoke. Danny raised a shaking hand to his face, feeling for something. His eyes had gone unfocused.

Damn it. Jason took a step forward and Danny flinched, the air going cold. “Easy D.” Tucker soothed. “You’re in Gotham. We’re gonna go sit.” Sam and Tucker bullied Danny to the couch. Tucker sat next to him, while Sam stood in front of them protectively. When she caught Jason trying to look around her she snapped to get his attention.

“Hey, Danny needs some water. About 35 degrees if you have it that cold, cold as you have otherwise.” The snapping and hyper specific orders placed her in his memory. Samantha Manson. Daughter of the Amity Mansons. They attended a few Galas when she was younger. She was very insistent on her veganism even then.

Jason wasn’t about to argue with a woman holding a bat. If Sam was anything like his brothers, she knew how to use it even before the vigilante training.

He brought Danny water, tap with a couple of ice cubes, and passed it to Tucker, who was still talking quietly to Danny. Danny was nodding and occasionally giving a thin half smile, but was able to hold the glass on his own and sip from it.

“We need a plan.” Danny said after he finished drinking.

“Batman wants to talk to you.” Jason told him, which got Danny opening his mouth to protest.

“First,” Sam interrupted, looking at Danny then at Jason, “Tucker is going to do his checks, Danny is going to sleep, and we are going to wait.”

“I don’t need to sleep.” Danny crossed his arms, protesting.

“And Dash didn’t shove you in a locker at least once a week.” Tucker’s response was combined with an eye roll. “You look like you just went a dozen rounds with Skulker without your powers. You need pizza rolls and a nap.”

“You make me sound like I’m a kindergartener.”

“I think I have pizza rolls.” Jason interrupted the protest. “I’ll kill the lights, make the brat’s pizza rolls for you and you just lay there until they’re done.”

Danny scowled at Jason for hanging up on him but as Tucker slid off the couch onto the floor in front of him, Danny obediently laid down. As Jason pulled the bag out of the freezer and started the oven heating, he watched Danny’s breathing slow down and even out, then stop altogether.

Sam followed his gaze and took Danny’s sleeping form in quickly before peering at what Tucker was doing. Seeing that the people Danny knew the longest weren’t concerned about his lack of visible breathing, Jason settled a bit, texting the family chat.

From J: so I found Danny. But he has backup now. He managed to get in contact with his friends.

From B: Are you on your way?

From J: no. He was freaking out. Right now he’s asleep on the couch and I’m making pizza rolls.

From DB: Excuse me zombie child, those happen to be mine.

From J: Better learn to share now before you learn the hard way like Dickie, Timber and I did.

From B: Jason, please.

From J: what? It’s not a lie. He’s the fourth Robin that we know about.

From DB: I am the best. I will not be replaced.

From R: idk Dami, the new kid has black hair, blue eyes and a troubled past. He’s adoption bait. Hopefully he didn’t lie about his age and really is older than you.

From D: it’s never easy having to hand over the spandex and cape to a younger more dangerous Robin.

From DB: So you admit that I am the best.

From D: no I said you were younger and more dangerous than we were as Robin. Except for maybe Jay. He liked to bite criminals.

From J: hey! They were the idiots who put their hands near my face. I grew up hungry. You eat what you can.

From B: Before this gets more out of hand, Jason, do you know about when you will be arriving?

From J: probably going to leave here in 45 minutes to an hour. I will let you know.

Jason was going to take his time cooking those pizza rolls correctly. He wasn’t going to let them ooze out everywhere, then they would have to cool so when Danny inevitably wolfed them down he wouldn’t scorch his mouth. Allow for some wake up time…

Jason was completely, and understandably in his opinion, giving Danny as much time before the meet the family scene happened. The guy had been through enough.

[animeshotsh]

A doggie!! | Various x Kid!Reader |

Warnings: Fluff - Curses - HH violence - Alastor hates dogs - Lucifer its all up to bother Alastor - grammar mistakes - may do pt2 -

Charlie could not hold her smile as she walked down the streets of hell, a big box in her hands and a nervous Vaggie at her side.

"Charlie...love, do you think this is a good idea? Vaggie asked again for the 10th time that day

Charlie who was already planning on how to give you your gift stopped to look at her gilfriend.

"We have been over our head with the hotel and the new patrons. No one has the time to play with (Y/N)...." Charlie said, memories of your sad self leaving the room after seeing everybody was working on something.

"I know but do you think a....dog would help them? They are too young..."

"This" Charlie exclaimed with the biggest and proud smile on her face shoving the box in Vaggi's face "its the most well trained and behaved Cerberus!! I know this race i used to have one, they are loyal and friendly and.."

"And they breath fire, do you really think (Y/N) its going to be alright with one?"

~☆~☆~☆~☆

Turns out, you were even better than right.

Amazing one would say.

Charlie let out sounds of happyness as she snapped pictures of you and the little and chubby cerberus. Both of you currently playing inside your room.

Well one of them, since Alastor and Lucifer insisted on you having a room close to each one of them.

"Its really mine Sis?" You asked giving the dog some trears then rubbing its belly.

"Yes! We have been working too hard in the hotel and i know you must have feel lonely, but now you have this frien by your side"

The shadow from alastor and flying lamb from Lucifer where at the side giving Charlie offended looks.

~☆~☆~☆~☆

No one was ready for how was going to be with you and a cerberus.

First, Lucifer almost had a heart attack when he went to your room to get you and saw the puppy who in return sent a blast of blue fire towards him.

You had to calm down the creature that had turned big when being suprised by the hell's king.

"Hey hey!! Its fine its my dad"

"(Y/N) GET AWAY FROM THAT THING"

Of coruse his screams alerted Charlie who went as fast as she could to see her father sending glares towards your cerberus (when did it got so big?) And you trying to calm it down.

After Charlie explained and Lucifer calmed down so did the dog. Returning to its puppy size and now running in circles, not a single sign that it was the same beast from minutes before.

~☆~☆~☆~

Alastor hated it. And the dog hated Alastor back.

When he heard you had got a dog Alastor was ready to try and get the thing out of the hotel.

Maybe he could get you a fish....yeah that sounded better.

But no. The moment Alastor tried to get that dog it turned six feet tall and growled at him.

And no, Alastor was not suprised and he was ready to fight it.

But that thing was more intelligent, when it hear you were coming it went back to its puppy size and started crying. And you just happened to be around the corner.

"Cerberus? Uncle? What happened?"

Oh that fucker played Alastor so well, he could see the dog smiling and wanted nothing more than to squish it.

"Oh Dear! Looks like i scared it, maybe its not as strong as it seems" Alastor joked getting a low growl.

"Nono! Cerberus its so strong and gets big!! It even let dad, sis and I ride on its back" you explained while petting each head. "Maybe you can come with me? I promise you wont fall"

Like hell he would let himself be on top of that thing. But he could not tell you that so he just smiled "maybe another time, lets go and listen to some jazz while i work on my program"

"Can cerberus come?"

At the question Alastor's eye twitched "of course it can"

~☆~☆~☆~☆

Lucifer was in cloud nine after hearing at dinner that Cerberus had pissed Alastor's studio making the radio demon let out static noise and almost stabbing the king.

You were so sorry almost crying your eyes out making Alastor stop from breaking the dogs necks.

So new rule! No dogs in his radio station. And no dogs in his room.

You know what? No dogs near him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

The only time Lucifer and Alastor agreed on something: you spent too much time with the dog.

Sleep? With the dog. And no one could be in the same bed with you and it. Why? Because that thing would get bigger on purpose to prevent someone from stealing you.

The only one who could be with you and it was Charlie. Why? No one knew but if you were out your room the only other demon near you and your dog was Charlie.

She would prepare sleep overs with you and cerberus, Vaggie would join too, and the dog never reacted towards them. It even let itself be pet and kissed.

But with Lucifer? Yeah no. Even if it did let him ride on its back it was still not so friendly towards him. The dog even glared when Lucifer claimed you and him needed to go and could not bring it.

And Alastor had a personal war. Everytime you were not looking he would snap his fingers to try and make the dog leave. Nothing even worked.

"A truce, we get the dog out" a drunk Lucifer said one night to an equal drunk Alastor.

"I accept, i cant deal with that thing any longer"

"Well, it pissing your studio was something..."

"Haha, dont forget when it took your hat" Alastor bite back.

"HAHAHA well at least it likes me a bit"

"You must smell like it"

"FUCK YOU"

[kidasthings]

Noa and Mae: A Taboo Affair?

Hi, there! Kida checking in again with yet another controversy - you've been warned.

I see a lot of people on Tumblr and Reddit pointing out that a Noa/Mae (#NoMae?) pairing would be at best controversial, at worst beastiality.

I mean, he IS a CGI ape, right?

Not so fast.

I'd like to break down a few points, if I Mae (pun intended!), and address this argument. I'll be using a few of the comments I've seen on the web already to do so, on the part of the dissenters to the pairing.

1st Argument: "Planet of the Apes wouldn't show a kiss between a human and an ape. Ew."

Reply: Oh, they already have, my friend. Not in the full-blown sense, but they definitely did film Zira and Taylor kissing lips to muzzle in 1968. You can view that lovely bit here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEp7yunwVF8

I apologize in advance for impinging on your delicate simian sensibilities. #sorrynotsorry

2nd Argument: "Why would they even depict a human/ape couple? Humans and apes can't even reproduce in the franchise."

Reply: They can't? News to me. There was a Hum-Ape written into the early scripts and screen tests for Beneath the Planet of the Apes in 1970. Seems the Planet of the Apes franchise truly thought it was worth exploring back then. You can read all about that little guy right here: https://planetoftheapes.fandom.com/wiki/Hum-Ape

Aww, just look at that adorable lack of face-fur!

3rd Argument: "The audience of today isn't ready for that kind of thing."

Reply: And the audience in the 1960's/early 1970's was? I didn't know we became even more conservative 50+ years later. I'll be sure to adjust my high neckline and clutch my pearls in absolute horror at the thought of all of those deviant libertines living before me. Excuse me, I must go confront my parents about this.

BUT, before I do, I do want to point out we seemed to accept an on-screen kiss between Goliath (a gargoyle) and Elisa (a human) during a certain Disney children's cartoon show in the 1990's - anyone remember that?

Disgusting. I bet his breath smelled like rancid pigeon.

Additionally, we have more recent films such as Avatar, The Shape of Water - which won 4 Academy Awards, including best picture (not bad for a human and a fish-man pairing), and Beauty and the Beast.

And hey, if a living monster is not your thing, you could always opt for Warm Bodies. Think female human and male zombie. Necrophilia, anyone?

4th Argument: "Okay, fine, I see your point on the Taylor/Zira thing. But that only worked out because it was a human in a monkey suit, and we all sort of knew that. It didn't make it so strange. As for the other films you listed, well, those creatures don't actually exist so it's out of the realm of true possibility anyway. Noa is depicted as a real chimp, and him getting with Mae just makes it hit too close to home for comfort."

Reply: #Ishetho? Let's take a good look at what a "real chimp" looks like:

He's so damn Chimpy.

Okay, now let's look at our leading man--er, ape:

Looks like Chimpy had a love-child with Owen Teague. #shudder

As you can see, the two are pretty different. Chimpy has a true muzzle and a mouth that curves around it. Noa has a flatter, human face with an actual nose bridge and wider-spaced eyes.

And the EYES. My god. If you don't see the humanity in those baby-blues you might want to get checked for psychopathy. Besides that, Chimpy lacks eye-whites and has rounder eyes than Noa. Additionally, that pronounced brow ridge on Chimpy has thunder clouds gathering beneath it. Don't get me started on the ear comparison between the two, I'm sure it goes without saying!

Anyway, I think it can be safely stated that no chimp alive on this earth looks like Noa. He's too physically humanized to resemble an actual chimpanzee of the typical zoo variety. Thus, I would place him safely in the category of fish-man, the tall, blue cat creatures from Avatar, and those barbaric blue aliens that keep cropping up on certain ice planets in books #ifyouknowwhatImean.

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

All that said, everyone can ship what they want. If you want Noa playing house with Caesar, never mind that trifling little timeline issue, you go with your fine self and write that fanfiction. Create an account on DeviantArt.com and fill it with their anthropomorphic babies who eventually grow up to be the first ape astronauts. Someone out there is going to love it and eat it up, I promise you.

For the points above, this is about Noa and Mae. They've got something, something tangible. Whether or not it becomes canon is yet to be seen.

For now, it lives on in our minds. With our inner eye, we can see it just fine.

[seethew3stwithm3]

weather the storm // j. miller

this fic was a labour of love, heavily inspired by the SHIT weather down here in australia. it's hot, and humid, and damp as hell. sending love from the fiery bog, i guess.

this started out cosy and wholesome, but then gets a bit horny towards the end, but i hope you guys enjoy regardless.

you can picture show or game joel, up to you. the pictures are purely for the vibes.

- clarke xx

warnings: 18+ only. established joel x reader. smut. afab!reader, no mention of pronouns. swearing. p in v sex. apocalypse birth control (pulling out and praying. make sure to wrap it up irl.)

summary: you, joel, an ellie have a peaceful breakfast together. then, some alone time with domestic joel.

The rain had not eased in days; an endless deluge that soaked into the soil, leaving it swollen and muddy. The boots on your stoop were coated with dried muck and clumps of grass, and one pair was noticeably missing.

Stepping out onto the sheltered porch, wrapped in an old, knitted blanket, you breathed in the wet, earthen scent of petrichor. The sun had risen, visible and bright for the first time in a week, but clouds that rumbled like a hungry beast lingered on the horizon. You’d enjoy the sun while it lasted.

With a sigh, you went back inside and swapped your blanket for an apron, securing it at your waist. Just as you were setting out everything you needed to make a few loaves of bread after breakfast, Ellie came down the stairs, rubbing her eyes. Her dark hair stuck up at odd angles, messy from sleep, and she stifled a yawn as she plodded into the kitchen.

“Hi, Els,” you whispered, huffing a gentle laugh at her bleary-eyed stare as you attempted to flatten her hair. “You sleep okay?”

A noncommittal grunt was her only answer as she burrowed further into her sweater, (one of Joel’s, you noticed with a smile.)

“Why don’t you go grab your brush, and I can try to sort this out,” you said, gently ushering her back upstairs. “Then I’ll make us some breakfast, hm?”

Ellie nodded, moving sluggishly up the steps, sliding her hand along the polished wooden railing, feet scuffing against the faded, threadbare carpet.

Joel found the two of you in the living room a few minutes later, tired from the overnight border patrol. His boots were back in their designated spot outside the door, and an unfamiliar warmth sparked in his chest as he watched you. Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, he watched as you ran the brush through Ellie’s hair, taking care to untangle the knots.

Despite the frown on her face, he knew Ellie was comforted by the gentleness. She wouldn’t talk much about how she felt, but he knew her fear, her lingering sorrow, all too well, and Joel couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be to deal with at her age. So, to see her like this, eyes closed as you twisted her hair into a low bun. To see Ellie letting somebody else do something for her, when she’d spent so long forced into independence…

It made Joel realise that maybe, despite the state of the world, that she’d be alright. Ellie had him and, if he believed in miracles anymore he would’ve thought it was one, she had you.

They both had you.

“Mornin’,” he murmured once you noticed him, a soft expression on his face which he hoped hid the weariness. His knuckles brushed against yours as he followed you down the hall to the kitchen, breathing in the faint scent of soap that clung to your clothes. The same subtle scent that lingered on his bedsheets and, sometimes, along the collar of his jacket after you borrowed it.

He kissed your cheek when you stopped at the stove, his hands resting on your hips as you cracked a few eggs into the old iron skillet. Ellie, who had bounded through the archway only moments after you, made a sound akin to dramatic disgust.

Stifling a laugh, Joel wandered over to sit at the dining table with her. Ellie rambled about her plans for the day, something about helping out at the stables with Tommy.

“Well, don’t go about causin’ trouble,” Joel chided, one eyebrow cocked. Ellie just rolled her eyes.

The burner click-click-clicked as you turned it on, putting the kettle onto boil.

“Coffee?” Joel inquired, turning stiffly in his chair to look over at you.

“No, that stuff ain’t good for your heart, old man,” you said, fixing him with a loving, but stern stare as you set mugs and plates along the counter. Despite his grumbling, Joel knew it was for his own good. Especially when he was meant to sleep for the next couple of hours.

“Els? Can you go grab some chives from the garden for me?” You asked, handing her a small pair of shears. “Just a little bit, for the eggs.”

You plated up the eggs and toast while she was outside, watching the steam rise from the food in cloudy tendrils, lit by the sunlight streaming through the window. Just as you were spooning a dollop of tomato chutney onto the side of Joel’s plate, Ellie returned with the greens and rinsed them in the sink. You let her garnish, and she took a quiet pride in it.

“Cutlery, please,” you mentioned with a soft smile in Ellie’s direction, and Joel set about pouring and straining the tea. It was a tight fit, having the three of you crowding the small kitchen, but it was… warm. Homely. As close to normalcy, to family, as you could get these days. And when breakfast was laid out on the table, positioned perfectly in front of the window, shutters thrown wide, you dined in the morning light as warmth seeped into the house.

A short while later, with the dirty dishes stacked by the sink, you bade Ellie farewell for the day. You sent her off with a few snacks for later, and the pair of Tommy’s jeans that you’d mended for him, so she could return them.

With Ellie gone, Joel could finally give you a proper greeting. His kiss was sweet and long and slow, one of his warm hands rested firmly on the small of your back. Unhurried and gentle, you threaded your hands into his hair, cupping the back of his neck.

“Patrol go alright?” You asked quietly as he pulled away.

He nodded, stealing another quick kiss, simply because he could. He brushed his thumb over the softness of your cheek, momentarily distracted, but his gaze locked on yours when you cupped his face.

“You head up to bed, okay?” Your voice was quiet as you rested your forehead against his, noses touching. “I’ll wake you up at midday.”

“Alright, darlin’,” he murmured, shrugging out of his jacket with a quiet groan. It took more effort than usual, and Joel immediately wished he’d waited until he was upstairs to take it off when he saw the concern on your face.

“Joel–”

“M’alright,” though the grit of his teeth told another story.

“Joel,” you chided, a little firmer this time, hands planted on your hips.

With a sigh, his head dropped, eyebrows pinched. “S’just my shoulder, nothing I can’t handle.”

Shaking your head, you ushered him upstairs and into the bathroom. Grabbing a screw-top jar from the cupboard, you pressed it into his hands.

“This should help, it’s an organic pain-relieving balm.”

At Joel’s incredulous look, you rolled your eyes with an exaggerated huff. “Maria made it, it will help. It helped Ellie when she twisted her ankle the other week.”

Joel still wasn’t sure, especially not as he unscrewed the lid and cautiously sniffed the thick, honey-coloured paste within, pulling back with a grimace.

“Stubborn, stubborn man,” you muttered, taking the jar from him, scooping some of the balm into your hand. “Turn around, take your shirt off.”

He did as you asked, accepting your assistance in tugging the fabric over his head. His shoulder wasn’t noticeably hurt, no bruising or redness, but it looked a little swollen. As you rubbed the balm into his skin, you almost swore at the tension in his muscles. Working your way across his back, to his other shoulder then down his spine, all you found were knots.

“How do you walk around like this, Joel? Christ.” You tutted.

Joel shrugged, muttering an apology that was cut off by a groan as you dug your thumbs into a particularly stubborn knot at the base of his spine, just above the waistband of his jeans.

“Alright, go on,” you murmured once you were done, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck as he turned back around. “Bed.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, resting his hands on your hips and kissing you properly. Once, twice, before you swatted him away, mock defiance on your face, despite the hitch in your breath.

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours. You need rest.”

You led him to the bedroom, closing the curtains while he took his jeans off and eased into bed. The old mattress groaned beneath his weight, and he let out a gruff sigh as he settled down, pulling the blankets over his weary body.

“Sleep,” was all you said, a whisper against his brow as you kissed his forehead.

“Fine,” he grunted, nestling deeper into the cushions.

---

A few hours later, midday came with the return of thunder and rain. So much for the sunlight you’d basked in that morning.

With Joel’s favourite mug in hand, you crept up the stairs, making sure to avoid the one that creaked. Despite your best efforts, Joel heard you coming, and his bleary-eyed gaze was on you as soon as you stepped into the bedroom. Years of constant vigilance did not easily fade.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, huffing contentedly as you set the mug on the bedside table and slid beneath the blankets with him. He drew you in, wrapping an arm around your waist, and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

“I made coffee,” you whispered into his hair. “Just one cup, for us to share.”

Joel just hummed, more than content to go back to sleep, but a cold breeze swept through the open window and the strong scent of fresh coffee wafted over to him. With a groan, he sat up, adjusting the pillows so he could lean back against the wrought-iron bedframe.

You grabbed the mug, still steaming, and took a cautious sip before handing it to him. The two of you sat there, curled up in bed, sharing coffee and watching the storm.

“Ellie alright?” Joel asked, unable to hear any sign of her from downstairs.

“Yeah, she dropped by before the storm started to let me know they were setting up a movie in the hall.”

Nodding, that constant, quiet worry in his heart when it came to the mischievous teenager eased a fraction.

With the coffee drained to its dregs and rain lashing against the windowpane, you nestled closer to Joel. His warmth seeped through you, warming you to the bone, and you sighed.

“Sweetheart,” came his voice, soft and gravelly, so quiet it was almost swallowed up by a roar of thunder.

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

Your gaze flicked up to meet his, hand stilling on his chest where you’d been tracing absent-minded patterns in the coarse smattering of hair there. With a soft smile, you sat up, graciously taking his offered hand, keeping you steady as you moved to straddle him.

He reached up to cup your face, tracing his thumb over the curve of your cheek, the softness of your bottom lip. Lightning flashed outside, haloing you in pale light, limning your body with silver.

“Beautiful,” he murmured to himself as he pulled you close, warm hands heavy on your waist, until your chest pressed against his. Foreheads touching, he ran his fingers down your spine, slipping them beneath your shirt on the way back up. “So damn beautiful.”

You sighed into his mouth when he kissed you, melting under his honeyed touch; slow and sweet. It was nice to be here, with him, just the two of you. Nowadays, shared moments were sparse. There was always work to be done in Jackson.

But here, with the storm raging outside, finally there was peace.

You barely registered getting undressed, only that the moments you spent away from him to tug your pants and shirt off were too long. His boxers stretched and strained against the soft thickness of his thighs, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his hip as you pulled them off. Discarding the fabric on the bedroom floor, you climbed back into his lap, skin on skin.

His touch was warm and gentle, exploratory. Drifting from your hips to your waist to your chest, you sighed at the whisper-soft scrape of his fingertips down your spine. He mapped you out by touch alone, his gaze locked on yours. His brown eyes were heavy-lidded, swirling with desire and adoration, and you just let him stare.

With anybody else, you would’ve shied away. But not with him. Not with Joel.

Your Joel.

It felt strange to consider someone as yours when the idea of permanence was revoked as the world ended. And you felt… selfish. Selfish for claiming a little light on a dark landscape, but… If selfishness meant you knew the assurance in his touch, the safety in his embrace, then you’d take it and run. So be it.

Just this once, you had something for yourself.

Joel’s name was a hoarse exhale from your lips as his fingers found the wet heat between your thighs, dipping into you with a gentle desperation. He groaned as your arousal dripped down over his knuckles, and the sound made your breath hitch. And when he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, your head fell back, gaze hitting the ceiling as a strangled plea tore from the back of your throat.

His cock lay hot and heavy against your inner thigh, and you rocked your hips over it. Once, twice, until the sticky strings of your arousal coated the shaft, and when the head notched in your opening, you let out a whimper.

Lifting yourself just enough that Joel could grip the base of his cock, you grabbed his shoulders as he lined himself up with your entrance. Then, once he’d guided the tip into you, his hands found your waist to keep you steady as you sunk down on him. Taking it slow, accommodating to the slight stretch inch-by-inch, you gasped at the familiar girth of him.

“Fuck,” he breathed through gritted teeth as he bottomed out, the tight warmth of you squeezing around his length. “There you go, baby. Takin’ it all, y’feel so good.”

For a moment, the two of you didn’t move, breathing in sync as you steadied yourself. He hit so deep like this, and it made dizzy. Then, with his hands guiding you, you rocked your hips.

“Fuckin’ perfect for me,” he groaned as you circled your hips. Your clit bumped against the coarse thatch of hair across his pubic bone with each movement, leaving you keening and breathless, one hand fisted in the sheets by his head, the other planted on his chest.

“Just like that, honey, just like that.”

His voice urged you on, drawing a fervour from the depths of your chest. Hazy desire whirled in your stomach, coiled like a spring, or a cat ready to pounce. Lightning flashed, and the glimpse of rugged ecstasy on Joel’s face through the gloom made you whimper.

Teeth gritted, brow furrowed, chest heaving; he was the picture of a man undone, halfway to losing his mind. And, by God, he looked so good like that.

The storm drowned out your desperate whines, but you leaned down so you could be chest-to-chest with Joel, so you could hear his ragged moans and staggered breaths. He used to stay quiet during sex, only an occasional grunt or quiet ‘fuck,’ but once, after you’d done something particularly wicked with your mouth, he’d let out the weakest, most desperate moan.

You’d told him it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard, and he hadn’t held back since.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimpered, clinging to him as he started to thrust up into you, meeting each gentle rock of your hips.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Ye- fuck! Yes.”

“Mhm, I gotcha.” He punctuated his words with a particularly harsh thrust, and you cried out, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “I gotcha, darlin’.”

You clenched around him moments later, the strength of your release hitting you unexpectedly. Riding it out, your hips moved of their own accord. Shuddering, you rolled to the side, moaning as Joel’s cock slid out of you.

His voice was hoarse as he swore, his soft stomach tensing as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, jerking him off until he hit his peak. His cum spurted across stomach, leaving behind a mess you’d clean up later. For now, though, you just wanted to be held.

Joel was more than happy to oblige. He panted as he came down from his high, holding you as close as he could. With your legs intertwined, the sheets wrapped around your ankles, you breathed him in.

The storm still raged, the sky impossibly dark, but every flash of lightning gave you a glimpse of the sheen of sweat on Joel’s brow, his kiss-swollen lips, a little dribble of blood on his lower lip from what must have been a particularly harsh nip from you.

“Sorry,” you whispered, wiping the blood away with your thumb. You propped yourself up on your elbow to get a better look, hoping you hadn’t hurt him too bad.

“Don’t be,” he replied, reassuring you with a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Feels good.”

Sheepish, you sunk back down into the cushions, nestled safely beside him.

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

thanks so much for reading <3 my inbox is open if you have anything you'd like me to write, or just want to have a chat. love love love you, thank you again <3

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Three- The Coronation

Summary- The coronation has come about on an even day.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Incest. Mention of (dragon) depression. Bitchy Cregan Stark. Cunnilingus. Fingering. P in V sex. Descriptions of child sexual abuse. Aemond’s brothel trauma. Still angsty babes.

Author's Note- This chapter is a beast besties (10.3k😬) brace yourselves. Link to the full story belowwww

series masterlist

This high up, surrounded by nothing but the mist of the clouds and the frigid air, she feels as though she could go anywhere. It would be easy. One word and Silverwing would turn and fly across the Narrow Sea, deliver them both to the Free Cities. She could live well enough in Pentos or Myr, surviving off the good will of others and the menace that comes from her dragon. It would be an easy life, one that is becoming more and more appealing as the descent brings them lower, but she does not have Silverwing turn. Instead they continue their descent over Blackwater Bay, casting a dark shadow over the half repaired city below them before landing before the ruins of the Dragonpit.

It has yet to be touched since the storming of the pit, only the bodies having been cleared away, graves dug for the Dragonkeepers nearby. Being here makes her feel sick but it is the only place near enough to the Red Keep that can accommodate a safe landing. Even here though, it is difficult, Silverwing hovering in the air for a moment before finally managing to find a place clear enough of rubble to land comfortably.

Ser Willis Fell is waiting for them nearby, sitting proud atop his horse with the reins of another clutched in his fist. He inclines his head in greeting when she looks his way but she takes her time in dismounting. She stays in the saddle for a moment too long, only coming down when Silverwing lets out a mildly irritated huff, more than prepared to return to her nest after flying for so long. Though she loves to fly, she has noticed her dragon longing more and more for her nest these past few months. She has assumed that the loss of Vermithor, of her mate, has made her melancholy and she cannot find the heart to push her when she is so clearly devasted. They are two fragile beings now, broken and battered, and she can do nothing but pray that their bond will help get them through this.

Silverwing drops her head when she finally dismounts and she raises a hand to her muzzle, running it over warm dragonscale. Silverwing lets out another huff, bathing her in the smell of sulfur and ash with her breath and she lets her forehead rest on the dragon's nose for a moment. She breathes in the comforting smell of dragon, not quite ready to return to the Keep yet but knowing she has no choice, before stepping back with a nod. Though Silverwing hesitates for a moment, eventually she manages to depart, the beat of her wings sending the dust around them swirling.

With a haggard sigh, she turns on her heel and makes her way toward Ser Willis and the horses. They both balk somewhat when they smell the dragon on her, taking small steps back to distance themselves, but they are well trained enough not to run. Ser Willis dismounts at her approach, inclining his head, and she manages a small smile.

"Ser," she greets, acutely aware that this man was present on her wedding night, the memory forever lodged into her mind like an axe in a tree.

"Your grace. I trust you had a pleasant ride," he says, ever the picture of duty, one hand offered to her while the other holds the reins steady.

"I always do," she sighs, taking his hand and allowing him to aid her in mounting her horse.

She turns her chin up to watch Silverwing as she leaves, wings spread wide as she returns to the caves above the sea. Already there is a longing in her chest, wanting nothing more than to go with her, but instead she looks toward Ser Willis and offers him a nod, allowing him to lead the way back to the Keep.

With the coronation scheduled to happen the following afternoon, the main streets are far too chaotic to attempt to travel them. With so many lords and ladies still scheduled to arrive throughout the day, they are too crowded to so much as walk through, much less ride through on horseback or, Gods forbid, in a wheelhouse. Instead, Ser Willis takes them through the backroads, riding so close that their horses are all but pressed chest to flank. It is a poorer part of the city so she knows what he is expecting. For some cutthroat or beggar to come lunging from a dark corner in an attempt to slit her throat or steal his money purse, but other than a few bewildered stares followed by hasty bows, no one comes forward. She assumes they are all too busy watching the arriving lords, the current retinue making their way through the opposite street to so much fanfare she feels she may go deaf.

She looks over her shoulder to glance at Ser Willis, eyes still locked on the opposite street. "Who's arriving, do you know?"

He follows her gaze to stare through the awnings, squinting in an attempt to make out the heraldry. "House Karstark, I believe. No doubt Lord Stark is not far behind."

That gets her attention. She looks at Ser Willis for a moment, knowing her disbelief is palpable. Jace had written to her about Lord Cregan, every word filled with admiration and respect. He had gushed about how she must meet him, how after the war they would take their dragons and fly north so he may show her everything he had experienced there. He had raved about the weirwood forests, the Old Gods, the people who lived there. He had loved all of it but he had loved Cregan most of all. They had gotten on so well she had half the mind to believe they were brothers separated in the womb from the way he spoke of the young lord. When we go north together, he had said, you will see what kind of man he is. You will love him as I do.

She had wanted to meet him.

Jace had wanted her to meet him.

Read the rest here :)

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[sapphiresaphics]

I think part of Vi’s journey in Arcane is seeing her family the way they truly are and coming to accept them for who they are, blisters and bruises and all.

Vi sees her dad Vander as this pillar of strength and resolve and ideals. But deep down inside he’s got a monster that can come raging out at any time. Silco knows this first hand, but Vi doesn’t. That’s why she’s so terrified when Vander hulks out at the beginning of Season 1. For the first time she saw the monster that Vander could become.

And it takes until Season 2 for her to accept this aspect of him. To know that despite the fact he has this terrible beast inside (now literally) she can still love and appreciate him with warmth and kindness.

Same for Jinx. She only saw Jinx as powder. Even when Powder changed and became Jinx, Vi didn’t want to see this. She deluded herself into thinking Powder could come back and they’d be rid of Jinx. She literally tells Silco that she wants to tear out the “brainwashing” she thinks Silco did to her to turn her into Jinx. But at the end of the day, Jinx isn’t brainwashed. Vi can’t change Jinx back into Powder. But coincidentally, Powder also isn’t gone either. They both exist inside her. She is both Jinx AND Powder. And by the end of Act 2 of season 2 I think Vi has come to accept that.

Like look at this picture. Vi is here, standing with her monster of a dad, and her sister who has split personalities in both Jinx and Powder (as represented by Isha). But she’s not scared of either of them anymore. She’s content. Happy. She can accept them for who they are now.

There’s a lot more too. I think Vi seeing Caitlyn for who she truly is (a privileged rich girl who has deeply ingrained privileges and sense of superiority). Like Vi starts seeing Caitlyn as just another enforcer, but gradually over the course of season 1 and beginning of season 2 she learns that Caitlyn has a kind heart and maybe she could be one of the exceptions. But Caitlyn does still have this ugly side of privileged that clouds her judgement and causes her to do terrible things. And Vi doesn’t want to see that at first. That’s why she goes along with the enforcer role even though it’s a betrayal of everything she believes in. She’s so desperate to not see the terrible things Caitlyn is able to. But again, by the end of Act 2, I think she’s come to accept that’s a part of her. And despite the fact that Caitlyn has done terrible things, I think deep down she still loves her. And I think this weekend we will see her hold Caitlyn accountable for it.

Either way, I think it’s fascinating how much that picture encompasses all of the things Vi has tried to deny existed in the family she grew up with, but now she’s accepting them for who they are no matter how monstrous and crazy they might be.

[muffinsin]

you know what, fuck it we ball. i gave the dani and cass monsterfucker prompts, lemme cook one up for bela real fast in your ask box while i am yet again sleep deprived.

let’s put bela with a lycan (heh). feel like we’ve seen a couple lycan requests, but i’m gonna put a breeding focus on this one. similar to cass’ i guess. sweet, darling bela is gunna have to carry a litter of lycan pups to full term, though.

she’s thinking about that and all the consequences that come with it the whole time she’s getting railed after having been pounced on, and for some reason being unwilling to push the beast off. pheromones? she’s a little loopy on them, it’s clouding her judgement. not to mention this situation, unfortunately, really turns her on, despite the fact that she’s soo anxious about the fat knot smacking against her cunt getting forced inside, and so anxious about being pumped full of so much werewolf cum that makes her look pregnant alone. starts thinking about how many pups she might be given. will it be a whole litter? how many pups come in a lycan litter? how is that going to affect her body? etc. thinks about lactation too. probably gotta produce a whole lot to feed a litter, ya know?

very big on bela mommy issues dimitrescu being a sucker for this kind of stuff deep in the back of her mind. she wants to be a breeding toy, she just doesn’t quite know it. lycan lover will help her out.

picturing them not being able to really speak while transformed. maybe a couple words here and there, but it’s difficult. they’re really mostly a monster right now. not so much of a monster that they won’t give her some sweet aftercare lovin’ while she cockwarms them due to the inflated knot being unlikely to go down for a good while, though. oh, and they’re Hung. “it won’t fit!” kind of hung, but they make it work 🥴

- 🐺

Hell yeah!🙌 My much needed reminder that I write smut? Perhaps XD At last, after months, poor Bela is getting some monsterfucking loving too, hm? XD Let’s get into it, everyone!

Masterlists

In one moment, she feels curiosity. In the next, her body tenses as a loud roar is heard echoing in the dimly lit cave. Bela bites down on her lip harshly, her bright, golden eyes scanning over the stony edges of the walls of the cave.

She feels slightly dizzy, her brain fuzzy, her limbs oddly heavy. A thick scent lingers in the air, one she feels strangely tempted to follow.

She can’t recall why she entered the cave in the first place, not usually one for such curiosity.

And yet..now she can’t seem to leave again. As if in a trance, she keeps on walking, uncaring of her heels scraping against the stone and muddy ground. She feels slightly cold, just enough for her to shiver, yet not quite enough to pose a threat.

She jumps a little when she hears a loud snarl again. What is she doing? She can’t seem to resist the scent clouding her judgement and senses.

Bela’s eyes widen slightly for a moment when- at last- she finds the source of this sound. A creature, curled up, yet monstrous in size. If it were to stand, she is sure it would be towering above her, and only stand slightly shorter than Alcina herself.

She keeps on walking, until she stands, frozen, right in front of the creature. Her eyes widen suddenly, as if only now aware of it. What is she to do?

To slay the beast? Gulping, she gazes around the cave, trying to find anything to use to her advantage. However..nothing. She scans the lycan-like monster again.

Large, muscular, with sharp teeth pointing out from its mouth. She shivers again. No, fighting the beast is not an option.

Still, as she stares the creature down..

Bela’s body tenses again, her eyes flickering over it. She sees the sharp claws, the strong torso…

Her eyes land on the large, still limp cock between the creature’s legs. Suddenly, the scent grows stronger, and without understanding why or standing any chance at resisting it, her body lurches forwards, and suddenly her face is smudged against the warm, oddly comforting thigh.

She sees the massive thing twitch, her eyes wandering over the thick knot wearily.

She can’t quite understand. All she does, is feel.

She feels her body submitting to the monster, her pussy aching and drooling, her heart yearning to be close. She doesn’t understand.

As if in a trance, her hands move across her body. She removes her cape and hood, then her dress. Left only in her underwear, stockings and heels, Bela positions herself along the creature’s large arm.

She doesn’t even notice she has begun rutting her clothed pussy against it.

Then, the creature stirs. Her eyes widen, and for a moment she seems able to rip herself away. She turns halfway to her swarm form fast, making for the way out. She recognizes it, is almost there..

Then, she shrieks, as large paw-like hands push against her back and force her to the ground, and the large creature hovers above her. She’s pinned, struggling against the dirty and wet ground.

Then, she tenses, as a long tongue drags against her neck. She shivers, her nose picking up on the creature’s scent that now sticks to her.

Another lick, and another. She feels dizzy almost, her pussy clenching and aching, yearning for the creature’s large cock. She feels shame; has she always been this easy? Surely not! Have years of neglecting her sexual side and sex with the staff turned her into this? Turned her into a slut easy enough to even get turned on by a lycan of all things?! What would Mother think!

Bela gasps when she is turned roughly, her head throbbing for a moment before she can realise what is happening. She feels and hears her clothing tear, sharp teeth and claws slashing through the skin tight dress and grazing her pale, porcelain skin slightly.

She doesn’t attempt to push the creature off, she can’t, and somehow, doesn’t want to. All she feels is its large cock, limp before and slowly hardening against her thigh. To her horror, the thing grows as it hardens, so the monstrosity turns to an even huger dick. She whimpers momentarily.

How could this fit? What’s going to happen to her? Will it breed her? Somewhere in the back of her mind she realises..summer is breeding season.

She gasps when the sandpaper-like tongue drags down her neck, leaving almost slimy saliva in its path. She shivers underneath the lycan, golden eyes taking in the monster’s form. Then, she jumps, when sharp teeth graze her hip.

Suddenly, her head is filled with the desire to be bitten, to be claimed in the most intimate and primal of ways. She yearns for it, suddenly, her mind foggy, her body yearning, her back arching as though presenting her to her captor.

The lycan snarls and growls, and the blonde yelps when she feels the strong tongue lick across her inner thigh next.

“W-Wait!”, she shrieks as a massive hand wraps around her thick thigh, and gasps when she is spread open. With a single bite her underwear is snatched from her, leaving her shivering as the damp air of the cave hits her privates.

To her embarrassment, she is already soaked, her clit pulsing, her lips glistening with the wetness that drips from her.

The beast straddles her fully, its large clawed hands grabbing onto her petite wrists and pinning them above her head. Bela is a mess of thoughts.

What is happening? How come she is enjoying this so much?!

She feels so wet, she needs this so bad.

Never has she felt this turned on in her life..

She must get back! She must escape! Mother will be furious! Cassandra will never let her live it down! Daniela will never give her a break from the jokes and mockery!

She must feel the massive cock in her..so thick, so strong, already twitching as it is aligned to hang proudly between her legs.

Bela whimpers as she feels the thick, glistening wet tip against her tight pussy. Having neglected her needs in favor of working hard, she’s impossibly tight for the large cock dangling between her thighs. Let alone the huge knot…

The thought strikes fear into her mind. How could she possibly take the massive girth? How could her pussy ever recover from the stretch?

How could she take such a large knot? How could it ever fit into her?! What if..

What if she is bred?

Her eyes widen a little at the thought. So what if she is bred? What if the beast pumps load after load of thick cum into her?

The proud heiress of Alcina Dimitrescu, the noblest of her sisters, reduced to a cum dump, made to become a mate and be bred until she carries a litter of lycans in her womb.

She gasps, then screams and moans, as the thick tip pushes into her. Its soft head goes in easily despite the tightness, and Bela moans when, after years, she finally feels full again.

Yet, upon glancing down, she sees that barely the tip has made it in. There is a lot to go, still, and she already feels it as warm, no- hot, precum drools from the monstrous lycan and right into her.

Her thoughts wander more and more the foggier her brain gets and the higher she seems to get on the pheromones and scent surrounding her.

How many lycans make a litter? Two? Three? Six? Seven? Twelve?! She can’t remember, but by the size of the knot sitting at the base of the cock, she must fear for the worst.

Her hip is grabbed, then a strong arm is wrapped around her. She feels more of the cock push itself inside of her.

Her back arches and she feels the arm around her tighten, then can’t help but giggle when she is lifted off the floor.

“A-AAh! AH! Gnmnn!”

She throws her head back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she feels more and more fill her.

At last, she feels the knot pushed up against her stretched pussy.

“Ple-Please!”, she gasps. How on earth could she fit that knot into her?! As the creature’s hips pull back and the cock begins to slip out of her, she feels her pussy grip it tightly. It’s as though every part of her body tries to keep the monstrosity in her, as though despite what fears plague her mind, her body is eager and relentless to be bred.

For a moment, shame has her cheeks burn up and flush bright pink. She moans as she feels the long tongue explore her neck and grunts in pleasure as her captor’s hips slap back against her own.

“N-Ngnnm, yes! Y-yes! O-Oh god!”

They draw back, then snap to her again, making her jolt. She tugs her arms half heartedly, and unsurprisingly, the lycan’s grip only tightens on her.

She moans with every little drop of hot wetness that leaks into her. She gasps as thick and heavy balls slap against her ass, plap! Plap! Plap! With every thrust.

So thick..Bela’s head is thrown back as she merely thinks of how much cum they must hold inside. How much she will be made to cold inside.

“I-Oh..yes! Yes! A-Ah!”, she screams. She feels herself pushed closer and closer to her orgasm already within moments of this treatment.

But really, she can’t be blamed! Not when poor Bela’s pussy and body is unused to such treatment, when she clenches tightly around the cock and feels it stretch her more with every thrust.

And how can she be blamed, when she feels the thick tip push up against the back of her womb when it is fully nestled inside of her, when she feels the wet head rub up against her pink, spongy and wet insides.

She groans and moans, louder and louder and louder.

And the creature seems painfully aware of her state. She is grabbed hard and yanked about, her petite body used to practically jerk her up and down on the massive cock.

When she cums embarrassingly fast, tears begin to run down her cheek. Yet she yearns for more, fear and arousal filling her mind when she feels the heavy knot push up against her.

Even with a stretched pussy, she can’t imagine a single way such a thing could fit into her!

She gasps and moans loudly with every thrust into her wet and tight cunt. Each causes the thick knot to smack against her and nearly has her flinch each time.

Truly, she can’t grasp how such a thing could ever fit into her!

It seems, too, her monstrous captor couldn’t care less that she came. If anything, Bela feels the talons holding her tightening and the cock within her twitch.

Yes, she can imagine she is quite warm, wet and tight around the beast now. And still she gasps and moans high pitched with every little thrust and move into and out of her.

She is yanked and pulled, the rough treatment accompanied by almost sweet licks against her neck. She feels lightheaded already, little sighs escaping her thick lips here and there.

As she is fucked faster and she feels more and more precum drip into her, her attention is pulled to the fact she is being bred yet again.

And again, it feels her with a strange warmth that has her cheeks heat up, her ass clench and her pussy grip the cock stretching her sore tightly.

She wonders, will she bear a round stomach as she carries a litter of Lycans? The thought has her whimper and arch her back as best as she can.

Yes, she is already reeking of the creature, after all!

Will her breasts grow even larger and ache, so full of milk for her little pups? Bela gasps at the thought alone.

“N-A-AAh! AH! Ah! Yes! YES!”

She screams, loud and passionate, when she suddenly feels the teeth that have been rubbing against her neck push inside.

Warmth spreads throughout her body. She’s shaking, trembling and moaning, gasping and shrieking as she cums again. She knows, deep down, the bite has claimed her as the creature’s.

She groans when she suddenly feels cum be shot into her, massive amounts enough to cover her entire face- head even- if it was shot into it.

She squirms helplessly as she is pumped full of it, her arms held tightly, her neck forced still by sharp teeth, her pussy plugged with the cock as more and more cum floods her insides.

Her eyes widen as she looks down and finds her own stomach, growing more and more the more seed is pumped inside. She whines, her legs attempting to cross, her hips trembling in an attempt to move. But the large cock stays inside, and the beast only snarls angrily at her foolishness.

Soon, her stomach is round and full, large enough for poor Bela to let herself lean fully against the ground and the lycan, too weak and sore to carry the unexpected weight of her cum-filled stomach.

Already, it looks as though the monster impregnated her.

For a moment, the creature only pants. Bela catches her breath at last as she moves her hand to her neck, her bottom lip becoming trapped between her teeth as she feels two large bite marks on there. Blood smears around it, but below the sweet fluid, she feels the puncture wounds.

Then, however, her excitement is cut short and replaced by terror, arousal and fear.

The knot.

She mewls as it presses against her stretched pussy, harder and harder. She feels it throb and its warmth, its sheer size…

“It won’t fit!”, she pleads. The creature seems to think otherwise, as it snarls and growls, its grip tightening on Bela for a moment. She gasps when she is flipped over, so now her bare breasts are pushed up against the hard rock and muddy ground.

Her round stomach aches as it rests on the floor and poor little Bela whimpers in embarrassment as she feels more cum leak from her pussy again with every single breath.

She feels her leg be pulled to the aside and shivers slightly as the warm air of the cave hits her wet privates.

Then, she feels the knot push against her again. The monstrous lycan mounts her easily, its sheer size alone dominating the blonde.

Then, with a scream and a moan of pleasure, she feels it, finally. The knot, impossibly big, forced into her soaked pussy and sealing it like a plug. She whimpers and moans loudly.

She is grabbed tightly, her stomach a shameful, but arousal reminder of her new status as this monster’s mate and breeding puppet.

She gasps when there is even slight movement. More, and more. The creature can’t thrust into her with the knot in the way, but even the smallest of movements and turns give both insane amount of pleasure.

Bela is panting again quickly, her hands cupping her stomach and breast. She feels the blood pour from her neck, down her collarbone and past her breasts.

She feels her last orgasm of the day rising already within a few moments, her body seemingly automatically responding to the large knot inside.

When the creature bends down to lick her swollen stomach, she nearly cums from it alone. Yes…all this seed in her, the knot..she knows, she will be bred and impregnated.

Her cheeks heat up, her nipples harden, her ass clenches and tightens around nothing. Her pussy milks the cock and knot in her.

Bela whimpers and moans, pants even. She can’t bring her mind to think of anything but being what she is made to be now, a breeding toy. A future mother to a litter of lycans.

She thinks of her round belly, her sore and aching breasts leaking milk, a dozen little wolves running around.

She thinks of possessiveness, the one the creature has already showered her in.

A few more movements, and with a scream, the beautiful blonde cums again. She mewls as her mate does the same, the large, hard knot at least shrinking slightly in her.

She is held close as she whimpers and cries, her stretched pussy pumped full to the brink, so much so her own cum and the creature’s heavy, thick one. She feels the cum drip and smear everywhere, even.

Then, it seems over at last. Her eyes are heavy, her stomach even rounder and fuller. The knot rests in her, as if still acting like a plug that traps the creature’s seed in her.

Exhausted, she allows the large thing to shift her. She feels soft fur against her, and a gentle tongue running along her throat and stomach.

It’s almost..lovingly.

With a smile on her lips, she allows her eyes to slip shut

[stxrsniolo]

ㅤִㅤㅤ ݁ ꉂ lost in the crowd ᴖ ֽ ㅤᷭ

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺⠀⠀gather round, for what you're about to read is as soft as a feather's touch: it's fluff, my lovelies, where hearts swell and smiles are sure to bloom. enjoy the warmth.

warnings: panic attack. anxiety. emotional distress. intense emotional scenes. mental health.

you weren't in the mood for going out, feeling like a storm cloud had settled over your day, but when chris pulled that puppy-dog look, all big eyes and pouty lips, you just couldn't say no... so there you were, settled in matt's car, which chris had borrowed for the night, at the drive-in theater, ready to watch re-runs of rom-coms. the car was a cozy haven among the sea of parked vehicles, the screen in front flickering to life with the promise of laughter and love. chris was all enthusiasm, sharing popcorn and giggles, his warmth seeping through the blankets, making you feel a bit lighter. but then, nature called and you needed to use the restroom, leaving the safety of the car behind, telling chris you'd be right back, stepping into the night that suddenly felt too vast, too exposed. the area around the restrooms was a chaos of noise and motion, bodies everywhere, voices merging into a cacophony that clawed at your senses. the panic started as a whisper, a tightening in your chest, your breath catching in your throat as everything crescendoed into a full-blown attack, the world squeezing in from all sides, the laughter from the movie-goers now a mocking echo in your ears. your hands trembled, your vision blurred, the ground seemed to tilt beneath you. you searched for a quiet corner, but there was none; every space was invaded by the crowd, by the sounds, by the overwhelming fear that made your heart race like it wanted to escape your chest, your mind a whirlwind of panic, unable to find an anchor. back in the car, chris was growing restless, the wait turning his thoughts paranoid: you were taking too long, and his mind painted pictures of you flirting with someone else or, worse, lost or in trouble. his protective side roared to life, tinged with an almost childlike possessiveness. he couldn't sit still; he had to find you. he stepped out, his eyes scanning the crowd with urgency and when he finally saw you, tucked away but clearly in distress, his heart plummeted. he approached with care, his usual playful demeanor replaced by genuine concern. "hey, y/n," he said, his voice a soft echo in your storm. he knelt beside you, his eyes searching yours, trying to pierce through the fog of your panic. "it's okay, i'm here." you wanted to respond, to tell him you were drowning in your own mind, but your breath was trapped, coming in sharp, painful gasps. chris, despite his usual goofiness, knew exactly what to do: he took your hands, his touch firm and grounding. "we're gonna breathe together, okay?" he said, his voice calm but insistent. "just like before. in for four, hold for four, out for four." he started the cycle, breathing in deeply, counting out loud, his eyes never leaving yours, trying to pull you back from the edge of your panic, but the air felt like shards in your lungs, each breath a struggle, the counting a distant sound through the roar in your ears. "hold it, just like that," he whispered, holding his breath with you, his presence a beacon in your chaos. then, you tried to exhale, but it was like pushing against a wall, the air barely escaping, your body fighting you every step of the way. chris kept at it, his voice a lifeline, his breath a guide, but you were engulfed, the panic like waves crashing over you, relentless, unforgiving while your mind was a maelstrom of fear, the world around you a blur of too much, too loud, too close. "there you go, you're coming back," chris encouraged, though you felt anything but. his words were a distant comfort, his hands a tether in the storm, but the panic was a beast, clawing at you, refusing to let go. slowly, torturously, with each forced breath, the grip of panic began to loosen, but not before it had wrung you out, left you feeling raw, exposed. chris's hand was still in yours, his touch now a comfort after the ordeal. "thanks for finding me," you managed to say, your voice a whisper, the gratitude heavy, mixed with the lingering terror of the attack. "anytime, y/n. i'll always find you."

🐦‍⬛ ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤ whisper ㅤ˺ᅟ⠀ i appreciate the love shown through reposts, but let me be clear: my tales are not to be copied or adapted without a whisper to me first. my words are my treasure, and i guard them jealously.

my murder of crows: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns @ariieeesworld

in case that you desire to be tagged in future works, here's the taglist.

[silvergreenseraphim]

Angeal and Sephiroth (And Genesis?)—Dissidia Opera Omnia—Part One

Alright, so this chapter was a lot, and it opened with Weiss quoting “Loveless” for a reason, it seems.

“When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end, the goddess descends from the sky! Wings of light and dark spread afar, she guides us to bliss…her gift everlasting!”

Weiss becomes our voice for Genesis, or his “brother,” in this chapter. When Seymour questions his quote, Weiss replies,

“It was a passage from a story our brother loved. He used to quote it for his best friend. That friend was Sephiroth, the hero and friend of the other “brother,” Angeal as well.”

This part was hard to translate into English, but Weiss essentially explains that Genesis used to quote Loveless for his close friend, Sephiroth, the hero, and Angeal was right there with them as the third friend in the trio.

Seymour is shocked and gasps, “Sephiroth and Angeal were best friends??”

Weiss replies, “It’s hard to believe of the now-evil “hero” that never reveals his heart. And yet, the exemplary First Class soldier that is a role model for everyone was his friend.”

I am on the fence about the translation of this part and may change it once my friend gets back to me, but for now, it seems like Weiss is pondering the friendship of Sephiroth and Angeal and how differently they turned out, because Seymour does make a comment like, “I suppose if you have dreams and honor, you can’t go wrong.”

But there is potentially more here that Weiss is saying about his own relationship to Sephiroth and Angeal—perhaps suggesting he is not their friend and doesn’t quite understand their past relationship himself. I will have to keep researching.

We cut to Sephiroth again, who is confused about his memory returning. He says he didn’t expect any memories to return from the Lifestream, but shakes his head and denial. He claims these memories Angeal brought back are unnecessary and that he most remove Angeal from the picture immediately. His motives are set.

Meanwhile, Zack and Angeal are talking about how Sephiroth changed. I translated this on Altocat’s blog and here is what they say:

Zack says,

“Angeal, I know you’re surprised…I can’t believe that Sephiroth changed like that…

Angeal replies,

“So, you were taken aback as well…”

Zack says,

“It was out of nowhere. We went to investigate Cloud and Tifa’s village…and I guess he discovered his origins. He killed everyone and burned down the village. He had always been the hero I strived to be…”

Zack and Angeal are both very crestfallen here, lamenting this knowledge. Angeal pulls himself together and says,

“I know…I’m disappointed too. Everything changed while I was gone, I guess.

Angeal further laments that he wasn’t there, and Zack reassures him that even though Angeal disappeared at the time and pushed everyone away, Zack would have stayed by his side and helped. Zack would have left Shinra, and he says he is sure Sephiroth felt the same way.

Angeal thanks his student but says that it was his choice and lonely path at the time—he had to carry the responsibility as a First Class soldier. Zack chastises him saying he shouldn’t think that way—after all, Zack is a First Class as well, and has enough experience. He could have helped Angeal. Angeal begins to reply, saying, “Zack…” but then they are interrupted by the others.

They say it’s time to make a decision about Sephiroth, and Cloud explains that the silver boi is planning to turn the world into an empty vessel that he may sail the cosmos with in order to find another world. An Advent Children reference, of course.

Rufus mentions that this goal is very similar to the desire of Jenova. He has to then explain what Jenova is to the other characters, as well as the Reunion theory.

This makes a lightbulb go off in Angeal’s head and he gasps, “So basically…Sephiroth is Jenova?”

He puts it together that Reunion implies that Jenova’s cells must be drawn back to their source, and since that source is currently Sephiroth, they must be the same.

However, the others simply say that Sephiroth/Jenova must be eliminated, and agree to hunt him down. Everyone nods and moves forward except Angeal, who lingers with hesitation.

In the next part, they are in the process of tracking Sephiroth, but the group notices Angeal’s troubled demeanor. They ask him if he’s okay and Kadaj says that he heard about Sephiroth being Angeal’s good friend. He says that it must be disheartening to see Sephiroth in his current state, since nothing is like it used to be.

Angeal notes Kadaj’s own tone of disappointment and Kadaj explains how Sephiroth used him as a puppet to find Jenova’s remains, which horrifies Kadaj because if Sephiroth and Jenova are the same, then his own “mother” used and betrayed him in such a way.

Angeal encourages Kadaj and gives him one of his classic pep talks, appealing to his usual “dreams and honor” code. Tifa notes that Zack often spoke the same way, prompting Angeal to recall teaching Zack all those things.

In response to Kadaj, he then says he was indeed surprised by hearing what Sephiroth did, but he says that,

“Sephiroth had his honor once too…and he has a tendency to hold onto things, so even if I am surprised, I can’t abandon him…”

The others say that they aren’t sure if Angeal’s words can reach Sephiroth, who was cruel enough to destroy Tifa and Cloud’s village. Tifa agrees as she recalls how she begged Sephiroth to explain why he did what he did, but she does say to Angeal that she believes he could have a better chance.

She kindly compliments him on how his “dreams and honor” philosophy had helped her as well. :,)

She encourages Angeal, saying that his words will surely be a beacon and that he should try to speak with Sephiroth again. Angeal hangs his head sorrowfully and agrees, saying,

“I don’t want to give up on him….so I’ll try as hard as I can…”

—

This is a good place to stop because the next chapters are where everything gets chaotic, but for now, we have some build-up for what Angeal wants to do, and for Weiss being a stand-in for Genesis later.

—

Some little notes:

The Zack and Angeal scenes were very sweet, as Zack wants to convince his old mentor to stop shouldering everything alone. Angeal’s absolute refusal to give up on Seph tugs at the heartstrings too, and I find it so sweet that Tifa actually encouraged him.

The “Sephiroth is Jenova” point is fascinating, but I believe we will soon find that Seph’s own will is blended into Jenova’s, as they are aligned, and this might be what reveals to Angeal that there may not be much hope for his old friend. :(

I am struggling with the Weiss and Seymour discussion, and this has been one of the parts that has slowed me down, because the context is hard to decipher, but I suspect that Weiss is comparing Sephiroth and Angeal to the figures in Loveless, which also becomes relevant later. I will update as soon as I can get an explanation from my Japanese friend. I am not skilled enough to decipher everything yet on my own, you see. 😅

But enjoy this for now, and I will be back with more soon! <3

[sephirthoughts]

headcanon game: I know that I should ask a character but can you make it with a ship? 😁 Strifentine. 🐥🦇

OK LISTEN. this is just throwing me delicious treats. 😂

[this ask game]

Headcanon A:  realistic

the age difference bothers vincent, if he thinks about it too much (he's literally old enough to be cloud's grandfather), so he tries not to think about it. cloud, on the other hand thinks it's extremely hot, so he keeps bringing it up in subtle ways and hinting at how old vincent is in conversation, thus tormenting sweet innocent vincent, who has no idea his little boyfriend is actually into it

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

cloud is the only one who can soothe the galian beast, so when vincent goes monstrous, everyone is just like "cloud come get your boyfriend he's using shinra vehicles as bowling balls" and cloud's like "what is he using as the pins?" and they're like "shinra troops" and he's like "ok, i'll be there after i beat this level" and hangs up

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

vincent is always sneaking photos and videos of cloud, which cloud laughs at and calls his "old man hobby", thinking vincent is just enamored of the technology.

vincent can't bring himself to tell him that he is capturing every moment he can, because cloud will die, one day, and that day will come far sooner than vincent will ever be ready for. he knows that he loves a ray of sunlight, bright and warm and ephemeral, and to try to hold onto it would be futile. he knows that he will pay dearly, for every moment of joy, with the eternal ache of loss. with the unbearable silence, when that voice is stilled and that heart stops beating. but he will cling to the pain and grief with his whole being, and keep tearing open that wound with fangs and claws, no matter how it hurts, because the true horror would be forgetting the one he loves.

but he laughs along and admits that it's a silly old-man thing, because small, portable cameras and recording devices like this didn't exist when he was younger, so cloud indulges him and keeps smiling for the pictures

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

i'm not sure this is even unrealistic. i firmly HC that vincent died a virgin, but he has children all over the place, due to hojo taking his DNA and basically crop-dusting with it. thus, cloud has a whole herd of stepchildren, many of whom are older than him, and one of whom is sephiroth. cloud will never allow sephiroth to forget this. ever. ever.

thank you for the asks i will have vengeance! 🖤

[inawickedlittletown]

A/N: Although I didn't intend to, I wound up writing quite a few fics this year. Buck and Tommy grabbed me and wouldn't let me go. So, it's time for a post to hold all the links. I'm sure I'll wind up with a part two eventually. But for now this will do.

Titles are links to the post here on tumblr. On the multi-chap stories it is to the last chapter as that contains links to all chapters.

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Multi Chapter

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All I Want For Christmas Is You

Summary: When Buck and Tommy pick each other for the 118's Secret Santa, they both realize they know nothing about each other. That changes very quickly. - Tommy reached into the little wooden chest offered to him and pulled out a tiny pink folded post-it from the sea of similarly folded post-its. A finger was pointed to his nose. “We’re capping it at $50. No swapping. No telling anyone who you got. No gift cards. Since we’re on shift over Christmas we’ll swap presents then and it better be wrapped or in a gift bag.” Tommy pushed Hen’s finger away. “I know how Secret Santa works, Hen.” Words: 27k Rating: E Chapters: 9/9

Read on Ao3

Chapter One

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Just Let Me Adore You

Summary: What if...instead of Chimney taking the role of interim Captain of the 118, Tommy is asked to take on the role. Or, what happens when Buck meets Tommy in S2 Words: 35k Rating: T Chapters: 9/9 + epilogue

Read on Ao3

Part One

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You Can Always Find Me Where The Skies Are Blue

Summary: Soulmates are rare. So rare that it's actually incredible that Buck has two soulmate couples in his life. Statistics tell him it's very unlikely for him to meet his soulmate. Of course, then he meets Tommy. Too bad it happens at the worst possible moment. Canon compliant soulmate AU where Buck is still a mess and Tommy is still very understanding. Words: 31k Rating: M Chapters: 7/7

Read on Ao3

Part One

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Don't Make A Shadow Of Yourself

Summary: "A man who's pure of heart...may still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright" - Howl (F+TM) Throughout most of his adult life, Tommy had dealt with what he was. The duality of being a man and also an animal…a beast. Werewolves weren’t born, they were made. Words: 58k Rating: M Chapters: 16/16

Read on Ao3

Chapter One

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Rather Be The Hunter Than The Prey

Summary: Buck doesn't tell Tommy immediately about Gerrard coming back to Captain the 118. Tommy decides he needs to do something about it. Words: 5.7k Rating: T Chapters: 3/3

Read on Ao3

Part One

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Dragon Chosen

Summary: The shadow was huge and unmistakable. Any hope that it was just a passing cloud covering up the sun was futile, especially once he felt the downdraft of air from the wings. When he finally looked up, Buck took in the dragon in all its glory. The dragon was huge, the biggest that Buck had ever seen — not that he’d seen many. - In a world where dragons exist and where they pick their riders, Buck doesn't expect his perfectly normal Tuesday to include a dragon and his rider, Tommy, showing up to ask for his help with an injured dragon...a dragon that has picked Buck as his rider. Buck doesn't know who captivates him more his new dragon or Tommy. Words: 21.8k Rating: M Chapters: 6/6

Read on Ao3

Chapter One

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One Shots

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Who Could Ask You Be Unbroken or Be Brave Again

Summary: When Buck figures out that he's pregnant just a few weeks after the break-up, he has to tell Tommy. They talk. Words: 3k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Thankful

Summary: Tommy's Thanksgiving...yes, another fix it fic. Words: 1.3k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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From Loaves To Love

Summary: Set during 8x07, Eddie sends Tommy a picture of Buck's baked good filled fridge. Fix-it fic. - Tommy receives a picture of a fridge full of baked goods. Mostly, from what he can tell, loaves. The picture comes from Eddie without a caption. It takes a while for him to realize that the fridge is familiar because it belongs to Evan. Eddie texts him a few minutes later Every time he thinks about calling you, he bakes something instead. Tommy has a little bit of a breakdown about that because maybe in his mind he'd thought that Evan would already be over it, over them. He'd been not hoping for it, but expecting it, even while he knew that he would probably have a few more cries about it and that any reminder of Evan was enough to make his heart hurt. Words: 2.9k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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One Year

Summary: This is my fix-it because I for one can't take that break up being the end. So, it takes a while, but they belong together. - “Hey, you okay?” “I don’t think I’ve been okay for months.” Lucy hugged him. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” she asked. He shook his head. It was hard to even admit to himself how much he’d screwed up and how much he’d allowed his fear to color how he faced Evan wanting more than what they already had. Words: 6k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Made From Scratch

Summary: Tommy's birthday is coming up, Buck decides to bake him a cake and Jee-Yun helps. Words: 4k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Halloween Movie Night

Summary: Tommy is not a fan of scary movies Words: 1k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Realization

Summary: Tommy realizes something while Evan eulogizes over Billy Boils. Spoilers for 8x05 Words: 480 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Wear My Clothes

Summary: Set during 8x04 before Buck goes to see Bobby, a moment between Buck and Tommy. Words: 575 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Something Good

Summary: 8x01 coda. Buck and Tommy share a moment. Words: 598 Rating: G

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I'll Be Waiting On The Ground

Summary: Buck calls Tommy after he and Bobby leave the set of Hotshots. Spoilers for 8x02 and contains speculation for 8x03. Words: 1k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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What Do You Mean, A Plane

Summary: Tommy doesn't find out about the plane until after the fact. 8x03 coda. Words: 1.9k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Step Into The Light

Summary: In the aftermath of 7x04, Buck reaches out to the one person that he thinks can help him. Words: 1.2k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Take A Look At Us Now

Summary: There is a magic to finally finding your true self and maybe Tommy has a deeper understanding of what that journey is like and can see it plainly as it is happening to Buck. Words: 2.9k Rating: T

Read on Ao3

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I've Been Waiting For The Tides To Change

Summary: It was itching at him, the pull that he felt towards Evan. He hadn’t been attracted to someone that quickly in a long while and the thing was that Tommy got it. He got how scary it was to come out and the bravery it took to not only admit that to yourself, but also to everyone else. - Or 7x05 from Tommy's perspective and what happens after the coffee date. Words: 4.9k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Coming Out Is Easy

Summary: 7x06 coda because Buck not cleaning up the soot was a choice... Words: 500 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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You've Got The Love To See Me Through

Summary: Tommy's pov of 7x06...or just let this man get some rest. Words: 4.7k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Isn't It Ironic

Summary: 7x07 coda. Buck and Tommy are on a date...they run to Eddie who is also on a date... Words: 600 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Aftermath

Summary: 7x09 coda. In the aftermath, Chris goes where he feels safe. Words: 800 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Glasses

Summary: Buck finds out Tommy wears reading glasses...as inspired by Lou wearing a different pair of glasses in every cameo. Words: 1k Rating: T

Read on Ao3

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More Than Patience

Summary: 7x10 coda. It isn't patience, as much it's understanding. Words: 400 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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How Do I Love Thee

Summary: A sweet moment between Buck and Tommy where Buck gets to tell Tommy what he likes about him. Words: 1.3k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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What's In A Name

Summary: Buck didn't like his name and definitely didn't like other cutesy nicknames...at least not until Tommy uses them Words: 1.5 Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Meeting The Parents

Summary: They liked Tommy. It was strange because Buck hadn’t expected them to. Words: 1.9k Rating: G

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Handsome Little Bookworm

Summary: In which Buck discovers how avid of a reader Tommy is. Words: 1.1k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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It's A Love Story

Summary: You saw all kinds of things working at a restaurant. First dates. Failed dates. Proposals. Arguments. Break ups. The passing of secrets. Or, the waitress at the restaurant Tommy and Buck go to for their first date likes to people watch. Words: 2.9k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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Becoming Pawrents

Summary: Out on a call, the 118 finds a box of abandoned puppies. Words: 2.3k Rating: G

Read on Ao3

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And Every String Led Me To You

Summary: It happened when Buck woke up from the coma. At first, he was absolutely sure that he was dreaming because there was no way his hospital room could be so full of string. or, Buck can suddenly see the strings of fate, including the one that connects him right to Tommy. Words: 8.6k Rating: G

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[synintheraven]

✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary: you finally find Ivarr Ragnarsson and a cup of ale gives an unexpected turn of events between the two of you.

✵tw: mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, drinking, other than that lots of fluff :p

✵word count: 1,3k

characters info | part five

The sun was hiding behind clouds and a thin layer of snow covered the hills around us. It was cold, the wind crawled under my clothes and a shiver climbed my spine as their eyes were on me.

We had just arrived to Repton, yet the little army under Ivarr and Ubba's command was far more cautious than that of Tamworth. And as their famously reckless Lord stood proud before us, the rabid dogs followed close behind.

There were no children, no wives. Only soldiers dressed in mail, their Lord's most trusted hounds.

—And what of her? Is she your gift to me? —Ivarr asked almost too proud of himself and I was ready to bite back, but Sihtric was quicker to answer.

—She’s my woman. —He said. I frowned, his words still echoing in my head.

—Slave girl? —The Ragnarsson grinned, his eyes fixed on my expression. —Either that or she hates your cock.

Sihtric then gave me a strange look, his hand finding its way along my back and stopping where my butt joined my back, pulling me awkwardly closer to his side. —We’re just tired, it was a long journey from Theotford.

Surprisingly, he seemed to bite on Sihtric’s lie, while I pictured myself with a knife going through the Dane's throat.

—So, why are you here? Guthrum isn’t treating his hounds right?

—We got word that a son of Ragnar had taken Repton, so we thought to serve a true dane lord was better than to follow a stupid man to his defeat.

We knew nothing about Guthrum; not the colour of his banner nor the look of the man’s face. But it was easy to make up a lie when the man himself wasn’t there to deny it, though in truth Guthrum would’ve embraced us as his warriors as long as we looked like Danes.

Ivarr was hesitant, like dry weeds waiting on a spark to set ablaze. Yet he welcomed the fire, not afraid to get burnt.

—Ha! —He said loudly, his gaze studying me with curiosity as he crossed his arms. —And you, woman? Can you fight? Or are you only here to please this pretty warrior? —He finished as he looked at Sihtric, but he was out of words.

—The son of Ragnar wants me to teach him how to use his axe? —I snapped back happily, but my man, the one I wasn’t aware I had, was concerned about Ivarr’s deadly stare.

—I love sassy bitches, you can stay. —He smiled widely, as the men around us joined their lord with a grin. —Same for you, pretty boy.

Everything was blurry; the candles provided the room with a gloomy light and the flickering flames made the shadows around us deeper than they really were, like if whole territories hid among that darkness.

It made me wonder about the unknown, all that is hidden from plain sight but lurks in the blackness of the night. The wild beasts, the magic creatures, and all else that is hidden to us mortals.

I could hear the voices from the drunken warriors around me, their laughter, their joy after a succesful battle. The sound of wooden jars and metal clashing as they celebrated with ale, their harsh steps on the floor.

I was hearing Sihtric as he talked, telling me one more time stories about all his battles, all he had conquered to get here, to England. All about the raids: priceless treasures, gold-filled chests and wealthy norse fools ready to give everything up if only to escape an unneccesary fight, all that he'd managed to steal for himself after years of serving under Yggr's banner.

I watched as he wrapped his hands around the mug and a puddle of ale drenched the linen around his arms, yet he didn't seem to care. A tattoo showed from under his sleeve, an interesting shape playing in the shadow and hiding from the candle light. He simply kept on talking, ever proud and happy about his stories, his life.

Maybe it was the ale, maybe there was something in the air that night, but his words sounded funny in my ears. He was explaining how he once cut off a man's hand with an axe: the splatter of blood, the horror in that man's voice as he screamed out of pain. But all I could hear was a mumble, his attempt at sounding coherent while the ale made its way through his throat.

And so, I laughed. Sihtric's response was to look at me with a frown, then proceeded to burst out laughing with me.

He suddenly stopped and went completely quiet, worrying me for a moment that perhaps I was the reason of such a sudden change in his reaction, though nothing about his glare betrayed whatever was going on inside the man's head.

A young girl walked in our direction, trying hard to avoid Sihtric's eyes. She was skinnier than the others, with skin as white as snow and several bruises dyeing the flesh around her neck, making it no surprise that she was so afraid of the drunken warriors surrounding her. But she was there to serve drinks and so she would.

Her trembling hands made their best to hold the jar firmly and fill his cup, avoiding eye contact with the fearsome man before me. Yet when she was done and ready to escape, his hand wrapped around her wrist.

For whatever reason, I felt as if fire burnt inside of me; but I couldn't recall what was causing such a feeling, nor could I stop myself from standing up, as if something else was controlling my body.

—You're too pretty to be working at this stinking alehouse. —He said while pulling her closer, watching as the poor girl's panic intensified. —There's nothing to fear, woman, wouldn't you rather be with me than serving all these bastards?

There was a glimpse of a smile on his face, despite the terror in her eyes. He was a good man, for a drunken fool, and would've easily let her go if asked to: but that's not what those women were used to around there, so she was desperately looking for a way out.

So I took his mug in my own hand, spilling all its content on the floor. And his confused reaction was priceless.

—You better have a real good reason for that bullshit, y/n. —He stood up, freeing the girl's wrist, though she was still too frightened by him to go away.

—You're trying to hump some random girl and expect me to act as if I didn't care? —I asked with pride in my voice, though struggling to figure out what those words were supposed to mean.

He frowned again, probably trying to remain offended but failing miserably as a silly smile appeared on his face.

—We're supposed to be together, don't you remember, my love? —My words made no sense, yet they seemed sufficient for him, even if Ivarr and Ubba were too far from us to hear anything we were saying.

—Right! —His eyes widened up and he quickly took a step further from the girl, resting his hand on the messy table. —It's just that I'm so in love with you and to touch you would mean to ruin your pure beauty.

To this day I still don't quite remember what happened that night, nor do I recall when did the scared girl left us and ran back to the owner of that shithole of an alehouse. But I do, however, remember how he started to laugh mid-lie and looked down on his empty mug, only to remember I was the cause of it.

—Or perhaps my dear husband struggles to use his plow sword with his beloved wife. —I snarled back and once again he let out a noisy laugh then went quiet when he realized I had meant no compliment by that.

—Are you challenging me? —He asked with a playful smirk, leaning closer as I wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers on his hair.

My heart was beating hard: surprised at the shiver running through my body as I felt his skin on the tip of my fingers. And, for the first time since I’ve met him, something about his gaze felt different.

The candle light reflected on his face, his brown eye looking warm and inviting while the other side was ever bright, sea waters dancing within his eye.

His breath smelt of ale and his hands were getting a little too comfortable around my waist, but that didn’t stop me from reaching for his lips; even as he teased me, pressing the tip of his nose to my cheek, but avoiding my touch.

Sihtric’s kiss was full of warmth and necessity, feeling as his hands roughly pressed me onto his body. So I gave in.

[ilyastudies]

I saw that you use a tablet, a desktop, and paper notes. How do you conciliate those notes?

Is there a mechanism of making primary notes on one resource and then passing those notes to other while reviewing them?

hi! thanks so much for asking! here are my favorite methods for sharing notes between devices :). i personally have apple devices so i can fairly easily airdrop and sync things between devices, but i also frequently work at the library desktop computers where i can't do that! so here's my tips and tricks for sharing notes between devices

for context: i've been mostly doing digital notetaking recently, but i also like to scan my paper notes as well!

i'm going to be dividing this post into 2 methods! (there will be some overlap). syncing already written notes and syncing notes (in progress) between devices

for already written notes:

the first step i would take is export your notes as a pdf or any other file type. if they're handwritten try going into your notes app (for ios) or downloading a pdf scanner app for your phone! if your notes are digital check the sharing options in your app to see if there's anything about "exporting".

personally, i like to use either discord or notion. i have created a discord server with only myself that i use just for sharing links/files/anything between devices! i like discord because there's apps for pc, mac, tablets, and phones; and even a web app! discord is really nice and fast, and you can make different channels (as pictured below) for organization. as long as your file size isn't too big, you should be fine.

my second app i like to use is notion! notion is such a beast in itself, but i like to use it to upload files and images and links! below are two ways i have used it: to upload pdfs/files, and to upload goodnotes (my notetaking app) links to the pages i'm writing on! similar to discord, notion has apps for all devices, but it also works great just by itself on the website (no app required)! it's really great to access it from all my devices.

another way you could share your notes on different devices is through the cloud! (yes, discord and notion are both through the cloud). google drive, microsoft onedrive, icloud storage, etc. are great tools that you can use to upload files and see on multiple devices. i personally like discord and notion more, just because they're already apps i frequently use, but if you can't get either one cloud-based storage platforms are also a great idea! they definitely have more security than discord or notion, because your files may be at risk of being deleted!

for the purposes of sharing notes to reference on another device when writing an essay, or something of similar vain, i really love discord and/or notion and they both work great!

for syncing notes in real time:

pretty similar to the last one, i would say notion or google docs (or microsoft word on the web i believe has similar functionality, or onenote, anything similar!)

if you want to be writing notes on one device and have them sync up quickly on another - i think any word processing software is the best bet for you.

both notion and google docs you can access them on any device, and/or on their websites too!

google docs is a lot more straightforward, but since notion is so powerful it provides a lot of flexibility for your notes! here's an (old) example of notes i've taken on notion. (i personally really like how easy it is to make columns!)

i hope this helped a little bit! please let me know if you have any more questions :)

also! notetaking is very much an individual thing, if something works for me and doesn't work for you - that's okay! we're all learning and just have to figure out what's best for ourselves.

[uh-oh-its-bird]

I saw the Genshin/Naruto crossover and I'm losing it over the shenanigans because okay, picture the adepti are there too. I could picture Xianyun and Ping just freakin' stealing kids left and right. They're both acting like the other one is having a problem with their hoard of feral ninja children and then Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper are having like a gay old time having a vacation but their peaceful times keep being interrupted by Ping and Cloud Retainer (and they only act grumpy but it is heartening seeing their old friends so happy even if it does mean their mountains will likely be bustling with children once they get home.) Zhongli is like vaguely aware but he's got his hands full with his own business so he's just like "it's fine :)"

Crying actually I think this is my first fic related ask ever I'm putting it up on my wall to frame

NO BUT I LOVE THAT?? They're both creating their own little found family armies of deadly children. They mean well 100% but to outsiders looking in (aka village officials) it kind of looks like they're starting some sort of army.

Xiao pops in with Gaara and Shukaku like "look what I found" and both Ping and Cloud Retainer are making grabby hands at them like "ohoho hand them to me I will make sure they are well taken care of :)" But Xiao goes "fuck off this one is mine" and teleports away, deciding to ask someone else for parenting advice

In his travels for whatever reason he had run into Kakashi, one of possibly the worst possibly people he could ask for parenting advice for several reasons. But for whatever idea he's under the impression he makes for a ""good father"" for team 7 (much to Kakashi's distress) so he's just appearing in Kakashi's appartment out of nowhere to demand parenting advice.

And Kakashi is like: ok, the strange rogue ninja I ran into months ago on a mission broke into my home. But he's not . . . Hostile?

And so he plays along

The conversation finally ends with Xiao nodding and thanking him for his advice, maybe saying something vague about coming back later if he needs more to which Kakashi just goes "Please don't."

Then he drops Gaara's name (Gaara, who's kidnapping and status of jinchuriki and very messy kidnapping a week ago now has already leaked to the public) and Kakashi record scratches but Xiao is already gone and FUCK did he just help the guy who kidnapped suna'a tailed beast oh god

Xiao, Madam Ping and Cloud Retainer end up in a little race to see who can collect the most jinchuriki and their bijuu the fastest. They are all child shaped to them, even the adults. No one is safe (tho ofc they only take those willing to go with them, this is still an adoption game even if it's. Very enthusiastic.)

Xiao doesn't want any other jinchuriki kids tho, Gaara and Shukaku are his favorite the others can fight over whoever else there is. He'll still find them and bring them over to the others but he's not really a family man and 2 are more than enough

Zhongli is watching all of this just "I'm glad they're all having fun :)" before turning back around and tricking more people into signing magically soul binding contracts they intend to betray but will never be able to