#o ye ice and snow

[flowersforroadkill]

Chapel of the Transfiguration, Grand Teton National Park

[crushmeeren]

࿐ part one of my kinktober series! Hoshina’s version can be found here! enjoy little bats!

࿐ master list link ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ knotting, breeding, scent kink, biting/marking, fighting as foreplay, a/b/o dynamics, praise kink, mentions of blood, mentions of reader becoming pregnant.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ You’ve danced around each other since you were kids. It didn’t start as something romantic, no, it only developed into something more when you turned into teenagers. Once you both reached 21, it’s no secret who you’re deliriously hoping will pin you down during your first, and only, mating run.

⇣ ⇣ ༄ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ༄ ⇣ ⇣

You were six the first time you heard Katsuki. Yes heard, not met.

You vividly recall how purple and blue chalk had stained your knees. That it had dusted the fraying hem of your jean shorts like snow as you scribbled pictures as fast as your chubby hands would allow. The concrete of your driveway was filled with your imagination when their car pulled into the house across the street.

Your ears had twitched and perked up when a car door slammed shut. But it was the furious shouting and growling of a small boy that captured the entirety of your attention. An answering warning snarl radiated from the woman standing before him and that piqued your interest even further.

You took a break from, what you would call your masterpiece, and tilted your head to the side as you spotted a young blonde boy with gravity defying spiky hair, close to you in age, stomping his foot, baring tiny canines, and pointing furiously at who you assumed was his mother. After all, he did look like the miniature version of her and her face was pinched with the same anger that he displayed.

You studied them curiously as they screamed at each other when a man with the same crazy hair stepped in between them to calm the situation. You startled suddenly, chalk slipping from your fingers when your mom called your name, and causing the blonde’s scowl to turn your direction instead. Unsure of what else to do, you raised your chalk covered hand and waved tentatively, a shy smile curling your lips and showing off your own premature fangs.

His frown rooted even deeper into his expression in response. Your sharp vision had allowed you to watch as his cheeks turned pink and splotchy from the unexpected attention you gave him. You grinned a bit wider and he abruptly raised his tiny hand to flip you off before spinning and storming towards his front door. His mother had choked on her next breath and screeched “Katsuki you little shit! Don’t you have any manners?!”

His rude behavior should’ve offended you, but instead it made you laugh so hard that your little belly started to cramp and your own face burned with delight. Safe to say you were, for lack of a better word, excited to get to know the new wolf that just moved in.

When your parents introduced you later on, you became fast friends. As brash and nasty as his attitude was, you were able to see the kinder side of him on occasion. You also couldn’t deny that he was unfairly entertaining, even on his worst days.

You both shared similar interests, and he was so cool in your eyes that you were more enamored with him than the sticky mud you both used to make pies with after it rained. Not to mention he always smelled of caramel, which you loved. It reminded you of the first bite of freezing vanilla ice cream with warm caramel syrup drizzled on top.

As you got a bit older, you were allowed to start shifting together. As wolves you’d explore the dense forest behind your home every weekend when the moon was high in the sky. You’d wrestle, playfully chasing and hunting rabbits until your paws hurt. Then you’d take a dip in the chilly creek until your fur hung heavy and was soaked through to the bone. They were, without a doubt, the best moments of your young life.

Reaching your teen years, however, was….different. Your parents took great care and time to teach you about your secondary dynamic. About alphas, betas, omegas, how they all related to one another. About heats and ruts and mates. It was overwhelming at first, but it did help you make sense of the rapidly evolving feelings you were harboring for your best friend. Nevertheless, you continued to take on life side by side with Katsuki.

When you were 16, you presented as an omega. Katsuki was an alpha, and truly you couldn’t even be surprised by the news. What you weren’t expecting was just how intense your feelings got for him after that, how much more powerful and attractive his scent had turned. You were aware you were in love with him by that point, but once you both presented Katsuki wouldn’t leave your side for a single second.

And then late one night he snuck into your bedroom through the window and confessed his feelings with a bright, rare blush of embarrassment on his face and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. You’d been together ever since. That was five years ago, give or take.

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

Mating runs are traditional for werewolves in your small home town. Once you reach 21, you’re able to participate in one to officially become part of a mated pair. It could be with someone who you’ve only just met, someone from a long term relationship, or anyone in between.

Four times a year, during a full moon, the mating run takes place. It begins in the clearing at the edge of the forest just outside your town and ends at sunrise or once you’ve been pinned down and knotted by your chosen mate. The omegas take off first, then the alphas shortly after.

The heart pumping thrill of being hunted is what pushes you at a breakneck pace now. The bite of autumn wind whips through your fur, but it’s lost to the heat of adrenaline. You dig your claws into the earth each time your paws make contact to send yourself full throttle even further into the forest. You made sure Katsuki was aware you wouldn’t let him catch you so easily.

Seeing in the dark is an advantage, allowing you to dodge trees and jump over obstacles. The muscles in your hind legs clench and propel you over a decent sized log, which inadvertently lands you in a small creek. You create a decent splash on impact and pause only for a moment to get a much needed drink when a set of thundering paws echoes in the distance.

You huff irritably. You stopped for only few seconds, how the hell has Katsuki caught up to you already? You should’ve known better than to assume you could rest at all. Once more you begin sprinting in the opposite direction of your soon to be mate.

Your pulse skyrockets and a yip of excitement escapes you before you manage to reign it in. Katsuki’s answering excited howl sends a shiver down your spine. Now, you’re able to catch stronger whiffs of singed caramel as he closes in. His scent only tinges burnt when he’s riled up.

You burst through a line of trees, skidding to a halt and kicking up dirt in a small field. You whip around to wait for him, panting harshly to catch your breath. Sure enough, within seconds, a huge sandy colored wolf explodes into the clearing, slowing to a trot and halting about 15 feet away.

Tail wagging vigorously, you press your front half to the forest floor, snarling playfully and snapping your jaws in invitation. You’re ready to fight. Katsuki huffs in a way that mimics amused laughter and answers you with a deep rumble of his own, mirroring your position. You pretend you’re about pounce, but fake him out by twisting and taking off like a shot.

You only cover a pathetic few feet of ground when a bag of bricks hits your side, tackling you into the dirt with no mercy. The air’s knocked from your lungs when you land, and the two of you begin to roll as you try to end up on top. Katsuki snaps his teeth too close to your ear for comfort and you sneak your hind paws underneath to kick violently at his belly.

The push knocks his balance off center and you take advantage of the slight window to slip out from underneath him. Standing, you shake out your fur but then razor blade teeth close on your back leg and yank until you fall to the floor. A startled yelp rings free and you twist to the best of your ability to try and rip a chunk out of Katsuki’s fluffy ear.

Katsuki’s chest rumbles teasingly, dodging your retaliation, and spicy warm caramel floods your nose. Your furious growling tapers off into a whine the more the air fills with his scent. You tug your leg petulantly, but a warning snarl from Katsuki has you sinking into the forest floor in defeat.

Katsuki yips happily and releases you, allowing you to roll over and show him your belly as a sign that he’s caught you and of your trust in him. The ash blonde wolf shifts to hover over you and bends to gently to place his jaws around your throat, applying just enough pressure to spike your heart rate.

With practiced ease and only a minimal amount of pain, you shift until your fur is replaced by bare skin, damp grass tickling your back. Katsuki releases his hold and stares down at you, ruby eyes shining. Your lips curve into a smile and you reach up to pet the soft fur on his head and nose. Your mate licks your hand once, causing you to laugh, before joining you seconds later.

He rests his hands by your head instead of paws and straddles your naked waist. His cock is already partially filled out and resting on your stomach when he smirks down at you, an air of infuriating arrogance surrounding him.

“Thought you were gonna make it difficult for me to catch you,” he teases with a husky tone, leaning down to mouth at the scent gland under your jaw. “You taste so fuckin’ good baby, I’m gonna to eat you alive.”

The noise Katsuki makes stands at the edge of a whine when he drags his tongue over your pulse point, dick twitching with interest. You moan softly, fingers threading through thick golden hair, and you bend your neck to expose even more skin to him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, pride welling up in your chest as your eyes flutter shut. “I knew you’d catch me Katsuki. You’re the strongest alpha after all, and you’re mine.”

Katsuki’s chest vibrates with approval, nipping harshly and sucking a mark into the hollow of your throat. It aches dully and you squeeze your thighs together, a feverish heat starting to consume you wholly.

“Such a pretty girl, sweet fuckin’ omega, all for me yeah?”

“Forever Katsuki,” you confirm. “I’m your omega, your mate until we die. So claim me the way we both want, please.” You tug desperately at his hair until his mouth is a hair’s width away from yours, gaze half lidded and starving.

It takes absolutely nothing else to bring the two of you into a sloppy, heated kiss. Your pussy clenches when one of his hands sneaks down to grab a handful of your tit, squeezing and pinching your nipple.

Your lips part and Katsuki eagerly pushes his warm tongue into your mouth. The rhythmic, slick glide has your lower half weeping for his attention. A molten type of heat burns low in your gut and your inner thighs have gone slippery as your mate works you up to an unbearable degree.

You suck on Katsuki’s tongue and his breath hitches before he releases it as a breathy moan, cock fully swollen and throbbing repeatedly. You squirm under him impatiently, noticing the precum gathering near your bellybutton. You trap the tip of his tongue between your teeth and bite mischievously.

He pulls back to glare halfheartedly at you, and the look on his face is blazing, pupils wildly dilated and cheeks flushed beyond compare. You can tell he wants to devour you and you need it just as badly. He chews his bottom lip, gaze trailing over your tits and flickering back to your face as your own cheeks burst into flames. Your blush is so violent it burns your eyes.

Katsuki starts shifting backwards until he can get between your thighs, brushing his lips down your sternum and sucking briefly on your nipple.

“I’m gonna eat this fuckin’ pussy, okay sweetheart?” He noses at your hip bone, stopping to inhale deeply at the crease of your thigh, groaning as his eyes shut. “Then I’m gonna knot you and you’re not fuckin’ leavin’ until you’re full with my pups, you hear me?” He asks hotly.

Your head tilts to the sky with a whine, something like electricity running through your blood. You fist his hair and pull restlessly. “Jesus Katsuki, stop fucking talking and do it.”

Katsuki laughs, voice full of amusement. “You’re lucky I like when you’re bitchy.”

He doesn’t waste another moment, parting the soft lips of your pussy by dragging his tongue upwards until he can circle your clit a few times. The next lick has you fighting for air, muscles jumping as your skull digs into the surface below. He repeats the action multiple times and then places the flat of his tongue on your swollen clit, shifting his head side to side.

The cry of his name gets stuck in your chest when sucks on your clit for the first time, the rolling wave of pleasure branching from your pelvis outwards. You can’t take much more, the animalistic instinct in the back of your mind making it seem as if you’ll die if you don’t take his knot soon.

You push at his forehead, asking for his attention. “Katsuki, c’mon, knot me already,” you plead to no avail. He pulls away by an inch and grins coyly at you.

“Nah, you’re cummin’ like this because I’m telling you to. Then I’ll knot ya, ya spoiled little princess.”

“At least use your fingers then!”

“Hell no! You’re not cummin’ with anything inside you unless it’s my cock.”

Releasing his hair, you push up to your elbows and pout to help persuade your case, but he doesn’t pay you any mind. Katsuki sinks his nails into your inner thighs and your brain fills with cotton when his tongue returns to play with your clit. His heavy lidded stare makes you shiver and the way he eats you out is so obscene you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut when you cum.

Katsuki lets his tongue spread you open and lazily gather every drop of your orgasm until his spit is all that remains. He raises up to sit on his heels, and the moonlight highlights the way his chin shines because of you. An intense pulse of affection accompanies the thought of how breathtaking your mate really is.

Katsuki smoothes his palms up your thighs, over your belly and trails them up your rib cage before coming back down to squeeze your hips. You shift to sit up and lean in to brush your lips gingerly with his and then Katsuki presses back into it even harder. Demanding fingers grip your jaw and break your kiss. Katsuki peers at you, smirking and rubbing a thumb over your jawline.

“Turn over,” he murmurs, tone smooth like whiskey. A thrill races through you at the command and in the blink of an eye your cheek is squished into the grass, elbows resting by your head, and your ass is high in the air, presenting for him like you’ve wanted to all. damn. night.

The thick, blunt tip of Katsuki’s cock nudges against you, but he doesn’t allow it to catch. You jolt in surprise when he slides over your the rim of your ass instead, toes curling with anticipation.

You whine loudly in protest and Katsuki croons softly to you, relaxing some of your tense muscles. He lets out a deep rumble of approval and places a hand on your tailbone to guide your hips backwards. You’re panting when he finally slides halfway in, moaning in relief from the stretch.

“Katsuki.”

He hums distractedly, holding tight to your hips and rocking his hips shallowly until his cocks fit snug inside, balls pressed against you.

“I love you,” you manage to say, breath catching in your throat when he pulls his hips back and then thrusts back in fluidly.

“I love you, more than anything,” Katsuki promises, tone so sincere you have to shut your eyes in the face of it. He knocks your knees further apart, curling over your back and searches for your hands. His long fingers lace through yours and your spine curves even deeper as he pins you in place.

There’s not much talking after that. You’re too focused on the delicious drag of his cock in and out of your pussy, carving out a space made just for him. He fits inside you perfectly and goosebumps litter your skin each time he makes you remember. Sweat beads swiftly in the valley of your breasts and dirt paints your cheek as you rock with each of Katsuki’s deliberate thrusts.

You scent must be suffocating him because he’s sniffing the back of your neck and whining every other breath. It’s all the same to you because you’re drowning in caramel and the sound of your mate’s hips bouncing frantically off your ass is quite literally the loudest noise surrounding you.

Your gut clenches tight, tight, tight and you’re so close you can’t fucking stand it.

“You’re gonna make me cum! Knot me Katsuki, please!” You manage to untangle one of your hands and reach backwards to push at his stomach, the muscles straining and rolling under your touch.

He moves with you easily and snickers in your ear. Warm breath tickles your nape and your gums start to ache, the omegan urge to tear into his neck and claim him mercilessly grows stronger by the second.

“Yeah? Think your pretty little pussy is ready for my knot sweetheart?” Katsuki huffs between words and then out of nowhere he’s unsticking himself from your back and settling on his calves, cocking slipping free. You’re furious, glaring at him over your shoulder and curling your lip into a snarl.

“What the hell Katsuki!” You whip around to face him fully and shove at his chest. Katsuki rolls his eyes and snags your wrist, yanking you forward so you have to catch yourself on his shoulders. He grabs your waist and forces you to walk on your knees until you’re hovering over his lap.

“I’ve been waitin’ for this fuckin’ moment my entire life. There’s no way in hell I’m knottin’ you without being able to see the sweet expressions you’re gonna make.”

Your eyes widen and your lips part slightly, but before you can answer he’s applying pressure to your hips and helping you sink back down onto his still stiff dick. You moan his name, pressing your sweaty forehead to his and huffing hotly against his mouth.

True to his words, his knot’s begun to swell. It presses against your pussy, begging to pop inside each time you sit down. You ride him roughly, nails sharpening into claws without your permission and breaking the skin on your mates shoulders. Katsuki inhales sharply and howls briefly in excitement.

His canines start to stretch even longer and, with a burst of caramel scent so thick you can taste it, he bullies you down onto his knot. It burns, but the coil that’s been building steadily in your gut breaks then, flooding your limbs with heat.

You all but sob as you cum, claws carving into the base of his skull as he surges forward and sinks his teeth into the mating gland at the junction of your neck and shoulder. Your wail is earsplitting when Katsuki digs those razor like teeth in even harder. His cock throbs, filling you with hot, sticky cum. It rips another orgasm out of you, pussy absolutely choking his knot.

“Katsuki let go!” You’re thrashing, speaking through gritted teeth. “I need to bite you, please!” Your voice is hoarse and wrecked, rising anxiously as you struggle to get free. His scent is so potent it’s making you dizzy.

Your mate groans lowly, finally unhinging his jaw with a heavy purr rattling throughout his chest and tightly grips the base of your neck. Blood trickles down his chin and he shoves your face into his throat, unable to give a single fuck about anything else but being claimed by you.

“Bite me, omega. Make me your mate.”

You moan deliriously, eyes stinging with relief as your teeth cut through his skin like butter and pierce his mating glad, a metallic and overwhelmingly caramel taste floods your mouth.

Katsuki’s cock kicks yet again and he growls hotly, locking his arms around your waist to still your squirming. The muscle in your jaw flexes, allowing your teeth to sink in deeper and his growl abruptly cuts off into a high pitched whimper.

Your mate’s chest heaves from the toll your bite is taking, and you release your jaw unhurriedly to draw it out for as long as he’ll allow. You lick over the wound a few times to help cease the blood flow and Katsuki shivers. Gingerly he shifts your arms up to wrap around his neck and he instructs you to hang on.

He delicately lowers the two of you to the ground, resting on his back so his chest becomes a cushion for your exhausted body while you wait for his knot to go down.

“That’s right, such a good girl. You take my knot so fuckin’ well, you’re incredible. You look stunning with my bite,” Katsuki praises, chest rumbling gently. The soothing sensation of it starts to make you drowsy. He rubs your back lazily as he speaks and you both start to come down from the high.

You purr delightedly, unable to resist teasing him even as your eyes get droopy. Your heart’s complete now. “You look even more gorgeous with my bite, Katsuki.”

He scoffs, pinching your hip playfully, and you purposefully clench around his knot in response. It rips a startled gasp from him and you giggle.

“I have a fuckin’ tease for a mate,” he sulks, letting his head thump onto the dirt floor below. You sound unbearably smug when you reply.

“Yeah well, you better get used to it baby. You’re stuck with me forever now, whether you want to or not.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I wouldn’t want any other omega in the fuckin’ world anyways, idiot.”

About a month later, when you tell Katsuki you’re pregnant, the corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins proudly, saying “told ya you weren’t leaving that clearing until you were knocked up with my pups.”

[doumadono]

Babyyyyy! Congratulations 💙🧡💙🧡 I am so happy to see you thrive 💗

Can I get some mint and raspberry ice-creams served in a cone, with some maple syrup on top? 😚 (pro hero au with pro hero Dabi)

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem!reader, pussy fingering/eating, p in v, dom!Dabi

A/N: thank you very much for your support, sweetheart! I hope you enjoy these headcanons ♥

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST • MY HERO ACADEMIA Pro hero Dabi - headcanons • PRO HERO DABI & INTERN!BAKUGO

Dabi, the renowned pro hero, returns home after a day of saving lives and battling villains. His muscles are tense, his spirit is high, and his desire is burning like the blue flames that dance at his fingertips as he get inside his spacious apartment. His eyes are dark and tired at first, but there's a spark that ignites as soon as he looks at you, his lips curling upwards in a wry grin.

You've been waiting for him for hours, eager to provide some much-needed relief. You missed your boyfriend oh so much.

Dabi's strong hands grip your waist, pulling you close. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You can taste the smoky remnants of his quirk on his tongue as it dances with yours. Your hands reaching up to grip his broad shoulders. You break the kiss, panting. "Touya," you breathe, your cheeks flushed.

"Yes, darling?" Dabi's fingers trace the hem of your shirt. He smirks, knowing how much you love it when he takes control. He tugs the fabric up and over your head, exposing your lacy bra. Dabi's gaze lingers on your body, and you feel a thrill run through you.

You rub your thighs together to ease the tension and wetness building within your pussy. "I-I want you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing with desire as you ran the tip of your tongue over your upper lips to moisture it.

He palms your breasts, teasing your nipples through the lace. "Oh, I know you do," he says, his voice dripping with confidence.

You gasp again, arching into his touch. "Touya…"

Dabi's mouth finds your neck once more, leaving a trail of hot kisses that make you tremble. He continues his exploration, slowly unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor. Touya's fingers pinch and roll your nipples, eliciting a moan from your lips. His other hand travels down your body, reaching the waistband of your pants. He deftly unbuttons them and pulls them off, leaving you in nothing but your lace panties. Dabi's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you. He hooks his fingers into your panties, leans forward and kisses you roughly, pushing his tongue in your mouth as he tugs the panties down, letting them pool at your feet.

You step out of them, feeling vulnerable.

Dabi's hands explore your body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touch. One of them slips between your thighs and he growls lowly. "Fuck, doll, you're dripping," he claims, bringing his hand up to his lips, licking his index and middle fingers off your juices. He lifts you up effortlessly, like you weighted nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. He lays her down on the bed, his eyes raking over your body hungrily. He removes his own clothes, revealing his muscular form.

Touya positions himself between your legs, his fingers tracing the wetness between your thighs. He teases your entrance, making you squirm with anticipation. He takes his time, enjoying the power he holds over you in this moment, kissing all over your tummy and gradually coming down. Finally, Touya's mouth descends upon your aching core. His tongue flicks and teases your clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. He doesn't shy away from sucking your lips into his mouth.

You cry out, gripping his snow-white, spiky hair as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. "O-Oh! Touya!"

Just as you're about to reach your peak, Dabi pulls away, leaving you gasping for more. He smirks, knowing the torture is part of the fun. He slowly pushes one finger inside, then another, stretching you in preparation for what's to come while his tongue flicks your clitoris.

You moan and arch your back, the sensation of his fingers combined with the anticipation driving you wild. "Oh, God!" You whine, rolling your head back to the pillow. "Fuck me already, tiger, I can't wait any longer," you beg, your eyes glistening with tears. "I don't want to come yet, please!"

He likes to take his time to play with you. He loves seeing you whining so pathetically, practically begging for his cock to be stuffed in your little cunt. When Dabi deems you ready, he positions himself above you, his turquoise eyes locked on yours. He smirks, his hand reaching down to grip his cock. He guides it to your entrance, rubbing it against your wet pussy. "Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, his hips thrusting forward. With one powerful thrust, he enters you, filling you completely.

You cry out, the feeling of him inside you overwhelming.

Dabi begins to move, his strokes deep and steady. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you cling to him, desperate for more.

"More, more more…" you plead desperately.

Dabi's hand finds your clit, rubbing small circles as he continues to pound into you. "You like that, don't you?" he growls, his hips thrusting harder.

The combination of sensations is too much, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of release. "Yes, yes, yes," you chant, your body moving in sync with his.

"Come for me then," Dabi growls, his voice low and commanding. A frown crosses his forhead as his cock throbs painfully, so ready to spill his seed deep within you. Soon, his own release is triggered by the feel of you tightening around him rhythmically.

With a final thrust of his, you shatter, crying out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you; your pussy clenches around his cock making it impossible for him to pull out.

Finally, Touya collapses onto the bed, his body spent.

You curl up against him, your body still trembling. "Welcome back home, handsome," you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed.

He smiles, his arm wrapping around you, slowly rubbing the curve of your waist. "Thanks for such a warm welcome."

[readychilledwine]

Hello lovely! Can I please request more cassian x reader as parents? 🥹

Keep Going

Summary - When your daughter's little wings begin to flutter, Cassian realizes it is time for her to learn to fly

Warnings - children (I've been told I need to make that a warning), Azriel being a menace.

A/N - Some short Cassian fluff to break up the smut. I think most of us have probably watched the tiktoks of Cassian teaching his daughter to fly. This is based on that ❤️

"Come on, baby! Keep going!"

Cassian's praise and shouts could be heard as you approached the training rings of the House of Wind. They had drawn you from reading, along with a little thud that had come earlier as well.

"Don't stop! Come on, baby! You're so close!"

"I can't do it, daddy." You could hear your daughter's strain and instantly began to walk faster, tugging the bond only to be ignored as your mate kept his sole focus on her.

"Yes, you can. Come on, princess. Just keep going. I know it hurts, I know you're getting sore. But keep going, baby."

Had you not been helplessly, truly, and madly in love with Cassian, the sight when you got to the top of the House would have sealed his place in your heart forever. Cassian held your daughter's hands in his. He was planted on the ground as her wings beat erratically, lifting her off slightly before she took a little break panting.

"You are so close, baby," Cassian kneeled down to her, holding her round face in his hands. "Do you want me to fly and hold you by your hands while I'm flying? Maybe getting some wind under your wings will help."

You stepped forward, going to your daughter to rub her back. "You're afraid."

She nodded, fat tears rolling down her face. "What if I get up there and my wings stop and I fall and daddy isn't there to save me?"

You shook your head, wiping the tears from her face. "You're so worried about falling that you have not even thought about the possibility of what happens when you fly." She snuggled into you, listening as you comforted her. "There isn't a single world where daddy isn't here to catch you when you fall."

Cassian joined you two on the ground, his large palm in between her wings. "Flying is one of the hardest things you will ever have to learn to do, princess." He tightened her little white ribbon, her little piece of Auntie Nesta, and grabbed her as she switched to being in his arms.

He continued. "We have to get those wings going, though. Think of how fun it will be to go somewhere with daddy, Uncle Rhys, and Uncle Az without someone carrying you. Or flying with Nyx." She hummed and buried herself into his neck, breathing deeply to surround herself with that scent of fire and freshly fallen snow that had been her comfort for years now.

You looked at Cassian, silent communication passing between the two of you. "You know baby, the sooner you fly, the sooner you get to go to Velaris behind mommy's back and get ice cream with daddy."

They both stiffened, Cassian's eyes comically wide as you cocked your head at him. Your daughter started a bell like giggle. She looked up at your mate, those brown eyes sparkling. "See? Mommy knows everything."

You nodded before mouthing, "everything," to Cassian.

"Maybe you should hold her up supporting her stomach and run with her," a smooth, deep voice came from behind you three. "That's how Nyx learned." Azriel patted your daughter on the head as he walked by, grabbing a few things for a mission and sighed. "Otherwise, I can teach you the way I taught Auntie Fey." The smirk on his face said it all. You thought back to Feyre, bruised and crying from soreness.

"Absolutely not."

"Fuck off, Azriel."

"I wanna learn like Feyfey!"

The three answers all came at the same time, making the shadowsinger smile. "When I get home then."

Cassian glared as he walked off. "You will not be getting taught by Azriel. This is my job."

He picked her up in one smooth motion, following the first advice from the shadowsinger. "Flap those little wings, princess."

A look of determination set across her face, one so similar to Cassian's, as she focused and made her wings move. "Let's do this, daddy."

General taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

[charliemwrites]

Chapter 1

Content: Violence, Murder, Horror Elements, Masturbation, Kidnapping, Threats, Mild Pet Play, the One (1) use of an ableist slur

It’s the middle of October when Soap convinces you to go camping.

Autumn has sunk its teeth deep into the countryside, bleeding green from the trees and leeching warmth from the days. Deep shadows and lengthening nights are cold enough to condense breaths into pillows of steam. All of the little critters are fattening up and bedding down for a frigid winter, prepared to be snowed into burrows and dens until spring pries away the ice.

Your hip already aches through the first half of your morning exercises. The ghosts of splintered shrapnel prick beneath tender scar tissue until the rust of sleep flakes away. Lying on hard, cold ground sounds like a one-way ticket to agony. You’d much rather be one of those fluffy bastards curling up to hibernate. You tell Soap this on Monday when he initially proposes the idea.

Besides, you add, trying not to chug your coffee, Soap’s in no condition to be fucking about in half-frozen woods either. Not with his finicky nerve pain.

On Wednesday, when you meet up again, he takes a different route. It’s been too long since you two last dipped into a civilian-appropriate but military-adjacent activity. Paintball, knife-throwing, base-jumping…

Your bed is starting to feel too soft and too big again. The city is loud but not the right way. The tedium of self-imposed routines is starting to grate on nerves still tuned for combat. If you don’t get out before the trap of winter snaps closed, you might go mad. You can see it in Soap’s eyes too, a manic glint behind glass blue.

But still. Camping feels too much like what you’ve just left – the shrinks probably wouldn’t approve. Not that you’d ask them.

On Friday, Soap offers a compromise. His grandfather (“Seanair”) left him an old hunting cabin out in the countryside. Nothing luxurious, but it’s got a fireplace, cots, kitchenette, bathroom. It’ll be more like holing up in a safehouse than roughing it for a mission. More importantly, it’ll be gentler on your battle-worn bodies.

That next Monday, you meet him at the café with supplies packed and an honest anticipation for a week off the grid.

*

“Yoohoo! Any murderers about?” Soap calls. “Any armed psychos? An angry raccoon, perhaps?”

You scowl, caught behind him in the doorway. “I thought you checked it out already?”

“Aye, but ye ne’er ken,” he reasons, shrugging. He shuffles in as you nudge him. “We’ve the luck o’ the devil, you an’ I.”

You snort as you start kicking off your shoes. “True enough, I s’pose.”

“Course, I like our odds against any weirdo wi’ a knife, don’ you?”

You shrug. “Maybe. Not so sure about a raccoon though. Think we’d be fucked.”

“Och, tha’s right. I remember your lectures about rabies.”

“Good.”

You snicker at his grimace, likely feeling the phantom sting of vaccines.

The cabin is cute, honestly. There are only three rooms – the living room/kitchenette, the bedroom, and the bathroom. The bathroom is small enough that you could stretch your arms across the width of it and touch both walls, but it’s got a working shower so you’ve no complaints. The bedroom has a dresser and a nightstand, plenty for you and Soap.

While you set to work putting the groceries away, Soap putters about opening windows and making up the beds. The two of you don’t immediately have much to talk about, considering how often you see each other and the long drive out. It’s alright, though, you’ve long grown comfortable in stretches of silence together.

Once settled in, you suggest a walk to explore the area. Part of it is genuine interest in appreciating nature before the sun sets early. But there’s also a large, paranoid part of you (sounding like your old captain) that demands you get your bearings. Just in case.

There’s a loch about a mile from the cabin, a beautiful sheet of dark glass big enough for decent fishing. You’re able to see the row of holiday homes on the other side but wouldn’t be able to see any people on their docks out there. You and Soap follow a deer trail for a way, exchanging stories of your respective childhoods.

No surprise that John MacTavish was a wild child with a rebellious streak that got him in trouble more often than not. He gets you laughing bright and easy before long, and for once it doesn’t feel like playacting as a Normal Functioning Person.

When the sun starts to skim the evergreens, you return to the cabin. You start up a pot of cheesy mac while Soap gets the fire going, pyromaniac that he is. Once it’s burning nicely, he starts closing up the windows. Not too soon either – the temperature is starting to dip and twinging at your hip, unhappy from sitting in the car so long.

The two of you hum over empty carbs and excess dairy by the fire, a glass of scotch for each of you. When you’ve had your fill, he washes the dishes, you pour another round, and the two of you settle together on the old sofa.

“Almost been a year,” Soap says after a while.

You sigh through your nose, stare into the dwindling pool of amber in your hand. “Three more weeks.”

“You miss it too.”

Against your will, your eyes slide sideways, to the hand he’s clenching and unclenching on his thigh. There’s a wicked line of scar tissue beneath the sleeve of his shirt where the surgeons salvaged what they could. Mostly successful too, apart from the damaged radial nerve that ruined his career.

“So much, Soap, fuck.”

You didn’t mean to say that. You’re supposed to be the healthy one here, encouraging this necessary and healthful change to your lives.

As if reading your mind, Soap hums, bumps his elbow into your ribs. “No shame in it.”

You shake your head. “I don’t even know what I miss.”

“Feeling useful, I reckon. Feeling… necessary,” he muses, subdued.

It’s insightful but too accurate. Too selfish. You rub your thumb over the lip of your glass.

“I hate that I can’t keep an eye on Price and Gaz,” you say. “Feels like I’m always waiting to hear the worst, ya know?”

“Yeah,” he whispers roughly. “I ken.”

*

The two of you end up falling asleep on the couch. Soap, sitting up with his sketchbook, and you folded into the corner against the arm, book pages fluttering between lax fingers. At some point, the cramped position aches enough to wake you. Your eyes flutter open, low fire throwing long, deep shadows across the wooden wall.

Something is watching from the window.

You jolt up, hand reaching for the gun you no longer carry on your thigh. The movement jostles Soap awake as well. It involuntarily draws your eye, just a fraction of a second. But the haunting shadow is gone by the time you turn back.

That’s not enough for you. You roll to your feet, hiss as your knee threatens to give. But you manage to get your balance and snatch your combat knife from your boot as you storm towards the door.

“Kit? Kit! The fuck is going on?!” Soap calls.

“Saw something!” you reply.

There’s a flashlight hanging by a hook next to the door. You grab it as you burst out into the chilly air, tensed for a fight. A quick sweep of the front yard and immediate tree line reveals nothing. Steps soft and careful, you approach the side of the house, expertly gripping your knife.

“On your six,” Soap breathes behind you.

“Copy.”

You round the corner, eyes scanning the trees, the brush. There’s no movement, no suspiciously rustling branches. You tilt your head, listening for anything past the normal sounds of the night. But there isn’t even an unusual silence in the dark world around you.

“Just a dream, then,” you sigh.

It wouldn’t be the first time. Unusual, though. Your nightmare-induced hallucinations usually conjure guns in your face or teammates bleeding out on the floor. Not strange figures at the windows. Still, you can hear the explanation of your shrink trying to soothe you. Middle of the night after drinking, in a new and atmospheric environment. Plus, there’s been all that fuss on the news about a serial killer; nowhere near you and Soap, mind, but still. Subconscious or some shite.

“Let’s do a sweep anyway,” Soap says.

Your chest warms. “Alright.”

Naturally, there’s nothing. Soap only gives you a one-armed hug as you return to the cabin. One final check of the interior – since you did leave the door open when you rushed out – and then the two of you turn in for bed.

*

The next day starts lazy and slow. A strange reprieve from your body’s military-trained urge to wake early. It’s nice, though, to snuggle beneath the covers with Soap’s soft snores only a few meters away. You play pre-downloaded games on your phone while you wait for him to wake, enjoying the lie in.

Breakfast is enjoyed on the little porch out front; you bundled up in a woolen throw while you sip coffee. It’s shaping up to be an unusually sunny day, and you agree to a longer hike around the loch before lunch. When you return, you settle on the porch again to read while Soap chops wood.

Which, well.

You don’t mind a bit of entertainment between pages… or paragraphs… or…

Soap hasn’t neglected his physique at all since the discharge. All corded muscles, broad shoulders, and tapered waist. Watching the bunch and release of his arms has always been a guilty pleasure of yours, and so blessedly indulged during training sessions in the 141.

You try not to sigh and drool over it (him) like a repressed Victorian.

“Ach, fer fucks…”

You snap to attention, book set aside. “Is your arm acting up?”

He’s set the hatchet down, grabbing at his elbow with a pinched expression.

“Aye,” he grumbles.

You trot to his side, pleased that he still instantly submits to your care. He lets you manipulate his arm, prod along the nerve pathways and bunched muscles that are spasming in pain. His groan has no business being that low or rough or close to your ear. But you ignore it like you always have, focus on getting him right. Barely even register when he sets his jaw on top of your head.

A few minutes pass in silence while you try to massage away the worst of the flare up. When he finally sighs, slumping into you a little, you gently squeeze his forearm.

“Bampot,” you huff.

“Aye, I ken,” he mumbles.  “’S why I have you.”

You click your tongue. “Someone’s gotta keep you alive. Next time let me help.”

“Not on yer life.”

You pinch his side, grinning wickedly when he yelps and jerks away. Little shit. Your favorite little shit, damn him.

He allows you to help carry the firewood to the rack next to the tiny shed. It’s round back of the cabin, covered by an old blue tarp. Soap is in the lead and sees it first.

“Oh, well isn’t that pure dead brilliant,” he huffs.

“Hm?”

You peak around him and blink at the rust-colored splatters decorating the side of the shed. There’s a dark patch in the scraggly grass as well and drag marks into the trees. Clearly, some prey fell victim to the circle of life here. Recently, too, from the color of the blood.

“What do you think it was?” you ask. “There aren’t wolves here.”

“Nah, but coulda been a fox.”

You scrunch up your nose. “This close to us? Usually foxes steer clear of humans.”

“Feral dog, then, maybe.”

Maybe.

It’s a lot of blood for anything a dog or fox would risk taking down, though. Even a feral one.

“C’mon, let’s get inside. Need a coupla pills ‘fore mah arm starts taking the piss again.”

You help him stack the firewood and then follow him back to the cabin. And if you linger on the blood, your random dream, and the lingering sensation of eyes on you… well, nothing new for you.

*

It pours all of the next day. Soap says it’s good timing, that he won’t have to wash the shed himself. Both of your injuries are acting up, though, and you spend the day trying to find different positions to appease the ache in your hip. At one point, he has to help you to the shower, your leg feeling too weak to support your weight. It’s frustrating, but you’ve had nearly a year to learn to cope.

Soap lifts your spirits, though, like always. Convinces you to play Scrabble and keeps insisting that he’s just using Scottish words. It ends the way it usually does – you and him wrestling like children, trying to trap the other to determine the winner. You only just manage to get a hold of him, though he puts up a good fight. He eventually admits that “daylich” isn’t actually a word and he didn’t deserve the triple word score.

Then he breaks out a pack of biscuits as a peace offering and all is forgiven. The two of you nibble on those while watching a movie on your laptop and then shuffle off to bed.

Long after Soap has fallen asleep, you’re awake. The memory of his body against yours always leaves you feeling branded. Like the heat of him burns right through your clothes. It’s been… probably too long since you last got off. Way too long since someone else got you off. And yeah, you had a couple of shameful secret wanks around teammates back in the day, but things are different now. You’re not high on adrenaline in the military anymore. No excuse for shoving a hand down your pants.

Still, your thoughts spiral as you finally start to doze. Rough hands on your hips, your thighs, your throat. Gentle but teasing at the true strength they possess. A hot tongue along your cheek, treating you like something to savor… or to devour. A shadow looming over you, dwarfing you. Phantom sensations that you crave as much as you shy away, wanting it but knowing you shouldn’t.

The throbbing between your thighs rouses you. Sleep-addled, you give in. You’d be embarrassed of how wet you are if anyone else were to know. And of the soft, needy noise you make when your brush your fingertips between your thighs. But Soap is still snoring steadily, and the pounding of the ongoing rain makes you brave.

You stroke slowly and gently over the bundle of nerves at first, mimicking those dreamt touches. It’s almost as maddening even when it’s your own hand. Sleep is half-dragging at you, though, and you speed up, drawing tight little circles at the top, teasing lower to stoke the heat burning in your gut. Your breathing picks up, little breaths past an open mouth.

It’s really not going to take much. Not with how long it’s been, how much you want it, vague thoughts of your darkest fantasies flickering through your hazy mind. You tilt your hips down, get the pressure of your heel against your empty, aching hole. You rock a couple times, high-pitched noises caught at the top of your throat.

You come imagining a big hand around your neck choking off those sounds. Have to slap your free hand over your mouth as you shake and writhe through it. Drag your nails up your bare thigh just to balance out the unbearable pleasure. And then you go limp against the pillows, panting and shuddering through aftershocks.

When you extract your hand from beneath the blankets, you blink at the wetness coating your fingertips for a moment. If someone asked, the excuse you’d give is not touching anything with your wet hand. But truthfully, you’re just indulging in impulsive hedonism as you suck your own fingers.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the shadows.

Then you climb out of bed for a proper cleanup, ready to finally fall asleep and definitely not think about how much quicker you came knowing that Soap was right there the entire time.

*

It’s raining on and off the next day. You and Soap take a little walk during one of the dry patches, though it’s cut short with how sore your hip still is. Soap collects more firewood from the shed, keeps the flames well fed while you putter about. Nap for an hour, start rereading one of your favorite books, watch a scary movie with him, make American flapjacks just for the sake of it.

Even though you should be feeling stir crazy, Soap has always made for good company. The day passes pleasantly into an early night, the sun standing little chance against the thick cloud cover.

You and Soap are settling in with scotch when frantic knocking interrupts the peaceful quiet.

“Help!” a ragged voice screams. “Someone please help me!”

You hardly exchange glances before the two of you are up. Soap goes for the door, gun in hand. You scramble for the ever-present medical kit that earned your call-sign, left out on the counter.

Soap yanks the door open; a man tumbles in. Middle aged, lanky build, bleeding from a long cut on his forehead. His ankle is twisted at a damning angle. You scan him for obvious weapons, but his t-shirt and muddy boxers reveal nothing but bruising and scraped skin. His hands are empty as they scrabble at the floor, trying to drag himself inside. Soap slams the door closed and locks it.

“Please!” the man cries again. “You have to help me!”

You drop to your knees beside him, already popping your kit open.

“We’re going to help you, sir,” you say evenly, “but you need to calm down.”

“You don’t understand,” the man gasps as you help him sit up. “H-He… he’s out there.”

“Who?” Soap asks, grip shifting on the gun.

“S-some psycho,” the man answers. You work easily past his shaking, getting a look at his swelling ankle. Definitely broken… with force. “In a mask.”

You blink, shoot Soap a look. Have the two of you fallen into some weird horror movie by accident?

“What did he do?” Soap asks.

“H-he attacked us with a big bloody knife.”

“Who’s ‘us’?” you ask. “Who else was with you?”

“The lads – my friends – my brother. Oh, god…” He pales further. You brace him, eyeing the packaged shock blanket peeking from your kit. “Danny is dead. There was so much blood.”

“How many?” Soap asks, voice hard. “How many of you are still alive?”

“I-I don’t know. I barely got-got away. Oh, god—”

He dissolves into tears and whimpers. You rip open the blanket and drape it around the man, then scoot down to his ruined ankle. Over his head, you frown at Soap. Something is missing here. This man was with at least three other people, but one man attacked them? There’s something to be said for shock and surprise and fear, but still…

“Soap?”

“Gonnae see if I can find survivors,” he says. “I’ll send ‘em your way if I find any. You stay here, take care of this ‘un.”

“That’s stupid,” you argue. “You can’t go by yourself!”

“No different than recon, aye? Not gonnae engage, but we cannae leave anyone bleedin’ out there.”

Your mouth twists. No, no you can’t leave civilians potentially wounded with a killer out for blood. Discharged or not (war criminals or not… and you both are, technically) you’re both too dutybound for that.

“RV here in ten and I’ll have the car ready for exfil.”

“Affirmative.”

He crosses to you, knocks your foreheads together – a pre-mission gesture you never thought you’d receive again. You close your eyes for a second, squeeze the back of his neck. Then send him off with a firm nod.

You lock the door after him, then return to the man.

“Are you two military or something?” he asks.

“We were,” you answer, “medical discharge.”

“Oh brilliant! You’re telling me that my only hope is a couple cripples?!”

You level him a flat, unimpressed look. “I’m a medic with more kills than you’ve got chest hairs, understand? Shut up and brace. I need to wrap your ankle.”

He whimpers and whines and curses while you set and compress it. Nothing you haven’t heard before, vehement as it may be. Ungrateful, though, you think vaguely. Save a guy’s life and he’s calling you all sorts of derogatory names while you try to salvage his ability to walk.

“You done?” you ask, interrupting his latest stream of expletives. “I need to hear if someone is coming.”

That only shuts him up for a moment before he’s piping up again. “Do you have a weapon?”

You tug your pant leg up to show the knife strapped to your calf.

“Do you even know how to use that?!”

“Look, I know this is a lot for you, so maybe you should stop talking for a while.”

His face twists, brain turning to anger as he tries to cope with his own fear and new trauma. You don’t pay him any heed, wiping off his head and closing the still-weeping cut with butterflies. All you can hear over his wheezing is the rain outside. No footsteps or screams or, most importantly, gunshots.

With the worst two of the man’s wounds seen to, you take stock. You’re not dressed for any sort of confrontation in lounge pants and socks.

“Here. Start treating your legs and arms,” you say, pressing gauze and wound wash into the man’s hands.

“Where are you going?!” he protests.

“Need to prep to leave,” you explain. “Shout if you hear anything.”

He doesn’t look thrilled, but you’re already up and hurrying to the bedroom. You climb into a thick pair of cargos – relieved that your fashion sense hasn’t improved since the army – and a thermal shirt. Your pistol is waiting in the side pocket of your duffel, loaded and holstered. The weight of it is comforting against your thigh; you’ve missed it.

You grab the bags and carry them back to the door, check your watch. It’s only been four minutes. If Soap isn’t back in another six, you’re going out to get him yourself, injured civilian be damned. Everything you’ve gone through together; you’re not going to lose your best friend to some overdramatic wanker with a knife.

“What are you doing now?!” the man asks.

You give him another once over. He’s done a decent job prioritizing the worst scrapes and cuts, they look clean enough. Most importantly, he seems less faint than when you left. Giving him something to focus on must have helped.

“Checking the car. We’re leaving as soon as Soap gets back,” you answer.

“A-at least give me something to protect myself with!”

You try not to sigh in annoyance. What good would he even be, unable to walk and shaky on adrenaline? Still, you take pity and tug the knife from your boot, offer it to him handle first.

“Not the gun?” he complains.

“No.”

You jog out to the car, gun in one hand and duffels in the other. It’s raining again, getting harder by the moment. There’s a steady, sharp pain radiating throughout your leg, threatening to knock it out from under you. You grit your teeth as you toss the bags in the backseat and move to the ignition.

And the car doesn’t start.

“Shit.”

You don’t waste time trying it again. It should be in perfect condition; it must have been tampered with.

When you approach the house again, you hear shouting from inside. You pick up the pace, nearly skid across the wooden floor when you get there. The man is huddling up by the couch, white knuckling the knife.

“I-I heard something!”

“Where?” you demand, scanning the immediate area. Thank fuck that Soap’s seanair believed in minimalism.

“In the back.”

You frown. “The only way in is through windows back there, and those are locked.”

Right?

“I know what I heard!”

“Stay here, then.”

You click the safety off and pad the short hallway to the bedroom. Don’t bother announcing yourself, or any idiotic “who’s there”. You kick the unlatched door open and sweep through the room just like you would for a raid. The tiny lamp on the nightstand is still on, illuminating the sparse space.

You check under the first bed, then sidestep and tilt your head to check the other. Nothing.

“There isn’t—”

The window is open. The window is fucking open. How?!

You spin on your heel, just in time to see a hauntingly familiar mask bent over the gurgling body of the man. There’s no hesitation as you raise the gun and fire twice, but the killer has already rolled out of the way. Well fuck that.

You rush from the bedroom, fire another two into the couch as you round the corner. He’s a fast fucker, waiting by the wall adjacent to the hall as you exit. And he’s fucking big. Slams into your side – your bad side – like a tank. It fucks your balance, and you go down with a snarled curse, winded as all his weight lands on your much smaller frame.

On training and instinct, you slam your elbow back. There’s a crunch, a grunt of pain. But damn him, he doesn’t let up. A big hand finds yours on the gun. You yelp as he squeezes hard enough to feel the bones bend. The gun fires – bang, bang, bang. His head is right by yours, the hard edge of his mask pressing into your temple, panting in your ear.

You lash out with your other arm, though your aim is off. Instead of hitting his throat, you get his jaw instead. You plant your boot on the floor and push, trying to get out from under him. Instead, he rolls with your back against his chest. The gun clatters as he snakes a thick arm around your throat. You grab at his forearm, but you know you have no hope of matching him in strength.

You scrabble for the knife in your boot, but it’s gone.

Fuck, you gave it to—

The cabin ceiling is getting spotty.

Your fingers brush the killer’s leg, find a familiar shape tucked at the side of his boot. You snatch up the knife and drive it into his calf. He growls, but the arm on your throat blessedly disappears. You suck air, blinking past dark edges. Twist onto your front and blindly fumble for your gun.

Manage two shots right to his chest. He falls limp. You wait a beat, two. He doesn’t move again.

You click the safety on and holster the gun. And then, out of morbid curiosity, crawl closer to the body.

“Holy hell,” you breathe as you get a good look at the mask.

He’s wearing a skull over a black balaclava. Not just a prop either you realize when you tap at it. It’s real. Human. Thin cracks spiderweb along the front orbital bone, the corner of the eye socket – from where you elbowed him, you think. Beyond them, his eyes are closed and still, the skin painted black.

“Big scary fucker,” you murmur. And if you’re a bit admiring… well, it between you and a dead body. A couple dead bodies. Can’t forget about the other guy. “That was almost fun.”

“Kit!”

You jolt, barely able to hear Soap’s voice over the pounding rain, but relieved to hear it. A hiss escapes between your teeth as you get to your feet, hip protesting. You have to grab at the couch to catch your balance. Then brace yourself and walk carefully towards the door.

Your fingers are just centimeters from the doorknob when an arm wraps around your neck again. You flail, try to kick off the door, but it hardly even makes him stumble. Then there’s a sharp pinch in your arm, sibilant shushing by your ear, and the world goes dark.

*

The world comes to you in bits and pieces.

Something soft under you. A slight ache in your hip. Fabric around your bare legs. Voices? You think you recognize the rumble of Soap’s brogue, but not whoever he’s speaking to.

Soft golden light creeps past your fluttering eyelashes. Soap is sitting across the room on… a big floor cushion? You blink a couple times, adjusting your slightly blurred vision. But yep, that’s him, sitting on a gigantic pillow. And… is that his throat mic?

“Mm… John?” you call, rubbing at your eyes.

“Aye, Kit. Nice ‘n slow now. We’re alright.”

You hum and push yourself up, limbs heavy. Once you’re sitting, Soap speaks again. Gentle and calm.

“You remember what happened?”

You pause, frown. It comes to you in a slow trickle. The trip, the forest, the cabin… and then it floods back. The injured man at the door, the killer, the struggle. The ambush as you were going to meet Soap at the door.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Aye.”

You give him another once over. That’s not a throat mic; it’s a collar. A thick black leather thing, complete with a silver chain that trails off somewhere behind him. You stare for a second, bewildered.

“Don’t be jealous. You match.”

Your head whips around to the hulking figure in a doorway to your right. He’s just as imposing as you remember, tall and fucking built, dressed in all black and mask still on. The soft lighting casts spooky shadows across the eye sockets.

The words process a moment later and your hand darts up to your neck. Sure enough, there’s a wide leather band around your neck. You’ll give it this, though – you didn’t even notice it until he said something. Not too tight, comfortable even. Clearly made with long-term wear against skin in mind. There’s a chain attached to yours too and you follow it to an anchor in the wall.

“If it’s any consolation, ye look right bonnie,” Soap calls.

You snort. “’Course I do.”

The killer shrugs off the wall. You watch as he saunters closer in long, heavy strides. No point in scrambling away or trying to run – you’d have a limited radius of escape if he didn’t grab you first. Besides, you’re not about to cower to some spooky bastard with a couple dirty tricks up his sleeve.

He crouches down well within your reach, clearly not concerned about you lashing out. You tilt your head in defiance, meeting his eyes for a moment before he flicks his gaze down. He reaches out, gloved fingers catching your chin. Not hard, but firm enough that there’s no arguing when he tilts your chin up.

Fabric brushes the sensitive skin of your neck, above and below the collar.

“Pretty kitty,” he purrs. “Glad I didn’t bruise this lovely neck.”

Two fingers press against one side a little harder, edging beneath the leather. You recognize the gesture as you swallow. He’s checking your pulse. You’re proud that it’s still steady and unhurried.

“Not scared?” He doesn’t say it like it’s a question.

You arch your eyebrows. “Should I be?”

His eyes flicker. “Not if you behave.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, resisting a sneer. Past his shoulder, Soap is watching with a smirk. Unharmed, you note again. He’s fine. You’re fine, despite slight soreness from the brief struggle. If there was something to be concerned about (apart from the obvious) he would have let you know right off the bat. So, you take a calculated risk.

“Yeah? And what do you consider behaving?” you ask.

The corners of the killer’s eyes crinkle. You knew enough masked men back in the military to recognize a hidden smile. He’s amused by your snarky question. Another good sign.

“Good pets obey their masters.”

You blink, breath leaving you in a soft rush. It… makes sense. Just not the answer you expected. Stupid, maybe, given the collars, leashes, and dog beds. You’ll have to blame the lingering drugs.

“There are so many shelters, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you blurt, bewildered.

The man snorts, hooks a finger under your collar and gives an almost playful tug. An entirely instinctive part of you catches its breath. You’re glad he’s not measuring your pulse anymore.

“Those can’t talk back,” he answers simply, shrugging.

Soap barks a laugh. “Well, you’ll get what you asked for with us then.”

You grin crookedly, showing all your teeth. “And then some,” you agree, reaching up to tug the hand from your collar.

He jerks harder this time, unbalancing you towards him. You catch yourself on both hands, feel a blaze of heat across your nose and glare up at him through your lashes.

“No touching, kitten,” he says. “You’ll have to earn that.”

You try not to roll your eyes, not quite willing to push your luck too far yet. But it’s a near thing.

“Sure, let me get right on that,” you scoff dryly anyway.

He clicks his tongue, but no further retribution comes save for one last warning tug. Then he’s standing, towering over you again.

“I need a shower. You two settle in.”

And he just walks off. Like he didn’t just take two former SAS operatives as human pets. You wait until you hear distant water before turning to Soap.

“What happened?”

“Ambushed me,” he grumbles, sitting back against the wall. “Snuck up as I was trying to get you untied. Bastard is trained.”

Soap’s pouting, even though there’s an entire police case of victims who weren’t as lucky as him.

“Trained like us, you mean?”

“Aye.” Soap pauses, looking at the floor pensively, brows furrowing. “Means he had every reason and way to hurt us.”

You nod. “He had me in a hold and his knife hand free. Could have done anything with it. Let me stab him instead.”

Soap hums. “And, well, there’s a basement. Could have brought us there too, I reckon.”

He glances at the doorway the killer was lingering in when you woke. You get what he’s saying – or not saying, as it were. The two of you are hale and whole only because the killer decided to make it so. Because, as all evidence seems to suggest, he wants pets.

“You figure he means it? About… us?” you wonder.

Soap shrugs. “He’s no reason ta lie.”

That’s what you’re worried about.

“News says he’s a sadist,” you point out. “His idea of a pet might be...”

“Aye, but then why do all this?” He gestures to the big soft beds, which you know must have been a bit expensive for their size and comfortability, and the well-made leather collars. You’ve even got a blanket at your feet for the cool air. “Nae, I think even sadists miss a bit ‘o companionship now n’ then.”

You hum. Makes sense, in the part of you that’s seen the worst humanity has to offer and risen up to greet it. You’ve seen plenty of shit, plenty of people, and the things they’re capable of. But even “monsters” go home to family, to hobbies, to entirely wholesome things that they enjoy just because.

That’s the hard part about war. Seeing the most depraved and evil examples of humanity and reconciling that they have qualities one can recognize in themselves.

“The plan, then?”

“Say we go along with it for now,” Soap says, shrugging. “Not like we could get free as we are anyway.”

You hum in agreement. The chain is clipped to the wall anchor by a thick padlock, and feeling at the collar earlier, you know it’s the same on the other side. The collar itself is too high-quality to come apart without something sharp. So you’re stuck. Even if you did will a lockpick into existence, you’ve no intel on the rest of the house or even where you’d go from the house.

“But listen, Kit, I’m no’ gonnae let anything happen to you. If this gets violent, I’ll tear the walls apart with my hands if I hafta.”

You smile, wish suddenly and fiercely that you could hug him. He looks like he could use it; god knows you could.

“I know, John,” you soothe. “I will too.”

He nods, jaw twitching, then sighs and sits back again. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, digesting the plan. You take an actual look at the room you’re in – a den, it seems like. A fireplace in one corner, a decent sized couch to your left. Beyond it, you can see a clean and modern kitchen. There’s a coffee table, end tables, lamps, a goddamn rug. It’s downright cozy; like something out of a magazine.

“Nice voice, though, aye?” Soap chirps suddenly, snapping your gaze back to him.

“Soap.”

“Och, don’t ‘Soap’ me,” he grumbles. “You look me in the eye and tell me tha’s no’ a voice made fer sex.”

And damn him, you can’t.

“Can’t say I was thinking about his voice when he was waving a big knife at me.”

“He can wave his big knife at—”

“I’m gonna kill you myself—” You snarl, balling up your blanket and chucking at his stupid, wiggling eyebrows.

“Oi, you two,” aforementioned sexy voice chastises from the hallway.

You wrinkle your nose as Soap grins at you, a shadow in the corner of your vision as the killer comes into the room again. He brings a cloud of clean water and bergamot. He smells good.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you hiss, dismayed.

“Problem?” the killer asks.

He’s got the mask on again (or still? You hope he doesn’t shower with it on, that’s unsanitary) but you can hear him arching an eyebrow. Stubbornly, you turn away to glare at Soap some more. It’s obvious he realizes what you’re referring to from the way he smothers a snicker, though.

Shithead.

You don’t get away with it for long before a hand is pulling your jaw up. Rough only because you resist for the briefest fraction. Once he’s got your face where he wants it, though, your captor’s grip isn’t painfully tight.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, kitten. Understood?”

Your hand twitches to grab at the hold but remember what he said about touching without permission. Stubborn as you may be, you’re not actively trying to incite violence against you or Soap. The plan is to go along with… whatever this is. So you swallow a bit of your pride.

“Understood.”

He hums like that’s not quite the answer he wanted, but it’s acceptable for now.

“Now, is there a problem?” he asks again.

“Apart from the kidnapping?” you snip. “Everything is right as rain.”

He snorts, smooths his thumb over your chin, slow and dangerous. You go still, refuse to falter but careful not to provoke further.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” he muses almost to himself.

“Must have expected it,” you reason honestly, “know you watched us for a few days.”

He tilts his head, eyes eerily unblinking within the unholy shadows of the skull. “Longer’n that, pretty thing.”

You open your mouth but don’t know what to say. Longer than the days at the cabin? How long? And how did you and Soap not notice?

Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by fabric gliding over your bottom lip. His thumb threatening to slip past. You snap your jaw closed, nearly catch the tip of his finger in your teeth. He chuckles and finally releases you, making for the nearby couch.

He settles in with sigh and flicks on the TV. There on the screen is a flashing headline:

Another Ghost Victim Found.

Next

Masterlist

[goosita]

Do you have any headcanons or blurb thoughts about if Secretary!reader got him a Christmas present? I feel like would be so cute. Happy Holidays if you celebrate!!❤️

oh i’m so soft ❄️

(this takes place between parts 3 and 4)

what do you get for a man who could buy anything he wants?

you’d been thinking all week about what to get for coriolanus for christmas. you’re sure that he’s used to expensive gifts and presents from all sorts of people. but you weren’t particularly wealthy, even for a capitol citizen.

you remembered once that he had a sweet tooth, and you smiled to yourself as you realized what you could do for him.

you spend all evening before your last day at the office for the break rolling out dough, covered in flour and sticky sugar. you used a little cutter to punch out the shape, baking them to a perfect golden brown and then icing them neatly with a piping bag. then, you packaged them up in a nice little red box with a big silver bow atop of it.

two dozen homemade sugar cookies in the shape of snowflakes, for coriolanus snow.

you hoped he would like them, biting your lip as you stepped into the building’s entry hall with a small smile.

“mr. snow?” you called softly, looking around. coriolanus stepped out of his office and smiled softly.

“yes, miss y/n?”

you fidgeted with the bow for a moment, grinning sheepishly. “merry christmas,” you said, handing the box to him.

coriolanus lifted his brow curiously, taking it from you and lifting the lid open. he blinked down at the neatly packaged cookies, his mouth open in a small little “o” shape.

“sweet snow for a sweet snow,” you joked, knowing it was a cheesy remark. coriolanus eyes lifted to you, tears just barely brimming at his lash line.

oh. had you upset him?

“coryo…?” you tried softly, taking a step forward towards him. you wondered if you’d overstepped somehow. if you’d read this little thing between you two wrong.

instead of opening his mouth to shout at you, perhaps tell you this was ridiculous, coriolanus set the box aside as gingerly as possible. then his arms were suddenly wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight hug. you were startled for a moment before completely melting into his embrace, your own arms fitting easily around his middle.

“thank you,” he breathed softly. “you don’t know what it means to me. that you took time to make these for me.”

of course you’d never know how deeply the gesture struck his heart. he’d never told a soul about his childhood and teenage years, not since his first year at the Capitol University. there was no way you could know that the sweet treats would take him back to a time when his stomach lurched painfully at all hours of the night, a time when he would have openly weeped at the gift of any sort of food.

it had been so long since someone had baked something just for him. ma plinth had passed some years ago, the last person to choose to spend her time making treats for coriolanus. it was more than the memory of the years he spent starving that moved him. to know that you had thought of him, had spent your own free time to do something kind like this for him, had his heart softening more than you’d ever realize.

“you’re welcome,” you whispered back, tentatively stroking his back with your fingertips. after a long moment, coriolanus seemed to gather himself and let you go with a small grin.

his hand gently held your chin for just a moment. “merry christmas, miss y/n.”

[mediumgayitalian]

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

Nico’s hands still on the stubborn pillowcase. “To…my cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Um.” He resumes, sliding slowly away from Will’s wide round eyes, stuffing the puffy square of feathers into its fabric prison. The ghost of geese past are not happy with him. He is their prince. They will submit. “Yeah? You could all those other times, too.”

“Yeah, but I want to come over.”

“Yes,” Nico agrees, wondering if this is perhaps one of those moments Kayla warned him about. Has it reached day five of Will not sleeping? He doesn’t think so. He was napping when Nico came into the infirmary this morning to help with the tidying he promised to do. At least he was drooling enough that Nico hopes he was sleeping. “You mentioned.”

“So I can?”

“Yes, Will.”

Maybe it’s just an American thing. Nico has been noticing some Moments lately. He’s not sure if all teenagers have unanimously decided on some code they’d like to speak in during the few months he was busy defeating his great grandmother, or if maybe he’s finally stuck around long enough to notice, but nobody says what they mean, nowadays.

(He has gathered, thus far, that ‘on fleek’ is a synonym for ‘aflame’, although ‘yeet’ continues to evade him. Perhaps because Cecil and Lou appear to have indulged in the sick delight of replacing their every word with the term with the sole purpose to Confuse. Or perhaps, as Will has so indicated, they have each endured one concussion to many and are beyond any hope.)

“Sick!” That one Nico knows, at least. “I’ll come by after my morning shift? Connor got cursed by the Hypnos, Hecate, and Aphrodite cabins this morning so I have to do brain surgery before he forgets how to feel genuine human connection again, but I’ll be done by noon. Probably. I mean, Connor has a thick skull, genuinely I mean, which is why his lobotomy has been delayed so many times, but so long as I —”

It has been under Nico’s notice lately that Will eyes, genuinely, sparkle. He has read the cliche time and time again and rolled his eyes almost every time: diamonds sparkle. Water sparkles. Snow sparkles. Eyes reflect, and sometimes glow with reflection. They do not sparkle. To claim a set of eyes are sparkling is to profess to the world and all capable of registering your words that you are a brainless idiot who cannot dredge up from the depths of your mind, the most barren and bereft back corners, a single unique or clever comparison; a minutely original way to describe excitement or animation.

And yet.

Will is indeed very animated, and very excited about very many things, and it shows on his face; in the wideness of his grins, the springing mass of his curls, the stilted and flailing gilt of his languid limbs. It also shows, perhaps most obviously, in his genuinely magnificent eyes — Nico has seen the Logan Sapphire. He has touched the precious thing with reverent hands, stared in awe as it thrust out the light shine upon it like the golden ichor of Ouranous swirling with the sweet saltwater to birth Love Incarnate. He knows glittering, he knows gleaming, shimmering and shining and twinkling.

Will’s eyes sparkle, like the very tip of a mountaintop, like the crackling ends of a flame, like dewdrops on spider silk. It is transfixing. It is alluring.

“—ico. Nico! Hello-o?”

It is also a trap.

“Sounds great,” Nico says loudly, voice like cold soda over vanilla ice cream. He clears his throat, twice, to no avail. His vision begins to blur as the heat pouring off of his face warps the air. “Um. See you then?”

Will nods, or at least Nico hopes he does. His curls bounce, anyway. They are hard to miss. They remind Nico tangentially of how laughter sounds, unimpeded by shame; how the shimmering satin of a ribbon would curl and bend under the smooth slide of the scissor’s blade.

(His father’s circuit of jesters often included poets playwrights. They also doubled as Nico’s babysitters. Surely no lasting consequences, that.)

“Yes!” He flashes a smile, then, and it becomes imperative to note that his eyes squint at the force of it, and his slightly-too-big teeth brush his bottom lip, and he has, in fact, on each cheek, a dimple.

Now, Will is often and even frequently called Apollo Junior by just about every living soul in camp, up to and including Immortal Camp Director And Horse, Chiron; and uproariously once even Mr D, God of Wine. Allegedly, as taunted by Kayla, even by Will’s own mother. The golden hair and unfortunate habit of winking and legs for days do most definitely create an image.

Nico, however, contrarian he be, must deny: he has seen Apollo. Apollo is beautiful and golden and charming, but Will is not quite his spitting image. Will, more aptly, is the son of the Sun. He glows; the glare of his smile leaves impressions behind in the cells one’s eyes, the glide of his limbs is almost dragging, languid. To look at him is to commit yourself to blinding. To seek so desperately the solace of the light as to ignore the unsettling sting of the burn.

“I can’t wait!”

As a blissful cloud moving in front of the solar system’s brightest star saves your eyes the eternal fate of darkness, Will’s duty so saves Nico from an eternity of shadow. He returns, humming softly and horribly, to his work, sifting through folders and updating patient files, and Nico exhales the breath setting foundations in his lungs, slumping forward in fervent relief. A melancholic reprieve from the summer rays, if only for a moment.

He waves goodbye, or at least he hopes that he does, rushing out the infirmary doors and tripping down the rickety porch steps.

“Hurrying somewhere, Nicholas Claus?” drawls Mr. D, throwing darts a perilously balanced apple atop the horns of a satyr bleating in morse code.

“That was not even an attempt,” responds Nico, and hurries away before he can be dolphinized. Dolphinified? Made into a bottle-nosed beast. (Why bottle? Of all comparisons to make, who decided bottles were the utmost separate object to which the snout of the slippery beasts should be named? Oh, wait, drunk people. Bottles. Okay. Mystery solved.)

He manages, in his heroic retreat across the common, not to destroy entire swathes of grass and plants, a feat for which the Muses could perhaps write epics about. Truly he is capable of the utmost restraint and self-control. He does raise several full sized wolf skeletons, but they seem primarily preoccupied with hunting down the the Stolls, so a win-win as far as Nico is concerned. Probably not for Connor, who is apparently cursed or concussed, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he has managed thus far with his startling amount of daily braincell loss so by statistic and happenstance he is bound to survive another incident.

“There has to be away to shut myself off,” Nico says, out loud to himself, proceeding the slam of his cabin door and the heavy breathing upon it. He turns to his altar. “You mentioned an off button, Father. I don’t suppose it has been successfully implemented.”

No answer comes forth. He indulges in a brief moment of self pity, wherein the Nico who lives in his brain clears his throat, digs around the messy confines of his mind to find an imaginary black hoodie, slips it on, digs around again for a dagger, and stabs himself, choking and twitching pitifully. Real Nico then walks with great purpose to the exact geological centre of the stone cabin.

“Okay,” he says again. He nods, once, narrowing his eyes in determination. The Nico in his brain opens one curious eyelid. (Does Will do psychiatric assessments?) “Okay, this is. Hm.”

It is not the first time they have been alone together, after all.

In the weeks following Gaea’s defeat and Will Solace’s nonstop, irritating persistence, Nico has been thrust in his proximity an incredible number of times. From his three day stay, during which he was simply so unconscious for so long his father was concerned enough to manifest onto the mortal plane and poke at his soul until he responded, to his unofficial indoctrination (ha) as a nurse, to camp clean-up efforts, to cabin renovation, to general life — they have become friends. Coworkers, at least. Together they make the camp a little more bearable for everyone in it, including Nico. It is rewarding work. It is illuminating work; Will is a good teacher, and he is funny, and he is good company (and he happens to have very long legs that he does not bother to cover up very often and Nico has eyes that do what they please). They have been in Nico’s cabin together several times over the last few weeks.

Never before has Will come over without some kind of stated purpose.

At least, not and absence he has made so obvious. True, the renovations took longer than expected, and the paint on the east wall is smudged from where Nico shoved Will, shrieking, off the stepstool, and they have perhaps, on occasion, used Nico’s illegal Wii when they were meant to be helping Annabeth make plans for Capture the Flag, but —

But.

Intent.

Is important.

It has been made abundantly clear to Nico over the summer that he has friends upon which he can rely. Reyna has made a point to Iris Message him at whatever Roman tryhard time she believes he should be awake, prompting an attempted murderous shadow travel that left him unconcious in Missouri and at the unfortunate end of many people’s shouting. And Will’s friends, who can perhaps at this point be called his friends also, have created a game entitled “How Many Grapes Can We Flick At Nico During Lunch Before He Goes Ballistic And Sends Us To Purgatory For A Little While” (four), which they are inclined and inspired to play every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Piper enjoys dragging him around to do Things. Jason is just around constantly. (Does he sleep? Nico should check on that properly.)

He had a point, somewhere. He’s sure he did.

It was maybe the impending anxiety attack, helpfully informs Brain Nico.

“Ah,” regular Nico replies, then grapples around for his least favourite pillow, slams it into his face, and screams at the top of his lungs for several minutes.

Brain Nico decides once again that commentary is the way.

I think we are an all powerful demigod of something, he muses. Dirt, maybe? Bad vibes? I can’t quite remember.

“The dead?” inquires regular Nico.

Do you think those years isolated in the Labyrinth perhaps situated us firmly on the shores of mentally unwell? responds he, blissfully unhelpful.

“I think that was Tartarus, actually,” says regular Nico, and promptly banishes his brain self to the deepest recesses of his mind, among memories of the taste of liquid fire and Calculus.

With the remaining, functioning (well.) part of his brain, he places both palms on the cool floor and attempts to focus.

Juicy Fruit It gets right to ya Juicy salt Hmmm Juicy Fruit, The taste the taste that’s —

For the love of all holy things, Nico begs his brain. It doesn’t work, but what ever really goes right in his life, so he pushes past the increasingly louder replays of eighties commercial jingles and maps out the ground below the cabin floor, pushes through the layers of underground.

Ah. Perfect.

He pulls up the very aptly placed skeleton of a cat, letting it scratch and sniff about his cabin before cautiously approaching him.

“You will be sure to tell it to me straight,” Nico says solemnly, holding out his hand. The cat bobs its nasal cavities in and out of Nico’s fingers and, apparently deciding him to be worthy of its attention, rams its skull against his knuckles. Nico snorts, running a fingernail along its cranial sutures and grinning as its purring echoes in his mind. “You seem very wise.”

The cat’s caudal vertebrae rattle in indignation, miffed at the mere idea that it could be anything other than wise. Nico is honestly quite impressed by its ability to glare without actual eyeballs, eyelids, or thought power.

“I am going to name you after my sister and pray that’s not weird,” Nico says. “I mean, I don’t think she would mind. You’re pretty cool, actually, and Hazel’s cool, kind of, so. Win win.”

Hazel the Cat seems unbothered by her christening, curling up in Nico’s lap. He runs his hand from cranial base to coccyx, finger dipping and bumping along the ridges of her spines, and settles against the cool floor, attempting to breathe evenly.

“It’s just.” He swallows. It takes a try or two, to work around the massive stone borrowed in his throat, and Hazel the Cat nips playfully at his fingers until his lungs settle again. “Before we had something to do, you know? We’d be cutting bandages, and he’d be all, hey, did you know bandages are mentioned in one of the first ever medical manuscripts and definitely predate it by many hundreds of years, and I would say I did, actually, I talked to the guy who made that clay tablet, and his eyes would get all wide and he’d be like no way, tell me everything, and then I would just talk forever.” Nico huffs. “We had something to talk about, you understand. Something to do.”

Nico tries to imagine what Hazel his Sister would say. Probably something along the lines of you are an impossible person, which is code for I have about as much luck as you do in this century, pal, the best I’ve got is hope for the best and remember adults no longer smack you for standing wrong. Which. Fair.

Hazel the Cat just purrs in his head again. It’s as encouraging as anything, he supposes.

“Am I supposed to have…conversation starters? He likes twizzlers and intentionally bad poetry. Maybe I could do something with that?”

Hazel the Cat shrugs at him.

“It’s not even — okay, it’s not just that, though. What is — how close is close enough in a casual setting? Or too close? How am I meant to greet him? Am I supposed to offer something? Make something? What do I do if there’s a lull in conversation? Or if it’s all lulls? Oh, gods, how much silence is socially appropriate —”

Hazel the Cat twists in his hold, meeting his eyes as if to say well I don’t think you’ll be struggling with that last one.

“Shush,” he tells her, but his mouth is twitching. “I’m just — I don’t want him to finally realize I’m weird. Or boring, gods. He’s such a hyper person, you know? He never stops. And I am supposed to entertain him! I think!”

This time he can actually hear his sister’s voice, in the back of his mind — you’re such a dummy. Ringed with fondness from the many times she’s said it to him, shoulders nudged carefully together, head knocked gently against his. You are weird and boring. Most people are.

“Ugh,” he sighs, tipping his head back until it rests against the mattress. “Friendship is hard work.”

Hazel the Cat swishes her tail, rattling the discs of bone like a rattlesnake. It’s a surprisingly soothing sound, like rain pinging softly against his window, or the flutter of the poplar trees outside of his father’s palace. Unconsciously he matches his breathing to it, slowing until it’s even, gentle, deep. His eyes, without any direction from his brain, drift until they blanket his hazy eyes, heavy as stone..

“S’not that serious,” he murmurs to himself, soothed under the weight of his feline friend. “S’just Will, I guess.” A beat. He smiles, slightly, a small, curling thing, mimicking the coiled heat in his belly. “It’s just Will.”

———

part two

[tsukasalvr]

Headcanons of Rengoku and Tanjiro with a s/o who has ice/snow breathing?

AN: Ooooo opposite breathing yes!!!!!

s/o with ice/snow breathing

Anime/fandom: Demon Slayer

Characters: Rengoku Kyojuro, Tanjiro Kamado

Warnings: I don’t proofread, short

A/N: old ass request LMAO anywyas hey

Demon slayer masterlist | Main Masterlist

Rengoku Kyojuro

When he first finds out about your breathing, he was very impressed and thought of how ironic it was

“What a surprise considering on how opposite our breathing’s are! It’s quite funny don’t you think?”

Would definitely want to train with you as much as possible, especially he sees it a perfect opportunity

His partner having a breathing opposite of his is a great way to train he thinks! It allows him to be more ready in battle where his opponent/a demon is able to use ice/snow blood demon art

Has made a joke about how his flame breathing was able to melt your ice snow breathing/heart, even if you aren’t a closed off cold person

He just thinks it’s hilarious

Tanjiro Kamado

Every type of breathing technique is a great breathing technique of him

He thinks it’s a very strong breathing and often asks questions about it especially since your his partner, he finds it very fascinating and admires the way you carry yourself in a fight and how you use it

“Wow! I’ve never seen anything like it! You’re so strong and amazing s/o!” He’s your little cheerleader

It doesn’t even matter if your training together, he’ll still cheer you on, he admires you a ton

“Yay s/o! I love yo- Ah!” He yelps and moves just in time before you can land a hit on him as he was distracted by how beautiful you and the breathing looks.

[queen-morgana91]

Do you think that Lyanna and Rhaegar were seriously in love?

Yes. It’s literally so plain to see, you have to dig your nails deep in denial to think otherwise. You can read between the lines that GRRM wrote them as lovers.

GRRM has described himself as a romantic and ultimately R+L will be framed romantically (yes yes it has problematic implications when you think about it, but so do many other relationships that the series frames romantically, not least because these books were written with thirty-year-old sexual mores).

He dies with her name on his lips, she with his roses in her hand.

The subversion of “dragon kidnaps girl and valiant lover knight fights a war to save his beloved from her tower” when in truth the “knight” turns out to be a bit of a manwhoring douch who slept with every woman he came across, and the girl loved the dragon he slayed.

The gender subversion of the beautiful Princess with the beautiful voice and the valiant knight who stands up for the weak.

The tale of Bael the Bard, in which a Stark maid associated with winter roses disappears with a singer and comes back with their son. A male relative takes part in his killing and presents it to her as some kind of victory, but it actually breaks her heart, and she dies “by tower”.

Lyanna being heavily asscoicated to Winter Roses which were given to her by non other than Rhaegar Targaryen when he named her his Queen of Love and Beauty. Roses in general are a symbol of love while the blue rose adds a hint of mystique and in attanining the impossible.

Rhaegar, the emo Prince, who was said to have been never truly happy, named the place he stayed at with Lyanna the “Tower of Joy.”

Dany seeing a blue flower growing out of a wall of ice, which filled the air with sweetness in the HotU during the love section of her visions. It's a clear hint of Jon Snow being the love child of Rhaegar and Lyanna who will likely also be Dany’s third and final husband.

Ned confronts Robert about not truly loving Lyanna, because he only ever saw her beauty and not the Iron underneath- it’s implied that the big moment between Rhaegar and Lyanna was meeting her as a Knight who valiantly defended the honor of the weak, not some lovely little maiden spotted at a feast as she would have been to Robert.

The author refers to Rhaegar as a “love struck prince.”

And of course, we have this official new artwork by Justin Sweet, one that GRRM personaly commissioned, which frankly gives me some misguided hope that TWOW is nearly upon us. lol

I love the interplay of light and dark given what we know of these characters: Rhaegar with his sense of grief/doom is fully in the shade of the enormous heart tree while Lyanna is in the half-light half-dark, perhaps representing her own more optimistic and less convoluted worldview. She's exploring, finding balance; he's watching and seeing something he admires that somehow exists in all the twists and inescapable turns of the forest engulfing them.

The third 'person' in the art is the heart tree itself, old/wise/frowning, but also cradling both Lyanna and Rhaegar. They're both connected to it, representing in a sense that their fates are sealed and known. This is a stolen moment they're having (it's a false spring) but despite the simplicity it's still connected to the much larger world around them.

Another point I like is the lack of sigil etc. on their clothing—we know who they are but the interaction is not one of Targaryen to Stark on it's face. [there's also this other art by the same artist which parallels Lyanna and Jon's poses + Rhaegar and Jon's clothes

LAST AND MOST IMPORTANT THOUGH: the blue roses at the bottom that are firmly in the light.

Conclusion: Rhaegar and Lyanna were intended to be your classical tragic love story; think Romeo and Juliet or Tristan and Isolde and whatnot, not Rhaegar kidnapping some random girl to have a Visenya. Although Rhaegar’s desire to have a third child probably pushed him into pursuing his passion in running off with ‘his Lady Lyanna’ too use some of Ser Barristan words here.

[lustytears]

—-

“oh! that’s not….” yes, it fucking is.

warnings: snow’s kind of a soft dom/switch, he moans a lot too, unprotected sex (wrap b4 the tap), masturbation, male receiving, fingering, implication on dick description, lots of swearing, bedroom setting, based off of a tiktok comment

•

If this wasn’t enough, surely Coriolanus Snow could satisfy your urges, right?

Perhaps, only up to your imagination?

Your head laid on the soft, white bed. The sheets neatly made, the luminescence of the light dimmed the room, but everything was in clear vision. Clear enough, that anyone could walk in and see that your hand were grasping your thighs, whilst the other one’s fingers were dipping in and out of your hole.

So you imagined, in his bed.

You slid down your sweatpants and underwear in one go, and kicked them off the bed. Your entire half of your body was exposed to the air. You weren’t expecting Snow to come back for a while, and neither were you expecting your dear friend to do anything in this case. You were childhood friends, close to his cousin Tigris Snow, and his grandma’am welcomed you into the family. Coming from a well-known and prestigious background, his grandmother had no problem with you and her grandson, which was fairly unexpected of her. Tigris thought you were a “kind, young girl,” who always stayed close to Snow and watched out for him when he needed it the most.

Why were you fucking yourself on his bed now?

Your hand traveled down your body, first touching your clothed breast, trailing down your shirt, and lifting it up to expose your bare chest. It crinkled, staying up at your collarbone. Going down, you reached your stomach, and then your pelvis, and then your pussy. Glazed with slight arousal, you felt how wet you were as you used your index finger to swipe your lips vertically. Taking your arm forward to your face, you viewed your arousal.

You put it in your mouth, tasting your own body. You moaned at the taste, before you decided fuck it and started rubbing at your clit. First, the sensation caused your legs to instinctively widen, which only increased your chances at getting a better feel. You put in two fingers, imagining that Coryo was entering his slender fingers into your cunt.

“O-oh, f-fuck,” you moaned loud enough for anybody who lingered close to the door to hear. You quickly covered your hand over your mouth and nose to suppress any sort of further sounds that would come from your mouth.

You sped up at the spongy part of your walls, rubbing it until you clenched tightly around your fingers. Your back arched, hips rocking as you begged for release.

“Y/N?”

“Oh, fuck!” You exclaimed, scurrying to pull the sheets over your naked self.

“Get the fuck out!” You yelled at him, knowing that he just witnessed you fuck yourself mercilessly on his own bed.

“You’re on my bed…” He began to walk into the room. His eyes refused to leave your body. He watched the way you smoothed out the wrinkles in his cover, the way you pulled down your shirt, trying to cover yourself up as if nothing happened, but the both of you knew why you were masturbating.

He sat at the edge of the bed. You hyperventilated, shocked and mouth slightly agape. One leg of his dangled off the bed. He wanted to say something, but he could not quite think of something yet. That was until you tried to reach for your sweatpants on the floor.

“That’s not necessary now, Y/N,” he said. “I’m afraid all is too late for that.” He moved closer to you, practically crawling.

“What were you doing?” The question lingered in the air. He smiled, teasing you. His hand came closer to the cover. He swiftly pulled it from your hands. You froze in place, crossing your legs.

You watched him move his hands to your thighs, his ice-cold palm caressed. “I was… enjoying myself. You know, I can really get dressed. I’m sorry, Coryo,” you tried getting up, before he pushed you back down with his arm. His knee was in between your leg, the accidental movement to your aroused clitoris made you yelp.

“No, I want to know something. Who were you thinking of?”

“Let me go,” you asked once.

His knee pushed further. “Was it Sejanus?”

You asked twice, this time you were more agitated,“Let me go.”

“It was me, right? Knew you were staring far too often at the center of m-“

“What the fuck?! Fuck, it was you, okay? Are you fucking happy? What more do you want to know? How many times I’ve fucked myself to your voice? How many times I’ve imagined what you’d look like undressed? What?” You gasped, breathing heavily. You were very much turned on, but slightly overpowering with anger.

He just smirked. His smile turning into a grin, and then a sinister, cheeky smile. He was face to face with you. He looked at his knee between your crotch, watching how you were subconsciously grinding yourself onto him.

And goddamn, it made him more and more turned on.

“Can I help you?”

“With what?”

“Pleasing you,” he pressed his palm to your pussy. The slick gathered around his palm as he moved it in a circular motion. You moaned, grasping his arm as he pressed further into your clit. He pulled back, resulting you to pout. Instead, he used his fingers to start thrusting inside of your hole. He widened his fingers, parting them in a ‘V’ shape. The sensation only made you tightly hold onto the bedsheets.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yes, Coryo…” You answered him, rubbing your clit against the edge of his palm. You audibly moaned when he took his fingers and pushed them against your g-spot.

“I’m gonna cum,” you told him. “Please, let me cum… pleasepleaseplease- fuck!” He took his fingers out of your hole. Behold, the sight of your hole pulsating was the only thing that kept his eyes glued to you. He took off his white t-shirt, sliding down his pants. He discarded his clothes, leaving him only in a pair of black boxers that clearly hid his boner underneath. You imagined that he was big, but as he pulled down his boxers, you clearly underestimated him. “Wow…”

The tip was a dark, blush pink, veins ran down his slightly tan shaft. His dick was sprung to his stomach. The corners of his mouth parted as he watched pre-cum leak from the tip of his cock, onto his stomach. “Suck it,” he said, demandingly.

You crawled over to him, hands on his thighs to position yourself between him. “That’s not gonna fit all down my throat, Coryo,” you grabbed his cock and held it in your hand, slightly jerking it up and down. You licked the tip of his cock, the mix of saliva and pre-cum decorated the top of his shaft. He moaned, moving his hands to the sides of your face. He guided your head down his shaft, making him part his mouth into an ‘o’ when your tongue slithered down his shaft, touching the sensitive veins of his cock. He would have never imagined he’d be fucking his best friend, and neither could you, but here you were. You were giving your best friend a blowjob.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna cum yet, Y/N.” The sounds of gurgling and choking were the only things that could come from your throat. His dick was deep down your throat. He bucked his hips up into your throat, pulling on your hair as he cried out in pleasure. You pulled yourself off his cock, mouth covered with spit and your eyes were red from the tears. A teardrop fell down onto his leg, which only led you to smile.

You wiped your mouth, “Do you want to fuck me?” He nodded, fairly quickly. He sat up against the headboard, the pillows provided comfort and held him up. You crawled onto him, gently spreading your legs over his thighs. You grabbed ahold of his cock; twitching in your hand as it begged to feel your cunt pulsate around him. You positioned it between your hole, and you sat down, allowing his cock to be covered in your arousal.

“O-oh, fuck…” His hands grabbed both sides of your hips. He guided you, allowing you to go up and down on his cock. He moaned like the touch of you enlightened him—and it did. He thrusted up into you, contact of your cervix and his tip made you hold onto his shoulders. Your nails dig into him, which made him groan. “So… tight,” he whimpered.

“You’re so… fucking big,” you said. Which was more of a compliment rather than criticism. You screamed his name every time he thrusted up harder into you. Your nails dug crescent-shaped marks into his shoulder blades. His head was tucked in between your neck. He suppressed his moans against the skin of your neck, his breath panted against your sweaty skin. He noticed you still had your shirt on, so he pulled it right off. He reached his hands over to touch your breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples. The overload of sensation caused you to clench around his cock, making him thrust into you.

You felt like crying. Not because he was hurting you, but because you couldn’t process how he was stretching you out, minute by minute. It made you crazy each second—and his moans weren’t helping you either. It just made you feel more good knowing that you were making him feel the same way. Then, he flipped you over onto your back. With his dick still inside of you, a leg over his shoulder, he began thrusting in you at an unimaginable, fast, and sloppy pace. Your pussy pulsated around him, his cock slipping in and out of you.

He whined when his cock noticed that you were clenching around him, cumming around him. His shaft was painted a clear-ish white.

“God, I wanna fucking cum inside of you so, so bad…” He begged, repeating the word “cum” periodically. His nails dug into the leg that was hanging over his shoulder. You softly whimpered at the sensation. Your eyes were filled with tears. The sight of your face, messed up hair, hands clenching the sheets made him pull you closer into him, leaning over to kiss you as he thrusted again and again to fuck you.

You noticed his pace was getting sloppy, and slower, which meant that he was saving stamina to push his energy all forward to cum inside of you. He moaned out, going slightly more faster into you as you were going into another orgasm. You saw stars when he went harder at your cervix.

He went faster, pounding into you much more quicker. The both of your moans let out as the two of you came together. White fluids painted your walls white, covering your cervix with his cum. He stayed there, hovering over you before finally collapsing over you entirely. He practically used all of his energy for the day into your pussy like it was his own.

And for sure, he belonged to you.

You slightly laughed, making him pull back from you. “Was I not good or something?” He looked at you with concern. “What?”

“You were fucking amazing,” you grabbed his cock and pulled it out of you, causing you to groan. Your hole was leaking cum—more specifically, his cum. You sat up, and he followed along, sitting next to you on the bed. His arm was slung around you, pulling you into a slight hug. “What are you doing?”

He pulled you in to kiss you, before he pulled the covers over you to conceal your bodies. “What do you think?”

•

And so, the two of you fell asleep, his arm resting on you, and your body was right next to his. Now, you’d have a very hard time explaining to his cousin as to why there was so much commotion in his bedroom.

author’s note:

SOOO IDK ABOUT THIS??? I REALLY THOUGHG I KIND OF STAYED OFF-TOPIC BC I WANTED HIM TO BE A BOTTOM BUT ITS HARD TO IMAGINE SNOW BEING A BOTTOM LIKE BRO??? IF I DIDNT WRITE HIM AS A WHIMPERING MESS HE’D DEFINITELY BE FUCKING YOU AT THE SPEED OF LIGHTTTTT

so anyways, imma skedaddle. thanks, emi. this one is for u girl/boy/it/person, idk.

please let me know if you have any suggestions, comments, or advice. additionally, if there’s any warnings i missed, i would love to know.

[zoesblogsposts]

o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: transmasc Character: Trafalgar Law Vibe: NSFW Yandere AU: Mythical Creature AU Prompt: Sugar Daddy Gift Giver: @remisloves

Summary: Fleeing a restrictive life that didn't allow you to be who you were, you eventually caught the eye of a powerful beast in the forest. This powerful Naga's favorite thing to do is adorn you in nothing but precious metals and jewels.

Content Notes: implications of mind control, yandere, consent is on thin ice but exists, double penetration, two dicks one naga, use of good boy, mentions clit, cunt, and no mentions of chest.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

The jewels were heavy on your skin.

Cold and glittering, they laid against you because you wore nothing else. The light that trickled in was enough to send glints and glimmers against the dark walls.

Cool, large hands with tattooed fingers and soft calluses, move over your skin, shifting the treasures and gems that you wore. The sensation sends a ripple of goose bumps over your flesh, but you don’t shiver anymore. The room itself is warm enough, but the naga that has adorned you so, always runs a little colder than you do.

Of all the delicate and glistening items you wear, there are two heavy golden shackles at your wrists. His fingers move over them, lifting each one carefully while he checks for any raw spots on your skin. His long tail slides under your legs as he helps lift you out of bed.

You wouldn’t consider getting up without him, not anymore. Not knowing how much he enjoyed bringing you to your feet.

And your knees.

“`Did you sleep well, snow drop?” Law questions, the light in his eyes illuminating more tiny glimmers of light from your jewels.

“Yes,” you answer softly, perhaps shyly, feigning an early morning haze just a little.

“You’re due for some proper sunlight,” he muses, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and slipping a forked tongue under the golden collar to lick at your skin. “Some fresh air,” he continues, fingers trailing over your limbs, making the gold and jewels clink softly. “A little exercise.”

Your body shivers at the statement of exercise, and a soft gasp of air escapes your lips. Not enough to be a moan, but enough to show some semblance of agreement toward the idea. He unlocks the cuffs at your wrists, setting them down slowly, his golden eyes on you, waiting for confirmation.

“Yes… please.” You manage, as he scoops you up into arms, cradling you to his chest as he slithers through the cave. A long hand over your eyes covers your sight, as always, and the long trip begins.

You have no idea how intricate the cave may or may not be. Only that the room you stay in has some openings too high up the wall for you to reach. Enough to let in fresh air and enough light for you to see by, but as far as you knew the rest of the cave was too dark for you to see anyway.

You feel the warmth of the sun on your skin before you can see it. He sets you carefully onto your feet, soft moss and grass tickling your toes as you slowly open your eyes, taking in the lush green forest and the bright light of the sun in the small clearing near the cave.

The clearing had been your favorite place for years. You’d come here and read, or practice sword forms where no one could find you - or so you’d thought. During that time you’d caught the eye of the Naga that now held you close.

Law circles around you a couple times before disappearing into the thick tree line. You know better than to try and run, he’s not gone, not far enough away at least, he’s just checking the perimeter and making sure that there’s no one nearby to bother either of you. Naga can cover far more ground than a human, as you’ve long since learned.

When he returns he coils loosely around you, giving you a bed of tail and scales to lay on. The two of you bask in the sunlight for a while. He even dozes off enough to be fully asleep, jerking slightly when you turn over, turning your back toward the sun so you don’t get burned on one side.

Once the sun dips low enough in the sky he stirs and shifts, pulling you to his chest, and coiling around you carefully. The scales tickle your skin, sliding between your thighs and pushing your legs apart. A sweet sound escapes your lips, if nothing else, giving into the beast that’s decided to care for you had more than a few perks.

You ate well, wanted for nothing, and didn’t need to hide in order to read or practice your sword forms. The powerful naga had even supplied you with swords. The only things you weren’t allowed were clothes and the freedom to leave.

The ridges of his scales are slick against your clit and you gasp, causing you to lean into the sensation and thus leaning into him. The steady shift beneath you has your legs trembling in just a few short minutes. He tilts your face up with a single finger at your chin, smiling warmly down at you.

“That’sss my good boy,” he hums, the tip of his tail slipping around your wrists and pulling them behind your back as his hips align with yours.

The sweet kiss sinks into your lips, the tender warmth easing your muscles as the heads of two cocks probe against your entrances. What’s freedom in the face of such a tender embrace? What freedom did you have before, denied your dreams and stuffed into a role that wasn’t for you?

The pressure of both heads push against your body more. There was nothing that felt more satisfying than being stuffed full by him. Nothing else that relieved the ache in your soul. The stretch as he pushes into your ass and cunt at the same time makes you cry out.

His lips devour yours, consuming the decadent cry that escapes you, filling the air instead with the soft jingle of the jewels and metals that adorned you. Your wiggle against him, breath hot against his tongue as he breaks the kiss, licking your lips when you moan softly for him.

“Law,” you murmur, pleasure and comfort already making your mind hazy. He was always so warm like this, so gentle. “M’yours.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his body roiling beneath you, the trembling thrusts shivering down the entire length of his tail. “All mine, my sweet snow drop.” Fingers thread between yours, his tail wrapping around your hands.

You roll your hips, riding him as well as you can in your current position, and he matches your movements, pushing deeper and faster. Soft words of praise falling from his lips.

“Good boy, jussst like that. You don’t have to ask for permission, just cum when you want.” He assures you, free hand holding your face, his finger against your tongue. “Don’t think, don’t worry, I’m here. I’ve got you.” The light of his eyes flickers against your skin, sending glimmers and sparkles off the gemstones against your skin, reflecting back into his gaze.

Back into yours.

What even was freedom?

“You’re mine.”

He never called you the wrong name.

“I’ll give you everything.”

Never the wrong words.

“Just sssink, and enjoy it all.”

Pleasure soaks into your body, and you murmur his name as the soft orgasm saturates every cell of your muscles. He licks the tears from your cheeks, riding you through the pleasure as you tremble softly in his coils.

The haze takes you and you sink into him. You feel his fingers tighten against yours as he cums inside you, the grunt from his lips, the rush of blood in his cheeks, the warmth as you leaned against him, feeling his heartbeat against his chest.

It was a pleasant clearing. Maybe you could ask Law to let you read out here, the next time the weather was nice.

[oftlunarialmoon]

Ciao lovelies! I have written before on the topic of Age Regression many times, from explaining what Age Regression is, to Age Regression Self-Care, to Age Regression Journaling. I never explicitly said before now, but I, myself, am an age regressor to cope with stress (and some other mental health reasons). The reason why I have officially decided to come forward and say so is because I feel that I want to keep writing posts on the topic of age regression, some with personal experience perhaps, so I want to be open with you all and let you know why I continue to write on this topic. I’ve also noticed some of this blog’s audience is made up of age regressors like myself, and I want to provide you all with some content from a safe, welcoming, and open-minded source. All that being said, today I’ve decided to write down 101 activity ideas for Age Regressors/ Things to Do When Bored, Age Regression edition. Please be sure to let me know in the comments (yes, you can even comment anonymously!) if you like these ideas, please be sure to tell me your favorite!

101 ACTIVITIES FOR AGE REGRESSORS

Outside Activities for Summer

1.       Play on a swing-set!

2.       Play hopscotch!

3.       Color with chalk!

4.       Build Fairy houses with materials you find outside!

5.       Take pictures of your toys in nature! This works especially well for dinosaur toys, animal toys, et, because they look like they’re meant to be in nature!

6.       Jump rope!

7.       Go swimming!

8.       Go fishing with a net and play catch and release!

9.       Go to a beach and find cool seashells!

10.   Read a book outside in the sun!

11.   Go for an ice cream!

Outside Activities for Fall

12.   Find leaves and flowers and press them into a journal. You can also do Leaf rubbings, where you put a piece of paper over a leaf and use a crayon to rub over it to get the imprint of the leaf on the paper!

13.   Carve a pumpkin!

14.   Go to a pumpkin patch and take lots of pics among the pumpkins! You can even pick out one to take home and make into a Jack-O-Lantern (like #12)!

15.   Collect cool leaves and make a leaf arrangement/wreath!

Outside Activities for Winter

16.   Build a snowman!

17.   Build a snow-fort!

18.   Have a snowball fight!

19.   Try to catch snowflakes on your tongue!

20.   Make snow angels!

21.   Play hide and seek in the snow!

Outside Activities for Spring

22.   Collect flowers and make bouquets!

23.   Make flower crowns!

24.   Play tag with some friends!

25.   Weave grass into cool shapes!

26.   Collect cool rocks/gemstones…You can even pretend to be a dragon who’s collecting rocks for their hoard!

Indoor Activities for Any Season

27.   Redecorate your room!

28.   Clean your room! (I know, bleh, but if you clean then you’ll have a clean slate for #27!)

29.   Change your phone’s wallpaper/lockscreen (check out our Instagram Highlight for some of ours!)

30.   Play with makeup!

31.   Try out new hairstyles!

32.   Play dress up!

33.   Play with some dolls!

34.   Play pretend! You could pretend to be a teacher for your dolls/toys, or even have your stuffies go on super cool adventures with you!

35.   Craft! You can make accessories, décor, toys, clothes, anything! Check out our DIY tag for lots of fun crafts!

36.   Read some kid books!

37.   Stim! I like crinkles when I’m small, and I also like slime and flappy hands!

38.   Play with squishies!

39.   Walk around a store and look at all the toys and kid stuff!

40.   Go on a Dollar Store shopping spree! You can get a lot of stuff at a dollar store for under like $20!

41.   Color in some cool pictures!

42.   Design a new OC (Original Character) 

43.   Draw some comics! They can be of yourself or of your OC’s!

44.   Cosplay your OC’s/any character you like!

45.   Do a photoshoot!

46.   Make a sensory bottle!

47.   Set up a dollhouse!

48.   Make beaded bracelets!

49.   Make yourself a snack!

50.   Or a meal!

51.   Bake some cookies (just be careful with the hot oven, okay?)

52.   Have a dance party with your stuffies!

53.   Make a playlist to regress to!

54.   Find new regression YouTubers!

55.   Play some video games! I love Slime Rancher , Animal Crossing, and more!

56.   Play with some phone apps! I love Animal Crossing Pocket Camp, Pastel Girl, and Pokémon Go!

57.   Try to mix your own perfume!

58.   Design a picture using glitter!

59.   Draw some fashion designs!

60.   Start an age regression journal! 

61.   Practice some age regression self-care!

62.   Make a self-care box!

63.   Make figures from modeling clay!

64.   Paint your nails!

65.   Give your stuffies/dolls a makeover!

66.   Find cute regression music! 

67.   Make posters for your room!

68.   Make gifts for your friends!

69.   Find a new penpal!

70.   Write letters to your pen-pal!

71.   Start a sticker scrapbook!

72.   Open some blind-bags!

73.   Watch some toy youtubers. Our YouTube Channel has some toy videos, my other favorites are Cookie Swirl C and My Froggy Stuff!

74.   Make your own YouTube Channel!

75.   Create a mystery to solve with your stuffies!

76.   Solve a Crossword Puzzle!

77.   Solve a Wordsearch!

78.   Finish a puzzle!

79.   Design your own puzzle!

80.   Make an escape room for your toys!

81.   Paint something!

82.   Watch cute anime like Himouto Umaru Chan!

83.   Watch cute shows on Netflix like Twelve Forever or Hilda!

84.   Watch fun shows on Hulu like Gravity Falls!

85.   Go to the library!

86.   Play chess or checkers!

87.   Watch a movie! I like Welcome to Monster High!

88.   Go see a movie in theatres!

89.   Make temporary tattoos using food coloring!

90.   Make your own T-shirt using a blank T-shirt and fabric paints!

91.   Take a little nap!

92.   Put on a play with or for your stuffies!

93.   Make clothes and accessories for your stuffies!

94.   Make clothes and accessories for your dolls!

95.   Make furniture for your dolls!

96.   Make your own blindbags for a friend!

97.   Upcycle your old clothes and jewelry by designing them into something new!

98.   Visit a thrift store!

99.   Go to a museum!

100. Go to the mall!

101.  Visit an Arcade!

WHEW! I hope that is enough ideas for you bored little ones out there. Have a great day!

[sillyunknownkitkat]

Type of writing : headcanons and 2 small drabbles.

Plot: Phillip and his s/o preparing and celebrating Christmas.

Tw: kinda fem-ish reader but still gn, tooth rotting fluff, Phillip being bullied by kids, a bit of angst but full comfort here dw, reader has parents. uncanny fake death situation of Phillip, reader cries.

Definitely loves cuddles on the couch and watching a movie with the fire cracking in the background.

This man loves Christmas. It's not so much all of the traditions and stuff, just you being really happy about this and the cosy ambience that it brings.

Also, he forces the shadows to wear Santa's hats.

I think he has a pretty sweet tooth, so it's one of his favorite seasons because you make him hot chocolate with little marshmallows when he gets back from work.

If you want to see his eyes lit up, then bring him a Christmas market/festival. Phillip's eyes WILL light up like kids' ones.

Now let me tell you something. This blondie can't skate at all. It's really funny to see.

And that being said, he gets bullied by the kids on the ice rink.

Still would go again if it means that you're happy.

Now, I don't want to baby him because he is a grown man, but please throw a snowball at him. I promise you that it's going to be the best snowball fight ever.

If you have played until down, you know what I'm talking about, but if don't here is a video of the said scene

So I think he'd be more Mike-like, but tbh he could also be Jessica (I hope this makes sense). Also, you don't have to be a girl or anything for this exact interaction. He's just a bit cringe.

But that's okay, it's not a crime 😊

THIS.MAN.ALSO.LOVES.TO.DECORATE.YOUR.HOUSE !!!

I hcs he probably didn't really do anything for Christmas as a child.

It's supposed that he lived in South America, so it didn't really snow or anything. His parents didn't see the point in celebrating it.

Well no matter the reason that caused him to be "Christmas-starved", he still is.

I don't think he would go all out like you can see in some Christmas light contests, but he still puts quite the effort.

Inside the house, he would keep it pretty simple but with a good amount of things. Like fairy lights pretty much all around the house, whatever these are called in a banner like display, little Santa's, snowmans, ...

Now, to my favourite part, the drabbles ^^

1. Decorating your first Christmas tree together 🎄:

You moved him with him pretty early in the relationship. He justified it by saying something amongst the lines of "I work a lot, sweetheart. As sad as it is, I won't be here often. If things go south one day, I won't ever kick you out, don't worry. See it as you helping me around the house when I'm not there, and as a payment, you get a free roof over your head, yeah?"

When he just said it, you were kinda offended, but thinking back, he's not wrong. Plus, he doesn't force you to move faster in the relationship. It's just a win-win situation. Of course, he mostly proposed this because he loves you so damn much.

He never felt like that with another person. He swears (in his head) that you have to be his soulmate. How else could you guys fit so well together?

When December came close, he asked you if you would want to make a Christmas tree with him. You said yes, obviously.

You both went to get dressed in warmer clothes before going to the local Christmas market.

Hand in hand, walking and stopping every 30 seconds because one of you saw something that catched your eyes. You both probably went a little overboard with the stuff you got, but you wouldn't wish to go back in time to do otherwise. He was so freaking happy. It made you melt every time you looked at him and his big smile.

After a while, he asks you to go get a Christmas tree (pine?) before all of the good ones are gone. I don't think you would go in a "chop the one you want" type of thing, but in a more store like type of thing. He insisted you guys should get a real one instead of the plastic ones because even tho it makes a huge mess, it's more cosy to have a real one. Don't ask me how, but you got the most beautiful tree ever. It's a nice fresh green colour, not too tall but very large and fluffy.

Once both of you are happy with what you have, you go back to your shared house to actually decorate the said tree.

It starts with unloading the car, then putting everything in the living room and finally doing what you both waited for. Decorating.

You set the tree in the corner of the living room, not too far away from the chimney. He chose to start with the fluffy garland before the light ones and finally the little balls and bauble you got.

Finally, it's time to set the star on top of the tree, and you insist he does it. After all, it's his idea.

"Don't be silly, love. C'mere, I'll help you, " He says before making a come here motion with his hand. You do. He lifts you up by the waist, and you place it perfectly.

Once he puts you back down, you both walk a few steps back to admire your work. He gives you a side hug, and you could swear he's almost crying.

You take a picture of your tree and a selfie of the both of you as a souvenir of this amazing day you guys spent.

2. Spending Christmas together but discreetly.

After his fake death, he had to lay very low to avoid any suspicion. Which also means that this year, it would only be the both of you on Christmas.

You never spent Christmas without your parents, so this was really hard for you. Not only did you have to lie to everyone, saying things like what you were too sad to celebrate this year, that you weren't able to attend, ... but you also had to make they sad and worried.

Phillip knew that it was really upsetting you but didn't know what to do apart for apologizing for making you do all of that.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, you woke up quite early and sat on the couch in front of the tree. When you looked at him once more, you started crying. The worst thing is that you felt terrible to cry. Everything was doing better than it could've. Your lover was alive and well. You had anything you could possibly need.

And yet you still felt like garbage. Even more now that you were felling guilty from feeling this way.

Phillip woke up in an empty bed. Your side was still a bit warm, so he knew that you left the bed not too long ago. Usually, he would've woken up at you getting up, but he was exhausted. He stretched before lazily sliding in his slippers and going look after you.

When he got down the stairs, he saw you curled up with your knees to your chest on the couch. It broke his heart when he heard you quietly sob.

He instantly goes up to you and sits down on the couch before rubbing your back in a comforting manner.

"Hey... what's going on lovely?" He asks in a worried tone.

After taking a couple of deep breaths in and out, you explain the reason why you were crying. He carefully listens, holds your hand, and squeezes it from time to time to prove that he is listening to you.

Once you're done, he drags you in his harm to hold you and pet your hair.

"Oh, baby... I'm so sorry that we have to go through this. That I have to make you go through this. I promise you that everything will be okay, though. I love you so so so much. You can't even imagine. That's why I'm still very happy. I get to spend the holidays with you. The love of my life. I'm going to make sure that you spend an amazing Christmas 'kay? Do you trust me?"

You just nod against him, your voice being stuck in your throat from such sweet words.

"I love you too, Phil's, and of course I trust you," you say after a little while of being in this comfortable hold.

Sorry if this is really cheesy, I just am a sucker for lovey dovey stuff 😅

While Graves is not my favorite COD character at all, I can't lie and say that writing this didn't make me love him a bit more.

Also, I'm very sorry if he's ooc, I tried my best 🥹

I wish you a very merry Christmas and lovely holidays! 🍾☃️🎄

I hope you have a good day/night and that you're safe <3

I love you everyone!

[tequiilasunriise]

Being in fandoms where the characters are clearly based on other pieces of media/famous figures is so much fun because then some of my ships look like this:

Parentified Goldilocks who is also The Beast x Avoidance attachment Beauty who is ALSO also The Beast, one of my fav moments with them is when they off the Minotaur together who is ALSO also also The Beast

Little Red Riding Hood if she was also the Wolf and has galloons of repressed trauma x Snow White but she’s heavily knight coded and the poster child of daddy issues

Edgar Allen Poe’s Lenore x Annabel Lee but they’re in gay ghost love

The poem ‘The Last Rose of Summer’ x Odin’s raven Huginn but they’re exes still in love in a milf yuri divorce that ends super mega tragically and domino effects mommy issues out the ass

Historical figures Cleopatra x Frida Kahlo with the most chef’s kiss height difference you’ve ever seen

A polycule with Joan of Arc x Mulan x Thor x Achilles but they’re all genderbent/trans

The Velveteen Rabbit x fashion icon Coco Chanel if she was a lesbian with a gun

Frankenstein’s monster x a different sapphic Cleopatra bc baby gays <3333

Okay okay that black cat from Poe’s, well, The Black Cat x Poe’s Eulalie is cute yes

But I actually really REALLY love Poe’s Eulalie x Poe’s Berenice bc they’re “me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic” personified

The Snow Queen with mega daddy issues x Robin Hood if he was a socialist lesbian I SAIDDDD ITTTT

Imma say it historical figures JFK x Confucius were adorable bros

Aesop’s Fisherman x Odin’s other bird Munin you will always be famous my tragic old man yaoi <////3

Y’all will really have to hear me out here when I say Cinderella if she fucken snapped x ice cream Mad Hatter because couples who are terrible to each other but in a “only I’m allowed to be a horrid to them” way can be so funny

And I could go o n fer ages but the point is imagine explaining these ships to someone like 30 years ago with ZERO context their heads would explode and it’d be so funny

[kazu-mrhall]

Lost in a winter wonderland~

A/N: Hey, First time attempting to post a fic, Hope you enjoy! if you desire to request a fic for any reason, go ahead!

(Winter king x lost!Reader)

You were cold. oh so cold.

You barely understood where you were but it looked..magical almost.

Surrounded in a snow storm, you fought on, fighting against the need to rest, the tiredness that pulled at your body. You were only a few feet away from a shimmering..ice kingdom? it looked beautiful...

the snow shone against it, lights shining from inside, music playing. It was beautiful, you had never seen anything like it before. It truly looked the part of a wonderland..a winter wonderland..your delirious subconscious began to allow you to hum. You admired the beauty, the sight and sound, and that beauty is the last thing you see before-

pomf. you passed out, succumbing to the cold, but not before you hear a voice, and a shadow cast upon you.

"Are you o-"

(End for the first part, Feed back appreciated! and yes, i know its short, my apologies..)