#pin me to the table im going feral

[xoxoells]

Single dad ghost and sweet little baker reader! (it works out trust me)

Single dad simon who has to get emergency cupcakes for his daughter’s class party, the six-year-old demanding that she’ll become the “coolest girl in class” and if she didn’t get her cupcakes, daddy would be her third favorite person. oh the horror!

And so, simon has no choice but to run down to the new bakery that opened up down the block, his nose flooded with the smell of icing and sugar the moment he hear the door chime from his arrival. 

“Hello?” He calls, wondering if anyone’s in the bakery. 

He turns around to leave, before you call out after him, apologizing and telling him that you were baking in the back. Not that simon could care less, he was focused on you. The way the apron hugged the fat of your body, plump from your years of working at the bakery. The way your bair looked in that distressed bum, practically falling apart from running to the counter. Most importantly, the cream and frosting covering your face. Simon began to wonder if his frosting could- 

“Sir? Sorry if you didnt hear me. What would you like today?” you chirped, cutting off his filthy thoughts. “Just some cupcakes. for my girl.” Girl? must be a lucky lady, you thought, untill he whipped out a picture on his phone, a badly drawn unicorn cupcake that his daughter drew, covered in pompoms and glitter.

You tried to contain your smile as you said that it was no problem, and you could make them in a jiff. Simon watches as you fill in his order, and tell him what to do when he comes to pick it up. All of that goes over his head though, when you say “You seem like such a good father” Simon grins. Wouldnt you like to know sweetheart, maybe you could be her new mother. “well, she’s only got me since her mum ran away. I do what i can” Simon says, knowing that he’s left that imprint im your head.

Simon leaves your bakery, mind heating up like an oven from what he could, no, will do to you. 

“Who was that hottie?” Your co worker says ,appearing from the back. “No clue, but i hope that kid wants a new mom.”

[mysicklove]

thots on kitty!bakugou getting his nipples played with for the first time? feels so good it scares him, i bet. good enough to break down his sense of pride to beg for you to get your wrap? hehe

𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄

Pairing: Sub! Bottom! Cat Hybrid! Bakugou x Dom! Top! AFAB! Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Pegging, HEAVY nipple play, anal play, mention of collar, katsuki swears in like every sentence, nickname "kitty", hints of sadistic reader, pain/pleasure play ig.

A/N: I kinda changed it up just a tad anon im sorry lol. but i loved this idea so much i had to turn it into a fic. damn another fic that is not a kinktober one, ughhh

Your kitty has a very sensitive chest. Of course, Bakugou would never tell you this. You have a problem with bullying him a little bit, poking fun at him until he hisses at you, or teasing his body until he cries from frustration. Telling you about his nipples is a one-way ticket to mewling under you. He's not taking that ride.

So he hides it. Relatively well too; he tries his best not to press his ears back and whimper when you accidentally graze one of the buds. Instead, moving your hand away from his chest either up to his collar or beneath his pants.

You never suspected a thing. Just how Katsuki like it.

"Kitty, I'm home!" You chirp, opening the front door with a small content smile on your face. Katsuki peers up at you from the couch where he was napping, a frown plastered on his face.

"Why did you take so fucking long?" He complains, automatically getting up from the couch, and making his way over to you. He leans slightly leans down, and your hand reaches up to pet him. His ears twitch and he lets a gruff sigh at the feeling of your fingers.

"Sorry, Kats. There was a car accident on the way home. Traffic was bad. But anyways, how are you?"

He pulls away from you before he starts purring, his pride getting the better of him. "Fine. Dinner is getting cold."

He walks away toward the kitchen before you can respond, fixing you a plate while you sigh and slump against the dinner table chair. He sits down next to you, and you thank him. He lets out a grunt in response. The best you'll get out of him.

Dinner goes down relatively quietly. Katsuki isn't much of a talker, and you were tired from the day. You needed a little bit of energy before holding a conversation between you too.

"Want to do it tonight," He says finally breaking the comforting silence. 

You pause, looking up with a raised eyebrow. He doesn't make eye contact with you, but his cheeks are slightly pink. He tries to act all bold, but both of you know he always is so embarrassed to suggest these things. A prime subject to tease. "Do what?"

His ears fall back and he glares at you. "You know what."

You balance your head on your hand. "Hm?"

"Want to...Fuck." He sighs, staring at his bowl with bared teeth.

"You want me to fuck you?" You say, now grinning at him.

Katsuki dramatically stands up from the table, his face now blooming red. He leaves the bowl on the table, and his tail sways behind him. 

"Never mind. I'm going to bed."

You are up in an instant, chasing after him before he gets too far. Without really thinking much of it, you reach out from behind him and grab his chest, pulling his back against your front.

Katsuki doesn't have time to hide himself. He feels your hands grip accidentally grip his nipple, and he whimpers. Loud and shakily, while his eyes furrow to process the overbearing feeling.

The two of you freeze, both with wide eyes. He doesn't dare to move, afraid of what you'll say.

You loosen your grip slightly on his chest, and he lets out a breath of relief. But you don't dare to let him go, now intrigued. Slowly, your hands begin to run over his chest, taking notice of the way his breath hitches when you hit his nipples.

Your face curls with a feral grin, happy to find something new about your pet. "Oh, Kats. You didn't tell me you were so sensitive here."

His ears are pinned to his head, and he gulps. "Fuck you. 'm not"

You gently pinch his right nipple and his eyes widen, a broken whine falling from his lips. "Hmm? You sure, love?"

"Don't do that!" He pleads as he shrinks away from your fingers and into your chest, afraid you'll pinch him again.

You press a kiss to his neck in apology. Then you grab his hand and lead him into the bedroom. "Let's go fulfill your request, yeah kitty?"

He stares at the hand and then you, nervously. He knows you are going to abuse him, and he's not sure if he can take it, but on the other hand, he really wants to be fucked.

He's willing to take the risk. "Alright."

You know too much. Another thing to hold above his head. How is he ever going to escape your cruel hands if his body is so complaint with them?

"Fuck you! S-Stop! The teeth."

Your mouth has made his way to his chest in a matter of minutes of the two of you being in the bedroom. He is laying limp against the mattress, and your finger is moving in and out of his hole, prepping him for later.

But your current fixation was seeing how far he can go with his tits solely. You are still working on the intensity, and seeming to how Katsuki is dripping tears, it's probably too much for him. Your teeth barely even grazed him. "My fault. Didn't mean to, shhh don’t cry kitty."

He clenches his teeth together and the back of his arm covers his face, embarrassed about the tears You begin kitten licking the nipple and he sniffles, being okay with this sort of pressure.

Gently, you reassure yourself and your fingers continue their prodding. He has already taken two of them, and now you are scissoring the hole. He was taking them well, moaning gently under you with no complaint.

You gently begin to to suck, and the cat let's out a shaky moan. Not a whimper or a cry, a better sign. Your other hand travels to his other side and you gently travel circles around the pink nub. His back arches slightly and his mouth opens.

“There ya go. See we did it Kats. Doesn't hurt so bad now, hmm?”

He gulps, slightly gripping onto the sheets from the prodding sensation and your antics on his chest. It's overwhelming him, and he is struggling to bite back moans. “Dumbass. Just be gentle.” His voice doesn't hold a bite, instead it's higher in pitch and shaky.

Cute. But he always was, unitentionally of course. His pride is to big to try to act cute sole for you (even if you begged him multiple times).

He keens when you press your fingers onto his prostate, clenching his teeth with his ears pressed against the top of his head. You immediately distract him from the sensation by gently sucking his nipple.

His eyes fling open in an instant, and he choking out moans. "Not at the same time!"

You ignore his pleads, and switch to the other side. He grabs the back of your head and grips onto it desperately. The feeling makes you wince, but you don't stop your movements.

Eventually when it gets too much for the cat, he forces you away from his chest. You glance at him, slightly peeved, but your eyes widen at the sight.

Tears are streaming down his face, and he's trembling. His ears are pressed flat upon his head, and drool slightly drips from the corner of his lips. He is shaking his head at you, slowly but full of emotions. "No more. No more. 's too much. Just fuck me already!"

You peer down at his chest to see both of the nubs swollen and throbbing. You have abused them for too long, and it almost made you feel bad. Your poor kitty didn't deserve this, but alas, his wet teary eyes made it worth it. You couldn’t help but bully him if he looked so cute.

But, you take pity on him, and grab the strap, lubing it up, along with his entrance. He bites back a whimper at the coolness, but you force it out when you press a kiss to his thighs.

You pull your fingers out and he lets out an obviously displeased noise, trying to follow the digits. "So needy," You coo, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes, but blushing.

Then you line the toy up to his hole, and his ear twitch. He gulps and stares at the silicon, trying to contain his excitement. You begin to press it in, and he sighs, closing his eyes.

Slowly, you bottom out, and the cat lets out a breathy moan. A finger travels up to his chest again, and he jumps when you drag it over again. "Not—Not again."

You lean forward, now completely above him, waiting for him to adjust to the length. You circle the bud and kiss his cheek when he whines out. "Cant' help myself. You're so cute, Kats."

"F-Fuck you! Stop teasing me," He warbles, his eyes hazy and lips wet from his own saliva.

You begin your movements and he clings onto you. His mouth flies open, exposing his pointed canines that you are so fond of. "Such a cute kitty with such an adorable, sensitive body. I'm so spoiled."

He shakes his head, tears dripping down his cheeks. "Just shut up, and fuck me!"

You giggle into his neck, and pinch one of his nipples. His whole body jerks and whines, loud and pathetic. He trembles under you and glares at you, which doesn't look threatening at all considering they are wet from tears. "Be nice Katsuki."

He doesn't say anything, afraid you'll pinch him again. Instead, he nods his head and wraps his legs around your hips, silently signaling he wants more and quickly.

You abide his wishes and quicken your pace, and he mewls out, latching his mouth onto your shoulder. You grin at him and kiss the side of his head, mumbling words of encouragement.

His grinds himself on the strap, and his eyes roll at the feeling of his throbbing cock rubbing against your stomach. Mixed with earlier teasing, he felt like he was already close to cumming. He grips onto you and begins to beg for you to go faster.

But much to his dismay, you don't listen to him. Instead, you purr in his ear, "Katsuki~"

He clenches his teeth at the thrust, but whines at your words. Something bad was coming, he could tell. "Hmm?"

"Touch yourself."

He doesn't hesitate to reach down and begin stroking himself off, but you catch his wrist with the first stroke. He gulps and glances at you hesitantly.

You stare at him, smiling softly. Then, you lean forward and press your lips to his ears. "Your nipples, silly."

Your pace hasn't slowed and he can barely process your words, but the way you drag his fingers back to his chest lets him know exactly what you want.

He shakes his head furiously, clinging onto you. "Nooooooooo. Fuck, they hurt!"

You balance yourself on you forearm above him, and use your other to thumb over one of the buds. He moans, slightly arching his back. "They won't. See? Gotta be gentle, love."

He looks up at you with a pout and teary eyes, but nods hesitantly. His hands travel down to his chest, and he uses both hands to trace circles on them. The blonde whimpers out, shutting his eyes to try to manage the strange mix of pain and pleasure.

You finally quicken your pace, and Bakugou groans, not knowing what to with his body. He feels the sticky feeling of pre cum leaking on his abdomen, but his hands are too busy to wipe it away.

"m gonna cum."

"Are you asking for permission?"

He wasn't, and the both of you knew that. "Y-Yeah."

You smile at him, pressing a kiss to his tear stained lips. "As long as you touch your nipples through it all."

He wants to protest, already feeling overstimulated from both of the intense pleasures, but he also wants to cum. So, he nods with a sniffle. You rub you fingers over his twitching ears, and he leans into the warmth.

The pressure begins to build up, and hes now gently flicking his nipples. Hes withering from his own ministrations, and the ruthless pace of your strap isn't helping at all. Every breath is a moan, or a whine, and he shivering. "Fuck. Fuck. Im cumming. I can't!"

"Go ahead, kitty."

His whole body contracts, and his eyes screw shut. It tears viciously through him, and he's crying out. Its loud, high in pitched, but cute.

His hands clench up on his nipples, so you lean down and press your mouth to one. His shaky hands find the back of your hand and he curses, back now arching completely off the sheets.

Cum leaks onto his stomach, and some onto yours. His tail goes pin straight, and his ears are pinned to his head.

His high lasts longer than usual, about thirty seconds, and by the end of it his clinging onto you desperately while you coo at him.

When he comes down from his orgasm, he is heaving, trying to catch his breath again. You gently pull out during this time and he lets out a small gasp, but other than that doesn't complain. He falls limp against the bed, his body sweaty and flushed.

You take off the strap and begin to wipe him down with a washcloth, humming softly in your work. You are careful to leave his nipples alone, knowing hell prob freak out if you even graze them now. They are puffy and red, and most likely throbbing.

"You with me Katsuki?" You say, glancing hesitantly at him, almost feeling bad about his chest.

"Yeah, I'm here, you brat."

You laugh gently, glad your cat is back to his usual antics. "Ironic," You tease, grinning at him.

He doesn't find it funny. "Hey fuck you. I listened well today! Even after you tried torturing me." The last part comes out as a mumble, pouting into his pillow.

Your eyes whole a sadistic glaze to them, and he gulps, wondering what you are going to say next. "If you think thats torture, oh kitty, what do you think we buy you some nipple clamps?"

He throws a pillow at you and hisses before you could finish your next thought.

[cherry-pop-elf]

George Weasley Sexcanons

Because im extremely sick, so im bored

Warnings? Sex sex sex and more sex. Along with some submissive Georgie baby~

What gets his engine going

He’s more of the submissive type. Your definition of a service top. He loves to make sure his partner is feeling so good. Their comfort comes, heh, first before anything else. Mans has 100% just gotten off from eating out/rimming/sucking off

He’s….Hes got mommy issues. As much as we love Molly, you can not deny she was rather verbally abusive. Not to mention having seven kids means you’ll Never have one on one properly. I won’t rant, but mans got a serious mommy kink. Doesn’t matter if you are a man, he’s calling you mommy!

Is a sucker for risk taking. He’s gonna try and eat you out at a quidditch game, jerk you off at the leaky cauldron, he’s gonna rail you in an alley way. He’s an adrenaline junkie, and probably wouldn’t be to shy at the idea of actually doing it infront of people. He likes the rush of it all

If you get a tattoo with his name, or some kind of indication you are his? Oh that’s going to make him feral. He doesn’t actually believe in owning and such, but there is something so enjoyable about it in fantasy. Kink doesn’t equal reality! ((And obviously I don’t need to clarify what is off the table))

Let me say this once, mans has a MAJOR Breeding Kink. Doesn’t matter if you can get pregnant. He’s going to find a way to fuck a baby into you. He’s a Weasley. They love to prove the impossible

Like I said about mommy kink, he is so gonna be a brat. It’s not a number one go to, that’s Fred, but he loves being a menace to society. If he’s not being a brat, you calling him a bad boy might make him cry. That’s why it’s healthy to communicate in the bed room!

Spank him. Spank him nice and good.

Lingerie lingerie lingerie

He might be a size queen, but you didn’t hear it from me 🤭

Oh he just loves doing it in his office. There is something so hot about it. To have you sit in his office, as he eats you out. How you would pin him on the desk, and pound him so hard it starts to rattle. To have you casually come in, wearing nothing at all, and crawling over all the paper work to get to him. If he’s having a bad day, sneak into his office and remind him he’s the boss

Don’t think you won’t be shared with Fred. They are magical twins. They share everything together.

Don’t be shy of your body hair. He likes his bitches natural. There’s also something so romantic to him about it. That you can just be your truest self around him, and not need to panic about your looks. Just your true self, and such

Speaking of natural self, he likes his bitches a little thicc. Blame his dad for liking em big. Nothing like some love handles to grab onto, or some ear warmers to keep him trapped in place. But most importantly? The cuddles

Expect to be of ‘use’ during busy hours at work. Like sucking him off while he does paper work, or being stress relief after a Karen comes into town

Boobs? Butt? Mans a thigh guy. He loves himself a partner with thick thighs, long legs, and some well pedicured feet. Yes. He’s a feet guy. Thigh highs in orange will make him cream alright

Expect to be his partner in trying new sex shop items

Speaking of that, don’t be scared to try new things with him. You never know. Maybe your weird kink could be the next hottest item the shop!

AFAB Partner Shenanigans

His favorite position with you would be the mating press. He just loves having your legs over his shoulders, and getting a front row seat at your begging face

He is going to be that type to fill you full of cum, and make you walk around with it

Sundresses baby

Peg him silly boo boo. He will ride that strap on until sunrise don’t even question it

Expect lots of cock warming. Especially when busy at work

Your tits are his now. His favorite thing to play with, when it isn’t your pussy. Even not in a sexual sense. You’ll just wake up with a hand on the tibbie

AMAB Partner Shenanigans

His favorite position is cowgirl. To have his hands on your chest, as he pants. Whimpering and moaning, as you move in and out of him. To have you spank him to move faster. Gets him all kinds of work up

He’s gonna be a shit head and sneak under tables a lot and have his fun with you

You will wake up to him dealing with your morning wood

He is going to sit on your cock when he is doing work. He will be a bastard and spin his hips

[trickstarbrave]

heyyyy im making a pinned post as that is a feature and seems good to keep info all in one place esp for ppl on mobile

❤️im brave!! or rua works if u want to but brave is by far the most popular name i go by. he/him pronouns

❤️art commissions/art trades are NOT on the table rn sadly. i used to offer commissions and did art trades with friends but for the most part im really busy with work/health conditions. if i have a bit of free time i may change this or make a few exceptions on a case by case basis depending on my schedule. for the most part tho i just want my art to be a stress relief activity

❤️art requests i do take from time to time now, but there is no guaranty i will take it. please do not spam requests hoping i’ll do it and please do not get mad if i don’t do it. they’re requests for a reason. if i am particularly inspired i’ll be happy to get around to it if life lets me

❤️technically multifandom blog i would say, mostly i have been focused on the elder scrolls series lately. you will probably see me rb stuff from like, a bunch of series. if this changes i’ll prob edit this post LMAO (i do not control the special interest)

❤️not just an art blog but also personal. my art can be found in my #my art tag. wips can sometimes be found scattered on my twitter if they arent on here. and writing that i publish can be found on my ao3 (though i have like a million wips that dont get published and be warned much of my ao3 is rated E and not for everyone)

❤️ been doing a lot of oc posting so i can do a run down of them currently for anyone that wants to follow along/know the lore:

/// OCS ///

(under cut)

🌟 Eyja: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, she/her. past life incarnation was konahrik, alduin’s head priest, murdered by miraak. uses a bow and magic primarily. story can be found here

🌟 Senna: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, she/her. proud two handed weapon user and leader of the companions. fought and lost to the world eater who took her back to his den and make her his partner. proof prophecy can be a complicated thing. story can be found here.

🌟 Baldur: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, he/him. grew up on the streets stealing to survive, and certified trans of gender. fought and lost to the world eater who decided to force baldur to be his champion. helps him take over skyrim. story not yet published but will prob contain a lot of mentions of transphobia as a cw :(

🌟 Ansa: skyrim oc, nord dragonborn, she/her. orphaned at a young age, and just a weird, feral child. learned to steal, and ended up joining the thieves guild. killed mercer and turned the guild over to karliah and is helping rebuild it when she finds a weird rock that turns out to be a dragon egg. story not yet published

🌟 Ahkrinaak: general elder scrolls oc, he/him/any pronouns. he is based off me as a sort of self insert/persona character purely for comedy, not a serious au. dragon/god who was corrupted in the war with lorkhan/shor and became more so an agent of lorkhan. he spends most of his time pretending to be a mortal and causing problems. he’s just sillay. looks like a falmer/snow elf and nord hybrid making pretty much everyone just in general uncomfortable. dragons dont have gender he just likes tits. divorced with alduin

🌟 Lyre: not a skyrim oc (yet) but my beloved dnd character i have made a million aus for, including one that has turned into a full on novel lmao. will update everyone when i start uploading the novel (its not gonna be too serious just a fun lil webnovel that is pg rate) and you can see me post illustrations for. depending on the AU uses either he/him or she/her. i just think theyre neat

🌟 Anthial: nerevarine bosmer, tired, angry, nb spellsword. he/them pronouns. just wants to cover their entire body until you cant tell what gender they are. vivec never got them the drink he owed them. was convinced as nerevar that voryn never liked them back all that much. had an open marriage with almalexia. this incarnation was emotionless and lacked a moral compass due to the betrayal in their past life.

🌟 Steren: nerevarine, technically. not actually the reincarnation of nerevar, but the reincarnation of nerevar’s son. nerevar never reincarnated bc he was too busy haunting his descendants, too upset to move on. steren has a couple of aus but mostly its him with vivienne the dragonborn who belongs to @mulberrycafe. calls voryn “ata” and nerevar “dad” because he technically grew up in cyrodiil but remembers his first lifetime in bits and pieces where voryn raised him for the first few years.

feel free to send asks abt my ocs i love answering them

[yeetusdabussy]

Can I just say I love your blog so much 🥺 If possible can we get something with Shisui having a breeding kink with his little housewife? All I want in life is to be his lil wifey and make him dinner and have his babies 🥴🤰

୨˚̣̣̣͙୧༚￮✧Sure!✧￮༚୨˚̣̣̣͙୧

╭══• ೋஜ•✧๑🌸๑✧•ஜೋ •══╮

೫๑》🌸🍃minors nono🍃🌸Ꮛ《๑೫

╰══• ೋஜ•✧๑🌸๑✧•ஜೋ •══╯

── ･ ｡☆*warning*☆ﾟ.──

Smut,breeding kink, overstimulation, foul language

You have been cooking a meal for you and your lovely husband Shisui. He was the best person you could ask for in your life, he was always made sure you were happy, safe, and well taken cared of. Although you were just a housewife, you were his housewife and his pride and joy. If you needed anything, he'll get it, if you were sad, he'll cheer you up, if you were hurt, he woof take care of you. He was always there for you and you were always there for him. And today was your 3 year anniversary, you wanted to make it special for him. And tell him something you've been wanting to get off your chest for a while. You started to set the food on the table, you had a prideful smile on your face. But you heard the front door open. "Baby I'm home." The sound of Shisui voice ringing into your ears, brought nothing but joy and happiness into you. You ran out of the kitchen and into his arms. "Shisui! I missed you!" You wrapped your arms around his neck "hey baby, I missed you too." He chuckled and kisses your forehead, he loved coming home to you. It was the best thing to him, especially since he doesn't really have all the time in the world for you. He's a very busy person and he needs to provide for you and keep food on the table. He would smile and kiss your cheeks repeatedly, causing you to laugh at the slight ticklish feeling. "Shisui! Haha stop we need to eat!" You looked so happy, and it warms his heart seeing you this way. He would pick you up and walk you to the dinning area, you two would sit and eat together while talking about y'all day.

"Hey Shisui I have to tell you...something very important." You looked up at him a little worried. He soon looked at you and seen your worried face expression, which worried him now. "Huh? Yeah, go ahead, you know you can tell me anything babe." He smiled at you, placing a hand on your hip. He smiles at you to make you less tensed. "Well, I was thinking that..we..we could.. Um...have kids?" You looked down at your hands in your lap. Afraid of what he might say, "hahahah, is that all you wanted to tell me?" All you heard was his laughter, which shocked you. You looked up at him confused, he would look down at you and kiss your forehead. "Of course we can have kids, as long as I still get attention." He pulls you into his lap. "Duh! Of course I'll give you attention, but since its our anniversary... I was hoping that maybe..we can..do it ..today?" You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave a sheepish smile. "Well, im not turning something like this down." He kissed you deeply, running his hands up and down your sides and hips. You would kiss him back and run your fingers your his hair, you pressed your body closer to his. You could feel the heat between your legs building, you can't help but moan into his mouth once his bulge presses up against your covered cunt. Hearing your soft moan made Shisui bite down on your bottom lip playfully, he pushed everything off the table and places you on top. Before you could react to him pushing stuff off the table, he was ripping your clothes right off you. You could feel your body tremble, as much as you wanted to protest about the waste of food and your clothes. You noticed Shisui seemed so feral, which was normal, but this was a different type of feral. His lust filled eyes, his cunning smirk, and his rough grip on your thighs was a new feeling.

"Fuck I can't wait to fill you up." He opened your legs and stares at your wet cunt, he would drag his fingers up and down your clit, purposely missing your clit every time. He would smirk at your desperate expression. " Shisui! Stop, teasing, I want to feel you!" You begged in a whimper, you soon gasp when you feel his fingers enter your cunt, curling them up inside you. He easily found your sweet spot and kissed your clit, causing you to arch your back off the table and grip his silky locks. "Oh Shisui! ~" You moaned, feeling his tongue flick across your clit as he spelled his name on it. He had such a cocky smirk on his face as he watches your face expression from below. His fingers twist at a new angle to find a even more sweeter spot, oh he loved the sounds of your mewls, how you desperately grip and pull on his locks. The way you grind your cunt into his face. His lips soon wrap around your clit, he pulls on it a while his tongue flicks across it repeatedly. You let out a scream of his name, grabbing the edge of the table now as your back goes into a full arch, you soon release all over his mouth. Your body trembled and twitched, Shisui lets go of your clit with a small pop. He wipes his mouth and begins to unbuckle his pants, he grabs both of your ankles and puts them on his shoulders. He smirks and begins to slowly enter you, not even letting you come down from your high, he could feel your walls still pulsing against his cock causing him to groan and grip your hips. "Ah, fuck, so warm. " He takes off his shirt and leans into you, he pins your arms above your head and whispers into your ear. "You're gonna take every drop of my cum, you hear me?" You nod your head and whimper. Your hands balling up into fists as you bite your lip. Shisui hips draws back slowly, letting you feel every detail of his cock slowly slipping out of your dripping cunt before slamming himself balls deep into you, your back arched as you moaned out loudly. It wasn't long before his hips begin to pound into your repeatedly at a lustful hungry pace. Your sweet moans filled the room as the sound of your squelching cunt filled the room as well, both of your bodies pressed against each other desperately, both warm and sweaty. The sound of the table rocking and creaking under you both. You felt his teeth glaze across your pulse on your neck before playfully nipping it and sucking on it, causing your breath to hitch. You felt that build already, the way he was desperately thrusting into you with all he had was overbearing. It was making you see stars, causing your body to weaken under him as you scream his name out like a prayer. You felt that tight knot in your stomach tightening up on you. "Shisui! I'm..I'm close! So m'close!" You whimpered "fuck, cum, cum on my cock." His pace seemed to quicken as his hand reaches down and begins to rub your swollen nub. Your back arched off the table as your head tossed back, you let out a loud elongated scream of his name. You started to squirt all over his cock, his eyes widens at the scene but his hips never stopped moving. "Well shit, look at the mess you made ~" He teased, he felt his own release creeping up on him. His hips started to get sloppy, "Ngh, fuck I'm cumming. Take it!" He let's go of your wrists, you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and moaned, it wasn't long before you felt a hot release inside of your cunt. Overflowing your pretty cunt with his cum, Shisui slowly stood up straight and looks down at your dripping cunt, with a ring of his cum and your cum mixed together around his cock. You laid there panting trying to catch your breath, Shisui on the other hand was starring at your cunt like he was in a trance. " well shit I had a lot build up." He laughs embarrassingly

[stopbeingcurious]

You make me feel young again*

PART THREE / MASTERLIST

pairing: post azkaban sirius black x y/n

warning: dirty thoughts/ letters

a/n i had so many request to make more of this series so here we are... enjoy :P

A couple of weeks had gone past, without any contact from Sirius and yours and Professor Lupins relationship had gone back to normal, like nothing had ever happened.

The only thing on your mind was the way Sirius touched you, how his skin felt against yours. You missed it.

You remember the words Sirius spoke the last and only time you were together;

“Not many girls like you,”

Not many girls like you? The way Sirius spoke about his time as a teenager he made it sound like he had slept around.

It was taunting your mind, you wanted to see Sirius again, you needed too. You daydreamed in class about him, at lunch in the shower, in bed. You needed that mans affection again.

It got so bad that you were loosing sleep, you were genuinely so aroused that you couldn't sleep at night, not with a puddle and a heartbeat between your legs.

You thought you could relieve some of the tension yourself but of course that didn't work, just made it worse. 

You needed male attention.

And of course your friends caught onto your behaviour changes, asking you a variety or questions when you left your dorm room looking like a disheveled mess.

In other words, you were desperate.

class

You're currently sitting in class, potions to be exact, listening to Professor Snape bore on about how it's illegal to become animagi underage. You had no interest whatsoever in the subject at hand so decided to rest your head on your hand and let your mind wander. What you didn't remember was that Professor Snape was a skilled Legilimens. His voice rung out from the front of the class just as your mind wandered in the direction it had been for a while now, Sirius.

“Y/n, I suggest you concentrate if you don't want your fellow classmates and I knowing what you're thinking about,” His eyes narrowed in your direction, pulling everyones attention from their work, all eyes on you. Some smirks, some confused, some bothered because they had been distracted.

You let out a silent huff as you switch your attention to the parchment in front of you.

common room

Your friends surround you, all looking intrigued. They had just interrupted you from reading your book sitting next to the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

“We know somethings up Y/n, would you just give up and tell us already!” Angelina flung her arms around in expression. She was pulled out of her expressive state with a hand on her shoulder, Freds.

“Ange is right Y/n, we just wanna know if there was anything we could do to help.” Fred asks, his body was slouched forwards slightly so he didn't seem as intimidating as he usually did.

You measure your friends that you're okay and that you're just not getting enough sleep. 

You were so into your book and now your attention has been snatched by your brain again, filling your vision with images of that night, the night where right went wrong, the night of your life.

You'd had enough of this tormenting, the only way you could get to Sirius was through Professor Lupin and you had an idea.

You proceeded to write Sirius a letter, a very detailed letter, just to bless his imagination as much as you blessed his everyday but the your mind flooded with questions; What if Sirius didn't want to see you again? Is that why he hadn't contacted you first? Did he think you were just a one time thing? But Sirius thought the complete opposite of this.

Sirius received your letter, Remus handed it to him with a stern look on his face.

“I didn't read it, I respect your privacy Sirius but you have to be smart about it,” Sirius knew straight away who the letter was from. Remus sat at the table opposite him in their shared home.

“We don't know what it says yet Moony,” Sirius scoffs and opens the letter.

Dear Sirius,

If Prof. Lupin is around, do not show any sign on your face with the words I am about to say. Sirius I miss your touch, I'm not sure if you thought it was a one time thing and I could be embarrassing myself right now but if you feel the same, if you didn’t want it to be a one time thing I wonder why I can see you next. I sit in my classes, arousal pooling in my panties because of you. Your making me feral Sirius, I need you inside of me soon, I cant please myself, I need you and your big cock to stretch out my tight pussy, its waiting for you Sirius.

Y/n :)

Sirius couldn't contain himself, he quickly grew hard in his trousers also trying not to show any signal as to what the letter had just read. Of course he wanted to see you again, he wanted his hands all over your body, his callous fingers rubbing against the red of your ass where he has just slapped.

Remus looked at him with confusion as Sirius was sitting there with sort of wide eyes wondering how he was suddenly wrapped up with an 18 year old. He was pinning over her, attached.

“Sirius, what did it say?” Remus leaned forwards in his chair, hand sewn together as well as his eyebrows.

Sirius snapped out of his stance on the command of Remus’ voice.

“It said that what we did was a mistake and that she is sorry,” Sirius lies straight through his teeth, pretending that the letter had bruised his ego.

The air was clear, and everyone could breath again.

Sirius was relieved that Remus had believed him and Remus was relieved because Sirius and yourself were no longer infatuated with each other, lifting a huge relief of his shoulder. 

But Remus didn't know the contents of Sirius next letter to you...

hogwarts

You were sitting at breakfast, tapping on the table. Your distractions had gotten better over the last couple days meaning that you'd been sleeping better meaning that your friends hadn't been on your back constantly.

“You alright Y/n?” Angelina sits next to you, swinging her legs dramatically over the bench, stretching her arm into the middle of the table to grab an apple.

“Yeah I'm okay thanks Ange,” She smiles at you. “How are you?” You ask, taking another bite of the toast that sat on your plate.

“Yeah yeah I'm all good, anyway I came here to tell you that Professor Lupin wants to see you before class,” Your eyes widen, had he read the letter between you and Sirius? You didn't think he would have, he wasn't the type to invade privacy.

Angelina noticed the colour drain from your face and a worried look creeps onto her face. “Whats wrong? What did you do? Are you in trouble?” She bombards you with questions to which you stand up and run out of the hall towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. You might as well pack your bags now, theres no way that he is going to let you off without punishment after he read the letter.

Your legs ran as fast as they could take you, dodging students and teachers, earning a phew ‘No running in corridors’.

You came to an immediate halt in front of the door you recognised so well and you knocked.

“Come in,” You heard from the other side of the door.

You take a deep breath, feel the cold untouched door handle underneath your shaking skin. You breath again, trying to steady your breaths and trying to hold back the tears that were ebbing on your waterline.

You push the door open to find your DADA Professor standing at the top of the stairs leading up to his office, you sniffle and bite your lip, hiding any emotion.

“Come into my office Y/n,” He turns around and strides into his office, leaving the door open behind him.

You begin to walk towards the stairs, having his emotionless words replay in your head, thinking out all the possibilities of how this interaction could go and how you could make it easier for yourself. You pace the floor feeling the cold air of the classroom consume you due to the lack of human warmth. You shiver and resume your journey now striding up the stairs.

Pushing the door open, you stride into his office the same way he did. You immediately saw a letter on the desk, you mentally cursed yourself, letting your Professor do all the talking.

“I see you got my message from Angelina?” He was slouched back in his chair, looking rather relaxed.

You nod, worried if you speak that your voice will break as you were on the verge of tears.

“Why so quiet? Is there something wrong?” His eyebrows furrowed as he asked. 

“No nothing, just not sleeping properly lately,” You lie, you figured you would just tell everyone the same thing so that if the subject came up everyones stories would match.

“Ah yes, Angelina told me,” You looked shocked. “Anyway,” He dismisses the subject. “I have something for you,” Remus turns your attention when he picks up the letter on the desk with his long, dainty fingers.

The letter was for you? You thought that was the letter you sent Sirius.

You take the letter that he was offering and examine it. There was no name on the front of it and it wasn't sealed at the back. You look up at your Professor and all he does is smile and nod, then your attention is back on the letter, you practically ripped it open, knowing that it was from Sirius.

Dear Y/n,

I assume you will have received this letter from Remus.

We cant send any more letters as I told Remus that your letter was about how you thought what we did was wrong and that it was a mistake so tell him that as well, thats what he knows. I am in instant need of you, I want to feel your body below me, writhing around underneath me. I need to taste you, all of you. I want to make your ass all red then kiss it all over. I want to make you cum over and over and over until you cant cum anymore, would you like that? I will find a way that we can reunite but you're going to have to wait pup, I'm sure you can do that for me.

Sirius *paw-print*

The colour drained from your face once again and your heart rate sped up drastically. Only Sirius words had this great of an effect on you. You had to hide any expression from Remus, you knew what he knew and you had to go along with it.

“Im sorry Y/n but I think it was for the best,” The Professor sat before you, shuffling papers ready for your first lesson with him.

“I agree Professor, thank you for delivering my letter,” You reply, trying to ignore the puddle in you underwear. You had to do something about it before class started, you could sit in his lesson feeling aroused the whole time!

“Your free to wait in here Y/n, class will start soon,” You decline your Professors offer and run to the toilet with the letter, needing to relieve some of this built up tension.

[neon-junkie]

flaco, kieran, micah, and arthur with a super short s/o? like 4’10 bc im super short and i have a massive size kink 😔 you don’t have to do all!

size kink gang LETS FUCKING GOOOO!!!! yeah i love that shit. here’s some gn!Reader headcanons for you, slight NSFW warning below >:) 

-------

Flaco

Oh god, Flaco is going to play with this sooooo much the second he finds out. He definitely shares the same kink.

It'll become a bit of a pred/prey dynamic with him. He's quite feral when it comes to sex, but he's really gonna make sure he's towering over you at all times. Expect him to manhandle you a lot too, he'll pick you up and put you wherever he wants and there's nothing you can do about it!

Flaco is almost always the dom, but he will sub for you every so often, mostly because he gets the HOTS for a person half his size having so much power over him.

"You like having this power over me, don't you? Telling big Flaco what to do? C'mon, give me your worst."

But when it comes to fluffier things, Flaco loves to see you in his coat. That thing looks HUGE on you, you look like a very cozy burrito and he LOVES IT.

At least you'll never have to worry about being cold as this man can wrap his body around you easily, and he'll jump on the opportunity to do that. He loves having you snuggled up in his arms.

Kieran

Kieran doesn't play about with this kink so much during sex. He's not the kinkiest person out there, but he's similar to Flaco as he also really enjoys subbing for somebody half the size of him.

And when you get him in that state, he will do ANYTHING. He's just in so much awe and gets super into it, so if you want to use that to your advantage, go ahead.

Kieran also thinks the height difference is really cute. If he catches both of your reflections in a shop window, he'll tug your arm, getting you to stop so he can just admire that size difference.

"I-I know I always do this, I just think it's nice, alright? Can't a fella appreciate?"

Kieran also really likes the height difference because he can kiss your forehead without barely having to bend his legs, which is his favourite kind of kiss!!

Whenever you travel with Kieran, he'll put you in front of him on the saddle, his arms reaching around you to hold onto the reins. He loves that you don't need to duck down so he can see, you'll fit very comfortably against him as he rides. Don't be surprised if you feel something hard press against your ass whenever you two go down a bumpy path.

Micah

He's such a dick when it comes to your height difference. He'll use you as an armrest all the time, maybe rest his chin on your head when he's trying to be a little bit affectionate.

Micah NEEDS to see you in his leather coat. He needs to see the way his coat hem drags along the floor, and the way the sleeves look twice the size as they dip far below your knuckles.

"Ain't that the cutest thing? Might need to buy myself some more coats just so I can dress you up in them."

He won't admit it at first, but he really likes the way you fit so snuggly against his chest whenever he's spooning you. Micah is so weak for that!!

He adooooores having you on his lap, especially when you're straddling him during a heated makeout session. You've had to hold him back many times from just taking you on the table in the middle of camp, at night of course, because those makeout sessions get far too intimate to risk anyone seeing.

Micah's quite the slut for missionary because he can enjoy the way he towers over you, pinning you down to the bedroll, leaving marks along your neck as he either praises or scolds you, depending on what mood he's in.

Arthur

Oh my god, Arthur loves it.

He finds it a lot easier to manhandle you and will jump on the opportunity to pick you up and push you against the wall during sex.

I hope you have a praise kink too because you're gonna hear a lot of praise coming out of his mouth.

But when you two aren't having spicy times, Arthur loves to have you cuddled up in his lap at the campfire.

"Come over here, darlin'. Don't you wanna come cuddle up with me by the campfire?"

You'll fit so perfectly snug against him, almost using his body as a blanket as you lean your back into his chest. His arms will always be tucked around you, legs on either side of yours. You can tell when Arthurs getting tired because he'll rest his head on top of yours (and maybe doze off.)

He also enjoys having a bath with you because of the same reason; you'll fit so snugly against his chest as the two of you relax together, eventually helping each other bathe before straddling him and dirtying yourselves up again.

[maybe-your-left]

BITCH YOU KNOW IM GONNA ASK FOR SOME MORE ABOUT COLLEGE KYLO. I ALREADY CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. thank you. I love you.

Claire… Claire Claire Claire. thank you. I feel as though we get each other, almost a hive mind of sorts. College Kylo is the hottest thing ever, he’s a feral bad boy with a cock….that does not fucking quit. It's CANON. Let us muse over him… 

-----

Chemistry lab is honestly the worst, nothing makes sense and you’ve already taken it twice. So you should actually be a master at it, but nooooo. You can’t focus in the lab, not one fucking bit because your beautiful, lovely and utterly fuckable boyfriend is in it with you and he does NOT keep his hands to himself.

Today was no different, your lab instructor told the class that today you were to work on your end of the year presentation with your partner. Which should be fine, because you and Kylo definitely hadn’t been prepping for it. Every time you tried the both of you would end up throwing your clothes off and Kylo would be balls deep inside any hole he could get to. However, today you were to work on it in the library, lots of space for the two of you to actually work on the project. Once the instructor gave you all the good to go, you flashed a smile at Kylo. Grabbing your bag and his hand to make it to the library.

“What’s our project again?” Kylo groaned. He had spent the past 10 minutes trying to stick his hand down your pants, and now he was pouting because you kept ripping it away. He had his head banging on the table, trying to keep you from focusing. “Baby please stop that,” you sighed, rubbing your face with your hands, “I think we are doing it on the properties of slime?”

“Slime?” he whined.

“I don’t know!” You leaned back in your chair, pulling your hair up into a bun, “I never wrote it down, but I’m like 90% sure that's what it was.”

Kylo sat up, a red mark on his forehead from the table, “Where do we get slime?”

You rolled your eyes, scrolling on your laptop for useless information on the children's toy, “I’m not getting you slime, I know you’ll get it in your hair.”

Kylo scoffed, standing up from his chair and pacing the table. His hands flexing in and out of fists as he walked, he was irritated. You could feel it rolling off him in waves, the entire library could hear his angered breathing. He rounded the table, placing both hands on the back of your chair, “Can we take a break?”

You leaned your head back, laying it on his stomach, “Kylo we haven't even started.”

“But I’m bored,” Kylo growled, “And we haven’t had sex today and I’m done waiting.”

You scrunched up your forehead, opening your mouth to debate back to him. But you were cut off, Kylo’s hands hooking under your armpits and swiftly picking you up and hoisting you over his shoulder. He strode across the library, surveying as he stalked. Kylo kicked open a doorway, dropping you on the tile. “Ow,” you whined, attempting to get off your ass. Kylo’s head snapped up at your movement, “Stay right there, or else.”

“Okay,” you whispered, his eyes not leaving yours as he walked down the row of public toilets. You glanced around, realizing that Kylo had brought you into the men’s bathroom of the library. Leaning down to the floor, careful to not touch it with your cheek, you peeked down the stalls. There was no one inside which was a good thing. Kylo came back around the corner, his big hands already unzipping his jeans. He stared at you as he fished out his cock, eyes black with lust. His cock sprung out, hard and angry. Veins pulsing around the shaft and beads of precum leaking from the tip. He brought it to your lips, rubbing the head across your lips, “Come on baby, I know you want it.”

You took in a breath, eyes flickering between his cock and his face. You really wanted to suck it, it had been too long since you had fucked, but this was a bathroom. “Kylo…” you sighed, “Anyone could come in here…”

“I know.”

You gestured to the room, not understanding what he wanted. Crossing your arms as you glared at him. Kylo let out a sigh, “Fine,” he dropped his cock, kneeling down in front of you, “Be a brat.”

His hands shot out, grabbing your ankles and lifting you from the floor upside down. He pinned you to his body, hand snaking down to yank your leggings towards his face. “Kylo what the fuck,” you squealed. Legs attempting to kick him, but he had a tight grip on you, he continued to pull at your leggings. Ripping them off your right leg along with your underwear, he switched arms. Freeing his other arm so he could yank the rest off the left leg. Once he finished he set you back on the floor, hands now going for your shirt. You scrambled to your feet, “Baby what the hell,” you giggled. Kylo just smiled at you, moving forward with every backwards step. “You need to be quiet, anyone could hear you.”

He had backed you up to the sinks, your bare ass hitting the cool countertops. You gripped the edge, starting at Kylo who was now jerking his cock, eyes devouring your exposed pussy. Kylo closed his eyes, fisting himself harder and letting out soft moans. You couldn’t take it anymore, walking towards him and dropping to your knees, you swatted his hands away. Wrapping your lips around his cock, Kylo groaned above you. Hands threading into your hair, hips slowly thrusting into your warm mouth. You closed your eyes, dropping your jaw open the best you could. Glancing up at Kylo, his eyes were shut, his mouth agape. You tried to get as much as you could down your throat, slobbering up and down his shaft, hands working to free his aching balls from his jeans.

Kylo's head whipped down, yanking your head off of him. “I think I’m wet enough now,” he lifted you up, knees slotting in his elbows. Kylo looked down between you two, your pussy open for him to see. You had become painfully wet after sucking him off, snaking a hand down to his cock and lining his tip up with your core. He pulled you almost flush with his chest, slightly pushing inside you. Kylo had you in a death grip, his arms hooking under your knees and wrapping around your back. Long enough to trail your spine and grip onto the back of your shoulders. He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on your lips before whispering, “You better not scream baby.”

Your lips parted and suddenly Kylo shoved you down on his cock. Hard. Your pussy spread onto his thick cock, you let out a wail. Unprepared for his forceful thrusts, Kylo didn’t let you rest, his hips pulling out and immediately shoving back in. His grip on your shoulders allowing him to fuck into you hard and fast. You wrapped your arms around his neck, attempting to anchor yourself, but it was no use. Kylo was going too hard, cock tearing through you at each bounce. You poor pussy was squelching out wetness, the bathroom filling with his heavy pants and your shameless moans.

“You need to shut your whore mouth,” Kylo growled, cock still thrusting at a punishing pace.

You moaned, “I can’t-FUCK-please,” you brought in a deep breath trying to still Kylo by pressing on his shoulders, “You-you neEED-FUCK.” Another loud scream tore from your throat, he wasn’t letting up, pumping harder and harder every time. Kylo brought his lips to your neck licking and sucking on the sensitive flesh as he spread you. “Sloow, slowerrr please,” you managed to squeak out.

Kylo pulled off your neck, a smirk on his face. “I can’t ,” he grunted, “Your pussy feels too good. Fucking cum on me, please princess.”

He thrusted into you harder, your head lolling back. Body fully submitting to his movements, there was nothing else you wanted to do in the world, cumming on him was the only thing you wanted. “Rub your fuckin’ clit princess,” he growled, “Wanna feel you squeezing my cock.” Kylo sunk his teeth into your shoulder, earning another squeal. You snaked your hand down, rubbing furiously on your clit, each circle jolting your pussy. Clenching around Kylo's cock over and over, you were so close to cumming, each push into your cunt brought you closer and closer.

Kylo's' lips left your shoulder leaning his forehead against your temple, “Cum, cum for me.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, succumbing to the pleasure. Pussy clenching around him as you came. Barely taking in any breaths as your moaned into the air, Kylo had stilled inside you, breathing heavily into your ear. You felt him stop inside you, waiting for his cum to fill you, but it never happened. Raising your head, you saw Kylo was grinning at something behind you. You followed his gaze, landing on a poor shaking boy who had walked into the bathroom while you had cum on Kylo.

The guy's eyes were blown wide, darting between Kylo's predatory smile and your flushed face. Kylo cleared his throat, gathering his attention, “What’s wrong little man? Never seen a woman cum before?”

-----

*cough cough* 

well im hard as hell. 

thank you sweet baby bird, i love you. 

[moss-sauce]

chapter 2 babey!

    i honestly did not expect that drabble to get as much attention as it did and it was overwhelmingly positive and i may have cried happy tears so i must feed you all more barker and kitty kitty content.

[ao3] [ch 1, tumblr]

   The next day, he wakes up feeling just as awful as the previous day. The telltale nausea of a hangover is absent, thankfully, but the throbbing headache and dry mouth have returned. Blearily, he moves his arms to wipe his eyes, tensing when he feels pressure on his left. He struggles to remember the last night: passed out on the floor. Someone in his house. Someone in his house. 

    He jackknifes up, shoving away from whatever is at his side with force and tumbling over the side of the bed onto the floor once more. It takes a moment for him to gain his bearings, but his hands move reflexively for the knife he keeps stashed in the stand.

    Hastily, he fumbles around before the ‘intruder’ makes a sound. A quiet, confused trilling comes from the bed he had previously inhabited, instantly quelling all his fear and anxiety in one swift act.

    “Christ’s sake, girl,” he flops against the floor in relief. “You’re gonna kill me one’a these days.”

    Whiskey peeks over the side of the bed down at him, with a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. He swears he sees it.

    He gathers himself and stands again, wobbling on his feet. The previous evening comes back to him quickly: the floor, the “intruder”, the cat, the feeding, the--

    The feeding.

    “Why didn’t you say sumthin’?” he scolds her as he hurries to the tiny kitchen in his apartment. He’s rifling through his fridge for more strawberries when he hears Whiskey Kitty pad into the kitchen behind him. He almost reaches for the jug of milk inside before something stops him. 

    “You know milk actually ain’t good for cats?” Keplar chirps out of nowhere in the memory. “They’re actually lactose intolerant.”

    “Then why the fuck is it a stereotype?” he recalls himself retorting.

    His hands drift away from the jug to one of the liquor bottles on the side. A bottle of moonshine sing-songs to him and his addled mind temptingly. Barker reaches for it but stops when Whiskey Kitty rubs between his ankles to peruse the inside of the fridge herself. Almost knowingly, she looks up at him. You know that shit isn’t good for you.

    Heaving a sigh, he shoves the bottle aside and grabs a bottle of water instead. “Yeah, yeah…” he grouses. “Not like I haven’t done enough damage already…”

    As he turns away from the fridge and lets the door drift shut after a quick half-hearted kick with his foot, he notices Whiskey Kitty is already at her spot on the table waiting for him. Her fluffy tail is neatly tucked over her front paws as she licks her chops upon seeing the carton of berries once more.

    Barker collapses into the chair ungracefully, earning himself a wince as his tailbone collides with the hard seat uncomfortably. Whiskey Kitty pays no mind to his suffering, instead miaowing persistently at his still-in-place hands.

    “Alright, alright. Jeez,” he snorts. “You get one snack out of a guy and you think you own ‘im?”

    “Mah!” says Whiskey Kitty. He takes it as a confirmation.

    He can’t be bothered to cut the strawberries into pieces, so he takes one and sets it in front of Whiskey pointedly. While she looks down in confusion at it, he fetches one for himself, popping it into his mouth.

    “Work f’r it,” he mumbles through a full mouth.

    The persevering glint in Whiskey Kitty’s good eye gives him the hint that she’s up to the challenge.

    He’s halfway into reaching for another one when Whiskey sets to work. 

She peers at the strawberry with her good eye scrutinizingly.  She dabs her paw at it. She licks it. Whiskey tries to bite it, but it’s too big to fit into her mouth and rolls away. Not one to be deterred, she tries again. The same thing happens: her teeth don’t open wide enough to fit a chunk of the berry in her jaws, meaning it slips away once again. Barker moves his hand to grab it and rip a piece off, but she cuts him off by twisting herself so she’s between his target and his hand. 

“You’re gonna lose it,” he snorts. “Then what?”

Whiskey ignores him, too intent on her current task. He watches as she tries to figure out how to pin the thing between her front paws, as she tries to scoop it into her mouth with finesse, as her ears flatten in annoyance. She barely has a grasp on the berry when he finally intervenes.

“Not exactly dexterous, are we?” he comments as he rips the tip off and hands it to her in his palm. Whiskey eats it up quickly, daintily licking his roughened palm after. He rips the rest of the berry into bite-sized pieces, laying them out for the cat to slowly consume. He helps himself to more from the carton, a smirk playing on his lips.

By the time she deems herself finished, he’s entertained to see the red stain on her whiskers. He’s about to tease her about it when he notices his fingers are equally sticky and stained. “Neither of us can do what we want without makin’ a mess, eh?”

“Mm!” says Whiskey. Curtly, she hops down to the floor with a thud! and makes her way through the living room towards the door.

Barker deflates, despite himself. “You wanna go?”

Whiskey Kitty rubs against the door jamb before stretching tall and reaching for the handle. Her claws scrape against the weathered wood as she settles back down.

He almost wants to ask her, Are you sure? before he realizes that she is, in fact, a cat, and cannot respond in a way he’d understand. She’s still feral, Robert. Just ‘cause she spent the night doesn’t mean you own her now.

Hefting himself to his feet, he shuffles over to the door, nearly tripping on a discarded bottle on the way. Whiskey waits patiently for him at the door, trilling excitedly as his hand slaps the handle.

His brain (though, he knows, this is absolutely his heart he’s arguing with here) doesn’t want to open the door. It wants him to scoop her up and take her back to the bedroom. It wants him to make a nest out of old blankets for her so she’ll stay. It wants him to drop what he’s doing to go buy food and supplies for her, even though he knows the odds that she’ll stay are slim. 

Dejectedly and automatically, he pulls the door open. Whiskey gives a final brush against his calves before she sets off down the street. He watches her go in the pale morning light.

You’ve got it bad, Barker boy.

[buckyskorpion]

tess brain go hnnnnnnngh

hello this is only thing ive written in like a week and its for a new fic im SORRY but i thought i would post it anyway bc i have nothing else to offer hehe. it’s the beginning of my fic for laur’s writing challenge and boy oh boy has this morphed into it’s own beast. under the cut for those who dont care

“You know she’s not going to be happy about this,” Sam says.

“She’s never happy about anything,” Bucky replies. He flicks at a photograph pinned to your corkboard, your arm around some guy kissing your temple while you grin at the camera. There’s a bunch of photos just like it with the same dude; receding hairline, squinty blue eyes, tall but skinny in a vaguely malnourished way. One photo from what looks like a Halloween party catches his interest. You have a cardboard sign hanging over your shoulders to look like a square from the periodic table, and it reads ‘AH! The element of surprise’. Nerds, Bucky thinks with a scowl, and turns away from the corkboard.

Your office is nothing like he thought it would be, and that aggravates him. It’s hardly surprising - most things about you aggravate him. You have statues of Star Wars characters on your desk, a dying pot plant in the corner, books on quantum mechanics and Deutsch propositions left open and scribbled in on the coffee table. There’s too much personality left carelessly lying around, and none of it is yours. Bucky can’t wait to get the hell out of here.

Sharon walks in first, closing the door softly behind her and shoots them both a grimace. “She’s coming, but, uh- she’s not happy about this.”

“See?” Sam says, gesturing to Sharon as if she’s proving his point when Bucky agreed with him. He turns to face Sam lounging in the armchair on the other end of the room and flicks him the finger.

“Let’s try and contain this situation, shall we?” Sharon says. She’s nervous, Bucky notes, moving to stand in the middle of the room and smoothing down non-existent creases in her slacks. She refuses to look at Bucky, and that gives him a bad feeling. “Just listen to her yell for a bit. Bucky - let us do the talking, ok?”

Sharon is still not looking at him. Bucky nods instead of replying, baiting her to glance over, which she does. She trains her eyes on his nose and gives him a frankly insulting smile of recognition, immediately turning back to the door as her face drops. Bucky’s bad feeling intensifies.

Before he can try and figure out why one of the best Agents of SHIELD and former CIA operative can’t seem to pretend everything is fine, the door to the office slams open. It bounces back, smacks you in the shoulder as you storm into the room, and you push it back again with an aggravated shout. Sam rolls his lips together to smother his laugh but Bucky doesn’t bother. You turn a murderous glare onto him, and the shouting begins.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” You march up to Sharon and jab a finger in her chest, forcing her back a step. “You gave me this job, why the hell are you coming in here fucking it all up?”

“We have some new developments,” Sharon says, keeping her voice even like she’s trying to placate a feral dog. It does not have the desired effect.

“Ever thought of picking up the phone?” you shout, throwing your hands wide. “Sending a text? A letter? A carrier pigeon? Anything but showing up to my six month long deep cover mission with two of the most recognisable faces on the fucking planet! Really, Sharon? Captain America?”

“She’s right, y’know,” Sam says, smiling through Sharon’s warning glare. “My face is pretty unforgettable.”

“It’s good to see you, Sam” you say, gritting your teeth like it physically pains you to derail your tirade for some niceties. “You should’ve left Barnes at home.”

“I offered to stay in the car,” Bucky says. He smiles, all teeth, and you poke your tongue out at him.

“Do you know how difficult it has been to be stuck here playing dumb with this bunch of incels for six fucking months?” You say, spinning away from Sharon now to open the small fridge in the corner. You pull out one of those mini bottles of whiskey and down half of it, baring your teeth at the sting. “Please don’t make it all for nothing or I will kill you all, and then myself.”

“The timeline has moved up,” Sharon says. She shakes her head when you offer her the rest of your whiskey and you shrug, chugging the remaining half. Sam makes an offended noise and you grab another one, chucking it towards him as he makes grabby hands. Bucky doesn’t even bother asking.

“That’s funny, because as far as I remember it’s me who sets the timeline,” you say. “And I say it’s staying exactly the fucking same.”

“Look, I know this has been a rough mission-“

“Rough? I am watching a bunch of psychopathic virgins reinvent time travel at a snails pace whilst entertaining their neo-nazi purist ideals and I haven’t been able to physically hurt any of them? Rough is an understatement.” you say.

“Sounds terrible,” Bucky says with an eye roll. Everyone in the room turns to glare at him.

“I’d like to see you spend one day with these scumbags,” you seethe, stepping forward with your teeth bared.

“Something tells me it can’t be any worse than having my brain fried by Nazi’s, sweetheart,” Bucky says. You hate when he condescends you like that, and Bucky knows it. You make to throw the empty mini-whiskey bottle at him but Sharon steps in-between you two, holding her hands up with a disappointed frown.

“Bucky, you were supposed to leave the talking to us,” Sharon says. She turns to you and adds, “And you would do well to remember that I’m your boss, agent. I give the orders.”

“Aw, let them fight,” Sam says from the armchair. “It’ll be fun.”

“Enough,” Sharon says. She claps her hands together to regain control of the room, but it’s tenuous. To you, she says, “We need you to speed up __________’s research. Find a way, I don’t care how, but in a month they need to figure out Stark’s theory of time travel.”

“Excuse me?” You glance between Sharon, Sam, and Bucky like someone can offer an explanation but no one does. Incredulously, you say, “I’ve been here slowing them down so they don’t figure it out, and now you want me to- speed them along? Give them the answer?”

“Yes,” Sharon says. Her eyes are saying something else to only you and Bucky aches to know what it is. “Sam and Bucky have come across some new intel that requires the _____ to finish their machine. We need you to help them get there in one month’s time.”

“Am I allowed to know this new, game-changing intel?” you ask. There’s a muscle ticking in your jaw that looks set to explode any second.

“Only that there is someone who is very interested in buying into what the ________ come up with,” Sharon says. “When you’ve completed your mission, you will be fully briefed.”

“Oh, great,” you say with an eyeroll. “I love ambiguity.”

“You’re a spy,” Sam says, staring at you. “That’s literally your entire life.”

“Can we focus?” Sharon asks, shooting Sam a warning glare to which he holds his hands up in a Gesture of innocence. To you, she asks, “Do you understand your mission?”

“No,” you say simply, turning away from Sam to have a silent conversation with Sharon that involves a lot of eyebrow movements. Softly, as if no one else in the room can hear you, you say, “You know why I can’t let them figure it out.”

Sam and Bucky share a look while the two spies in the room have some kind of telepathic argument. It doesn’t seem to last long. Once again, the bad feeling in Bucky’s gut returns when you look to the floor and don’t make eye-contact with any of them again. As per usual in Bucky’s life there are things left unsaid, omitted by silence, and he itches to know what has your shoulders rounding and the fight you always fling around like confetti, dying out as quickly as it flared up.

“The goal remains the same,” Sharon says, “but as I said, the timeline has changed. We will see you in a month or so, agent.”

“I guess you will,” you say. Sam claps you on the shoulder as he walks out and Sharon hands you a dossier with your new mission parameters. Bucky always feels awkward with goodbyes, especially with people he doesn’t particularly like and who don’t like him in return. You glare at your toes and say, “Don’t even think about touching me, Barnes.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks past you and adds, “Don’t fuck it up.”

“You’ll know if I do,” you bite back, just as the door closes behind him. Your words follow him down the hall, past the laboratories blinking with dull red security lights and the fire exit door they left chocked open when they broke in. He doesn’t like the way that sits in his brain. It clunks around, tinkering with things he’d rather leave untouched.

Spies, Bucky thinks. They always find a way to get inside his head.

[cabotinageking]

(this is entirely @killingsim ‘s fault. i’m going to have to redo my verses just to add this.  the context is- remnant verse? remnant au. this is so cursed and feral im so sorry)

Footsteps echoed across cold concrete. The whirr of machines could be heard under the pulse of pop music. If you listened closely, beyond that, you might hear a giggle echo through the grimy air, light feet dancing over the rooftops, the pop of anything from soda bottles to explosives. 

It meant one thing, and that one thing was good for absolutely nobody. 

DICE were out.

A series of city maps and pipelines were spread over a desk in the center of an empty restaurant- a building that was bustling during the day, during the evening, but in the dead of night was empty- except for the overly dramatic candlelight flickering over the plans made inside, for the clowns crawling over it like trussed-up gargoyles. A spread of delicate desserts laid out on a nearby table, decorated with confectionery glitter. The leader of the group grabbed a strawberry puff and stuffed it in his mouth as he surveyed the maps again, ignoring the muffled noises coming from behind him. 

“You said he took the bait, right?”

A girl who was by no means old enough to be out this late, let alone in the sort of company she was keeping, nodded once, an almost dreamy smile settling on her face. “We probably have a few hours,” she said softly, flicking a curled ponytail over her shoulder- pink butterfly hairclips contrasting with the blood soaked into her straightjacket uniform.

What sort of monster would drag children into a mess like this? 

Kokichi leaned over absent-mindedly to ruffle her hair, a gesture that might have been sweet in any other context- but this was no kindly older brother, just a leader and his adoring followers, crowding closer, eager for approval. “Excellent,” he said, withdrawing his hand to clap, to spin around with a twirl of his cloak that threatened to blow out the elegant candles. “Well, knowing my beloved Saihara-chan, anything could happen! So, group A- positions, now. Waiting at the ready.” Chin tipped to the side, for just a moment, that childish smile flickered into something darker. “You won’t let me down, will you?”

Hastily tripping over themselves to comply, the group scattered over the building; some slipping through windows to climb onto the roof, some darting through the roofbeams, some tucking themselves into nooks and crannies or hanging from the outside walls. DICE was made up of kids and runaways, people easy to induct and difficult to protect- but Kokichi wasn’t just any leader of strays. Once upon a time, he used to run from the police, escape by the skin of his teeth, struggle to keep ten teenagers housed and fed and happy. He used to set up city-wide pranks, guerilla performances, art projects that were still standing even now.

He thought a little bigger, these days.

“Group B, collect the machines. I want the explosives set up with time to spare. Get to it!” He clapped his hands twice, cheery and sweet, and watched the rest of them scurry off to get to business. Left on his own, he paced through the center of the restaurant, humming along to the music he was playing, picking strawberries from a glass bowl and sipping champagne mixed with cheap soft drinks. They don’t tell you this, but supervillains end up with a lot of downtime on their hands when it comes to waiting for their pin-striped heroes to show up. Kokichi usually used this time to plot ahead for future events- Saihara-chan was just so picky about chasing him, so Kokichi liked to give him several leads a day- even if he usually only ended following a few throughout the week, when Kokichi directly interfered in his cases. He complained about the inconvenience a lot, but how else was Kokichi supposed to get his attention when he was always ignoring his other invitations?

Trailing his fingers through the mix of berries, Kokichi finally glanced up when the muffled sounds started to rise above the music. He raised an eyebrow, swinging away from the table to bend at the waist and stare at his guest with all the cheerful invitation he could muster. 

Center-stage, middle of the restaurant, the trapped man seemed to have woken up enough to start to struggle, trying to raise his voice above the tape on his mouth, pull away from the ticking devices strapped to his limbs. Kokichi gave him one of his brightest smiles, tucking his arms behind his back. “Look’s like sleeping beauty’s up and present with us,” he called to the others, walking over to stop right in front of the man. Leaning down, he flicked him on the forehead, letting out a little laugh. “Bet you’re pretty confused, huh? Well, I have good news and bad news.”

Raising a finger, he tilted his head to the side. “The good news is that I’m not your original kidnapper- or even associated with her. In fact, depending on what my beloved detective is currently up to, she might not be a problem for you anymore.” 

The smile on his face sharped, darkness crossing over his eyes. “The bad news is that I’m much, much scarier.”

Immediately, the man began struggling again, tugging at his restraints, trying to make guttural noises in the back of his throat. Kokichi sighed and turned away, his voice similar to a disappointed child’s. “If he doesn’t shut up, someone cut out his tongue,” he complained, twirling a finger through his hair. “He’s ruining the atmosphere.” Sure, he was usually in the mood for screams that died into pathetic whimpering, for the look in someone’s eyes as blood dripped from their ears, for the ways they tried to bargain with him as he played games to win their fingers. But tonight was supposed to be special- he was in such a nice restaurant, and he’d got a really good game planned, and he was hoping it would all be- dare he say- romantic. Just him, and his detective, one of them holding a knife, dancing over a chessboard- maybe if he was lucky, Saihara would win the game and decide to linger anyway…. Maybe he’d make an attempt on Kokichi’s life just for him to slip away at the last moment…. It was going to be perfect. 

Unfortunately, someone trying to whine past their duct-tape gag was going to ruin that atmosphere. Kokichi wanted this hostage to stay delicate and fragile in the center of the room, like a good damsel in distress. If he had to sedate him, that was fine, but he’d prefer he were conscious to watch the dance between villain and hero, to desperately cheer on his perceived savior, before Saihara crossed over to collect him… Hey, there was a reason Kokichi liked him so much.

“Boss?”

Stirring from his daydream, Kokichi reached for a knife and flipped it from hand to hand. “Mm? What is it? A message from my beloved?” He batted his eyelashes.

“It’s from… the Warriors of Hope, boss.” The boy fidgeted in some kind of eager anxiety- he must have been about the same age as Kokichi, but had at least a foot of height on him, which was probably why his posture was so bowed.

Kokichi waved a hand carelessly, turning away to pick at the bowl of strawberries again. “I said I would visit them this weekend. I’ve got important business tonight.” And he did- it was so tricky to get to Saihara’s cases before the detective himself did. Having a live victim here was a rare opportunity, and Kokichi was excited to see what the detective would do for the right to reclaim the man. 

He couldn’t see the boy’s face anymore, too busy gazing dreamily at the berry juice staining his fingers. 

“Monaca specifically requested you tonight.”

The smile slid off his face like butter. Red dripped from his hand. 

“She said you could send some of us, instead, if you wanted.”

Kokichi raised his hand to his mouth and sucked the juice off thoughtfully. It tasted oddly metallic. 

“I guess I miss those little scamps, too. Tell everyone to get back to the base,” he sighed. “It’s no fun if I can’t watch. Just blow the place in the next hour and run some of the videos for Saihara.” He considered his options as he bit at his own skin. Rearranging his face into another signature smile, he twirled around once more and walked over to pat the boy on the shoulder condescendingly. 

“Make sure you stay in touch with me, okay? Just leave everything as it is and go home. But let me know if anything weird happens- who knows if Saihara-chan might finally snap and decide he wants me dead for real.” Kokichi swooned, holding a hand to his forehead and dramatically falling back, forcing the poor boy to lunge forward and catch him before he hit the ground. “I’ll have to come back immediately if he tries anything…. I can’t risk missing my chance for him to finally catch me!” 

The boy stuttered fevered agreements as he set Kokichi back on his feet and fixed his cloak, looking away from him in nervous adoration. That was fine. It gave Kokichi a moment to think ahead.

It wasn’t Saihara he was worried about.

[shadeofazmeinya]

"Easy, easy there" with Monster AU

(im not exactly what you meant by monster au, so i went with @sorcererinslytherin ‘s supernatural fahc au. which features witch!michael and werewolf!jeremy. this ended kinda long so i hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: torture, gore, body horror. I tried to go a bit dark but the worst is done to nameless rival crew members)

words 2k+

“Jeremy,” Michael whispers, trying to lean over to touch him. Nudge him, comfort him. Trying to get a better look. But the bindings on his arms and feet keep him stuck in the chair he’s been dumped into. The ropes have been digging into his skin at this point, rubbing it raw though he doesn’t stop straining. Bruises and cuts litter his body from an overzealous rival crew that seemed far too excited to have gotten their hands on some Fakes.

“Jeremy, wake up. I could really use that fucking wolf strength of yours now,” Michael says, a little louder. “We probably don’t have much fucking time before they come back. I know you’re breathing. I know you’re not asleep, you piece of shit,” he says this but his voice cracks a bit, getting louder as his heart twists. “Jeremy, come on.”

Jeremy stays slumped in his chair with his head hanging, only a faint growl being given in response. He’s been like this since they were brought in. Somewhere since being knocked out and brought here, something happened. Michael wants to break free, get him out, save him from whatever the fuck is happening to him. But he isn’t able to do anything, pathetically pinned in place and removed from his magic since they took his wand. He could try to create a fire or something, like he once did chaotically before he could focus his magic. But he couldn’t afford to hurt Jeremy further.

Michael’s interrupted as the door slams open, several figures stepping into the bare, concrete floor and plastic sheets under them. The two of them have been brought to some abandoned warehouse, most likely a distance out of the city, from Michael’s guess. A fucking stereotypical setting, no imagination, but it does leave them unfortunately isolated.

The rival crew files in, an ugly bunch of tough looking fuck-heads who glare and smirk down at them. One dumps a bag on a small, metal table and rolls it open to reveal an array of torture devices Michael recognizes from Trevor’s own collection. They had some idea of what they were doing. A promise of more pain to come for Michael. But Michael can hold out. He has to, for Jeremy.

“The fuck did you do to him?” Michael snarls to the guy who steps forward, putting on a pair of leather gloves. The man has a permanent smirk, a few scars crossing his cheeks and arms. Definitely a rough looking dude, but Michael doesn’t give a fuck. He knows he’s tougher. While he talks he continues pulling at his binds, trying to work a small break in the ropes he can build off of. He needs to get them out of here. If he can pounce this guy, hopefully he can get to his gun and take out the others too.

“You think we don’t know who you are?” the man says smoothly as he hovers over the tools, looking for which one to pluck. “What you are?”

Michael’s heart quickens, but he keeps a neutral, furious expression. They shouldn’t know about them. They can’t know about them.

“We need to dampen his strength. Silver would’ve helped but we didn’t have that nearby when we grabbed you. But, lucky for your puppy, we had a little wolfsbane on hand,” he says, mouth twisting into a disgusting smirk.

“You fucking poisoned him?” Michael twists in his chair, wishing to be able to wrap his hands around that smug neck and snap it.

“We just needed to keep him more… docile while we do our work.  Which we’re going continue, since I still have a few more questions to ask.”

Another growl from Jeremy, a twitch in his chair. It’s hard to tell how aware he is, behind the pain clearly raging through his system. His hands curl, shaking as his eyes are screwed tight. The tips of his claws threatening to come out as his muscles spasm.

“Well its your lucky day, motherfucker,” Michael glares back at the scarred man. “Because I’m not telling you shit.”

“We’ll have you singing in no time,” the man chuckles darkly, stepping forward. He’s holding something from the table that Michael doesn’t recognize until it sparks on one end, electricity crackling in the air.

Michael doesn’t get any warning before the cattle prod is being plunged to his chest. Michael grits his teeth, stifling a scream that chokes him as the energy painfully contracts every muscle at once. The world flashes white, nothing exists in the moment but agony and torment. He wants to howl, but he can’t let them know they’re hurting him. He won’t give them the fucking satisfaction.

The rivals don’t make it easy, shocking him for longer and longer periods of time. Michael groans and twitches with the shocks, as the pain seizes every muscle, every thought until it passes. Michael’s left panting after every prod though unable to catch his breath before he’s being filled with convulsions. But he doesn’t give them a fucking word. Not while there’s still hope for the others to find them, for Jeremy to be ok.

So long as the attention and torture is on him instead of Jeremy, he can bare it.

The man pauses at one point, throwing the rod across the room in frustration. Michael gets his own smug satisfaction hearing it clatter to the ground after he’s refused yet another question about his crew’s whereabouts or where their base is. Though he can’t gloat fully as he hunches over, gasping for breath. He glances to Jeremy, who’s sweating from his own battle. Looking even more sickly with pale skin and sagging weight.

“You can’t do this forever,” the Scar Face says, stepping towards Michael. He grabs his hair, painfully yanking his head back. “You’re going to give up at some point. You or your fucking-“

A rumble sounds through Jeremy, bursting as he twists more violently, wildly. The wood chair groans under his weight and force. Michael can see hair starting to grow, muscles straining and getting larger. The first signs of what’s to come, bursting out even if he seemed to be trying to hold back. Finally, Jeremy raises his head. His eyes, deep, boring, look up to face their captures. His irises glow a dark, blood red.

Michael’s blood runs cold. He knows what that means. And knows it’s too late.

Michael hasn’t been witness to many of Jeremy’s shifts. Jeremy is often alone during full moon shifts, running off towards the more isolated places in their territory so he doesn’t put the rest of them at risk. From what he knows, it’s always painful and agonizing when it’s forced from him. And Jeremy has little to no control over the Wolf.

The transformation now happens all at once, terrifying as it’s ripped through him. A low, deep growl racks through Jeremy as his arms elongate and grow larger, claws ripping apart the bindings and chair. His teeth sharpen, jaw bursting and lengthening as he roars. He falls over to the ground around the splintered wood, still growing, shifting with breaking and snapping bones.

Michael would smile, laugh and goad to tell this other crew how fucked they are. But there is only fear in him. Even with his magic, he’s pretty sure he’d be helpless against a full transformed Wolf. Tied up and wounded, he’s the one who’s fucked.

A gunshot echoes in the room, a wild miss, but it’s all it takes to set the Wolf off. It pounces in a blink, teeth digging into a man’s neck and ripping the throat out in one fluid motion. Michael ducks from the splatter of blood that coats the floor as the beast jumps to another man, claws and teeth out

Then there is only the Wolf’s snarl and ripping, yelling and cut-off screams from the crew that doesn’t stand a chance against the power of a feral werewolf. In minutes, the room is silent. Michael hadn’t realized he closed his eyes until he’s carefully blinking them open to a world of carnage and ruin. The floor is coated in blood, bodies ripped to pieces and tossed about. And standing there, the Wolf, panting. It’s fur matted, teeth dripping as he muzzles over the last body, still working to make sure it’s dead.

There’s another growl as it lets the body plop from its mouth. And then the Wolf turns to him.

“Jeremy,” Michael says, trying to make his voice calm though it still shakes. He swallows, hands starting to work at the rope faster, harder. “It’s me. You know me, Jeremy.”

The Wolf sniffs, paws as big as Michael’s head trudging through the gore. The claws click on the floor, tail flicking with its ears pressed to the back of his head. It starts moving towards him, teeth barred. Michael’s heart sinks.

“Easy,” Michael says, trying to move back, feet yanking on the binds. “Easy there. Don’t do this. Jeremy, I know you’re in there. Listen to me.”

The Wolf doesn’t stop though, coming right up to him. His nose comes right up to Michael and he can hear every sniff. Michael can feel his breath; the rancid smell hot against his neck. He flinches, straining to keep him throat away from him though he knows he has little luck. The chair starts to tip as Michael leans back, hands straining as they are losing feeling, close to breaking.

“Jeremy,” Michael breathes, voice hitching. “Jeremy, fucking don’t-“

Michael’s eyes screw tight, expecting pain, dreading it. A horrible death. But then, something warm and wet swipes across this face instead. Michael blinks, turning to see the Wolf’s golden, brown eyes staring back at him. There’s gives a low whine as he bumps his head into his chest.

Michael doesn’t cry. But it gets pretty damn close.

“Jer,” he says softly, dropping his forehead to rest against his. “Thank fucking god, Lil J. Can you get me out? We need to get the fuck out of here.”

He gives Michael’s face another lick before pulling off. Michael feels the ropes giving way next, flopping onto the floor with one flick of claws. Michael shakes his arms, stretching and rubbing the raw skin. He makes quick work of the bindings on his legs before pushing himself to stand. The second he does so, the world sways violently. He stumbles, about to fall, before he feels fur pressing to his side, catching him.

Michael hisses through his teeth as he adjusts back to his feet. The pain was stronger now that he was standing, the ghost of the cuts and electricity still fraying every nerve. He glances down to see Jeremy watching him and Michael can read the concern even in this form. The Wolf gives another whine, bumping his head to his shoulder. “I’m alright,” Michael says, brushing through his fur. “Just needed a second. C’mon, let’s find my fucking wand and call the others. Let’s get the fuck home.”

Jeremy huffs, but keeps besides him to let him lean on him as he limps out. Michael can feel shivers run through him, the poison hasn’t finished its course yet. It pulls a frown to Michael’s face, but they can’t do anything about it now. They just have to get out and get home. The others will know what to do then. Or at least Michael can get to his healing potions to help.

They walk out through the horrific scene, stepping around devastated bodies from those who dared to hurt them. Michael finds and plucks his wand from one of the bodies. He adds one insulting kick to the torso, spitting on the man who cut and electrocuted him, who poisoned Jeremy. The lump of meat barely moves but Michael doesn’t fucking care as he grips his wand tightly and staggers away.

Michael sets the place on fire after they step out, the flames quickly encompassing the building. But pressed to his werewolf’s side, shoes covered in blood and body sore and aching, Michael has never felt safer.

[queen-parasoul]

So um... Not sure if you take requests for stories or not, but if you do, I had a random idea where Ms. Fortune somehow ends up finding Carol and taking her in after the rejection from her parents, and Carol breaks down sobbing due to the constant pain and wanting her parents, and Nadia comforts her by just holding her and purring like a mama cat trying to calm down her kitten. If you're interested, I'd love to see this done as a short story. inb4 im sending this to the wrong guy

“…And that’s about it.” Nadia finished. “She hasn’t tried to kill me since I found her, so I think she’s fine for now.”

Irvin leaned against the wall and processed her account. The silence of the now closed Dak’kull Dubu gave them plenty of privacy to talk and peace to consider the night’s events. Even their unexpected guest was silent, though they couldn’t help but keep some attention on her.

Across the room, a teenage girl with messy brown hair sat hunched at a table. She had changed out of her strange clothing into a loose t-shirt and pants Minette had on hand, though the grim leather mask was still firmly affixed to her face. The fan of blades attached to her tailbone with a spine-like chord lay motionless on the floor, and the adults could see patches of scars and dark veins beneath her skin even from a distance.

Irvin furrowed his brow. “Was there anything else she mentioned besides Filia and Lab 0?”

“Not much that made sense. Something about a ‘Brain Drain’ and a connection being lost, whatever that means.” She shook her head. “I think she’s purr-obably going to have a hard time adjusting back to a normal life. All I did was startle her and she almost turned me into a pin cushion.”

“Maybe this ‘Filia’ girl can help. Yu Wan said he knew her, didn’t he?”

“He thinks so at least. A girl named Filia stayed here a few nights ago with an old friend of his. Hopefully it’s the same one we’re looking for.”

“Hopefully.” Irvin put his hat back on. “I plan on following this lead on Lab 0. I’ve got an old friend from Lab 8 who might have some answers, and a friend of his who can help her with her, uh…medical problems.”

“You think a doctor can fix this?”

Irvin smiled. “Trust me, he’s a miracle worker. Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

He tipped his hat and exited through the front door. Keeping a calm smile on her face, Nadia strolled over to Carol, careful to make her presence known to avoid getting a surprised needle shoved through her torso.

“Hey. How are you doing?”

“I’m…okay.” She replied, the rasp and gloom in her voice not exactly convincing.

“You need anything else to eat?”

“No thanks.”

Right. She’d demolished the complimentary meal Yu Wan had whipped up. No surprise, you could have seen her ribs through the outfit she’d been wearing.

“Don’t worry about a thing. You can stay here until we get you back to your parents.”

“My…parents?”

“Yeah, of course.”

She lifted her head, staring at the wall. “My parents…ran away from me.”

Nadia’s ears dropped. She should have known it could only get worse.

“They were scared of me.” Carol continued quietly. “They called me a monster.”

Fighting to maintain her smile, Nadia tried kept positive. “I’m sure they just, uh…didn’t recognize you.”

“Of course they didn’t. And of course they didn’t listen. Just look at me.”

Nadia did, and found Carol touching the tightly stitched material of her mask.

“We’ll get that thing off your face in no time.” She reassured. “Then they can’t paw-ssibly not recognize you.”

The younger girl didn’t respond, and Nadia shifted uncomfortably. She always fell back on wordplay to lighten the mood, but now it seemed inappropriate when she read the room. Unfortunately, puns lightened her mood too, and without them for support she felt strangely lost.

Desperately, she changed the topic. “Do you remember anything else? You mentioned someone named Filia.”

“Yeah.” Carol said, almost fondly. “She’s a friend of mine. We go to the same school together. I think I saw her during the Skullgirl attack, but it’s hard to remember.”

“Anything else?”

“Um…I remember Dog.”

“A dog? What was its name?”

“Dog.”

Nadia quirked an eyebrow but went along with it. “Alright.”

“I remember Samson too.”

The name rang a bell. If it was the same friend Yu Wan had mentioned then maybe they had a chance of finding Filia and fixing this.

“And…I remember the Medici.”

Nadia’s triumph sunk to the pit of her stomach. That name rang a bell too. “Uh-huh?”

“I thought Lab 0 took me, but Valentine-” She winced at the sound of that name, “She told me it was the Medici. But she took me to the lab and then…I couldn’t move and it started hurting. Then I was moving but not always on my own and then I was fighting and it just kept hurting-”

Her voice suddenly became harsh and angry as sharp goosbumps erupted across her arms. Nadia flinched back, hair standing up on end, but Carol shivered hard and forced her skin to settle. The two waited for the raw echoes to dissipate.

“I miss them so much.” Carol muttered. “I just want them to know it’s me.”

Nadia stood by helplessly. No food, no puns, no mercy with this girl. She wondered if she could nab Yu Wan from the kitchen or Minette from upstairs for help, but she felt like that was giving up. She knew what it meant for the world to give up on her - twice, in fact - and she wasn’t about to do that to someone else.

A thought crossed her mind, and she blurted it out. “Do you want a hug?”

Carol stopped sniffling and looked up at Nadia whose arms were awkwardly half-extended to her. The room was silent aside from the muffled waters of Little Innsmouth. Nadia briefly wondered if this was her third strike out.

“Yeah.”

Surprised but thankful, Nadia pulled a chair closer and sat beside her. Arms still clinging to herself, Carol slowly leaned over then suddenly fell into her. Nadia recoiled, but quickly steadied herself and gingerly wrapped her arms around her, being careful not to touch any sore looking areas. Once she’d determined she was safe, Carol let herself whimper and shudder that built into unbridled crying. It went on for longer than either could count as her pent-up grief flooded the night.

After a while, Carol noticed a soft strange rumble reverb against her head. The low hum was enough to distract her and cause breaks in her sobbing. It oddly reminded her of the long car rides from the beach her parents would take her on, nostalgia that soothed her without reminder of her current predicament.

She finally realized, “Are you purring?”

“Yeah, I’m a cat Feral after all. It comes naturally. Does it bother you?”

“…No.” Carol wrapped her arms around Nadia’s torso. “I like it.”

Both finally relaxed for the first time since the Skullgirl attack, or perhaps even longer than that. Carol reminisced in the kinder memories of her home, breath only occasionally hitching while Nadia mentally made plans to visit the makeshift graves of her Fishbone family. They always made sure things were alright, and so would she.

In all the time since they had been taken from her, it had never crossed her mind there could be anyone as broken and stitched up as she was. But there was, and nearly being skewered was worth it to find her.

[airanke]

“And I know exactly what I’m for, to hurt and destroy and nothing more.” and/or “Does it ever get lonely?” for Shionne ^^

Shion x Jeanne“And I know exactly what I’m for, to hurt and destroy and nothing more.”“Does it ever get lonely?”

UMM I SUFFERED.

@druidickats

The room was entirely trashed: desk broken in half, chairs laying in pieces, and the bed slumped to one side. Covers had been shredded, and curtains had been torn down from their rack.

Jeanne stood in the doorway, stunned - and a yelp escaped her when she heard the mirror in the bathroom shatter, followed by an animalistic snarl.

A vase that had been in the bathroom came flying out next, where it broke against the wall. The pieces tinkled down to the floor, and the noble thought that perhaps it would be in her best interest to leave Shion be.

After all, he stalked out of the bathroom, eyes red with rage, mouth twisted in a snarl. He wore his dark armor, accented by bright blues, and his hands shook with undiluted anger.

But something kept Jeanne tethered there, at the door, and when Shion noticed that someone was there and snapped his furious gaze to her, she wondered if it wasn’t perhaps because of the tears streaming down his face.

It had been a long while since Jeanne had seen Shion snap like this, ever since the war of the thorns occurred. He’d fallen off, and though she’d done what she could to track him, even enlisting her brother’s help, Shion had proven to be a difficult person to pin down.

Until Ammon had narrowed down his location to this run down, clearly abandoned inn, right in the heart of Drustvar.

“What do you want,” Shion snapped, tone flat despite his choice of language.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she replied, digging her fingers into the doorframe, “what happened?”

“None of your fucking business,” he spat, stalking over to the bed, “leave.”

“After I just found you again? I don’t think so,” Jeanne hissed, stepping into the room, and closing the door behind her. Ammon had insisted he stay downstairs, just in case. He had first hand experience with how dangerous Shion could be, and he’d be damned if he let anything happen to his sister.

A pillow smacked against the wall next to her head. She froze.

Sure, pillows were soft, and mostly harmless, but Shion had thrown it with enough force that if he had intended to hit her with it, it surely would have made her lose her balance.

“Leave, Jeanne.”

“Make me, Shion.”

Some taunts were truly meant to be reserved for other situations. Shion’s foot slammed against the door, splintering the wood, and his hand wrapped around Jeanne’s throat. His eyes were wide, and feral, and reminded her too much of a worgen gone utterly mad.

“How does your brother like spiders?”

Jeanne shook, wrapping both hands around Shion’s wrist.

“How ‘bout ones that are on fire?”

“Shion,” she managed, fighting tooth and nail against shifting into a worgen, because that would get her nowhere, “please. This isn’t you.”

“This is me,” he snarled, and his grip around her neck fluctuated between being tight and loose.

“Berserking like this isn’t healthy for you, and you know it,” Jeanne countered. She moved her hands from his wrist to cup  his face, and apparently, his tears weren’t stopping either, “you’re going to get sick.”

Shion’s expression was twisted between rage and despair. Jeanne wished she’d known what had caused this shift in him. She wished there was something she could have done to stop whatever had happened.

She didn’t like seeing him like this.

Jeanne’s sensitive ears picked up on a racket downstairs, and Shion’s eyes only shimmered more brightly with that sick red. The despair in his expression was entirely quashed by the rage.

He shifted his hand from her neck to her collar, and threw her roughly away from the door.

Shion proceeded to draw his leg back and kick it open, and Erasmus came charging through along the ceiling, hissing and spitting. The massive lava spider dragged someone along with him.

“Ammon!” Jeanne cried, and Shion snapped various commands so rapidly in Zandali that she didn’t catch what he was saying.

Erasmas, however, deposited Ammon on the bed. He ‘oomphed’, and promptly rolled off the bed and onto the floor.

“Ammon,” Jeanne hurried over to the bed while Erasmus scurried over to Shion. He climbed up onto Shion’s back, where he perched on the hunter’s shoulder.

Jeanne helped Ammon to his feet, “I’m ‘aight! Didn’ bite me or nothin’, jus’ didn’t seem ta like me tryna’ get away from ‘im.”

“This is why I told you, you shouldn’t stay,” Jeanne hissed. Ammon raised a brow at her, obviously confused that she was speaking in Darnassian. Shion was muttering under his breath, and when Jeanne looked back at him, he had his hand up to Erasmus’ mouth. The spider was gnawing on said hand.

“Shion– hey!”

The hunter had turned on his heel and started down the stairs, muttering furiously in demonic now. Ammon grabbed Jeanne’s shoulder.

“Jeanne, maybe you should–”

“NO!” she cut him off, and stormed in the direction Shion had gone, “after how long it took us ta find ‘im? No. No, I’m not leaving him, no’ again.”

Ammon frowned, but he followed her - and then both moved more quickly when the sounds of scuffling reached their ears. Erasmus was skittering about on the ceiling while Shion was grappling with a forsaken assassin.

Jeanne would have gone to help, but Ammon pulled her back. Frustrated, she yelled, “what do you think you’re for, Shion!?”

“I know exactly what I’m for!” he snarled. He pulled out his gun while the assassin struggled to get out of his grip.

“To hurt, and destroy, and nothing, MORE!”

He shoved his gun down the Forsaken’s throat and - to Jeanne’s horror - pulled the trigger. He threw both gun and body away from himself, and the assassin hit the wall with a sickening thud before dropping to the floor, lifeless.

Shion turned his attention to the twins next, and Ammon clutched Jeanne to his person as the troll stalked over–

And shoved both of them to the side roughly, before another assassin charged into them. Jeanne couldn’t stop the cry of fear that escaped her when she saw the woman’s blade go right through Shion.

In turn, Shion grabbed the woman’s face - he’d kept his stance firmly, and hadn’t moved an inch from where he’d stopped after shoving the twins to the side - and dug his fingers into her eyes, and mouth.

Jeanne could only watch, mortified, as Shion tore the assassin’s jaw clean off. It dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter, and Shion slammed what remained of her face against the nearest table.

Again, and again, and again, until Jeanne’s shift into a worgen allowed her to tear free of her brother’s grip.

She grabbed Shion’s wrist tightly, and the bicep of his other arm.

“BY THE LIGHT SHION STOP!” she howled in his face. He didn’t falter. The only thing between them for a moment was ragged breathing, and still, that sickening red hue in his eyes refused to go away.

“Shion please,” Jeanne begged, unintentionally shifting back to her human form, “please, you aren’t meant for causing pain a-and hurt ‘n’ destruction, this isn’t you.”

He yanked himself out of her grip, and Erasmus reared up threateningly. Black ichor dripped from his mouth, and Jeanne could only assume that the spider had been dealing with some forsaken outside the building.

‘Did they follow us? Did we lead them to Shion? Oh gods,’ Jeanne wiped shakily at her eyes. She had started crying, ‘oh gods, oh gods.’

Shion merely stormed out of the building, and half-way past the threshold of the building he deposited the assassin’s dagger on the ground. Ammon was by the weapon in an instant, and Jeanne collected herself as best she could. She hurried after Shion, and her heart sunk when she saw Erasmus nowhere to be seen.

“Jeanne.”

She stopped mid-stride at her brother’s voice, watching as Shion rapidly disappeared into the dense thicket of Drustvar.

“Yes?” she asked shakily.

“Just wait a minute.”

“Ammon, we can’t–”

“I need ya ta wait,” he interrupted, face red with frustration. He held the dagger out for her to see, and between smears of Shion’s blood, she saw the swirling poison that made the red bubble and rot, “so tha’ I c’n make an antidote for this, real quick. With your help. He’s poisoned.”

Jeanne sunk to her knees, face pale - but with her expertise, and her brother’s infinite knowledge of rogue poisons, they formed an antidote within minutes. Jeanne was grateful for all that she had spent so much time under the tutelage of Boralus’ most talented potion master.

Following Shion’s trail was easier than it should have been. His blood made a bright red trail against the dreary background of Drustvar’s forest floor.

They found him lying on his back a good distance away from the inn.

“Shion!” Jeanne sprinted toward him; Ammon sighed, but he followed faithfully after his sister.

The troll didn’t make a sound when Jeanne dropped down next to him. She immediately pulled down the collar of cloth on his armor and pressed her fingers to his pulse, ‘please, oh gods, please–’

A shaky breath of relief left her. His heart was still beating, and with that worry out of the way, Jeanne watched his chest intently. It rose and fell with a shallow breath.

She brushed her fingers along Shion’s cheek; his eyes flicked to her. Jeanne gave him the best smile she could manage, and he closed his eyes tightly before looking away.

“Don’t you get lonely?” she asked, wiping away a spec of blood from the corner of Shion’s mouth. She didn’t know if she should be happy, or sad, that her question made his lips quirk up at one side.

“Yeah.”

“Come back t’ Gilneas with me,” Jeanne said; she didn’t miss how Ammon’s brow furrowed at this, “I c’n hide ya in th’ old mansion.”

Shion inhaled raggedly, and Ammon reached into his pouch for the antidote.

“Jus’ drop a fuckin’ rock on my head and let it be done,” Shion sputtered. The red had finally faded from his kind brown eyes, “‘m tired.”

Jeanne accepted the vial when Ammon handed it to her, and she attempted to bring the object to Shion’s lips, “here.”

He turned his head away, and she supposed she should have expected that. Her hand shook.

“Shion, please,” she begged softly, tears gathering in her eyes. She fumbled for the words to say, while her brother clenched both hands into fists.

Before Jeanne could try once more to put the antidote to Shion’s lips, he wrapped his large hand around hers entirely.

And, to her comfort, Shion pulled her hand and the vial to his lips. He downed the whole thing, and sat up, coughing. She realized that some of her tears had dripped onto his face, ‘I wonder if that’s what spurred him.’

“I feel like I’mma cough up half m’ lung,” Shion wheezed. Ammon snorted out a chuckle, and Jeanne couldn’t stop a smile from crossing her lips.

The brief happiness was short lived.

As Ammon helped Shion to his feet, the hunter fixed his eyes on Jeanne. For whatever reason, he chose to speak Darnassian again, “I can’t come with you.”

Jeanne frowned, “why not?”

“Because this isn’t about keeping me safe. This is about keeping everyone I care about safe. I’m not safe. Sylvanas’ assassins follow me everywhere, and the S1:7 agents are no better,” he shook his head when Jeanne made to argue, “don’t argue with me, Jeanne. Being around me puts a target on your back too. I already had to have this conversation with someone else.”

“Shion, just let your friends help you!” she snapped, “because we care about your safety too!”

“Oh yeah? So you’re going to fight Nathanos when he finds me again? You’re going to fight Shaw?”

That made Jeanne falter, and Shion continued, “because Shaw is after my head too. If it’s any consolation to you, I’m safest in Anyport. I’m out here because there were too many assassins lurking around there for me to be comfortable.”

“But the guards–”

“Yeah, sure, woulda’ helped, but it’s my problem. I care ‘bout the people in Anyport. I don’t want them to suffer because of my presence.”

Jeanne was determined, “can we compromise? There’s a place where I can take you, they don’t mind who’s there,” she held up her hand when Ammon made to protest, “and they’re not weak people either. They can handle themselves. Stay with me for two weeks, until you’re well, and then you can leave.”

Shion sighed, and Jeanne continued, “you’re in no position to continue, Shion. And your fatigue is going to catch up with you eventually. You can’t berserk that long and face no backlash. You of all people should know that.”

He sighed again, but thankfully, stopped trying to argue with her.

[rcris123]

This mess keeps on spinning them, keeps on going and going and going. And he’s growin’ afraid. So terribly afraid of what’s there yet to come; for Isaac, for them all. And this whole thing where Dutch keeps pushing when they just barely escaped the end of a rope feels foolish and impatient.

They’re dying...

And what better metaphor for that than picking up a dying Sebastian off the side of the road after they stole the Mayor’s letters and were planning to rob a bank and some high stakes poker game.

They got the man upstairs, back at Shady Belle. And what a debacle that was. He had to let Isaac handle it, while the rest of them got to bringing Jack back. Yeah, Charles was with him, and there was only 4 squatters left, but Christ... They moved ‘cause the Pinkertons came through again, knowin’ their location. Him and John was robbing cemeteries for Stefano Valentini and Dutch talked off Agent Milton who was ready to bring no less than 50 men to mow the lot of ‘em down.

Then in 2 days Tilly got stolen away and Isaac insisted he ride along. Tilly ain’t much older than him... They played dominoes together; Isaac tried and made her a dolly once... And to see the boy unhinged like that.

He apologized.

Arthur put his hands on the boy’s shoulders: “I just want you to be better than I was, Isaac.”

Boy looked down, away. A lil’ shake.

“You get me, boy? Not this. You ain’t this.”

But there ain’t nothing left beside this, not for them. They’re pushed back into a corner and Dutch’s going feral...

 And now he’s here...

Sebastian was barely half conscious when they brought him into the building; he fought the alcohol, and if Arthur ain’t been there to pin him to the bed he’d of fought the stitches Grimshaw made on him as well. She asked if he wanted her to sit by him. He said yes. Boy slept in Susan’s arms that night, Arthur on the table.

Dutch came talk to him in the morning, about how he’s been smelling home, somewhere. They almost got all the money they needed. Arthur ain’t quite sure ‘bout that part, but what he’s sure of is the concern the man had for him then. Sat with him, brought him something to eat; Arthur’s been forgetting all too often. His wrists were growin’ thin.

“Want one?” Dutch stretched the packet of cigarettes his way, having one already between his lips.

“I ain’t in the mood for it right now, thanks.” One more glance at Sebastian; he’s still sleeping.

Dutch lit his cigarette as a means to say ‘suit ye’rself’, then kept talking, after a deep inhale and a puff out: “You really do like him.”

Arthur just hummed as response.

“I’m... sorry, Arthur.” Dutch continued. “If I ever came off as stuck up to you or him. Was just worried.” A sigh. “Worried all these people’ll be pulling us, the family of us, apart. Can’t you see how they’re trying to?”

Arthur remained silent; and it ain’t ‘cause he ain’t believin’ him. He just got a lot of thoughts and half of them were fighting the other half; a lil’ Civil War inside his head.

“We’re so close to the end now, Arthur.” A pat on the back. “We’re gonna see it through-”

“It’s been 20 years, Dutch...”

Man took offense at that and the tone ain’t been as comforting as before: “Have a bit of faith, son. We’re gonna see it through.” Another pat on the back, firmer this time. “I’m gonna go see about that trolley station Signor Valentini told us about.”

“It’s- What if it’s a set-up?”

“That’s what I’m gonna find out.”

And Arthur’s left alone with his thoughts yet again. A sigh as head’s flung into his palms, face rubbed thoroughly. What a goddamn mess; and he’s sitting ‘round, doing nothing. He should find the kid and get on those bounty hunts he promised.

But part o’ him just ain’t got the strength.

“Ughhh-ACH!” Sebastian grits his teeth trying to stand up.

“Seba-” up he goes, to his side.

“Arthur.”

“What the hell you do-”

“I killed Valentini.” He spits the name out like it was poison.

It takes a moment to register: “What?...”

“I fucking killed him.” Sebastian coughs from the effort. Arthur sits on the edge of the bed, still looking at him. “Bastard had it coming...”

So all those wounds were from that Stefano.

“Well you back at camp now.”

“This ain’t Clemens Point...”

“Had to move. Pinkertons...”

“Ah...”

It’s Arthur that takes the man’s hand, gingerly caressing the back of it, thumb rubbing over protruding veins. Sebastian hums at the touch.

“You a’right?” he asks. “And Isaac? Jack?”

“Jack’s fine. Isaac... Kid’s had it hard... But he’s gonna make a fine bounty hunter...”

Sebastian squeezed his hand:

“And you?...”

Silence for a moment, then a sigh: “Worried.” Arthur lets his head fall forward.

It’s on his heart, it’s on his tongue, but for some reason he ain’t got the courage to tell the man he missed him. He’s always been good on the kid, good on him... and he might just have saved them from whatever the hell Valentini had in store for them. Or maybe he made it worse. No matter... What’s done is done...

And he knew he did all that for them. Sebastian could have just... not gotten involved. But he did, and look where it’s brought ‘im.

Arthur ain’t no goddamn savior, but he’s gonna try. A hand waves up, a scratch of the beard, a touch of the necklace. A sigh.

“You’re still wearing it.” Sebastian’s voice is almost sweet.

“ ‘Course I am.” He replies without thinking. Another touch upon the engravings. Saint Sebastian. Pray for us. “I care ‘bout you.”

It’s a wheezed sigh from Sebastian as he tries to stand more upright; hands try to stead him:

“I thought of you-” And in that moment he sounded like Mary, as if the words came from what he hoped or dreamed was love.

And Arthur has to remind himself that he’s been through all these thoughts before, through all these motions, of holding him and getting held. And it ain’t out of shame that he ain’t all that affectionate... It’s ‘cause he’s doubting himself, and it ain’t about the queer part – he fucked him already; Arthur just ain’t all that worthy of love. And all these... That Sebastian went through all that just cause this fool happened to be himself seemed like such a cruel fate and one he ain’t quite knowin’ what to do about...

“I thought of you...” Arthur said at last; holds him closer. “I goddamn thought of you, thought you’d come back here.” It pours out, then he stops, lips pursing together as if he said too much already. “But you never did... And then I saw you back there and I-”

“I know.” Sebastian cuts him but voice is grim and hands squeeze together again. “I know.”

“Bastard; I missed you.” There he said that.

Sebastian draws nearer and Arthur leans in, forehead to forehead.

“Arthur.”

“Don’t you say it like that-”

“Why?” breath rolls from Sebastian’s thin lips out onto his cheek.

Christ-

“ ‘cause I end up wanting to-”

“Besame~” Sebastian bumps his nose into his own.

He ain’t knowin’ what that means but he ain’t even given the time to ask an answer. Lips onto lips the next moment. It’s somewhat sweet and somewhat rough, ‘cause he ain’t knowin’ what to do with his own goddamn mouth, and it’s salty as dried blood becomes wet again. And whatever force drew him in before, draws him in now: to push up against Sebastian, tongue unwillingly slipping between lips and to that the man moans. A guttural noise rumbles out from deep within his chest as response; hands go up to cup Sebastian’s face.

Then he pulls away, just a moment.

Thumbs run through thick, long beard, up his sideburns towards the cheeks. Eyes are closed, all he knows is touch.

Another stolen kiss, leaning ever further in, Sebastian underneath him. But that was a sound of pain.

Again, they part.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

He stays there, to stare at him. There’s fire in those dark brown eyes, ‘cause he’s stubborn, like a buck in a wolf’s teeth. Skin’s shaped by age and grimaces of pain and rage: eyebrows drawn together even when soft, the creases on his nose from all the snarling he’s been doing. Tanned skin’s black and blue now. Man fought... And he’s still in pain-

“Does it hurt?...”

Sebastian doesn’t reply, shifts away. And so does Arthur; lets him lay onto the bed. But man pins his hands in place when he wanna take them away:

“Don’t you let go-” He doesn’t, lets Sebastian’s face rest into the cup of his palm and head turns, nose bumping against his thumb. “Arthur... You happen to be all I got left.”

Lips get pushed together: “I ain’t worth that much-”

Sebastian grabs his collar: “To me.”

Such a visceral feelin’ grips him just like all of what Sebastian was; makes him clutch that face between his palms, caress it, inhale deeply. He ain’t worth much, let alone be the sole reason someone’s still alive. They found each other barely breathing, and what a goddamn mess that seems to of made of both o’them. They ain’t meant to be here, and still they were and here’s Sebastian, fists cuffed in is shirt pulling him in and under. And Arthur’s ready to sink in, dip down and kiss him again. He ain’t meant to desire but he can’t make heads or tails of all this and all this physicality between them makes him feel good... So he does lean in, to run a finger down the browned scab on the man’s chest. What pains he must of endured all those days he ain’t seen him; it feels like it’s his fault. Guilt pang inside his guts – along with something else, ‘cause Sebastian shivers under touch.

It’s softer this time when he asks: “Does it hurt?...”

A pause then: “Not when you touch it like that...”

“Can I-” His hands want to roam that body, touch it tenderly so it ain’t hurting. Fingers slip underneath, opening up the buttons; but Arthur’s watching the man’s face as he does so. Sebastian’s eyes flutter shut and lips part, the faintest gasp. Thumbs press over firm skin, run down the man’s chest, then to the sides. And Arthur’s entire being spurts with a cold, electric shiver, that then blooms warm from deep within his chest; repeat. Goosebumps on his skin. It feels good touching him like this...

He leans further in, until breath fawns over Sebastian’s neck, and despite smelling like blood, that musky scent that’s made him hard before’s still there. And hands keep running lower, feeling the scabs, the hardened bruises, the muscles-

Mouth dries up, lips almost threaten to go down, but he don’t, not yet.

“I’m gonna get you out.” A whisper and it sounded like a promise. “You and the kid, I’m gonna get you out-”

Door swings open, then immediately a shriek:

“Jesus Christ! Ain’t thought it was for real.” John. He pulls back. “Jesus! Arthur!”

Arthur stands straight up, squares his shoulder, voice harsh: “Keep it down, Marston!”

John becomes meek, pushes the plate he had in his hands forward: “Pearson sent me with food, said you weren’t eating enough and urhm, for Sebastian.”

A deep sigh; he takes the plates, offers one to a dishelmed Sebastian and keeps one for himself. A first bite; the rich stew flavor fills all corners of his mouth. If it weren’t for the scare he might have not forgotten ‘bout the discussion. And how this all tied up to John as well...

“John.” He puts the plate down. “Listen here.”

“What-”

“Listen. You get your kid, your woman, and you go. When the chance comes up you gotta go.”

“Arthur... What-... What ‘bout loyalty?... I- What’s gotten into you?” A gaze spared for Sebastian. “Him?”

An exaggerated sigh: “Your kid’s got taken and you’re thinkin’ o’ loyalty? We been loyal, look where it’s gotten us. You got a family, John. And it’s about time it comes first.”  

John steps backwards, rubs the back of his neck:

“Shit, Arthur- I mean I ain’t thought about it like that...” He sits down; Sebastian’s quietly eating in the corner, on the bed. “I know I said that Jack ain’t chose this life. And Dutch. He keeps talking about something beyond this, but I don’t know. Feels like there’s no end to this.”

Arthur purses his lips, gets a seat for himself as well, next to Sebastian.

“You really think there’s an end?” John’s gotten serious.

“Dunno.” Arthur’s gotta be honest; he’s been doubting it himself: “But I’m gonna try.”

“You think Dutch’s been lying to us all these years.”

Arthur gets back up again; it don’t sit right with him: “Don’t know what to think no more; Dutch, all o’ us.” A scratch of the beard. “But I ain’t letting Isaac become an outlaw.”

And Sebastian.

So there’s gotta be some way outta this.

There’s a glimmer of new-found resolution in John’s eyes: “Yeah.” He gets up, slapping his knees, and then finds himself speechless looking at Arthur and Sebastian. And as if the discussion from before never happened: “Jesus! I still can’t quite get it what you find in a man, Arthur-”

It’s a chuckle but tone’s as serious as himself: “If you ever say that again I’m gonna kill you.”

“A’right!” John shrieks in defeat, wants to get out, then stop: “Still... uhm, rest well you two. I guess...”

He gets out. Arthur turns to Sebastian:

“Can you believe I grew up with that moron-”

“I heard that!”

“Calm down, Marston!” Arthur beacons in return, then sighs, a wheezed chuckle. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Good thing I never had siblings.” Sebastian smirks.

Laughter bursts out of him: “Ah... Sebastian I wanna take you huntin’ again.”

“Let’s go-”

“Not like that.”

“Where have I heard that before?” No don’t bring that back up; Arthur scoffs.

Conversation’s cut short by commotion outside. Long steps taken to the balcony and Sebastian tries to follow, staggering onto his feet. He’d stop him if worry wouldn’t keep him moving forward.

Hosea and Abigail were back, and he ain’t ever seen such a frown on that old man’s face.

“Where’s Dutch?” Hosea says.

“He went scouting for that trolley station.” Micah replies promptly.

“Bring him back, now.”

“On it, boss.”

“Oi, what’s the matter?” Sean came as if woken from the dead.

“Valentini’s been found murdered.”

“But that ain’t been us?”

“No. But we’re their best bet and the Pinkertons already know we’re in the area and now I fear they’ll sniff us out again.”

“Gotta get downstairs-” Arthur tells Sebastian, passing by him and the man tries to stagger behind. Oh, he can’t see him like that- “C’mon.” An arm around the waist and the other hoisted over the shoulder Arthur walks, or more like drags, the other with him out, before letting go.

Isaac runs to him and a firm hand’s placed on the boy’s shoulder.

“Arthur.” Hosea strides to him. “What you think of all this-”

“Shouldn’t we let Dutch decide on it?” Arthur ain’t made for this kind of responsibility.

“Yes, but what are you thinking about who or for what wanted Valentini-”

“I did it.” Sebastian speaks up. Hosea frowns again, but the man doesn’t back down: “He tortured me to get himself off for days. He knew about you. And Isaac-”

And Hosea harshens, even if only for a brief moment, but his fury scares him, and Sean and everyone around.

“I can’t criticize your action as I would have ‘cause you’re not part of this gang. At least not quite. Not yet. But you might have just put all of us in danger with that. And I want you to think on it, Sebastian.” It’s a threat, but not nearly as overt as half the gang might have put it. “Guess we’ll either have to keep quiet, real quiet, for a while, or find someplace else. And fast.”

“I could go looking-” Arthur tried.

“No, I wouldn’t send you out again; we might need the fire power... But let’s see what Dutch says.”

 “I say we do nothing.” Dutch wasn’t pleased with any of it, and it seemed like what hurt most was the fact that he just got wind of money ready to be stolen and now he ain’t allowed to get near ‘em. “We lie low. We send people scouting ahead for a new place, to look for any sign of the Pinkertons and we lie low.” Dutch leans over the table, looking intently at the map; Hosea was quiet. “Micah, Bill, Sean. You go up Roanoke Ridge, looking for a place. Arthur, you, Isaac and Charles look through the Bayou see if you can find anything.” The look Dutch gave him then, as if he knew he’d protest; Arthur didn’t. Not yet. “I’ll keep a lookout on here. See what I can do...”

Sebastian will come with them, ‘cause he ain’t leaving the man behind, not again. And he trusts Charles.

They left just some hours later, and rode until sunset; and it was almost uncharacteristically quiet, of all of ‘em. For Sebastian he knew man was in pain and he ain’t really the chatty type; Isaac’s in a tough spot, poor kid. He ain’t been able to get much outta him these past days, but he wished he could. And Charles; man was usually quiet ‘round everyone else, but not really ‘round him and that tipped him off to something.

They rode up until they found a small abandoned village by the looks of it. Lakay was written on a sign nearby.

No one said a word.

“Guess we should stop here for tonight.” Arthur sighed. “Charles? Help me set up the camp.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll get out the fishing rods.” Isaac dismounted.

And Sebastian tried as well; the groan was audible and the shake in his arms and body was goddamn visible and it made a pit inside his guts. He can’t rid of the guilt: he’s got the man here ‘cause he was a big goddamn fool and got himself shot, almost killed and left the kid almost fatherless. Lips purse:

“Take care there...” Arthur says, to Sebastian, who made steps to join Isaac on the edge of the water.

That lil’ smile... “Yeah.”

When head whips back to arranging the wood for the fire he catches Charles looking at him with... an expression. Then man lowers his gaze. Mouth’s dry again and he’s reminded of John and how he took that, ‘cause he ain’t been together with Sebastian in camp.

They held hands that one time...

And the pen. It’s still in his pocket.

“Hold it firm, Isaac.” Sebastian talked loud over the sound of his boy struggling to reel in a fish.

“What’s he caught!?” Arthur beacons.

“Heard there was big sturgeons here!” Sebastian answers.

“We’re gonna be feastin’ like kings tonight.” A chuckle.

Sebastian’s attention is back to Isaac: “Pull!”

And Arthur returns to his job, Charles’ look almost incessant by now:

“What’s it with you?” It ain’t harsh or scolding.

“Nothing...” Charles averts his gaze. “What you think of this place? Think this could serve as a camp?”

“Well place looks deserted, it’s pretty darn deep in the swamps; ain’t thinking they’ll come lookin’ for us here.”

“We’re running out of places to hide.”

“You tellin’ me...”

“I heard what you told John today.”

Shit-

“You should leave too, Arthur.” Charles continues, yet soundin’ so hopeless.

“You better do so too.”

“That’s of no importance-”

“You’re a good man, Charles.” Arthur cuts him. “You can get ye’rsefl a future that’s more than robbin’ and killin’.”

“Hm...” Charles takes out the flint to light the fire. “You changed, Arthur.”

“Dunno ‘bout that.” His head bends down as he gets up.

“Some time ago I wouldn’t have thought you cared this much for other people. I see things differently now.” First sparks fly. “And I think you do too.”

Brows are strung together: “Watchu meanin’?”

Charles doesn’t say something just points his chin towards Sebastian and Isaac, struggling to string up the fish outta the water.

“That ain’t no concern o’ yours.” And he almost sounded harsh- maybe the first time he ever talked so to Charles. A deep inhale. “Don’t take it the wrong way.”

“No, I understand.” Cheers of victory from behind them. Charles bends his head and points a hand at him chest. “I’m the same- And I thought like that of you.”

Heart shrinks in his chest.

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t apologize. Be happy, Arthur.”

He don’t know what words to say so lips drawn together and he turns to assist Sebastian and Isaac with that monster of a fish. Kid’s beaming for the first time in days.

“Caught him all by himself.” Sebastian sounds like a proud father. Now that’s a thought...

“What’re we waitin’ for then; let’s cut the beast open!” Knife’s out, ready to fillet the fish.

Scales off, then edge of then knife then gracefully guts the animal, before slicing it in 2 fingers worth sections and placing it on the grill with salt, pepper and a sprinkle of dried mint.

And they all ate like there was nothing else better:

“Thank you, Isaac.”

Boy perked up with a big smile on his face, then leaned into Sebastian: “He helped-”

“No, I didn’t-” Sebastian deflected, but Isaac wasn’t having it:

“Hush, you earned ye’r keep.”

“Careful, Arthur, Isaac’ll turn into quite the camp leader.” Charles seems to chuckle.

“I’m not Dutch.” Kid was offended.

“That you ain’t.” Arthur laughs, taking one more hefty bite outta the fatty fish, then a chunk of bread.

Sebastian straightened his back and stopped eating.

“What?”

“Sh. Be quiet.”

All of them perked up, listened for anything that might be moving. Silence, except the crackling of the fire.

Bushes rustle. An arrow.

“Look out!” Arthur’s first instinct is getting the kid down.

Charles’ on his feet, Sebastian struggled. Another arrow. A shot and someone stumbled out of the vegetation into the mud. There’s at least three more. He eyes one, but Sebastian’s quicker to shoot him in the neck. The one behind is Arthur’s.

A gunshot from below and behind. Another body tumbles to the ground.

Isaac shot the last one; there was no more fear in that boy’s eyes.

“We gotta burn the bodies.” Sebastian says promptly. “They ain’t gonna stay dead.” A green substance oozes from the corpses alongside the blood.

“Who were they?” Charles isn’t about to keep quiet. “Or what.”

“Fucking undead...” Sebastian spits.

[mademoisellegush]

Calyx

NSFW Chargestep inspired by that fantastic snippet and basically im back in fallen hero hell

There's a camellia on the far table. Not blossoming, not yet, not the season. But. Solana thinks she knows what colour it'll be. She reaches out to touch the stem, careful. Fragile - her, or the plant? She isn't sure. Not with the shards of her self glued back together so haphazardly. "Recognize it?" comes Ortega's voice at her back, and she nearly jumps out of her own skin. Shit, she’d forgotten he was there. "I wasn't able to save all those you kept going, but I was able to grab this one. Before... before the funeral."

She doesn't like how soft his voice's gotten, stuffed to the brim with the regret of seven lost years instead of the evening's joking, light flirtiness.

"There was another pot, too. It had purple flowers, I think-" "The hyacinth," Solana mutters, hand on the little blue plastic watering can near the camellia. "They'd flowered only once." Unwelcome memory; a shard sticking out of where she'd slotted it. Careful. "I tried to save it, but you know me," he laughs, hollow in the emptiness of the room. "Two black thumbs." "You kept this one alive, though," she says despite herself. She can't face Ortega. Not when she feels so raw, and control is a rapidly fading dream. "Of course I did. I couldn't lose more, not all of-" He coughs. “Had to prove I wasn’t a complete failure, Sol,” comes the joke, and she turns back to face him.

“Shut up,” is the only thing that comes to mind, because right now Solana can’t stand how jagged everything feels.

And then she punches him.

Like last time, she doesn't know who kisses who first, but one moment Solana stares up into Ricardo's stupid, trusting face, the next she's up on the tip of her toes while he bends closer and cradles her head. It's awkward, to say the least. She barely reaches up to his chin, has to tug him down by the shirt and try not to tip over the camellia.

But this isn’t the first time they try to make out. They stumble closer to his couch, interrupted only when Ricardo falls backwards, bringing Solana down with him. Down there the size difference is less jarring, less bothersome. Kissing Ricardo is like - taking a breath. She's missed that. It's a small reminder of what home could be, and how she can never, ever have it. His hands... Oh no. Wandering hands, like after the dinner. Solana pushes down the panic, covers it up with rash decisions. "Stop wriggling," she says, trying to pin him by the wrists. "You're like a worm, Ilio, I swear." "Ah, and you're the early bird? Because-" "Finish that sentence. I dare you," she smiles, all teeth. "Or what? You'll kiss me some more? Such a terrible fate, Sol, ¿Cómo podría soportarlo?" and that decides it. She goes for the throat. Can't bear it, right. And oh, he hasn't changed. That still revs him up, no matter how much he laughs, no matter how he bares his throat. They’re not in their twenties anymore, the wear and tear of the years heavy on them both, but still. He’s hard against her hip. With one hand she pins both of his above his head, worrying the pulse point on the right side of his neck. The other wanders down, slowly, while her traitorous hips rock down and grind over his thigh. If Ricardo notices how desperate she is to stay on top, he doesn't say. At last she unzips his jeans, careful to keep his attention on both her very insistent hand and the mouth - and teeth - at his throat. "Come on, So- oh," he moans as she palms him through his boxers - bright red, with the little lightning bolts. Sentimental.

Foolish.

She needs her second hand to push his pants down, lets go of his wrists. "You will," she can't stop the reply, before spitting in one palm. Urgh, what a terrible line. But she can't stop grinning. This banter feels so familiar, so easy. Too easy. Ricardo notices - opens his mouth to reply, to joke - and then she's back on him, mouth working along his jaw while her hand picks up rhythm. And poor Ricardo, how he looks. Flushed and tortured, one hand grasping at leather that must have seen much. Theories; as useful as a fever dream. No point chasing them. She breathes, reminds herself to come back to the present. "Feels good?" Solana asks, voice hoarse and sounding so unlike her. She struggles not to cough or laugh. Her hand is slick with spit and pre-cum; Ricardo must like the sight of it all, with his eyes almost glazed over.

He opens his mouth to reply when she bends back down and licks a path up his cock, alongside the vein, and he loses hold of whatever he was going to say. Who knew he could be this quiet, even with someone's head between his thighs? If anything, she'd have thought him bolder, louder. But that gives her an edge. Keeping hold of his gaze, she swallows him whole, tongue flat in her mouth. There's no way for Solana to know exactly what he thinks - not for the first time, she doesn't know if that's a disadvantage. She doesn't want to confront whatever may be inside his head, especially now. Not with how his fingers flex with every small hum, or how his hips stutter when she straightens up, and he pops out of her mouth with an obscene sound in the quiet of the room. His hand shoots out to catch her free one, flat against his thigh - warmth seeping through the fabric, an anchor, and the small circles his thumb rubs on her skin setting as many fires. His other hand runs through mousy brown hair and even if she knows he does his best not to push, she leans her cheek into his palm. That seems to do the trick, if the fingers tangling in and lightly pulling her hair are any indication. From tales of past exploits she knows he likes using his mouth, would have liked to kneel and worship.

That's out of the question.

His breathing's shallow, small noises torn from half-open lips. She thinks she can hear variations of her name, knows she's doing good when the syllables turn to bilingual vulgarity. It's exhilarating, the sight of the ex-Marshall turned a needy mess. It's inebriating, to be the one doing it.

His hips stutter, his hand still holding hers tightens and-

She stops.

He throws an arm over his eyes, face raised upward to the plaster ceiling. "Ah- Sol, please," Ricardo begs, and Solana leans back, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "You waited twelve years," she says, unsure where this particular bitterness comes from. "You can wait a bit longer." But let no one say she isn't magnanimous: one hand keeps working at him, fingers slick, constant. It's... something else, to have her oldest (only?) friend exposed like this, after a little more than a decade on the knife's edge. By all rights this should never have happened, and yet. She keeps making mistakes. But then she catches sight of Ricardo's hooded gaze, and feels herself relent. He spends himself with a whine, face twisted up like he took a hit (and she feels like she did, too, a punch to the stomach at the sound) while he comes over her hand and his stomach. Solana keeps pumping for a few more heartbeats, slowing down until Ricardo lowers his legs on either side of her on the couch. The only sounds are their breathing and the mechanical ticking of the clock. She wipes her hand on his discarded hoodie, unsure how to proceed. His hand still grasping her left one surprises her. Shit, she'd forgotten she was holding it. "C'mon, let me help you out," he says. No, no no no no no- "Sol? What's wrong?" Shit, this can't happen. She never should have been so stupid, everything is ruined, or will be- She has to push him away. Before- "You can't!" she blurts out, "Ilio, I can't." Ricardo stops, sits up. "Clothes on, I swear. I don't even have to look, if that's what worries you." And sure, that sounds tempting, but. But. It's too risky. "Sol, look at me." She can't look at him in the eye, so she resorts to staring at a spot between his brows. "You deserve to feel good. I know it doesn't feel true, or right, but it is." Shit. Fuck. Son of a bitch, he's pulling the puppy eyes. "I don't think I'll ever be ready for any of that," she says, because it's true. Even with the truth of what she is. "Can I hold you, at least?" he asks, like that'll fix everything. Solana wants to believe the lie that it might. She nods. Ricardo pulls her closer, slowly, like sex made him sluggish. Or like Solana's some stray, feral animal that might lash out any second. That might be true. She lets him. Is she terrified of bolting? Desperately craving some touch she very well can't have? The thoughts burn through her mind until she's level with Ricardo's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Louder than the mechanical clock. "I got some mouthwash, if you need it," says Ricardo. His voice is a pleasing grumble she feels more than hears. Solana tilts her head up. "How thoughtful," she smiles, then kisses him. "Mierda, Sol, come on! That's my own-" "It's okay, you got mouthwash," she snorts.  This feels... right. The rhythm of a heartbeat under her ear, the kiss on her forehead. It's soothing. Solana lets herself believe the lie that this might last, that maybe she's worth holding onto. This could be home, if everything was different.