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godihatethiswebsite · 4 months ago

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Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part One - A twisted fate

I'm gonna be honest: this came to me in a tired, period induced haze and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing but the bunnies would not let me stop until I finished it. Was supposed to be a oneshot... until it wasn't XD Hoping this is just gonna be a short little pet project on the side. Lemme know if I missed any triggers!

Trigger warnings: SA (not by the 141), biting, claiming, angst, depression, hurt/no comfort, self harm

[Edit 7/16/24: updated relationship tags]

The parking lot was a certified mess to navigate, a veritable winter hellscape with the continual snowfall keeping the pavement slick and churning around spinning wheels to create a thick dirty slush. Packed cars fought for spaces towards the front of the store, wanting to avoid the headache of trudging through sloppy sleet, heavy carts overflowing with expensive gifts and last minute groceries.

Parents loaded up their trunks for their upcoming banquets. Little ones chattered in youthful exuberance about brightly wrapped packages and a jolly fat man. Festively dressed bell ringers exhausted their muscles for the cause of charity, offering joyous smiles to those passing by gracious enough to offer a token. Even six inches of heavy wet snowfall were not enough to deter shoppers from their mood. Coupled with the obnoxiously boisterous music that met you at the door it was almost impossible not to get swept up in the infectious holiday spirit.

Almost.

You hadn’t bothered joining the chaotic dominance for prime parking, opting to choose the very last row towards the street instead of wasting precious minutes yelling profanities out the window to an uppity pack trying to steal your spot. The harsh wind burned your face and nipped at your skin, pulling the woolen scarf tighter around your neck and up over your bitten nose. You avoided eye contact with the chipper lady at the front, not wanting to feel guilty for not donating when you barely had enough to scrape by as it is.

Normally you avoided venturing out this close to Christmas unless absolutely necessary. Holidays haven't meant much to you in recent years since your parent’s untimely passing and you hated the constant reminder of ‘the most wonderful time of the year’. Sure, there were still your other two alpha fathers, but they’d opted for someplace warmer in their age and visitation was difficult with your busy work schedule. Your younger brother wasn’t almost worth mentioning with his new prissy family somewhere up north. That bridge was burned the day he called you a harlot.

Needless to say, you’d become something of a grinch.

You’d been miserably sick the week prior and ate through most of your stockpile of hoarded food, not enough remaining to keep blowing off shopping with the bustling crowds. If you wanted to last past New Years then a trip into town was unavoidable.

The intense blast of hot air from the overhead heaters thawed your aching bones upon entering the store, shaking the accumulated dampness from your head and shoulders but leaving the thick cloth covering the lower half of your face. It would help you in your endeavors to get through the aisles expediently without irritating your delicate omega olfactory senses.

It got harder to distinguish the source of fragrances this time of year, when folk spent their days burrowed away from the bitter cold surrounded by the comforts of the season. A chilled glass of rich subtly spiced eggnog, smokey cedar logs crackling in the hearth, sweet woodsy pine wreaths and garlands wrapped around thick oak banisters, trees decorated with peppermint candy canes and dried strings of popcorn.

Gingerbread, mulled wine, cinnamon, orange, clove; a bountiful buffet of complementary aromas. Your own father had smelled of cranberry sauce once upon a time (it made the holidays that much harder when he was gone). And with so many people filling the space - even with the heating fans working overtime trying to filter out most of it - it could get difficult trying to figure out whether a boozy scent originated from a lovely beta or the soaked rum cake she was placing in her cart.

Honestly if it weren't for the outrageous delivery fees you would've had the groceries dropped off instead of enduring the aggressive pheromones floating through the air. Alas this was one of your few exceptions to your hermit lifestyle.

Truthfully, it wasn’t just December that had you hesitant to leave the sanctuary of your meager apartment.

For the past few years, you’d been battling a severe case of agoraphobia, something you’d been working on wholeheartedly with a therapist since the accident that made you so. It had crippled you to the point that even daring to have the blinds open on your windows sent you spiraling into that dark abyss of cackling distress, panic consuming every last ounce of breath until you found yourself minutes later curled up on the bathroom floor, lightheaded and queasy.

Nausea was a constant in your life, along with the cold sweat that had you sleeping on a towel just to keep from ruining your bedsheets. Lethargy was embedded in your muscle fibers. A searing ache in your throat. The painful deep tugging in your chest an ever present reminder of the uphill battle you fought each time you opened your crusty sleep filled eyes. Depression was your best friend, curled around you in a false sense of comfort where it was easier to slip into a maladaptive headspace than face the truth of your harsh reality.

But despite the physical manifestations of your trauma, you’d made good strides so far with your weekly sessions. It had been a difficult road getting to this point and your therapist praised you for your dedication to not letting it hinder the life you had ahead. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you tried all the same.

Like a hound that heard you calling, that ominous presence that filled you with dread came crawling into the back of your skull, mittened hand discreetly itching at the wool around your neck and scratching the irritated skin beneath. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths until it settled, you grabbed one of the many baskets available and began the trek weaving down the rows of food.

Christmas was about a week away and the mobs were out in full force. Thankfully the items you were on the hunt for were not the same ingredients needed by everyone else. There was the occasional overlap of things like milk, eggs, bread, etc. But there was no call for a full sized turkey or spiraled ham; no sweet potato casserole or chocolate yule log to bake. Just some bologna, shredded cheese, a couple packs of ramen, and a few other household things here you were running low on.

Maybe for the hell of it you’d stop in the frozen section and find yourself a mini cheesecake to splurge on for when you inevitably opened that bottle of fireball sitting on the shelf come next Tuesday, forced to listen to your upstairs neighbors' horrendous attempts at Christmas caroling.

Halfway through the store, your browsing was interrupted by an alluring scent swirling somewhere nearby.

Citrusy. Acidic. Sweet. Airy.

Your scarf had slipped off your face when you bent down to grab something off the lower racks, exposing you to the freshly baked goods across the way. Someone nearby was carrying a batch of lemon cupcakes, your mouth watering as the scent invaded your tastebuds and forced a pleasant hum from the back of your throat.

Something curled in your chest like a finger beckoning forward, begging for an acknowledgement that had you standing at rapt attention. Your body seemed to move on its own, head swiveling like a rickety chair, scanning the nearby vicinity - for what, you couldn’t say. The inner omega that prowled just underneath the surface vibrated restlessly, choking back a needy whine while your eyes swept over the closest individuals. Something primal had called out to you, throwing your hormones out of whack, piecing together invisible clues so obviously standing right in front of you.

The summery concoction felt so out of place in the harsh winter months, swirling and nagging at the base of your spine, urgent and loud and taking up too much space until you felt like you could drown in its tang–

Your muscles locked in place, gaze affixed to something - someone - at the end of the aisle.

A big someone. An alpha.

And he was massive.

There was a natural musculature that came with the inherited alpha genetics. Beta’s could grow to a similar size if they worked at it, but there was a casual arrogance that was impossible to mistake with the former designation. Even still, this man towered over most others in the vicinity, lesser alphas giving a wide berth to the intimidating figure currently staring down at his phone screen. Thick grey hoodie pulled up over his head, a black military jacket layered over top. Dark wash jeans led down to warm boots hefty enough to stomp a man’s skull in. Messy dark blonde hair peeked out from up top, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face from view.

He couldn’t have given off any more ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes if he had it tattooed across his forehead. There was nothing sinister about his bearing per se - one hand casually shoved into a coat pocket as he leaned back against one of the dessert displays - but there was a coiled alertness that gave you the distinct impression he was more aware of his surroundings than he led you to believe.

One thing was for certain: you were never more sure of anything in your less than perfect life that that man was your scent match.

Your lungs expanded in your chest to drink in more of his scent. Palms turned sweaty, hair on the back of your neck prickled, the weight of the basket on your arm all but forgotten. Your throat parched at the prospect of getting to shove your face against his scent gland and taste the delectable lemony goodness right off his skin.

People went lifetimes never meeting their perfect scent matches. The odds of you ever encountering one wasn’t even worth holding out hope for. Over seven billion people on the planet and you had to win an epic fucking lottery to get as lucky as you just did. Bonding ceremonies like that made the news for how rare it was. You’d never even dreamed of this happening, making peace with the idea that mates only existed in fairytale romance.

You just about dropped your groceries when he was joined shortly thereafter by another gorgeous male, slightly shorter by a few inches and not as broadly built. Rich dark skin, effortlessly cool street style, short black curls, and a dazzling pearly white smile.

This new alpha didn’t seem to flinch in the presence of the other, lemon cupcake glancing up only briefly to acknowledge the newcomer whose toasted coconut aroma barrelled right into you, colliding like a runaway freight at an unguarded intersection. Gulping down mouthfuls of air like a fish heaving on dry land, your head spun wildly at the nutty intrusion; smokey yet sweet, conjuring images of a warm evening bonfire on a lush sandy beach.

Hope bloomed in your chest something fierce and bright. Your omega preened in unbridled delight, pawing at the surface, eager to get her hands on the two beautiful specimens whose every atom screamed ‘mine’. Tears stung behind your eyes, a mixture of relief and elation, vibrant like bursting fireworks and twinkling Christmas lights.

What would you say to them? Do you approach them first? Should you wait for them to scent you back or try to pretend you didn’t smell them yet? What did their voices sound like? You could see their lips moving, even if the ones’ were hidden behind a surgical mask. Tenor, baritone, rumbly bass? What were their names? Where did they live? Was this really happening right now?!

Something twisted and gnarled sunk its claws into your subconscious, rearing its ugly head in protest at the newfound revelation, but for the first time in years you didn’t fucking care.

They were here. Your alphas. Your pack. Your salvation.

“Babes!”

Decadent chocolate floated past you, a small apology from her lips as the omega brushed by, bumping her arm against yours on the way to her intended destination. You’d hardly noticed, too caught up in your own inner monologue and girlish fantasies to barely manage a quiet ‘no worries’.

For a split second, your eyes met coconut’s beautiful luscious brown, breath catching in your throat as the object of your desire finally seemed to take note of your existence. It was like gazing into the threads of the universe, pulling taut between you in a cosmic symphony that brought your stardust back together from whence it scattered at the dawn of time.

A perfect part of an incomplete whole.

…until those shimmering umber pools shifted left, aimed at the bubbly figure headed right towards them.

Huh?

Confusion as both alphas turned their full undivided attention to the dark haired omega, holding out a box of something for them to inspect and smiling when it met their approval, an affectionate pat on the head from lemon for her success that left her beaming with pride.

That’s when you noticed it - peeking out underneath the collar of her elegant peacoat. A faint white crescent moon shaped scar, standing out against her lightly tanned skin, a matching one a little farther down.

Mating bites. A bonded omega.

And your scent matched alphas were gazing lovingly at her as if she’d hung the stars.

She was theirs. They’d already found their mate.

And it wasn’t you.

Something died in your chest, a broken scream torn silent from your soul as it condensed into a burning black hole. Agony unlike anything you’ve ever known, piercing your fragile heart and burrowing like a plague into your veins until the sickness had spread to every corner of your being. Your omega clawed at her eyes, willing the visions in front of you to vanish like a twisted mirage, begging for a bullet to erase the image of coconut planting a soft forehead kiss before wrapping an arm around her waist and turning to leave.

A dejected whine ripped from your throat as you took an unconscious step forward, hand vaguely outreached, instincts screaming to chase after them and make them choose you instead of her. But you did no such thing. You watched helplessly as the alphas who were supposedly destined for you by the stars turned their backs on your pathetic existence.

This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening?! Please turn around!!!

With the same circulating air that had guided their scents to you, the wind in the store shifted.

Lemon cupcake went ramrod straight, whipping his head around so fast you were worried it’d go flying off his shoulders. It was uncanny the way he immediately zeroed in on your poor trembling figure, standing in the middle of a crowded aisle, uncaring to the concerned glances of the other shoppers as he unknowingly ruined your life.

Recognition sparked deep behind voided irises before going completely neutral, steeling his expression but remaining unmoving as stone. It’s like the two of you were locked into place, orbiting each other by an invisible tether, watery eyes begging the ones staring back to please… please not leave you behind.

Coconut halted in his own step at the end of the aisle, sniffing the air for a moment with a furrowed brow, glancing over his shoulder at lemon, asking him something too far away to overhear. You can only assume the contents of his reply, the slightest shift of his mask the only tell he’d responded before coconut turned to face you as well.

This time garnered more of a physical reaction than the last, jaw dropping while staring just as unabashedly as his alpha companion. Eyes swept from head to toe, cataloging every minute detail the same as you’d done to them. Pupils dilated exponentially, nostrils flaring taking in the crisp pear scent you exuded, memorizing every facet and swallowing it down like a ravenous predator.

What a sight you must’ve made; eyes red and puffy from the tears that now flowed freely from suffering instead of the earlier jubilation, meek and sheepish and falling apart at the seams. What a piss poor impression to give the men fated to be your mates.

There was a brief moment where coconut seemed to match your initial energy, a flash of something saccharine and longing, only for it to collapse under the grueling weight of our fatalistic reality. There was an internal struggle in the crease of his brow, the downturned expression souring behind clenched teeth and tight fists. But more than that there was pity - pity at how you couldn’t have met sooner. Pity that you’d had to discover them like this, a woman on their arm and bite marks on her neck. Pity that they hadn’t had faith that they would be the lucky ones in a packed society.

You can make out a question on the chocolate omega’s perfectly pouty lips, trying to put the jigsaw together as to why her alphas were suddenly acting this way while glancing between the three of you.

Ignoring her, coconut takes a half step forward; you take two steps back. There’s an apology in your watery eyes, a hushed ‘merry christmas’ too strained for their ears. Your heart’s beating too loudly, your breath comes too shallow. You don’t even realize you’re sucking in heaving sobs until a gentle hand of a passerby lands on your shoulder, snapping you out of the chaos of your psyche.

You can’t take it any more; the shame, the embarrassment, the gut wrenching defeat.

The basket falls to the floor with a loud clatter, startling the people nearby who let out shrieks and gasps of surprise as the spilled contents inside break open and shatter. Eggs crack, milk pours onto the mud trekked tile, a fragile jar of strawberry jam splatters across someones pristine boots with an indignant shout.

A smooth tenor voice calls out ‘WAIT’, but you’ve already rounded the corner, barreling through the crowds of happy smiles and ecstatic giggles, too torn up inside to feel anything but desolation at the future so cruelly ripped from your fingers.

The crisp frigid air smacks the breath from your lungs, winter boots slapping on the slushy frozen ground. The squeal of brakes accompanies you as you sprint uncaringly through the bustling traffic, horns honking and voices shouting, muffled and far away as you drown in the whirlwind of your mind. It’s a miracle you’re not hit by a car, an even bigger one that you make it back to your own unscathed.

Slamming the car door shut, you smack your padded palms repeatedly against the steering wheel, banshee wailing your vocal cords raw in despair. The dark presence creeps in once more, a mocking chill down your spine as it caresses your fractured soul. The nausea comes back full force, the tugging on your chest, the burning in your throat. There’s a desperation as you tear your fitted mittens off, reaching under the woolen scarf and incessantly scratching at the irritated skin until it shreds under your nails. The pain doesn't register through your emotional torment, blocking out the inner voice until it inevitably slinks back into the shadows after its bitter lick of victory.

Panting hard, your head slumps back against the cloth headrest, stewing in the silence of misery and defeat, the distant joyful bells of Christmas the only company you have on this cold winter’s night.

It takes a few tries to fit the key in your deadbolt, blinking through tears now frozen to your eyelashes. There’s no recollection of how you even made it home in your brittle mental state. For all you knew were twelve civilians flattened like pancakes on the side of the road and a warrant out for your arrest.

Wouldn’t that be nice? A break from having to pay bills and function like an adult.

Stumbling through the door, the sparse furnishings of your minimal studio glare at you, flipping them off as you shuck the damp outer layers from your frail form. A mess to be cleaned up another day.

It wasn't just the rejection of your fated mates you were facing. It was the knowledge that your entire future had been ripped away and no amount of hot glue could piece it back together. Today’s revelation was the final nail in the coffin for the rest of your life.

The bathroom lights flickered with dying bulbs, something that had been on your shopping list tonight and was now being swept off the floor along with everything else you’d left behind. It didn’t stop you from locating the first aid kit under your sink, setting it on the ceramic counter and pulling out the well loved supplies inside.

You avoided staring at your gaunt reflection, not wanting to see the person looking back as you tugged at the thick scarf looped around your neck. The constricting material tore away with ease, falling into a discarded heap on the floor, revealing the torn mottled flesh hidden underneath.

Your own set of crescent shaped scars - where the line of your neck connected to the meat of your shoulder, long since healed over and faded with time. The area surrounding it was now swollen and inflamed, raised angry red lines dotted with scrapes like a bad case of road rash, bloody from where you'd furiously clawed at your neck on the car ride home. The only time the fucker in your head shuts up - the connection tethering you emotionally gone silent once he got tired of feeling physical pain across the bond.

Memories came unbidden. Flashes of that fateful encounter coming home late from work, dragged into a sequestered shadowy overhang a few meters down the darkened alleyway. A feral alpha hopped up on something illegal, tearing into your clothes and violating the virginal space between your thighs. The muffled cries as he overpowered you, panting through a rut with his greasy fingers shoved down your throat to silence you, gagging on the musky taste. The scream as his teeth pierced your flesh, the bond snapping taut and stealing your future from you without a thought to your own wishes.

He’d fucked you ragged that night, waking up with your cheek pressed into the damp pavement and his arm slung around your waist from hours earlier. There’d been no one to turn to, no one who would care. By law now you were his - no matter the means it had been done.

A mating bite was binding.

You’d crawled away from him, your outfit in tatters hanging loosely over your bruised form, dried blood stuck to your neck and a stabbing pain at your apex. You felt dirty and used and wanted nothing more than to strip the skin from your bones. The unconscious form of the– your alpha flopped prone on his back, crimson stains around his mouth and his flaccid cock still half out of his trousers. The pinpricks on his arm told the tale of a junkie. It’s possible he hadn’t even been fully aware of the crime he’d committed.

You didn’t stick around to find out.

But you paid for that decision harshly, opting for a life not attached to your abuser, at a steep tormented cost. Bonds weren’t meant to be strained for so long. It starts to cause negative impacts on the pair, the omega bearing the worst of the brunt. Nausea, sweating, pain, dizziness, fatigue. The chronic illnesses you endured day in and day out would stay with you for the rest of your life. So long as he was up and walking free - alive somewhere on the other side of the country - his greasy claws strumming your senses through the connection tethering you eternally.

Only a perfect scent match could override the original bite and free you from the oppressive bonds that shackled you to an invisible alpha - the last remaining hope you had at any semblance of happiness.

And you just lost it.

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truevedicastrology · 1 year ago

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Unveiling the Enigma of Mars

🚀Mars, the celestial orchestrator of how you magnetize individuals and the manner in which you resonate. It delves into the intricate essence you exude and the perceptions people harbor about you. This cosmic force also embodies masculine energy, offering insights into the archetype of men you may allure.

🌌Mars in the 1st house unravels your allure externally, where your energy becomes swiftly discernible. You're characterized by responsiveness and a tenacious self-advocacy. Occasionally perceived as impulsive or irate, your sanctuary lies in self-indulgence, physical exertion, and athletic pursuits. The gravitational pull extends to men with athletic prowess or those with a self-centric aesthetic.

🌺Mars in the 2nd house manifests allure through olfactory allure, skin aesthetics, or indulgence in epicurean pleasures. Passion for culinary arts and a penchant for opulence mark your identity. Your charm attracts men of affluence or those generously disposed.

🏖️Mars in the 3rd house articulates allure through eloquence and the written word. Passion resonates in your speech, and the written realm becomes a source of profound joy. A proclivity for literature and related pursuits is evident. The enticement extends to multitasking, loquacious men, possibly educators or wordsmiths.

🏡Mars in the 4th house unveils allure in moments of domestic comfort, adorned in unassuming attire. Emotional energy becomes an irresistible magnet. Mars, discreetly nestled here, shares passion exclusively with intimate circles or family. Attraction extends to nurturing, emotionally expressive men, perhaps with a hint of moodiness.

🎨Mars in the 5th house radiates allure during dynamic activities, invoking attractiveness in motion. Passion is channeled into hobbies, joy, and a perpetual youthful spirit. The magnetic pull is towards confident, charismatic, and playful individuals.

🌈Mars in the 6th house renders allure through physique and an organized, health-conscious lifestyle. The zenith of well-being is achieved through proactive endeavors, organization, and animal companionship. Attraction is directed towards industrious, meticulous men, potentially involved in animal care or fitness training.

🌙Mars in the 7th house allures through aesthetic grace, fastidiousness, and a pursuit of justice. The epitome of well-being lies in harmonious relationships and aesthetic refinement. Attraction extends to men who embody beauty, meticulous grooming, and charm.

🔮Mars in the 8th house projects allure through intimate and sexual charisma, intertwined with an aura of power. Stability and emotional equilibrium define your zenith. This allure thrives in secrecy and spiritual pursuits, attracting individuals exuding intense energy, possessiveness, and depth.

🌐Mars in the 9th house emanates allure through vivacity, intellect, and captivating narratives. The ardor for exploration, diverse cultures, and distant realms is palpable. Attraction aligns with optimistic, adventurous men, including educators, professors, or those hailing from diverse cultures.

🏰Mars in the 10th house showcases allure in the public eye, accentuating tenacity and success. Energy converges into achievements and reputation, possibly bordering on work-centric tendencies. Attraction is drawn towards older, stable, and successful men, echoing qualities reminiscent of paternal figures.

📱Mars in the 11th house unfolds allure in the digital realm, exuding uniqueness that captivates social networks. The energy is invested in friendships, aspirations, and dreams. Attraction encompasses peculiar, distinctive men, thriving either in group dynamics or solitude, immersed in individual pursuits.

💖Mars in the 12th house mystically radiates allure, captivating through an enigmatic aura. Appreciation transcends the physical, delving into the spiritual and ethereal facets. Energy is channeled into artistic expressions, resonating with the profound. Attraction unfolds towards artistic, spiritual, emotionally profound individuals, potentially from coastal regions, with a transcendent connection that transcends verbal communication.

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canisalbus · 2 months ago

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saw your modern au piece where you tagged 'scenthound' and it just made me think about vasco in the original story after machete dies and how he'll never smell and take comfort in whatever unique smell machete had ever again and whoops I made myself sad

O- oh...

To be honest I don't know if Vasco's sense of smell is significantly better than a non-scenthound dog's (I mean maybe a little? Since scenthounds tend to have large nasal cavities and more room for olfactory receptors than a dog with shorter or narrower snout? But it's not really relevant in this context).

The way I see it, dog people's sense of smell is more acute than ours, but not as overpowered as that of an actual dog. Scents are more meaningful to them. For example, when you spend enough time with someone, your scents start to blend together, and smelling like your partner/family is an important part of bonding. I'd imagine that it plays into grieving process too. Even if you held on to the belongings of the deceased, their specific scent will eventually fade away from them as well.

I've talked about how the dogs perceive smells here and here.

#answered #anonymous #Vaschete lore #Machete tends to smell primarily of frankincense #the sacred incense burned during mass #a central part of that classic smoky woody sweet resinous church smell #it sticks to his fur and clothes #also probably books paper and ink and mild soap from bathing so diligently

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 9 months ago

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Consider this a part 2 of Can't Escape the Nightmares cuz I keep getting ideas for this story 🙃

Pairing(s): Jasper Hale x Human!Reader, platonic!Rosalie Hale x Human!Reader

Warnings: mentions of past assault, mentions of past rape, noncon themes discussed, reader is jasper's mate, platonic!rosaliexreader, human!reader, nightmares, trauma, ptsd, dark content, mention of blood, brief mention of murder/death, hurt&comfort, ft the cullen fam, yes i'd like to sign up to be protected by rosalie ✋🏼, and my depressive ass could certainly use a man like jasper lol

Words: 1253

Summary: It was hard for you to be outside. Not after what happened. And with the Cullen house surrounded by a sea of towering trees. . . It was difficult for you to even step onto the wrap around porch. Everything about the outside reminded you of that day in the woods.

They'd smelled your blood from miles away, noticing that it grew closer and closer until Rosalie was upon the doorstep with you dangling in her arms. Your eyes were open, though void of expression; merely staring at these near angelic looking family with gold hued eyes.

Your injuries were nothing major, yet your blood yanked at their olfactory senses.

And Jasper was helpless when, eyes being engulfed by jet black.

The expression in Rosalie's expression though kept him at bay.

"Get him out of here. He can't handle it." Rosalie snaps, her hold on you growing tighter.

Intently watching Jasper's every move, you see the rigidity of his frame and the back and forth sawing motion of his jaw. He must have ground his teeth to oblivion, at least that's what you thought.

Never imagining the true inner turmoil that was engulfing his every sensibility. Jasper's perpetually cold skin suddenly felt like it was on fire. A monster scratched at his mental door. A monster that wanted to taste every inch of your skin before sinking his straight, razor teeth into your delicate paper-like flesh.

"Jazz, snap out of it." Edward motions for Emmett to keep him back. His hiss is low as not to scare you further. Knowing all the horrors you had just gone through

The fog that reduced his head to a warm flush lifts enough for him to finally notice the state you were in.

Large splotches of red and rich purple are smattered across the entirety of your arms and legs, with a giant one blooming on your jaw. His stomach recoils at your lack of clothes. Connecting the visual clues together to realize what had happened and why Rosalie was dyed in a mess of different blood types that didn't belong to you.

You were already broken.

Suddenly that monster was silent, it too watching with baited breath as Rosalie carries you up the staircase and to Carlisle's office. The older blonde vampire quick and on her heels.

Jasper's monster seemed to take that moment to decide something that was against its very nature: it would protect you, guard you and keep you.

There will always be that hunger in him for your blood. But no longer would he be ruled by it.

When exhaustion finally swept over you, Jasper peeks his head into Carlisle's office. Rosalie sat on the floor in front of the couch you were asleep on.

She's in front of him in a flash, barring him entrance with a fatal snarl.

He dare not mess with this gold mama bear.

It was hard for you to be outside. Not after what happened. And with the Cullen house surrounded by a sea of towering trees. . . It was difficult for you to even step onto the wrap around porch. Everything about the outside reminded you of-

"They can't hurt you again." Edward mentions behind you as you stood in the front door, hand quaking above the doorknob.

That didn't relive the nausea in your stomach. Your eyes shut tight and Edward winces when your mind immediately goes to the day that you were assaulted.

When you catch yourself you immediately apologize and take a step back. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, don't apologize." He's firm on this and finally you turn around. Surprisingly, the Cullens had understood the trauma you had gone through more than you would have thought. Every one of them had gone through a horrifying event much like your own. Rosalie's was almost identical to your's and possibly the very reason why she had saved you and killed those monsters who abducted you. And has protected you since then. She reminded you of a mother hen.

When Jasper first showed interest in you, Rosalie actually became aggressive toward him; telling him that you weren't ready for such a relationship. That you needed to heal more.

Jasper never stepped over any boundaries. He never came close to it. He waited. Helped you whenever you asked for it. Approached you tentatively until you told him that he didn't have to tiptoe around you. Many months were required before this. In the meantime you allowed Rosalie (and to a smaller extent, Alice and Esme) to tend to you and repair your fragmented body.

The only time he used his power on you without your permission was when you were asleep and suffering from your all too frequent nightmares.

"If you want, I can go outside with you. Maybe we can take a short walk around the house." He softly offers when you glance back at the door.

They were all so kind to you, never asking when you'd be ready to leave their house. It never came up. In fact you had the suspicion that Rosalie would insist on you living with them from now on. An unofficial part of the Cullen family.

You knew their secret. Living there, it didn't take long to discover that they were not human. From their perfect pale skin, to their golden eyes, there was something different about them. The way Edward was able to anticipate your every needs or how even being in the same room with Jasper had your anxiety simmering down. Even Alice displayed odd signs that you would have normally passed off as some kind of mental illness when she'd stare off into the distance. You now knew it was her getting a glimpse of the future.

"Thank you, but maybe today isn't the day. . ." You force your trembling lips to quirk up into a tentative smile though it could not fool Edward who could hear the inner turmoil in your mind. He never pushed.

He nods and lets you amble back upstairs to safety. The Cullens required no sleep so their bedrooms were essentially just for decoration. Rosalie and Emmett happily gave up their room so that you could seek out privacy when you were too overstimulated to be in their company. They even bought a tv just to put in the room for you. You didn't know what you did in your life to deserve them.

But before you go to your own designated room, you stop in front of Jasper's with a tentative hand raised to knock on his door. You were always nervous when asking him to hang out with you while Rosalie was gone. You'd heard Rosalie whisper to Emmett one night about you being Jasper's 'mate'. She must have thought you were fast asleep but you heard them discuss the possibility of a relationship between you and the other blonde Hale.

It made you self conscious now when you were near him. You'd known that he was. . . attracted to you.

You jump when his bedroom door opens to reveal his figure. "H-Hi."

His smile is always so sweet and even shy. "Hello."

"Um," Your fingers twist the hem of your shirt anxiously. " well, Rosalie is gone. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out for a little bit. . . Esme bought me a new dvd. We can watch it?"

Adoring the way his eyes crinkle when his smile broadens, you take a step back to allow Jasper to exit his room and close the door behind him. "Lead the way, ma'am." Your chest squeezes when that southern drawl of his comes out.

Trusting anyone again wasn't an easy journey. But being cradled by the Cullen family was bound to heal some wounds.

And perhaps water the seed of love that had been planted in your heart by Jasper.

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mindmelter · 2 months ago

Text

Owed and Owned

Angelo was peacefully sleeping when he woke up in the middle of the night with the most excruciating headache he had ever felt.

He grabbed his head and grunted in pain.

"Aaaaaarrwwhhhgh! Fuuuuucckkkkk!... There's something.... in my head.... it hurts! Get out! Get out! Get oooouuugghhh!!!"

Suddenly, Angelo's arms dropped limply to his sides, and his pained face quickly changed into a blank face in a fraction of a second, like a switch had been flipped off. With slow steps he walked to the door and opened it.

Waiting outside, with his usual nerdy demeanor, was none other than his distant cousin.

(A month later)

My cousin looks so peaceful, it even looks like he is sleeping, but for one to be sleeping, one needs to be awake first, and that is just not his case, not anymore.

Angelo had been the bad boy in my family since a young age, always getting in trouble or causing trouble; at 16, he joined a criminal gang; at 18, he was arrested for drug dealing; at 20, for getting into a bar fight. Now, at 21, nothing much had changed, he was still part of the gang, and he was still hotter than ever.

I was two years younger than him, and even though we were distant cousins and our interactions were almost nonexistent, I always had a secret crush on him. I couldn't help myself; I just had a thing for bad boys. I love the way they act so tough and fearless, like they're invincible and nothing can stop them.

I buried my face in Angelo's hairy armpit and took a long sniff; he just had the most wonderful smell under his armpits; it was powerful and primal, a musk that my olfactory epithelium was very much used by now.

I started licking them clean, making sure my tongue would drag slowly against his armpit's hair and I could taste every single bit of him.

While I feasted on my hot cousin's armpits, I saw a tiny alien humanoid sticking his head out of his ear, the tiny alien's head was no bigger than a bean.

"Good morning, Zul. Did you sleep well?" I asked.

"Yes I did, I see you're already having breakfast," Angelo responded with his eyes still closed. His voice sounded sleepy, like he was talking while dreaming.

"And how about you? Have you had your breakfast yet?" I asked.

"Not yet, was just about to when I noticed there was some stimulation coming from Angelo's armpits. I knew it was you."

"Well, don't let me get in the way, go back in there and feast on my dumb cousin's brain."

Zul feeds on brains, but because of his small size, he only takes small bits of it every day. It's been a month since I helped him get inside Angelo's body, and now there's only 40% of brain matter left.

The alien nodded his head and crawled back inside my cousin's head. Almost Immediately, I started to see the signs of his feeding on my cousin's body, like his muscles tensing and his biceps flexing. His head started rolling from one side to another as he let out deep grunts, looking like he was in a nightmare, he might actually be in one, but I was living my dream.

I buried my face back into his armpits as I knew what was going to happen next: Every time the alien fed, it would make Angelo's body release a lot of sweat. And I was starting to feel the effects, or better, to taste it.

"Hmmmm... he tastes soooo good," Angelo moaned.

"He sure does," I replied, switching from armpits.

I pulled off his tank top and shorts; Angelo's cock was big and thick but was flaccid, I gave it a few strokes, but I knew it was useless, his body couldn't respond to stimulus anymore without the alien in control. Luckily, the alien had kindly programmed Angelo's body in case I wanted him to be hard while he was busy feeding.

I pinched both of Angelo's nipples at the same time, and just like magic, his cock started to harden to a 9,5 inches huge shaft, throbbing full of life. As I took a few licks, I looked at him and noticed he was staring back at me, a sign the alien was now in control.

"How much is left?" I asked, my tongue running against his sweaty balls.

"34%" Angelo responded.

"Wow, just remember that you need to get out of his body when you reach 10%, you need to leave enough for his body to obey commands."

"You don't have to worry about that, I'm already looking for another host."

I was in the middle of giving Angelo a blowjob when I heard a knocking. I sighed in frustration, who could that be? One of Angelo's many hookups? I thought I already got rid of all of them!

When I opened the door I was shocked to see a tall, fully tattooed hot stud. I was left standing at the door completely frozen, staring at the hot man in front of me like an idiot.

"Is Angelo home?" He finally asked, his tone was intimidating and cold.

"H-he's...he's not home right now," I lied, "Is there something you want me, ummm... to tell him when he's back?"

I think he didn't buy the lie because he gave me an even more menacing stare, a stare that almost made me cry and apologize for lying.

"Tell him to pay what he owes, I will be back in a week." He said out loud, making sure Angelo could hear him.

It was all he said as he walked away. When I closed the door, I finally sighed in relief; that guy was so scary but so freaking hot at the same time. I asked Zul to dig into Angelo's mind for any information about the guy, but Zul told me he couldn't find anything and that he probably already consumed that memory. I was disappointed in knowing that precious info was now alien poo, but I just went back to giving Angelo a blowjob. Eventually, I completely forgot about the whole thing.

A week later I came back from school to find Angelo sitting on a chair with a book covering his face.

I walked towards him and took the book out of his face, and I was shocked to see his face expression; his eyes were staring in opposite directions, his left eye was wider than the right one, and his mouth was agape with his tongue sticking out.

I was used to Angelo's blank face by now, but he never looked this... empty before. I knocked on his forehead like I was knocking on a door, and in a sense, I was. The sound that it made was hollow, which was expecting since there was now only 14% of his brain left. "Zul? Are you there?"

"No, I'm here." A deep baritone voice came from the corner of the room, scaring the shit out of me.

I recognized him, he was the hot guy who knocked on Angelo's door a week before, now wearing nothing but a white towel covering his lap. "Zul, this is such a wonderful host. Good job buddy." I praised.

"It's good to be in control of an entire brain again. I accessed this host's memories, and it looks like your cousin pissed off the leader of his gang by not paying for his drugs. So his gang leader sent this big and strong guy to teach him a lesson if he didn't comply."

I sat on the tattooed hunk's lap and started caressing his fit body, feeling his muscles and pecs. I then pressed my face against his armpits and took a sniff, he smelled clean, like he just got out of the shower. The thug then pulled me in for a gentle, yet dominating kiss. Pulling away from the kiss I grinned at him, "So, this gang leader... Is he hot?"

"Very much, after this host's brain is at 10%, I might go for his boss, that way I would have plenty of hosts available for me. Would you like to own an entire gang of hot brainless men?"

"Yes! I would!" I eagerly said, my eyes glowing with the image of a bunch of hot brainless criminals at my disposal.

"Then you have to deserve it first," He said, caressing my face gently, it was weird to see such an intimidating guy acting so soft. "Go to Angelo and activate him for me, I can't control him while I'm in another host, but before leaving him, I programmed what was left of him to respond to physical touch. Pinch his right nipple two times and then give his left a twist to the left."

I nodded and walked to Angelo, I gave his right nipple two pinches, and his left a rough twist to the right... or was the left? I decided to twist it to the right. Angelo suddenly—still with his mindless face and hanging tongue—pulled down his shorts and started jerking off his cock.

I then heard the thug across the room laughing. "That's the wrong command, you need to twist it to the left, not the right."

I looked at Angelo, mindlessly jerking off his now hard cock, and I did the command right this time, two pinches on the right, one twist to the left...

Suddenly, Angelo stopped jerking off and walked to his bed, getting on all fours and exposing his ass.

"I like this new command, is there more?"

"Yes there is, watch it," The thug stood up, making his white towel drop to the floor. My jaw dropped when I saw his massive cock, he was so much bigger than Angelo. With a grin planted on his face, he grabbed his shaft and swung it in my direction, "Would you be kind and do what you do best?"

I didn't have to be asked twice; I got on my knees in front of this hunk and took his huge member into my mouth. I felt his hand gently caressing my hair. "That's a good cocksucker, get this cock wet for your cousin's ass"

I slobbered on it even harder when he praised me, after a few minutes, he gently pushed me away. His big cock swung with each step he took towards Angelo, he gave his ass a hard slap and smirked at me as he aimed the tip of his cock at Angelo's entrance.

It was far from Angelo's first time, since Zul turned him into a host last month, I've been having my share of fun with Angelo's ass. But Angelo wasn't used to a big cock like that, it was so big that it easily could count as a first time.

Angelo gave no response, he just continued frozen on all fours with his eyes blank as drool soaked the sheets under him. That was until the thug buried everything inside with a single powerful thrust, and just like that—as if a switch had been turned—Angelo started to move back and forward, fucking himself on the massive member.

"I programmed him so that as long as he has a dick stuffing his ass, he will fuck himself non-stop. Pretty cool huh?" The thug proudly said with both his hands behind his head, exposing his hairy armpits to me. Zul knows how much I love them.

"Now enjoy the show while I feed on this dumb hunk." With a final wink, the thug froze with his hands behind his head and his face changed to the same mindless look Angelo had: eyes rolled back and tongue sticking out.

Angelo was still fucking himself non-stop, like a broken robot trapped on a loop. I hopped on the bed and sat on Angelo's sweaty back while I was facing the frozen thug. My weight sure made Angelo's job more difficult, but I didn't care, I knew he was strong enough.

I pressed my face in the thug's armpits and started worshiping them. Sometimes, he would let out a long grunt, and his muscles would flex, but after a while, it stopped.

Zul appeared inside the thug's mouth and sat on his tongue, the tiny humanoid alien was now holding a tiny bit of meat, eating it like a burger as he watched me worshiping his new home.

I owe this little guy everything.

#alien possession #male possession #male puppet #alien takeover

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blueparadis · 2 years ago

Text

❝ HAUNTED ❞ + XAVIER THORPE !

+. CWs —» f!reader, switch!reader, outcast!reader, fluff, she/her pronouns, mutual pining, sexual tension, family drama, flirting, manipulation, mentions of abuse, blood, wounds & therapy, flashbacks in italics, supernatural themes ; explicit smut, s & d dynamics, bottom-dom!xavier, cowgirl position; word count-3.5k

+. PRECIS —» Xavier Thorpe has finally found the girl of his dreams after being haunted by her.

+. NOTES —» this is for my beloved sister @zoraedits ’s brainrot contribution.she won't stop making edits on him. && I'm tagging @orchid3a cuz i luv u

you can browse more of my works here. || also available in AO(III). reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.

feel free to send in thirsts and suggestions for this show, Wednesday. This is my first time writing for shows like this; my main fandom spectrum is animanga but I do hope this was a good read for ya’all as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3.

The table calendar was full of red inks all over, dirt sedimented on the sketchbook, and the pencils laid in the case in absolute solitude. Xavier looked at the calendar kept on his desk near his bed in all despondency and a heavy sigh escaped from his lips. It has been days since he stepped into his studio, have not touched his art accessories for almost a month. One thing was for sure, he was plagued by visions in his dreams but this time it was nothing demising.

This time his sketchbooks were not filled by a monster, this time he was not afraid to draw rather he was drawn to it; part of him was stoked while sketching while a part of him was reluctant to draw the whole picture. He had spent countless sleepless nights before, not resorting to sleeping as he was threatened by nightmares. And now his sleep was peaceful as if entering into the realm of dreamland.

Xavier was sure that his mind was captured by a girl who came to visit him in his sleep, never showing her face, only showing herself in bits and pieces. He had spent his childhood receiving showers of praise for his talent for drawing but the origin was never happy. Of course, he enjoyed it and liked to show off his talent for art but secretly he wished his power would vanish into oblivion, for it was never pleasant.

People say that the art of someone reflects one’s persona, one’s raw feelings but Xavier always begged to differ since those memories, those incidents were never his. There always had been a wave of remorse that washed over him after he stepped out of his art studio since the praises he received never belonged to him.

Many were astoundingly taken aback by his knack for drawing and suggested he pursue art, to be a renowned artist but he knew he would lose all the glory once he stopped having those dreams. Moreover, he did not always have such dreams so the possibility of waking up one day and being unable to paint and as a result, staring at a blank canvas scared him to death. Heck! He even considered going to Doctor Kinbott so that his sanity would not be hanging by thread.

For the last couple of weeks, he has been dreaming of odd landscapes. Xavier had never seen them in his life yet he saw how the dusky crimson hue smothered the snowy mountain ranges, how the clouds gathered before the arrival of a rainstorm, how the birds sang songs and all the owes and pangs of nature. One thing he could conclude from those dreams was that whoever it belonged to was a chaser of freedom, that is, was a soarer of the sky.

Xavier had not told anyone about his dreams, nor put them on paper to ease his mind. What would he tell? What would he draw? Last night was particularly odd concerning the regular pattern of his dreams. He dreamt of falling from a high cliff into the water and a broken wing. When he woke up, he was all soaked, even his bed, and his olfactory senses did not miss the subtle scent of stagnant water. He was breathing rashly as if he was the one who drowned as if he was the one to fall.

He closed his eyes and tried to recapitulate his dream, searching for a mark, searching for a recognizable feature, searching for something, anything, anything at all. His desperation knew no bounds when left his dorm and rushed into his studio in the middle of the night since somewhere at the corner of his hopeless heart he knew he found one, a ray of hope.

A lot of crumbled papers surrounded Xavier as he tried accumulating the pieces from his puzzled mind. Around two o’clock he left his studio on his bicycle, the paper where he drew tucked in his pocket. He was sure he had witnessed the scenery before unlike the others. When he finally reached the top of the highland, he witnessed the view from his most recent dream.

The only thing that engulfed his presence was the sound of the waterfall echoing through the woods. He noticed a pond nearby and an adjacent high plateau near it. It was higher from where he was standing. After looking around for a few minutes he figured that there was no way to go there unless one swam through the stream or flew toward it.

On his way back, he felt happy, he felt sane. At least he had proof of the existence of a creature that haunted him, even in his wake. Xavier showered before going to bed just to clear his head before a good night's sleep. He kept a white feather as a bookmark in his sketch pad while a smile smothered his face. He was right. He was haunted by a fairy-like creature.

“Two cappuccinos”, Xavier mumbled as he went back to the counter at Weathervane. It was another event where all the students of Nevermore set foot into the world of normies to carry on the ties between two polar opposite worlds. But no matter how much one tried, the other always tried to retaliate. Their relationship was always on a tightrope, it could snap at any moment. And it certainly did.

“And you did not bother to tell me about this. . .”, Principal Weems trailed off as she left her seat, walked past her desk, and inclined against it, “until everyone in town became aware of it.”

“I thought I was going to be called insane or bullied. Last time I told something about my dreams, I found myself behind the bars.”, he responded, keeping his eye on the ground. Principal Weems exhaled grudgingly. She had no grounds to punish this boy since he was not entirely wrong. Hence, Xavier was dismissed with mere detention.

Xavier was forbidden from the school campus for a week. Everyone felt sorry for him, in his situation but secretly he could not be happier because he had all the time to draw, sketch, paint and think — and it was all about her, y/n.

That day at the café, Xavier was the sole witness of a crime. It happened so quickly, so fast that all she could do was succumb to her fate. A man was standing near the corner of the kitchen with his back facing Xavier. Xavier was not supposed to be here but he had to fetch some ingredients for making pastries and cupcakes.

As the man turned around, Xavier saw a bloodied butcher's knife in his hand. Near his feet lay a girl with a bloodied back the blood quickly spread all over her blouse. She stood motionless, like a statue. The eye contact was merely for two seconds and he immediately smashed the sugar jar on his head, distracting him, to tackle her out of the way.

The other townies turned up for help. Not all people in the world came to be cruel and heartless. All Xavier did was contact Principal Weems so that she could swiftly take care of this matter, which she had to otherwise the reputation of the Nevermore Academy would be in danger. The girl was taken to a nearby hospital.

Y/n L/n was her name. After the untimely death of her parents, she was raised by her uncle, by a normal family. Naturally, when she began to bloom, she was forced to be normal. One would think she tried to run, tried to hide or fight but Alas! none was the case for this matter. She felt indebted to her uncle and his family, for taking care of her, aiding her upbringing, fulfilling the role of parents, and hence helping her to be normal. But Xavier's presence on that day turned her life upside down. She was now a student at Nevermore Academy, funded by Principal Weems’ study forum.

After you recovered within a week, the first thing that dawned on you was to meet him, Xavier, the ‘ hero ’ of your life. You knocked on the door of his studio and waited for a while. There was no answer for a few minutes and when you finally made up your mind to leave, Xavier showed up. He was in his casuals with a teeth-flashing grin on his face.

“How’re you, y/n? The last time I saw you, you were in a hospital bed and now you’re here. in front of me.”, Xavier danced on his toes as he walked into his studio. You followed him and the moment you stepped into his studio you were taken all in awe. The room was filled with artboards, canvases, and sketch supplies, and everything reflected you. Indeed, y/n did not come here to be thankful for what he did since she was not. She was not happy with how her life seemed so devoid of any family. Her uncle was the last of her family and now he is gone. All because of him, Xavier.

“You look better than the last time I saw you.”, Xavier added as he felt the silence between the two of you deafening. You swallowed hard as he tried to ease the tense ambiance thinking how rude of him to remind you of the very wound he was responsible for. There was a desk with a closed sketch pad that caught your attention.

“Your drawings are very beautiful.”, you pitched in opening it and your heart dropped at the sight of your feather that was kept safely in between those rusty pages. A short gasp escaped your lips as the whirlwind of your life hit you.

Xavier was standing behind you, close to your shivering body. “They are all about you.”, a low whisper before he extended his hand to remove the veil from the canvas. The cloth dropped at your feet revealing every bit of dreary in you that you always wanted to hide. You hated how he could see through your pangs and pathos, you hated how he could and would have eradicated all of it, even if it meant being burnt by it. You swiftly tackled out of his towering frame, feeling naked even though you were more dressed than him.

“Stay away from me. You shouldn’t come near me.”, Surprise took Xavier in all proportions. His eyebrows became congested as you continued. “I’m grateful that you saved me but do not do that again, ever.” With that, you walked out of his studio but a firm grip on your wrist kept you from running away anymore.

“Listen, I’m being haunted by you, your pain, your emotions, and everything you feel for the past few months, and all you could say to me was to stay away from you… not even a proper thank you.”, His breath hit your lips as he drew in a sharp breath before his amber eyes landed on you, your shaky lips and pale eyes.

Embarrassment rushed into your cheeks and you pushed him lightly uttering, “Stay away” with a little glare to ward him off but when you vanished out of his sight he was not dejected, not at all. Sure, he was conflicted but the way you told him to stay away whereas your body spoke otherwise made him relish the chase that has haunted him for months now.

They say one can only save people only if one wants to be saved. You neither needed help nor saving but you could see why Xavier begged to differ, wanted to be the odd one out, and craved the crown from saving you from your only family. You always had been a rebel since your childhood, going against the flow of the stream. Somewhere in the corner of your heart, you knew you were different, you would be different.

It was the end of June when you first felt your body ache, back arch, muscles cramping excruciatingly as if someone was poking needles in your skin. Your arms clung to your body as your back bled for the first time. The wailing of such lethal agony submerged amidst the sound of rain as two enormous wings grew with lustrous hues of carmine and amber. Your breathing became regular again, your body stopped hurting as the wings flapped open involuntarily. Every mark, scar, and wound on your body since you were a child began to heal, all by themselves.

Everyone rejoiced when you went through the family ritual and stood in front of your clan as the last phoenix of your bloodline. It was a miracle that a phoenix had been born in the bloodline but just like with blessings it came with a massive price. You were a healer and a destroyer at the same time. Somewhere something has to die to keep you alive, again and again. Every time you were wounded or hurt, your mother had to lose some of her life until she became lifeless, forever. But the family oracle told your father that it is a part of the process, part of a phoenix's journey that every one of their loved ones had to sacrifice in one way or another.

Your father just had a miraculous idea to save you and himself from the bottomless pit of despondency and mutual hatred lurking in his heart because of you. He volunteered to sacrifice himself even if that was against his will. The oracle seemed to be unsure about the idea, saying that the cycle might shorten but not cease. But your father was right, the cycle did cease and you became aware of it when your uncle tried to chop off your wings, uprooting the evil once and for all, and no one in your family was harmed. Still, unfortunately, you were under the radar of an outcast, Xavier Thorpe. ‘What would happen if someone not from your bloodline were to sacrifice? What would happen to your mate if they were not an outcast? What would. . . thoughts would not cease to bombard your mind until a knock disrupted your trail of thoughts.

You lifted your eyes for a glance only to find Xavier inclining against the bookshelf with a saccharine smile on his face. Your stomach turned at the sight of him. ‘How can a person be so forgiving?’ but it seems that he is rather forgetful than forgiving. He picked up a random book from the shelf and sat in front of you.

“You’re hurt. . .”, you murmured to which he responded, “more than you think . . .” while turning the pages of the book and occasionally stealing glances from you. You rolled your eyes and leaned towards the table eyeing his hands that had a lot of scratches. It was probably from a silly fight with other boys, maybe the normies; for him, it was just a scratch yet for you it was an opportunity to apologize for the other day.

“Give me your hand.” As you extended yours, Xavier's reflexively recoiled under the desk. “I’ve no intention of harming you.”, you uttered touching the palm of his other hand that was still on the desk. “Besides, I’m just clearing my debts.”

“Um-hm.”

You inhaled sharply before you flapped those lustrous enormous wings to heal with him, his wounds. Your wings glowed for almost a minute and the hand that was hurt was healed which he was hiding under the desk. It is impressive how Xavier hurt the very hand that can create masterpieces. What a clutz! He interlaces his fingers with yours as he murmured, “A touch . . . is all you need.”

You begrudgingly pulled your hand away standing up and yelling whisperingly, “stop it. stop this. . . and don’t come near me.” With that, you grabbed your book and went towards the exit of the library. Xavier sat like a child who would mourn for the broken toy rather than demand anew.

“Wait.”, Xavier followed you. He kept yelling in the middle of the corridor, “Y/n. wait.”

“Your wings.”, you finally turned your head but not without letting out a sigh of annoyance. “You’re hurt. . .bleeding” and that is when fear crawled underneath the skin.

“I never bleed.”, you retorted.

“And, I never lie.”

If it were someone else, you would have shooed them away. But this was Xavier, who saved you from an inevitable, to whom you owed nothing but the truth. Even though you tried to heal yourself you could not, perhaps because you healed someone and that too for the first time.

Xavier might be persistent but he was not dull. It didn't take him long to connect the dots and hence you had to do the very thing you wanted to avert from the first place. His room was not tidy but not neat and clean either. With Rowan gone he has the room all to himself. You wanted to go to the infirmary, but there wasn't anyone available. Besides, with all the mess you are in you didn't want to risk it.

“I promise I'll behave.”, he said, swinging his hands up in the air in a form of surrender. That made you smile a little as you turned around so that he could tend to the wound. He unzipped your dress and carefully tucked it along your waistline without harming the feathers. Even though you had your camisole on, you still felt naked. His fingers brushed against your skin. It was ice cold. You had to hold your breath as he dressed the wound.

Xavier noticed how your shoulder blades had been marked. He grazed his fingers over the part from where your wings grew that made you instantly shriek and move away from him.

“Are you done?”, you asked, surprise and embarrassment coursing through your skin. Your upper body was barely clad, nothing but an unhooked bra.

“No.”, and within a blink, his lips were already on yours. You could taste the longing and desperation with each suck. Your hands curled around his nape as his hands got rid of the minimal clothing from your upper body. “First time?”, he asked as he moved away leaving you breathless yet craving for more.

“Why? You care?”, you blurted out stepping out of your dress. Xavier eyed you from up and down. You did not flinch but rather smiled as you noticed his astonished face. You had nothing on but just the underwear.

“I do.”, one of his eyebrows jumped as he knelt near you. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”, he murmured grabbing your calf muscles and kissing your femininity over the cloth. He took a glance before tucking the hem of the panty in between his fingers and undid it. Your hand reflexively went over his head as he kissed your entrance, lapping over your pussy lips that made you suck in a sharp breath. He sucked on your skin, followed by a feeble bite into your inner thighs.

“AH!”, you winced pausing his ministrations. “Don’t you taste divine?”, he whispered kissing your lips, wetting them with the blend of his saliva and your slick. He was too dressed. You cocked an eyebrow at him and he took the hint. You co-operated as he became almost naked, and was back up even though you wanted him to continue.

“You won’t hurt me. worry for yourself.”, you said as you felt his hands palming your cheeks a little too long than they should. His hands traveled back to your entrance and you moaned under his slight touch.

“What? Never played with yourself?”, he added that surely turning the cogs in your head. You pushed him onto the bed, sitting on him struggling to take his cock in and he was not even helping. All he did was watch you let out whimpers of frustration as you lazily glided on his cock. He rested himself on his elbows saying, “Look at me.” And as you did, his fingers dig into your plush ass cheeks slowly adjusting you at a proper angle and stretching you. You kissed him so break the eye contact that made you feel naked, even though you were. Both of you jolted as you could feel his cock inside you.

His hands clamped around your waist as you bobbed on him, with greater force and broader strokes but slow. With each sloppy hit you felt his cock twitch inside you; your hands desperately roamed all over your body, heat bubbling as you could feel your body tensing, picking up the pace he was setting you in, and the orgasm lurking underneath. You can tell; a few more strokes and you would cum so easily.

He can feel it too. Xavier winced as he felt you clenching around his cock. His legs folded to support your back while your hands flew to his shoulder blades, his knuckles turning white, his grip growing stronger around your waist and you came right away, back arching and your wings flapping open involuntarily, eyes rolling white relishing the high as your thighs squeezed in.

With your breathing rash and heavy, you felt all mushy in the head and so was he. Xavier could have sworn that he has not seen anything more beautiful than this, than you sitting on him with his cock buried inside you; your skin glistening in sweat with your gorgeous wings at the display.

As soon as Xavier’s breath relaxed a bit he pulled you into his embrace for a kiss. He could not help it, you were too beautiful to look at. Besides, he was not done, not yet.

—

by @blueparadis

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uncharismatic-fauna · 7 months ago

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youtube

The Can-do Pelican Eel

The pelican eel, also known as the gulper eel (Eurypharynx pelecanoides), are the only known species of eel in the family Eurypharyngidae. They are found exclusively in the deeper parts of the water column, from depths of 500 up to to 3,000 m (1,600 to 9,800 ft), but are distributed throughout all the world's oceans.

The gulper eel is perhaps most famous for its unique body shape. Like many deep-sea fish, this species is highly adapted to its environment; maximum energy efficiency is the highest priority. To that end, the pelican eel has a large head, and a jaw estimated to be quarter of the total length of its body. The jaw is loosely hinged, meaning that gulper eels can open their mouths extremely wide. The rest of the eel, in contrast, is quite slender and long, about 0.75 m (2.5 ft) in length on average. Most individuals are black--so black, in fact, that they only reflect 0.5% of light; perfect for hiding from potential predators.

Although they look skinny, E. pelecanoides can expand their stomachs to hold prey much larger than themselves. Their primary prey consists of crustaceans and cephalopods, though they may feed opportunistically on other fish. Because it is so well camouflaged, it uses bioluminescent organs on the tip of its tail to attract prey. Gulper eels themselves are preyed upon by lancetfish and other larger deep-sea fish. To deter predators, they will gulp down a large amount of water; this stretches the loose skin around their head and throat, and inflates them to several times their usual size.

Because of their remote location, the breeding habits of gulper eels are relatively unknown. However, it is believed that smell plays a large part in attracting a mate, as pelican eels have highly developed olfactory organs. Like other eels, they're born as tiny, transparent larvae in a state known as the leptocephalus stage. At this stage, they do not have any red blood cells. Researchers aren't sure how long it takes gulper eels to become fully mature, or how long they live, but many believe that adults die shortly after mating.

Conservation status: The population size of E. pelecanoides has not been assessed, and thus the IUCN has not made a determination on its status. The greatest threat for this species is deep-sea trawling, which frequently brings up gulper eels as by-catch.

Photos/Video

Paul Caiger

Schmidt Ocean Institute

EV Nautilus Team (I highly recommend checking out their 2023 highlights reel!)

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terranceholdsapencil · 7 months ago

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"Run."

Human Nature/Family of blood [redraw]

Old one from last year under the cut 👍

"It's empty!"

"Wheres it gone?"

"You tell me"

"Oooh, I think the explanation might me youve been fooled by a simple olfactory misdirection. A little bit like ventriloquism of the nose. Its an elementary trick in certain parts of the galaxy. But it has got to be said, I dont like the look of that hydrokinometer. It seems to be indicating youve got energy feedback all the way through the retrostabilisers feeding bAck into the primary heat converters. oH! Schh. Cause if theres one thing you shouldnt have done, you shouldnt have let me press all those buttons.

BUt, in fairness, i will give you one word of advice.

RUN! :D

#doctor who #doctor who fanart #dr who fanart #10th doctor #tenth doctor #the family of blood #human nature #you dont understand the impact of this scene on my brain #i am physically incapable of not quoting that monologue #silly man #silly and angry #redraw #david tennant #david ten-nant

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2qties · 3 months ago

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𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙉𝙇𝙔 𝙈𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 , 𝘿𝙀𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙄𝘾 𝙎𝙊𝙉

⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐

This is simply a drabble that came to mind around two months ago. I'm unsure if I will continue it. Sorry for the post delay , Tumblr was acting up - 🪐

TW: not my usual writing style as it is from a bit ago 🫶🏾 it's an oc but you can imagine yourself as her 🫶🏾

⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐

chapter one : family reunion .

In the pulsating core of the dynamic urban landscape, where the resplendent lights of the red-light district cast an almost supernatural radiance, Muzan Kibutsuji, the Sovereign of Demons, advanced with discreet deliberation. Veiled amidst the intricate fabric of human society, he sought a strategic moment to exploit the captivating guise of a demonic oiran—a skillful agent adept at navigating the shadows while accruing wealth to clandestinely further the ominous cause of seamlessly blending into the populous tapestry.

The sumptuous passageways of the oiran district extended a beckoning invitation, embellished with intricate lanterns that swayed gracefully, diffusing a subdued luminosity upon the walls tinged in crimson hues. Muzan, the paragon of refinement and composure, ambulated through the convoluted maze of corridors with an aura of nonchalant detachment.

The courtesans adorning the promenades, their gaze ablaze with alluring intent, endeavored to ensnare his attention, each one vying for the elusive favor of the enigmatic visitor. However, Muzan's impassive stare persisted, impervious to their seductive overtures, his concentration unwaveringly anchored to a matter of greater urgency.

His heightened senses, finely tuned to the intricate tapestry of fragrances wafting through the air, steered him unerringly towards a specific chamber. The lingering scent within was unmistakable—a fusion of familiarity and foreboding, an olfactory composition that surreptitiously divulged intimations of consanguinity. With each step toward the appointed room, the ambiance thickened, saturated with an unsettling energy, the redolence intensifying in both potency and disquietude.

Before he could traverse the threshold, a courtesan, bedecked in resplendent silk and adorned with meticulously painted patterns, glided towards him with a captivating grace. "Honored guest," she purred, her eyes shimmering akin to pools of liquid chocolate, "Why don't you come visit me in my quarters? I can make it worth your while." Her voice, suffused with seductive mellifluousness, endeavored to enthrall his attention.

Muzan summarily dismissed her with a mere glance, his attention resolute and unwavering. "Your trivial offerings hold no allure for me. Step aside," he commanded, his voice resonating with the gravitas of a myriad shadows.

The courtesan recoiled, her façade momentarily shattered by the callous indifference she encountered. Scowling with vexation, she found herself disconcerted by the rejection, her aspirations of financial gain seemingly thwarted by the man who spurned her allure. As she cast a furtive glance back at him, her eyes widened, and she gasped at the unfolding scene.

"B-but, sir," she stammered, panic flickering in her eyes, "you must not enter that room! The oiran residing within does not take kindly to unannounced patrons. Her presence is not to be trifled with. She—she's unhinged!"

Muzan, the embodiment of arrogance, summarily dismissed her words with a disdainful wave of his hand and smoothly slid open both shoji doors. The room unveiled beyond was immersed in an unsettling quietude, a conspicuous divergence from the tumultuous noise resonating from the surroundings.

Shattered glass and strewn fragments of various objects adorned the space, forming a chaotic tapestry that laid bare the unbridled disposition of its inhabitant. Surveying the disarray, Muzan arched an eyebrow, seemingly comprehending the courtesan's forewarning about the oiran's unstable nature. However, his countenance remained unruffled, displaying an unaffected demeanor.

As Muzan attentively surveyed the disarray, the door swung closed behind him, enclosing him within the mysterious chamber's confines. The atmosphere burgeoned with an oppressive energy, and the previously discernible scent that had served as his guide now intensified, enveloping him more potently. The fragrance became increasingly robust, and from the opposite side of the sealed door, the muffled sounds of courtesans scrambling, squirming, and hastily retreating permeated the air, leaving an uneasy anticipation lingering in its wake.

Suddenly, he felt it—a presence looming directly behind him, and a familiar awareness washed over him like a chilling realization. The veins on his forehead and forearms pulsated, agitated in a luminous display of mounting rage, for he unequivocally recognized the identity of the entity now in close proximity.

"Angry, are we?" The figure positioned behind him taunted, a mocking chuckle escaping at the expense of Muzan's seething fury. Muzan maintained a stoic silence, refraining from uttering a single word. The presence continued its taunts with a sardonic tone, "You remain a disobedient one after all these years, persistently deaf to warnings Didn't that charming girl tell you to leave this room alone?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Muzan fixed his gaze upon the imposing figure that towered above him, draped in silken garments that appeared to waltz with the shadows—predominantly ruby and obsidian black. The woman's countenance remained enshrouded behind an elaborate mask, an intricate veil of darkness that concealed the true essence of her being, until she took another deliberate step closer to him

As the lone light source in the room faintly illuminated her face, he locked eyes with her, scrutinizing her long black hair, eyes tinted a plum-red, pupils resembling the slits of a feline, and an aura of malevolence that matched the ominous reputation that preceded her. The woman, whose malevolence surpassed even his own, stood in his presence, a twisted smile playing upon her lips.

The malevolent curve of her smile metamorphosed into a saccharine expression as she enveloped him in an unexpected embrace from behind. Muzan, though internally vexed, made no attempt to resist. "Aren't you such a magnificent young man, aging handsomely, hm?" she teased with a girlish giggle, provoking a reluctant turn of his head in an enduring state of disdain, ruing the moment he stepped into her room.

In a sudden shift, she seized his chin, compelling him to meet her gaze. The ostensibly sweet smile persisted, but a belligerent glint gleamed in her eyes. "Hug me back," she demanded, her tone betraying a subtle hostility. Muzan, unyielding in his disposition, refused compliance. Unhurriedly, the tip of her thumbnail began to press into his jaw, and a sigh of frustration escaped him as he witnessed his own blood slowly seeping forth.

To mollify the woman, he begrudgingly reciprocated the embrace. In that instant, all traces of hostility evaporated from her form, replaced by jubilant giggles as she reveled in the compelled intimacy.

Relinquishing the embrace, she delicately placed her hands on Muzan's cheeks, a playful tease dancing in her eyes. "Not even going to offer a proper greeting?" she chided, to which Muzan responded with a begrudging grunt of annoyance. "Greetings," he muttered, hoping to conclude the formality swiftly. However, she refused to accept his curt acknowledgment, maintaining a radiant smile as she peered down at him.

"Naughty boy," she cooed, her tone honeyed but with a subtle undertone of authority, "always forgetting how to greet your elders. Greet me again, and this time, do it properly." She sweetly demanded, her insistence compelling Muzan to comply. Slowly withdrawing from her embrace, he took a step back and executed a half-bow. However, it wasn't to her satisfaction.

Unperturbed, she extended her hand towards his head, a gesture that forcefully guided it downwards, ensuring his bow assumed a deeper reverence. With meticulous attention to detail, she sought the utmost respect. Muzan, yielding to her unspoken demand, muttered,

"Greetings,

mother."

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗢 𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗦

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

🕷 Muzan does not like his mother.

🕷 Muzan's mother, Akuryō Kyūsai's, name means Evil Spirit's Salvation.

🕷 Akuryō has a twisted way of loving Muzan. Like the love a mad scientist has for their creation.

#kny x reader #oc #demon slayer #muzan kibutsuji #kny muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #demon slayer muzan #muzan x reader #mother reader #TJsworks🪐

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serpentface · 4 months ago

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Sketch overview of typical facial emoting in elowey, using Etsushir as a reference.

Elowey do not have faces that are as ‘expressive’ as humans in terms of specialized musculature, constantly visible whites of eyes, distinct brows, etc. They have a greater overall variety of communication methods (particularly via strong olfactory senses- many emotions can be detected by scent) and are less specialized than humans for facial emoting. However, facial expression (and body language) is still very important to communication.

Their pre-sophont ancestors lived in hierarchical social systems with a single breeding female and male that were socially dominant to the rest of the family (non-reproductive siblings, elders, and children). Social structures were enforced by body language and olfactory signals in a ritualized capacity- dominance hierarchies were typically very secure and well established, and reinforced by visual signaling rather than violence. These ancestors were highly territorial and would behave aggressively towards other family groups to maintain access to resources, and visual signalling would be an important means of enforcing boundaries against competitors- outright physical engagement is risky and avoided when possible in favor of strong agonistic displays (though outright fights and killing would have been fairly common in instances where rivals were caught trespassing and were vastly outnumbered).

Elowey have great behavioral plasticity and no longer universally exist within similar social systems, but the instinctual basis for this behavior remains and forms the basis of most visual emoting.

The most pronounced difference between facial signalling in elowey and humans is the meaning of teeth. In humans, happy/friendly feelings are often expressed by tightening the lips or pulling them back to prominently expose the upper teeth (eg: smiling). In elowey, tight lips and the exposing of upper teeth is a signal of nervousness, fear, anger, or outright aggression. A contented/happy/friendly elowey will most typically drop the jaw open and fully relax the lower lip, exposing lower teeth while keeping upper teeth sheathed (this expression is a close equivalent to a smile, but may be more passive). Slow blinking or keeping eyes closed is also a polite and friendly signal (and is a more pointed and intentional gesture), and combinations of the two are very friendly.

This difference is generally well-known and understood in human and elowey groups that live in proximity and regularly interact, but can still cause communication difficulties and discomfort. Elowey intentionally replicating a toothy human smile will usually slowly blink or close their eyes in the process, which helps settle internal discomfort at using an aggressive/fearful gesture in a friendly context, and signals to other elowey that their bared teeth is an act of communication with the targeted human. Humans often find the elowey smile somewhat difficult to replicate (due to a stiffer lower lip), and commonly defer to relaxing and dropping the jaw and blinking slowly.

Elowey raised among humans or in historically human-elowey cultures may pick up the toothy smiling behavior from a young age, but will still tend to instinctively include a slow blink. Human-elowey cultures are noted for having very distinctive smiles (which may exist anywhere on a spectrum between elowey-typical and human-typical, but near-ubiquitously include slow blinking).

Yawning will naturally expose teeth and not be read as innately aggressive, but especially dramatic yawns where the upper teeth are exposed throughout are signals of confidence and authority, and can be read as overly cocky and impudent if produced by one who is not an accepted authority figure, or rude/mildly aggressive if it is perceived as a targeted gesture (yawning widely at someone can be an insult). Typically, a yawn where the upper teeth are only briefly flashed at the peak is considered most polite (though exact cultural expectations can vary). In pre-sophont elowey, yawns were used by dominant pairs (particularly the female, with larger cuspids) as a passive enforcement of their place in the social structure, and as an active threat display when encountering rivals. Rival groups would confront each other at a distance with 'yawn-offs', which would allow each group to gauge the other's size, physical strength and health, and confidence.

The tongue is used in some expressions, usually submissively oriented ones. Using the tongue to partly cover teeth usually signals harmless intent, and can tamp down on aggressive/fearful gestures (IE an angry expression with the tongue out says 'I'm upset but I won't hurt you', a fearful expression with the tongue out says 'I'm scared and I'm harmless, please don't hurt me'). Children (and adults) being scolded will often stick out the tongue or lick their lips in acquiescence. In some cultures, poking the tongue out between the lips (in varying positions and forms) is a specific gesture indicating sincerity and good intentions.

The whites of the eye are also important to communication. Elowey have large irises, and the whites are only slightly exposed in a typical expression. Prominently exposing the whites is almost always a signal (unless literally just looking at something to the side), though the meaning is context-dependent. It most often indicates sustained interest/curiosity. Casting the eyes wide to the side is a placating, submissive gesture that can indicate fear, guilt, shame, etc. Elowey tend to find human eye emoting very hard to read, due to the whites of the human eye always being exposed and most gestures being subtle.

Elowey ears are more mobile than humans, but still relatively stiff with a limited range of motion, and not central to emoting. Tucking the ears back is usually an anxious/angry gesture, while moving them slightly forward is a signal of interest and focused attention.

Fur can be erected as a visual signal, usually denoting fear or aggression, sometimes used as a show of confidence or strength.

#etsushir #elowey

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tumblweeds-omegaverse · 5 months ago

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Pros of individuals having scents: you walk into a building and it feels like home instantly. It's not just the place - it's the people. Even if everyone is out, there's that tangible sign that they've been there.

Your support network can go with you anywhere, just let everyone wear your jacket for a minute before you go.

Bringing the smell of home with you by packing a pillow or something soft.

Come back from school or work or a long trip and go face down in your own bed for instant comfort.

The experience of growing to like a scent more because you associate it with a trusted friend, or your favorite coworker, or your family (whatever shape that takes).

The variety of scented everything would be even wider, and custom scent blends would be even more fun to play around with.

If it's due to people having stronger olfactory senses in general: congrats, now you can smell your pets and each one is different and you know it when they've made sure you smell like them before you go out for the day.

The lingering smell of hugs on your shoulders after a fun visit.

Cons of individuals having scent: someone walks past you, and you have to fight not to cover your nose. It isn't gross but it's wrong or too much.

Concerts and stadiums and parties would be 10 times as overwhelming.

You can never escape the awareness of that person in your apartment complex that you dislike.

Smelly gamer cave scent knocking people out at a 10 foot radius.

Discovering that the scent of something you used to feel neutral about, now reminds you of past negative relationships.

Wanting to stick your nose in something because it reminds you of people you like, but oops, you're allergic to the actual item.

Wax melts smell even better but are still forbidden snacks.

#sfw omegaverse #omegaverse #random omegaverse thoughts #not worldbuilding #twovvie chatters #a/b/o headcanons #omegaverse headcanons #yes my cons are based on personal experience #ever had someone walk past you in the store #and their smell just lingers in the air after them like a cloud?#ever accidentally tasted a smell and hot extra grossed out?#oh no skunk spray would be terrible #oh no now i want to read about how scent reception works

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theanonymousninja247 · 8 months ago

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Random Turtle HC: Raph & Anxiety

*clears throat and approaches microphone before hitting whiteboard with a ruler* A-HEM! Behold my theories peasants!

As we see expresses in the VERY 1st episode of ROTTMNT, the turtles can recognize each others signature scents and can smell fear.

Raph especially is shown briefly through the brothers dialogue to be the most aware and self conscious about said scent to the point of becoming defensive about it.

This leads me to believe that due to both natural biological olfactory senses and increased abilities due to mutation, the turtle brothers (with an advanced ability tipping to Raph due to his size and sensitivity) can actually smell the hormone cortisol.

WebMD defines cortisol as, “Your body’s main stress hormone. It works with certain parts of your brain to control your mood, motivation, and fear.”

Simply put, the turtle boys can literally smell fear.

Now I know you’re asking yourself, “Okaaaaaay cool fun fact I guess, what does that have to do anything with me?”

*takes a step back and adjust glasses with a smirk*

My dear dear fellow tumblr, allow me to share the wonders of mixing fact, madness and media all in one! *sounds of maniacal cackling can be heard*

(I wrote this with the intent to be platonic but it could be romantic if you squint long enough)

•So we've established Raph can smell fear right?

•As a protective big brother who is quite literally in fact “BIG” he knows a thing or two about getting scared

• Especially when it comes to looking out for people he cares about

•Hes been fighting baddies for his family since he was a tot! From keeping away scary dreams at night, from crushed ancient metal zombies to terrifying alien virus monsters, there ain't much he hasn't seen

•So when you join the ranks of the Mad Dogz, you immediately also get a built in prtoector

•Raphs been looking out for the little guys his whole life, what's one more?

•Not to mention you're kinda cute, so he doesn't mind sticking around a little bit closer

•But you're different than most folks, Raph notices. I mean besides the fact that you WILLING want to be friends with 4 mutant turtles of all things.

•No besides your abnormal incredible bravery in looking beyond the status quo to reach out the hand of friendship to these reckless reptiles, Raph noticed that you just kind of…smelled

•Not in a bad way or anything just…you always seemed to have a lingering scent of fear on you

•And Raph would know. Hed recognize that scent anywhere. It's a scent that ghosts every hour of every day for him. Nighttime and being alone especially.

•Raph hates being scared. He's the biggest and the oldest. He's supposed to look after his peeps! And he can't do that if he's frozen with fear all the time!

•So what does he do? Raph faces the problem head on like he always do.

•You get scared a lot. That's understandable, but Raph decides to make it his business that you don't need to be scared when he's around.

•Raph’ll protect ya

•Be prepared to have this turtle subtly (orrer not to much so because although he's a ninja he ain't exactly tactful or subtle) watching you every time you and the gang get all together

•Its not hard. You've always caught his attention for some reason or another. So looking at you is something he does without even realizing it.

•He’s looking for triggers, anything that gets that heart rate of yours spiking and that scent start to waft.

•Fidgeting hands, bouncing knees, shutting down and slinking into your hoodie, nervous chewing, pulling or playing with your hair and pacing, he's got eyes on it all.

•Once a trigger has been spotted, Raph immediately tries to locate the source

•Too many people? Suddenly you find a 6ft something giant turtle behind you, letting you know with his massive presence alone that he got your back. Literally.

•He kinda likes this position because he can see everyone that comes close enough to interact with you and everybody can see him.

•All he's got to do is narrow his eyes a little a give em a flash of that all too familiar snaggle tooth of his if he thinks someone's being mean and he gets his unspoken threat across just fine

•Not to mention you're also close enough to grab if someone he doesn't deem fit for your attention gets a little too close for his liking. But he doesn't say that part out loud.

•Scared of talking? You suddenly feel the cool tip of his massive scaely alligator tail (anatomically correct alligator tail be darned, I'm going with the fandoms HCs for this one) gently wrapping around your ankle as a physical reminder that he's right there here to support you

•Overwhelmed and the world feels like it's closing in on you? Raphs massive size is a natural battering ram that allows him to pass through thick crowds with easy. He's not afraid to help heard you into a quiet little corner away from it all

•Years of practice with Donnie allows him the experience to ask you if you're good with touch.

•If yes, you know you're going to be instantly wrapped into his arms, pulled flushed up against the worn keratin of his plastron. Raph’s always been more of “hands-on experience” kinda of guy anyway.

•Raph gives good hugs. They're firm and tight, padded with the security of arms who have been holding the weight of the world for years.

•He will rest his chin on top of your head, gently guiding your head with the motion ever so slightly so you're somehow perfectly nestled right against his heart.

•It's a loud heart, especially when you're up so close. It's actually his strongest muscle and one he's most proud of. He cares about you, so he reckons he’ll allow you the privilege of getting close to it. In more ways than one.

•Raph doesn't talk much during these special security hugs. He's never really been much good with words anyways. Raph knows sometimes the noise can be too much, but he also knows that the silence can be defeaning. So being a turtle comes with some built in perks that make up a happy medium.

•Hes got a special churr saved for special situations just like this one. It's one of the lowest and deepest ones he's capable of making. More akin to a muted growl more than anything the way it vibrates his chest as you're pressed up against it. You can feel it more than hear it and it just takes a handful of minutes listening to this bad boy before Raph can sense your fear stink slowly dissipating and your natural sweet scent can return.

•Raph can smell fear, and there's something incredibly humbling for this Atlas of a turtle to have the sweet experience of watching that scent drift away whenever he gets the privilege of being close to you like this.

•”You don't need to be scared no more, Sweet Pea. Raph’s got ya. I'm gonna be right here until you're ready to face the world again. Until then, let me just hold ya.”

Dedicated to the one and only @anobodyinabog. Sorry this took so long,but I hope your day gets better Shortcake. Please know you're always looked out for and loved ok? 🧡❤️

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