#size 8 open toe

[susoriginals]

Vintage Black T Strap Sandals Strappy Open Toe by Van Eli Women's Size 8 Only $8

[biteyoubiteme]

perfect practice

soobin x fem!reader

warnings: 🔞!! size kink, size training, sex toys, belly bulge, breeding kink, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 800

an: short drabble <33 feedback is appreciated! [m.list]

he always starts by sloppily eating you out. not caring how your wetness drips down his chin; the lewd sounds accompanying your moans. He will make sure to get you off once maybe even twice depending on if he can stop himself.

His main goal was always to get you as slick as possible to be able to take any toy he had gotten for you. As soon as you two started dating, Soobin had gotten a set of dildos, four different sizes starting at 5 inches and going to 8.

Maybe he had been presumptuous about you being open to the idea but as soon as he saw the clear silicone set he couldn’t stop himself from imagining slipping each one into you training you to take his cock.

and as much of a perv he was in theory he wasn’t as open with you about that side of himself until he was knuckles deep into feeling your walls flutter around his fingers when he brought it up. “I wanna fuck you I just don’t think you can handle me right now,” your whining at the implication of not being stuffed full of his cock was nearly enough to make him ditch the idea all together but he held strong. “I got you a little gift to practice with first,” your hips were already rolling on his fingers ready for another round.

soobin had pulled out the smallest dildo in the set showing it off to you before making you cum hard enough to see stars. it wasn’t until the next time that you realized what was happening and you had been punished on the six-inch dildo, begging soobin to fuck you. “Only two more baby, you can be patient,” he didn’t even know how he was resisting watching the way you were being stretched out was leaving him straining in his jeans ready to burst with the smallest touch.

when you were finally down to the last dildo all eight inches slipped into you after soobin had been attached to your clit without remorse leaving you slick enough to take anything he wanted to give you. “I’m a little thicker than this but I’m sure you can take me now huh?” but it’s no use talking to you at this point already cresting on your third orgasm. your back is arching as you cum but soobins pulling away the last dildo the rivulets of wetness still stuck to the silicone making him groan as he pulls himself from his jeans.

Even with the training you can tell the difference in the stretch, the remnants of your orgasm sucking him in deeper as your walls flutter around the girth of him. you swear you can feel him in your throat, every thick vein pulsing as he pushes into you. you’re absolutely brainless as he fills you, the only sound leaving you are moans you’ve never heard yourself make before.

“oh you feel so perfect, sucking me in, taking my cock so well. perfect fit- fuck-“ he can’t keep control of himself slipping in and out of you at a delicious pace made much better from all the prep, the squelching sounds filling the room. soobin takes your hand to place over your lower belly pressing down so that you can feel the bulge of his cock. your moans mix as you feel him hitting your gspot the added pressure making you feel every thrust down to your toes.

“you feel how deep I am? now that you can take me I’ll be here,” he grunts pressing your hand down on your pelvis, “almost every night pounding into you,” he presses his lips to your ear, “filling you up. perfect practice for when we’re ready to have a baby,” your sweet whines music to his ears as you scratch down his back, “you like that huh? you want my baby?”

you’re absolutely squeezing him at the idea making it hard to keep thrusting but he’s already twitching ready to shove his hips as close as he can to yours. “no more practice to take my cock but practice to take my load, keep it as long as you can inside you, as far as I can get it, over and over again,” he doesn’t even know what he's saying anymore blabbering as your legs start shaking, hips sinking back as you arch orgasm taking over you for the fourth time.

when he cums he stills right against your cervix the warmth filling you up as you cling to soobin pulling him as close as you can get him. Neither of you can form sentences for a while taking deep breaths to try and bring your minds back. “we will definitely have to do that again, you know what they say practice makes perfect,”

[gladiatorcunt]

- # ROMANS 8:7 !!

“because the mind of the flesh is hostile to god: it does not submit to god’s law, nor can it do so.”

cw: implied plus size & southern afab!reader, xmen 1 coded logan but also different, large age gap (reader early 20’s, logan…. not), implied mental health & abandoment issues, drug & alchohol mentions, consensual somno (not discussed but logan’d be down with whatever you wanted), dad/father figure bf behavior and talk (kiddo, controlling your sleep schedule, heavy daddy kink & calling him your old man, calls fucking you “feeding you” etc.), heavy werewolf/animals in general allusions & imagery (?), reader is lowkey unhinged, reader doing some solo a/b/o roleplay lol, kind of self objectification/degradation vibes due to underlying trauma, gentle dead dove like if the dove perched on a bitter old man’s dirt covered shoulder and wouldn’t leave, more of a moment in time

1k event. / please consider commissioning me!

Stubble against your lips is a damn fine way to wake up in the morning, you think with a dazed smile. The scent of the beard shampoo you have Logan use smells better than a whole poppy field ever could. There are lingering traces of cigar smoke hovering over his slightly chapped lips, but not as heavy anymore, he’s trying to quit relying on them so much. A gruff sentiment about wanting to make sure he has a better chance of sticking around to keep an eye on you, or something like that.

You were falling asleep on his sweaty abs when he said it like he was getting his teeth pulled out, but there’s merit in the fact that he could’ve cut himself off. It’s important to him to try to be better at verbalizing the feeling burning in his battered gut like a glass of whiskey on the rocks. You’d take him with open arms and open legs even if he was a worse man than the devil.

You reach down and lift his hefty hands to your still swollen lips and kiss his knuckles like you’re trying to suck his claws out of his skin and into your mouth. A painless operation, you’re used to the feeling of blades against your skin, housing them in your stomach would mean nothing if it meant you could take some of the hurt away from him. It feels like that’s your job sometimes, to jump through as many hoops as possible so that you bear the brunt of the weight Logan’s forced to deal with on a daily basis.

He stops that train of thought in its tracks when you express it, what kind of dad would he be if he let you get even a single scratch? Maybe there’s to be said for a rough and tough kind of guy getting to nurse a kitten back to health, to keep it tucked away in the crook of their muscular arm never to see the light of day without them.

You don’t offer to keep his claws sheathed safely in your pussy either, you’d lick your own blood off the ends when they eventually push through your mouth. A cock sleeve in a different outfit, daddy’s little helper. But then you see the way Logan’s face belies a sense of peace, his forehead wrinkles and the fine lines around his mouth aren’t nearly so pronounced because this is the rare moment in which he finds no reason to scowl. You know you’re worth more than a nyquil infused pussy to him, but this is where you find your use. This is how you feel content, gummy walls suckling on his fat tip because even when you’ve put your old man to bed you can’t get enough.

Logan thinks he’s just so awful, the big bad wolf slobbering on an innocent lamb’s cherry pie-sweet cunt, but you might be worse. You’d your feet and throw a fit if his nose even twitched catching the scent of someone else, you’d do far worse things than what he’s already done to keep this toe curlingly grumpy man snoring a crater into your silk pillows. You feel like a rabid chihuahua nipping at his heels to keep him inside and with you, where it’s warm and wet and there’s no death other than the little ones you experience over and over like a perverted groundhog day. He’s the only one you trust with you doing you prone bone, having faith that he’ll shield you from all the things in the world that aren’t Daddy and the cozy sticky life he provides for you.

Calloused fingers strangling your tits in the morning, your ass bent over his lap in the evening while he sits back in his recliner and soothes the sting. You’d been sick to your stomach before you met him, wandering up and down the road in New York because you insisted you could make this big move and do it all on your own. Then his denim blue pick up rumbled its way down the broken road and you’ve never looked back since.

Your heart was beating faster than a hummingbird when he rolled his eyes and pushed the passenger side door open with one hand, like you were lucky he didn’t drive off and leave you in the dirt. You had the stray thought of offering him a blow job or a tit fuck to make it worth his while, but he was squirming around to tug off his brown leather jacket and toss it at you before you could move a muscle.

Poor little kitty, last one in the box all alone in the cold. Someone wanted you though, and over time your hisses and scratches turned to cat-that-got-the-cream-AND-the-canary wails and voracious frisking.

He ‘tsks’ and bites his cheek on the days where the guilt creeps in, and you know he just can't accept that this is what you want. That you saw his maw open wide and dripping with blood-cum-tissue-bone-spittle and hopped right on the center of his dusty rose pink tongue like a good bunny.

In your daydreams the appendage is so long he can choke you with the tip of it, wrap it around you and get his unique slime and grime absorbed into the hollow of your throat. You wish he had a knot too, so he could plug you up and you’d have no choice but to take it and be so grateful that Daddy thought you were worthy of being bred and speared and kept.

God, you’d never wanted to have somebody’s baby so much. But you’re selfish too, so you don’t mind this time spent together, just the two of you. That’s a blessing in and of itself and you’ve learned not to question the rare good things in life that you’re allowed to have. The powers that be decided he’s yours and you’re his and you’ll tie your leash to his hand if that ensures he can never change his mind about taking a chance on you. If he can’t run like you tried to do when you realized he might actually love you back, that he wasn’t content to just be a dirty fantasy you had when you were alone on your trailer bed. That for the first time in your life, what you need needs you too, or wants to entertain you at the very least.

You don’t want to run anymore, and all of the credit goes to Logan recognizing that you were just a stray cat who needed someone that wouldn’t let them dart out the door at the first sign of discomfort. He forced you to be known so you could be loved and there’s no going back to a life without that, not for you. Not without being to hold Daddy’s hand when that same feeling of flight or flight knocks on your skull. Maybe you’re spiraling again because you feel empty, you said no to cockwarming the previous night because you didn’t want to be too needy. You think your pussy might’ve bitten his dick off to keep inside of it like a trophy if you followed your usual routine.

Now you’re realizing why you hardly ever say no to giving your pussy time to breathe. How can you feel whole if Daddy’s not sighing in relief when he slides home for the first time again? You remember that you're your own person like this and you hate it, you don’t belong to you, you belong to him.

So you bite your lip and slowly bring yourself up to straddle his torso, humping his abs for a second before reaching behind you and lining up your aching cunt with his already half hard prick. You get overwhelmed already, so excited and antsy and ready to greet Daddy at the door that you bounce without actually bringing your plush hips all the way down.

‘Want that knot, want it want it want it want it, fuck fuck FUCK!’

You cry when the bulbous and thick fucking tip eases into you followed by the rest of him, you can’t help it. You missed him so much, and you’re not only thinking about Logan when you say that. Trust Daddy to actually have a horse’s cock most men overcompensate for not having, long and girthy and an angry purplish-red and surrounded by a black bush and more than deserving of never being left alone for a single second.

He woke up as soon as you started grinding against him in your sleep, but he knows you’d get embarrassed if he let it slip now. Logan could open his brown eyes and say ‘I told you so, kiddo’ but he can do that after his hardening cock pushes into your cervix. A welcome home kiss for his fussy little thing, he doesn’t feel right until he cracks his eyelids halfway and peeks through to see your own roll back in otherworldly rapture.

“That’s it, right where it belongs, ain’t it doll?”

Yes, yes it is.

“Fuckin’ cum on it and then get y’r ass back to bed, y’r gonna get cranky if you stay up any later. Gotta keep you fed, get some cock in that belly, keep you fat.”

- 2024, do not copy/translate/train ai with my work

[just-some-trans-nobody]

December Christmas Monstet stories

December 8.) Horny Krampus

Sorry everyone this one was supposed to br way longer than this but I'm having really bad writers block. I might try to rewrite it eventually I just had to finish what little I had if I want stick to the schedule.

Warnings: NSFW, spit as lube, bare minimum prep, swearing, possessive behavior, stalking behavior

Minors Don't Interact!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Three weeks. 

You only got three weeks a year with him and then you had to wait longing for his touch until next year. 

It was like clock work. December 1st at midnight the sound of heavy hooves landing on your roof waking you. The last two years you would wake up a minute or two before the stroke of midnight in anticipation of his arrival. 

Giddier than a kid on Christmas day you threw the blankets off yourself and rushed to the living room. Some years he came down the chimney, sometimes the window. He always kept you on your toes never fully knowing where he was going to enter. You weren't sure how a man of such a large size could fit down a chimney but your brain always turned off when he was around. Too dick whipped to think about anything but him and the pleasure he gave you.

Hearing his low growl rumble from behind you, your body trembled in response. He had come through your bedroom window expecting you to be there. Seeing you weren't there made him mad, he wanted his cock in you immediately. Having to wait irritated him. Turning you smiled at him before letting out a gasp when he grabbed you pushing you against the nearest wall. “Fuck.” You moaned out, leaning your head back. He let out a low rumble hearing your moan. The sounds you make when he's with you calmed his raging soul, if only a little bit. Seeing that you were still dressed he growled before ripping off your clothes. His clawed hands tearing your clothes to shreds. You know you should be mad about it but the act had only served to turn you on even more. 

Heart pounding in your chest you reached out to hold onto him as he lifted you up pinning you to the wall with one hand. Your legs dangled, unable to reach the floor by a good foot or two. He effortlessly freed his cock from its restraints with his free hand. Lifting a leg up you rested it on his hip spreading your legs for the large man.

Biting your bottom lip you trembled at his touch as he held your chin. “Open.” He growled in a low voice that rumbled in your chest. Obediently you opened your mouth, lightly sticking your tongue out. His fingers immediately slide into your mouth causing you to close it around them. He hardly ever took the time to lube you up first so this felt special for you. Keeping eye contact with him you made sure to lube up his fingers with your saliva as much as you could before he finally pulled them out of your mouth leaving a trail of saliva from his fingers to your plump lips. The trail broke after a second landing on your chin causing him to let out a low rumble at the sight. 

Lowering his hand to your entrance he pushed the lubed up fingers inside of you causing you to moan. He wanted to take you so much it hurt but he knew you haven't had him in such a long time you would need to be stretched out first. By the end of the month he would be able to slip it in without reliance, but that was then and this was now. He would never admit it to himself or anyone else that he cared deeply about you to the point it scared him. As much as he loved making you scream out in painful pleasure he didn't want to hurt you so badly he scared you off. He needed you more than he realized.

Hearing you moan from just his fingers made him smirk in pride. He loved hearing how well he pleasured you, he wanted to hear more. Spreading his fingers wide he continued to pump them into you faster drawing out more moans from your lips. “O-oh oh fuck keep going! Gonna cum!” You moaned, throwing your head back against the wall. Your words encouraging him to pump his fingers harder. Reaching your orgasm with a cry you clung to his arms closing his eyes. 

You barely had a moment to come down from your orgasm when he slid his fingers out and replaced them with the tip of his cock. Gasping you opened your eyes to be met with his hungry gaze. Letting out a quiet moan you rolled your hips against his taking in more of his cock. He let out a low moan feeling his cock go deeper into you. It drove him mad. Growling he snapped his hips forward pushing all of his cock into you causing you to sob lightly. It stung but felt good at the same time. Whimpering softly you clung to him as tears welled in your eyes. He waited for a moment letting you adjust for a moment before he started to slowly rock his hips. Once your face started showing more pleasure than pain he sped his pace up thrusting faster into you. Pressing against you harder he pushed you against the wall even more making you feel a little squished. “Harder.” You moaned scratching at his arms. It was a request he was more than happy to comply with. 

The room was filled with the sounds of your needy moans and the relentless thrusts of Krampus. It was utter bliss being with him. December was by far your favorite time of the year and Christmas had nothing to do with it. 

[cheesycatz]

The Making of: Life-Size Malworm Plush

(Wormton AU)

STATS

16 ft 3 in (495 cm) long

Total time: 150 hours

Material Cost: $124

Theoretical minimum cost (based on seamstress wage): $2,524

(Progress photos and commentary below)

I'll be referring to my life-size wormton plush as "malworm" for convenience sake.

Unlike my Spamton NEO, Caine, and Fake Peppino plushies, I didn't spend a lot of time on concept art. Since I planned to make the malworm plush as close as possible to its 2D design, I didn't have to add much stylization, other than simplifying some details (no way in hell was I going to make 104 separate embroidered stitches for the segments of his toes, sorry). I mainly used the planning stage to calculate how wide the body pieces needed to be, plotting it out in 1/4 in : 3 in scale and using circumference formula to find the values I needed. I planned to make it around 10 feet long, the length of a young adult malworm. A lot of this project was improv, but, I mean, it wasn't my first or second or third time making a spamton centipede.

The head was quite a complicated shape, so I carved a tiny model out of craft foam, covered one half of it in masking tape, then cut the masking tape mask (hah) into flat pieces. I then traced the pieces onto graph paper and manually scaled them up by using the fact that I wanted the nose to be 1 ft long as reference. The rest of the pattern pieces were very simple, as wormton's teeth, body, legs, etc were very easy to translate into 2D shapes. I used old school notes as paper for the body, as I needed a lot of it. It was entertaining cutting exerpts of Moby Dick and English Renaissance biographies into body parts. I ended up making the body significantly longer; I had to spend $100 dollars on fur anyways, so why not make a maximum size one?

Making the pattern pieces took around 8 hours. While waiting for the fur to ship, I started cutting out the teeth, legs, and eyes. By the time the fur arrived, I had already sewn 36 worm teeth. I did an 11hr all-nighter to cut all the fur in one sitting the day it arrived. After a long vacuuming session and an uptake in the amount of polyester fiber in my lungs, I finished cutting the pieces, taking about 18 hours and 40 minutes.

As usual, the head was the first thing I worked on. It was...kind of wonky once I flipped it inside out. I trimmed some of the fur so that I could actually see what was happening. The main issues were the lack of any forehead, the nose being way too wide, and the cheeks being too flat. I did some ladder stitching as well as modifying the thing from the inside, and eventually made the head look much better. The cheeks still don't stick out that much still, but I'm happy with how the head looks now. I think it conquered the sopping wet owl resemblance. I inserted wire into the nose and jaws to help them keep their shape.

When I started this project, I wasn't sure whether to make it based off of Wormton or just a copyright-free malworm; I decided to do both. I went with red for the non-Spamton version, as I think it really fits the cartoony fly/mothman-style cryptid look malworms are supposed to have.

I sewed a square pouch into the throat and put in all those teeth. I used hot glue to wrap blue squares around a wire for the proboscis, because I think I would've gone bonkers cuckoo bananas if I had to hand sew that entire thing. The throat pouch holds the proboscis when it's not extended, as well as anything else I wanted to shove in there. I never measured it, but it's around 4-5 ft long. I finally made the Spamton... eye patches(?) and a pair of eyelids, though I didn't end up using them in the photo shoot. I also made a new pair of nostrils, as the old ones kind of got swallowed up from all the plastic surgery I was giving him

Now that the head was finished, I got to work on the body. I sewed the white belly and segments of the body together. I left most of the tail open, as the fur was too thick for me to flip it out at a certain point. I worked on the legs, next. After living out my cosplay dreams by putting the claws on my fingers like bugles chips, I grouped the claws together and sewed most of each leg and foot together, leaving me with many pairs of charred drumsticks (did not taste good)

I attached an extra long wire structure into each set of claws, then threaded the wire through each respective leg and stuffed them. I ladder stitched the claws to each foot, then stuffed each with some plastic beans in order to give the feet weight. I then finished sewing each foot shut. I now had a pile of disembodied limbs and one very long scarf.

I wound many long pieces of wire together to create an armature for the body. While the plush's body is way too heavy to be properly posable, the wire does still give some structure. I wrapped the extra long ends of the legs' wires to the metal spine, using the body's leg holes for reference. I then pulled the body up the metal armature like a sock.

I pulled the legs through their respective holes and stuffed the body. It was the first time the malworm was huggable! It's sort of like an oversized body pillow, in a way. I had to ladder-stich all the limbs, the head, and the rest of the tail, as it would've been completely impossible to flip inside out. It was quite difficult to do on furry fabric, and my thread frequently broke from the force I had to pull with to keep the stitches tight. Eventually, I got everything attached to some degree.

The last details I worked on were the mane, tail tufts, and scopula pads. The mane and tail tufts were ladder stitched onto the body, but I decided to use glue to attach the pads to the feet. I think the extra blue details make his proboscis fit much better, and who doesn't love spider paw pads? I also glued some velcro to the eye patches so that they stay attached better. They slide under the black eye rings.

My malworm was finally finished! I tried to put a lot of effort into the photo shoot so that people who don't know about the AU can enjoy it. I wanted to make it seem like some weird entity whose only goal is obtaining more Spamton brainrot. Hence it making Spamton on Mario Kart DS under the bed, obsessing over the Spamton Plush, inspecting the Spamton Shrine, and just generally harassing the photographer (me, I guess?). I wanted to capture the silliness, creepiness, and lack of respect for personal space that Spamton is known for. I thought about giving him a bag of doritos under the bed like that one image of the isopods eating them, but went with the DS instead. I thought it would be funny to see this thing playing Super Mario 64 DS (or Super Spamton 64) and here the "buh bye!" sound effect when it closes the DSi XL.

That's all from me, for now. I have other Wormton related matter to attend to.

Don't let the parasitic Spamton larvae bite

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Mammalia - Perissodactyla

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Perissodactyla is an order of ungulates, commonly referred to as the “odd-toed ungulates”. It is composed of three living families: Equidae (“horses”, “asses”, and “zebras”), Rhinocerotidae (“rhinoceroses”), and Tapiridae (“tapirs”).

Perissodactyls are typically defined by having reduced the 5 original ungulate toes to 3 or 1 weight-bearing toes, though tapirs retain four toes on their front feet. Equids, adapted for speed, are unique in having almost completely lost all of their toes, bearing weight on one single toe on each foot. Perissodactyls have a long upper jaw with an extended diastema (gap) between the front and cheek teeth, giving them an elongated head. They often have highly mobile lips for manipulating grass, leaves, and other plant parts. Perissodactyls are exclusively herbivores. Tapirs and equids have dense, short coats of fur, often with a mane of hair on the dorsal ridge of their neck, while rhinos have only sparse hair and thick skin. Perissodactyls inhabit a number of different habitats, leading to different lifestyles. Tapirs are solitary and live mainly in tropical rainforests in the Southern Hemisphere. African rhinos tend to live alone in dry savannas, while Asian rhinos live in wet marsh or forest areas. Equids inhabit open areas such as grasslands, steppes, or semi-deserts, and live together in groups.

Perissodactyls are characterized by a long gestation period and a small litter size, usually delivering a single calf (or “foal” in equids). Newborn perissodactyls are precocial, and are often able to stand and follow their mother after a few hours. Young are nursed for a relatively long time, often into their second year, with rhinos reaching sexual maturity around 8 or 10 years old, while equids and tapirs mature around 2 to 4 years old.

The tiny Radinskya from the Late Paleocene of East Asia is often considered to be one of the oldest close relatives of the ungulates, and was most similar to perissodactyls. Perissodactyla itself appeared at the beginning of the Lower Paleocene about 63 million years ago, both in North America and Asia, in the form of phenacodontids and hyopsodontids. The oldest known equid was Sifrhippus, from the Early Eocene. The ancestors of tapirs and rhinos, which may have included Hyrachyus, appeared not long after.

Propaganda under the cut:

The African Wild Ass (Equus africanus), ancestor of the Domestic Donkey (Equus africanus asinus), is critically endangered, with about 570 existing in the wild.

Domestic Donkeys were probably first domesticated by pastoral people in Nubia around 4000 BC, and they replaced the ox as the chief pack animal of that culture. The tomb of either King Narmer or King Hor-Aha (two of the first Egyptian pharaohs) was excavated and the skeletons of ten donkeys were found buried in a manner usually used with high ranking humans, showing that donkeys were likely very important in early Egyptian culture.

The Onager or Asiatic Wild Ass (Equus hemionus) (image 3) is one of the fastest land mammals, capable of running 64–70 km/h (40–43 mph).

The Kiang or Tibetan Wild Ass (Equus kiang) is the only wild perissodactyl to not be threatened in any way; their population is classified as “least concern.” Natural historian Chris Lavers points to travellers' tales of the Kiang as one source of inspiration for the unicorn, first described in Indika by the Ancient Greek physician Ctesias.

Asses were named before “ass” became a slang term for buttocks. In fact, the slang term was originally “arse,” a separate word from the animal “ass”, but the r was dropped in the 1860s, meaning both words have different linguistic origins.

The Domestic Horse (Equus ferus caballus) was domesticated from now extinct wild horses around 4000 BC, and their domestication is believed to have been widespread by 3000 BC. They were one of the first animals to be domesticated for transport purposes, though they were originally bred for meat. Today, there are more than 300 breeds of horse in the world, developed for specific tasks such as riding, pulling, driving, various sport disciplines, or simply as pets. Horse-keeping has led to a range of extensive, specialized vocabulary used to describe equine-related concepts, covering everything from anatomy to life stages, size, colors, markings, breeds, locomotion, and behavior.

The Przewalski's Horse (Equus ferus przewalskii) is the last remaining subspecies of truly wild horse, with other “wild horses” being introduced, feral populations of Domestic Horse. Przewalski’s Horses were already rare when first described, and were only found in the arid Dzungarian Basin of the Gobi Desert. By the 1900s, Przewalski's Horses were already declining, with only sporadic sightings of single horses or groups of 2-3 here and there, until a single stallion was sighted in 1969, and then none were seen in the wild again. Thankfully, some Przewalski’s Horses still existed in captivity, having been dispersed to various zoos in the US and Europe. Breeding programs were established and various facilities cooperated and exchanged horses to increase their genetic diversity. Unfortunately many of the horses did not survive WWII, and the most valuable group was actively shot by German soldiers in the Ukraine. By the end of the 1950s, only 12 Przewalski’s Horses were left in the world's zoos. The Przewalski’s Horse was declared “extinct in the wild”, with a slowly growing captive population being its last hope of survival. By 1965, there were more than 130 animals spread amongst 32 zoos and parks. By 1998, established herds of the horses were and still are released at various preserves and natural areas within Eurasia. In 2008, the Przewalski's Horse was reclassified from “extinct in the wild” to “critically endangered”, and in 2011 the wild horse went from “critically endangered” to “endangered”, having narrowly escaped extinction thanks to conservation efforts!

The Grévy's Zebra (Equus grevyi) is the largest living wild equid (some breeds of Domestic Horse are bred to be much larger), standing 1.45–1.6 m (4.8–5.2 ft) high at the withers.

Mountain Zebras (Equus zebra) live on slopes and plateaus as high as 2,000 m (6,600 ft) above sea level, and are thus the most adapted to cold weather of the zebras.

The Plains Zebra (Equus quagga) (image 2) is the most widespread of the 3 zebra species, but they are still threatened by hunting for their meat and hide, as well as competition with livestock and encroachment by farming on much of their habitat.

Perissodactyls were far more diverse in the past, and extinct groups contain some of the largest land mammals known to have ever existed. In particular, Paraceratheriidae is an extinct family of long-limbed, hornless rhinocerotoids from the Oligocene, with the largest species known being Paraceratherium linxiaense, which has an estimated mass of 21.7 metric tons (24 tons), an estimated length of 8 meters (26 feet), and an estimated height at the shoulder of 5 meters (16.4 ft). With its long neck, it would have towered even higher than a 4.6 m (15.1 ft) tall bull European Straight-tusked Elephant (Palaeoloxodon antiquus).

The endangered Malayan Tapir (Tapirus indicus) (image 4) is the only tapir species that exists outside of the Americas. They feature in the folklore of Japan, and are often associated with the mythological Baku, a supernatural creature said to devour nightmares. This association has led to the creation of the Pokémon Drowzee, Munna, and Munna’s evolution Musharna.

The endangered Baird's Tapir (Tapirus bairdii) is the largest native land mammal in both Central and South America, and the South American Tapir (Tapirus terrestris) is the largest native land mammal in the Amazon.

The endangered Mountain Tapir (Tapirus pinchaque) is the only tapir species to live outside of tropical rainforests in the wild. They are also unique for their thick woolly coat, an adaptation to the cooler climate of the Andean Mountain range.

There are two subspecies of White Rhinoceros: the Southern White Rhinoceros (Ceratotherium simum simum) and the Northern White Rhinoceros (Ceratotherium simum cottoni). The southern subspecies has a wild population of over 20,000, and is the most abundant rhino subspecies in the world, having been the only rhinos so far to have recovered from the brink of extinction. However, the northern subspecies is critically endangered, considered “functionally extinct”, as the only two remaining individuals are a mother-daughter pair, who are guarded day and night by armed keepers.

White Rhinoceroses are the largest living wild perissodactyls, with females weighing 1,600 kg (3,500 lb) and males 2,400 kg (5,300 lb) on average, though exceptional specimens can reportedly weigh up to 4,500 kg (9,900 lb). Their head-and-body length is 3.5–4.6 m (11–15 ft) and their shoulder height is 1.8–2 m (5.9–6.6 ft).

The critically endangered Black Rhinoceros (Diceros bicornis) (image 1 and gif) has a reputation for being aggressive, and they charge readily at perceived threats. Black Rhinos will also fight each other, and they have the highest rates of mortal combat recorded for any mammal: about 50% of males and 30% of females die from combat-related injuries.

The word "white" in the name "White Rhinoceros" is often said to be a misinterpretation of the Afrikaans word wyd (Dutch wijd) meaning wide, referring to its square upper lip, as opposed to the pointed or hooked lip of the Black Rhinoceros.

The vulnerable Indian Rhinoceros (Rhinoceros unicornis) is one of the motifs on the Pashupati seal and many terracotta figurines that were excavated at archaeological sites of the Indus Valley civilisation.

The critically endangered Javan Rhinoceros (Rhinoceros sondaicus) is the rarest of all rhinoceros, and among the rarest of all living animal species, with only one currently known wild population of approximately 74 animals, and no individuals successfully kept in captivity.

The critically endangered Sumatran Rhinoceros (Dicerorhinus sumatrensis) is the smallest species of rhinoceros, at just 112–145 cm (3.7-4.8 ft) high at the shoulder, with a head-and-body length of 2.36–3.18 m (7.9–10.5 ft). The weight is reported to range from 500–1,000 kg (1,100–2,200 lb), averaging 700–800 kg (1,540–1,760 lb).

Rhinoceroses are threatened by habitat loss, but illegal poaching for the international rhino horn trade is their main and most detrimental threat. Their horns, composed of keratin, are used to make ornately carved handles for ceremonial daggers called jambiyas in the Middle East, and are used in traditional Chinese medicine, where they are said by herbalists to be able to revive comatose patients, facilitate exorcisms and various methods of detoxification, and cure fevers. There is also a Chinese superstitious belief that the horns allow direct access to Heaven due to their unique location and hollow nature. A single horn can be sold for up to $300,000 on the black market. Rhinos are shot or trapped by poachers, after which the horn is hastily cut off and the rhinoceros is often left to bleed out and die. As rhino populations shrink and security on them tightens, poachers have gotten more desperate, leading to one shocking death in a zoo in France. Keepers at the Parc Zoologique de Thoiry arrived on March 5th, 2017, to find their beloved Southern White Rhinoceros, Vince, had been shot three times and had his horns sawed off with a chainsaw. Some reserves and even zoos now attempt to deter poaching by sawing off the horns of their rhinos (in a much more humane process than simply hacking it off at the skin) to make them less desirable to poachers.

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Epilogue

Joel makes good on his promise to date you, at least once.

Words: 4k

Warnings: Just a slutty lil farewell to our resident Jackson masseuse and her grumpy-arse maybe sorta boyfriend, smut, vaginal fingering, sexy times, stockings that are far too thin for early Spring. Minors DNI

A/N: Another thank you for your support of this little story that ended up being a bit bigger and more complex than I expected. I went there because of your encouragement. Thank you, always.

Part Eight | Series Masterlist

The season was turning, but there was still a chill of a nighttime. It had been six weeks since Joel returned to Jackson, the medical supplies he and the second expedition managing to find and defend ensuring a healthy and safe Jackson for at least another two winters. The whole energy of the place, the optimism, was back in the community, and you had thrived in it, started to bloom alongside the wildflowers dotting the pathways into town.

You’d spent the time working, teaching Ellie, occasionally hanging around Joel’s place while he convalesced, first in his bed, then on the new-ish couch Tommy had found and dragged in through the back door. It wasn’t leather like his old one, and the springs stuck out in the centre so that you had to be very careful where you sat, but it was better than the rocking chair, and it was enough for him to sit still in for at least a few weeks.

He kept promising that he was going to date you, at least once if you’d let him, and each time you’d fobbed him off, telling him he had to get better first, that he was no good to you limping, that you wanted him marginally less grumpy if he could manage it. You weren’t sure why you were stalling, other than that you felt you were toes to the edge of a precipice.

When you were little your little family of four had driven out to the Grand Canyon, and you’d stood on the edge of the red dirt and been totally overwhelmed by the size of it, of all the negative space, the absence. You’d found yourself, aged eight and a half, ready to cry and even now, thirty years later, you remembered the howling wind, the echo of it.

You thought about the beauty of it, now. Now that you had seen so much worse, so much more, you reminded yourself that people used to travel entire countries to see the Grand Canyon. In your mind’s eye you entered your memories and stood beside yourself, your child self, and took her hand. You pointed to the sky, drew her eyes up and away from the ground beneath. Felt her pulse race under your touch as you showed her that the magnitude of it was the beauty in it, was the point of it all.

You accepted Joel’s invitation for the next Friday night. Then you ran to Maria’s to find something to wear.

--

You were supposed to meet at 8, a respectable time after dinner so as not to feel like you needed to have a meal; a more casual time, a more intimate time, when you could drink and chat and only stay an hour if you found it wasn’t working. It was both an in and an out.

Except that you were late, your last client having not only stored muscle tension in his fascia but emotional tension as well, and as soon as you had pushed into the glute he had unleashed years of mourning, of loss, of fears. You had stopped, wrapped him in a towel and pulled him upright, stood back and let him shake with the force of it. It wasn’t new, that people would come with muscle aches and discover trauma aches instead, but you lost track of time trying to put him back together again, trying to assure him of his safety. Tommy was right; sometimes it doesn’t come out until you feel safe enough to let it.

But it meant by the time you were pulling your door open you were about forty minutes late. Your cheeks burned with the shame of it, your timekeeping one of your strengths in the before-times, in the times when you had no other responsibilities other than the hell of being 15.

Joel was coming up your path and you stopped, nearly dropping the jacket you were still trying to pull over your shoulders. You couldn’t read his expression in the dark but his eyes were on you, and he was coming up, fast.

‘Joel, I’m so sorry,’ you started, as he strode towards you and up your porch. ‘I got caught up with a client, I couldn’t leave until they were…’ his hands were on you then, gripping you to him, your jaw resting in his warm palm.

‘You OK?’ he asked you, his eyes searching yours.

‘I’m fine, of course I am,’ you said, flustered, under the intensity of his inspection. ‘I just couldn’t…he was so sad, Joel. I had to stay.’

He nods at this, his jaw ticking. You resisted the urge to reach up and sink your fingertips into the masseter. ‘Were you worried about me, Joel?’ you asked, and he narrowed his eyes at you, then, suddenly freezing up.

‘Thought you weren’t coming, or that you were…thought maybe something had happened,’ he said, and you felt yourself soften.

‘I’m fine. And I would never stand you up,’ you said, moving to hold him around his waist, to circle him in your arms, only able to reach halfway around him, broad as he was. He avoided your eyes, the worry etched deep into his brow.

You still hadn’t kissed him. All of the things he had done to you, the way he had pulled you apart under his hands, his mouth, spread around his cock, nothing so intimate as a kiss.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said again, low and velvet in your throat. ‘I really like you, Joel,’ you went on, and he finally met your gaze, again. The naked vulnerability in it making you pause. You wondered how many people had ever seen this side of him. You suspected he could count them on one paw.

‘It’s late,’ he said, and started to pull away from you. ‘Maybe we should try again some other time.’ To your dismay he had nearly turned his back to you, and without thinking you grabbed him around the middle and tried to turn him back.

‘Wait,’ you said, and he hissed then, his muscles seizing. You let go of him, horrified.

‘M’ok,’ he muttered, raising his hand to stop you from rushing toward him. ‘Just…still gettin’ there, is all.’

‘Come in, please,’ you said, not touching him, not moving towards him, hoping your voice would be enough to get him to stay. ‘It’s cold, I have a bottle of whiskey Tommy slipped me when you were in the hospital, I can…’

‘You needed whiskey, baby?’ he said, and he had that lopsided grin on his face again, and you wanted to lick it off him. ‘Were you worried about little ole me?’

Never mind, you wanted to slap it off.

‘Oh for fucks sake,’ you said, rolling your eyes and turning back to your door. ‘Don’t get all cute just because I got scared when you nearly died,’ you said, and you heard him chuckle. You entered your house and turned to him, one hand on the door. ‘In or out?’ you asked, and you knew that you were talking to the both of you, knew that he wasn’t the only one facing the indecision, knew that you palming the responsibility off onto him, that you would accept his decision even if it meant never talking to him again. He hesitated, but only for a moment.

--

He was back in your kitchen, on the same chair from a more recent before-time, from before he’d found a place for himself somewhere under your skin. You were both sipping your whiskey, listening to the crackling fire in the other room, letting the silence seep out and blanket you. He was still enormous, still took up nearly half the space, and you ceded all of it to him.

‘Ellie speaks the world of you,’ he said, after a while, and you knew that this was important to him, that first and foremost he was her dad, her keeper and her protector.

‘She’s a lovely kid,’ you said, and then corrected yourself. ‘Not a kid. She’d fucking kill me if she knew I said that.’

He chucked into his glass. ‘Won’t tell her,’ he promised.

‘How’s that healing?’ you asked, gesturing to his wrist. It wasn’t in a splint anymore but it was still tightly bandaged.

‘S’just weak, aches in the cold,’ he said, and you nodded. You reached out and pulled it towards you, lay it on the kitchen table between you. You slipped the bandage away, watched the blood rush back in and pink up the flesh underneath it.

‘You need to stretch it, keep it strong,’ you said. ‘Bones probably healed but now the muscles’ll be lazy.’

‘Yes, doctor,’ he said, and you glanced up at him, at the crinkles in his skin and the warmth in his eyes as he teased you.

‘I mean it,’ you said, pretending to be offended, using it as an excuse to slip your hands around his wrist, his forearm. You felt the chords of the muscles there, the sinew and the veins. You rubbed your thumbs in firm circles, like you had shown him to do on your knee, all those weeks ago. You blushed at the thought of it, at the echo of the pleasure he had wrung from you not ten paces away.

He grunted a little, shifted in his seat, and you pulled his arm up at a right angle, so that his elbow was resting on the table. ‘Here, do this,’ you said, and you slipped your fingers between his, rested your forearm against his, leant in a little to ease your combined weight onto the joint.

‘I’m going to try and push your hand backwards, you push back,’ you said.

‘We arm wrestlin’?’ he asked, smiling again.

‘We will if you don’t behave yourself,’ you shot back, and he grinned.

‘Tell me when,’ he said, and you nodded your head. He grimaced at the strain through the joint, but you felt it stretch, felt it working under the force you were applying to it.

‘That’s good,’ you said, without thinking, ‘doing real well.’ He sucked a shy little breath in through his teeth. You stopped pushing, looking up into his pink cheeks. You continued to hold his hand, your eyes fixed to his.

‘Say it again,’ he said, and your mouth went dry.

‘Doing real well, Joel,’ you said, and watched as he blinked slowly, drinking it in. ‘Doing so good.’

He pulled you then, by the arm, out of your chair and into his lap, his mouth finding your neck and suckling, hard, as you struggled for purchase on his thighs. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, the pulse of it pushing into your cunt as you settled yourself down on him, your thin little stockings under Maria’s borrowed dress doing absolutely nothing to provide a barrier against his throbbing for you.

He gasped, looked up at you as you perched above him. His pupils, blown wide with want, mirroring the ache you felt between your legs and in your heart for him. He tasted like peppermint toothpaste and you wondered idly if he’d brushed his teeth before heading to the Bison, if he’d hoped this would be the end result of the night or if it was just habit. You smelt the leather of his worn jacket. You reached up and let his salt and pepper beard scratch at the skin on your fingertips.

‘So good to us, Joel,’ you said, and you heard the gentlest whimper catch in his throat. ‘Looking after the town. Keeping us safe.’

‘Want to keep you, baby,’ he whispered, his eyes dropping to examine your lips. ‘Keep you tucked up all warm and safe, keep you under my roof where I know you’re protected.’ You shivered, at the heat of it, at the sincerity in it. ‘Be the one to shield you. All sweet and soft in your little kitchen. Wanting me, waiting f’me.’ He finished, biting his bottom lip.

‘I want you,’ you said, simply, feeling his cock jump underneath you.

‘Yeah?’ he asked, and you nodded.

‘Been waiting,’ you bit out, realising for the first time that it was true.

‘M’sorry baby,’ he said, playfully goading you. ‘Where did ya want me?’ he whispered, tucking his head under your chin and licking a stripe up your neck, chewing idly on your earlobe. You shivered again, a shuddering little thing that also came with a whimper. You took his hand from your waist and dropped it to your pussy, pushed his fingers to cup you there, gasping when he ran a fingertip along your seam.

‘Everywhere,’ you whispered, and he grunted, shifting his weight. With one warm hand splayed across your shoulder blades he leant you back, his eyes running up and down your body, devouring you. He kept his hand on your cunt, idly running a finger up and down where you ached the most for him, and you worried for a moment that he would feel how wet he’d made you just with his gaze.  

His breath was warm across your cheeks when he exhaled. He took the hand from between your legs and cupped your breast, rolled the nipple through your dress, made you whimper.

‘Joel,’ you whispered, and you watched as his eyes lit up, as the sparks caught on kindling and turned into a forest fire, as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the strain. You wanted to run your tongue over his bottom lip, nip at it.

‘Sssh, baby, I know,’ he said, pulling you up off his lap to stand in front of him, your knees shaking. His arms bracketed your hips, gripping the table behind you, so you were surrounded by him. He remained seated, watching you from under heavy eyelids.

‘Take it off,’ he said, and you felt your pulse in your neck, thunderous.

‘Which?’ you asked.

‘Maria’s dress you don’t think I recognise, those silly little stockings that ain’t doing nothin’ to keep out the cold.’

He leant back on the chair again, kicked his legs out so that you were standing between his ankles now, leant his arm on the back of the chair and scratched at his beard. ‘Well, go on,’ he said, and you felt so exposed to him then, vulnerable in the heat of his stare.

‘Help me,’ you said, feigning not being able to get to the zipper, just for the excuse of turning away from him, from his eyes that were taking you apart atom by atom, from his hands resting on his thigh, from his thick fingers you wanted to slip into your mouth, let him push down on your tongue and suckle at him.

You felt his hands on your back, the zip coming down, the way he slipped the dress from you like he was unwrapping a present on Christmas morning. You leant over a little, trying to slip your stockings off and you heard him moan, felt his hands on you again, his warm paw on your lower back pushing you into a deeper bend, the other pulling on your hips to bring you closer to him, his hands gripping you, positioning you. You heard his sharp inhale when you slipped the stockings over your bottom, felt your cheeks blaze when he reached up and slipped your panties off along with them, bent over and completely exposed to him, wet and glistening in the light of the kitchen, the sound of your gasped little whimpers mixing with the ever-present whir of your forty-year-old fridge.

‘Oh, my girl,’ he said, and you wanted to launch yourself at him, seat yourself back on his lap and bury your head in his neck but he was running his hands up and down the back of your thighs, edging himself closer on the chair, pushing you forward so that your breasts rested on the kitchen table, your cheek flush to the cold wood.

He bent his head and placed a single kiss at the base of your spine and you worried your knees would buckle, worried you would collapse onto the kitchen tile. As you gasped he brought his hands up to cup your bottom, spreading your cheeks enough to slip a thumb into your cunt, probe the warmth and feel the wet collecting on his fingertip. You startled, trying to buck away, trying to buck towards him, circling your hips to capture him inside you, and you heard him chuckle, felt his lips dip lower to your tailbone as he twisted his hands, his thumb still inside as his fingers came around to cup and rub at your slit, your poor little aching clit caught between his fingertips.

‘Jesus,’ you cried, finding religion despite never having set foot in a church.

‘Want to keep you full of me,’ he muttered, sitting back down on the chair again and pulling you with him, spreading your legs over his so you were open wide, obscene and dripping in his lap, pulling your legs apart with his and whispering filth in your ear, cupping your breast with one hand and the other sliding into your heat.

‘Want to keep you here, my pretty girl all safe and warm in my arms, full of my cock and my fingers, crying out for me when I’m not there.’ You were gasping, your vision narrowing, barely able to concentrate on anything except for his words, for his fingers stretching you, his legs pulling you impossibly wide. ‘Won’t let nothin’ hurt ya, baby girl,’ he grit out, and you felt a sob rip through your throat, the pleasure he was drawing out of you mixing with the comfort, with the intoxicating allure of him protecting you, of him standing between you and so many terrors.

In your right mind you wouldn’t have believed him. Would have known there were things out there even the great Joel Miller couldn’t topple, that there were threats known and unknown, seen and unseen, things out there wanting to spill your blood, the blood of the people you cared the most for. But Joel was inside you, in your cunt and in your ear, and his words were chipping away at your resistance, sliding under the door long ago locked tight. You were far from your right mind. You surrendered to the seduction of it, of the intoxication of it, of the myth this man was peddling that you would buy again and again and again.

‘There she is,’ he said, as you came on his fingers, your cunt gripping him and your hips rolling, his face pressed hard into your neck as you twisted into the agony of it, your mouth open and gasping, your face turned to the Gods.

You felt his fingers underneath you, one hand wrapped tight around your torso to hold you steady as he released himself from his jeans, and you felt him then, pressed against the back of your thigh, the velvet heat of his length, the thundering throb of it. You had barely caught your breath, had yet to fully come back to yourself, before he was pushing himself into you, pulling you onto him, your neck caught in his teeth as he bit down on the nape, tried to stifle the groan blooming in his chest.

He felt bigger this way, the stretch even sharper despite his best attempts to prepare you, and your walls fluttered, fought to accept him. You shuddered, the sudden sting slamming you back into your body, and you gripped his hands to stop him, to pause. He stilled immediately, his breath hot and gasping.

‘Give me a minute,’ you gritted out, leaning back onto his shoulder and burying your nose in his jaw, panting, placing a placid little kiss to the salt and pepper patches there.

You felt him reach around you, his finger finding your clit and gently circling it, collecting your slick and pushing it over the nub to rid you of any friction. You groaned, arching your back against him, your hands digging into the meat of his thighs underneath you.

‘So beautiful like this,’ he whispered into your ear as you felt the pleasure overtake you, the throb in your cunt synchronised to your thundering pulse. ‘Can feel you gripping me,’ he went on. ‘Stuffed fulla me, baby.’

‘Stop,’ you gasped, the moment suddenly too intense, a fear gripping you then that if he kept talking you would give him anything; the shirt off your back, the blood in your veins. He chuckled, watching you struggle to take the pleasure he was pushing into you, through you.

It was wrong but you couldn’t figure out why, because it still felt so fucking good, and you wanted more but couldn’t figure out how it was possible, not sated by him seated fully inside you, not close enough to him as you pressed your body entirely against yours. You huffed, frustrated, standing before he could stop you and pivoting to face him, straddling him again in the chair and sinking yourself down on him in one swift motion, so that he gasped and then groaned when the heat of you enveloped him, joined you in a harsh cry when your clit met his hipbone and you settled there, shifted your hips to press into the nub.

‘S’better,’ you said, and you watched his lopsided grin emerge.

‘My girl miss seeing me?’ he asked, and you rolled your hips to shut him up, watched any semblance of cogent thought leave him when you gripped him there.

‘Say it again, Joel,’ you said, sliding your hips forward and back in a way that you knew wasn’t enough for him, but was making your clit throb when it grazed over his skin. He grunted, suddenly finding it hard to think clearly, and his brows saddled.

‘Keep you safe?’ he said, uncertain but meaning it anyway, and you shook your head.

‘Keep who safe?’ he asked.

‘You,’ he answered, still not following, and you planted your feet on the floor, raised yourself up just to bounce back down again.

‘Who am I, Joel?’ you asked, nearly breathless, and finally, finally he understood, his little huffed out laugh sending a thrill through you as he reached down between your bodies, felt where you were joined.

‘My girl,’ he said, finding your clit and edging his fingertips across it, sending fireworks up your spine. ‘My beautiful girl, so tight and wet, so needy for me, cryin’ out for me in her kitchen.’

You groaned, feeling him grip you around the middle with one arm, lifting you up and down on his cock, rocking into you and always, always, always watching your face, nibbling at your chin when you leant back to gasp for air.

You were going to come. It was too fast. You still had so many other things you wanted to say to him, wanted him with every atom of you, with every fibre, the neurons in your brain lighting up just for him. Wanting to live in the torrent of pleasure he brought out in you, wanted to twist and writhe in it. You felt, again, on the edge of tears, but not for wanting, this time. Not for the losses.

For the having. Of Jackson, of the wildflowers on the paths pushing past the cold. Of the little family you had eked out at the end of the world, of Ellie, of Tommy and Maria and Robin. Of this man under your body and on your kitchen chair, calling you his and promising to keep you safe. Of this man, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion and clinging to him, willingly readying yourself to cascade over it.

‘Want you right here, always,’ he grunted, and you keened, felt it then, that you were wanted, that you belonged.

You didn’t have the words for it, vowed in that moment that you would spend the rest of your life trying to find them. For right now you did the only thing you could think of, leaning over and gripping his jaw, angling his face to you as you landed your lips on him, kissed him as you felt a tear streak across your cheek and onto his skin, as you shuddered and felt your cunt milking him, as he spilled into you and you joined him, the ecstasy and the pleasure and the warmth of it. In your little house in Jackson, behind enormous walls, to hold you.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

@anoverwhelmingdin

@pedropascalsbbg

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐮𝐡𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISTP/ISFP

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Scorpio Sun, Aries Moon, Aquarius Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You know when you meet someone, and you don't have to force your personality to fit into some kind of shape?

・That's what happened with you and Ruhn

・Ever since you met, there was a spark. You were both curious about each other.

・You were drawn into the way he looked. Not many fae tattooed themselves from nearly head to toe, or had so many piercings

・It made your heart beat faster and faster

・You knew you were attracted to him

・And he made you laugh within minutes

・But you didn't want to give him the satisfaction

・So, the one thing that has stayed throughout your relationship is the goddamn bickering. Which really is just another form of banter.

・This has caused a lot of angst between the two of you.

・But you both knew it was pure play. Flirting. Humour. Banter.

・Everything changed when you had a panic attack in front of him. You were so embarrassed. But the way he held you, cupping your face, moving your hair behind your ears, wiping away the tears.

・His purple eyes bore into your own and you felt instantly calmer.

・From that day on you thanked The Maker. Because staring into his eyes - something clicked. Like a piece was perfectly placed; one you never knew you were missing.

・Making you blush is one of his favourite hobbies. Seeing you duck your head, cover your face or roll your eyes makes his day.

・Very protective; is able to stop himself from taking a swing at the asshole. He's more of a rip him to shreds verbally and then wrap an arm around your shoulder and walk away.

・But don't think he won't get physical over you. Because Ruhn definitely will.

・Would rather take your last name when you get married - his holds too many bad memories

・He knows his smirk makes you weak in the knees but when you brush over his bare skin, he nearly gets on his own knees to worship you

・Would walk to the ends of the earth to find you. There's nothing Ruhn would not do for you. Kill, maim, avenge, even die for you.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Tough on the Outside, Soft on the Inside (Ruhn) x The Top (You)

Overly arrogant, flirty (Ruhn) x Pretends To Be Unfazed, But Is Dying On The Inside (You)

“Shut Up” x “Make Me”

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Intertwined Destinies

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Fire In The Water by Feist

Blood Moon by John Lunn & Eivor

The Lure by The Weeknd

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞

・Every time with him is hot and heavy; it's hard to breathe when you're both in the mood. It's as if the world doesn't exist and all you can do is be in one another's arms

・You're both as dominant as each other, but when you tease him, gods help you. He'll have you bent over any flat surface, taking you from behind.

・Definitely an ass slapper.

・Growls in your ear both in the bedroom and in public

・Something turns primal in him whenever he's with you. Sometimes it feels like he's a hairs breath away from completely ravishing you

・Ruhn is definitely one to keep a naughty polaroid of you

・At times you think you're both insatiable; no matter how many times either of you cum, nothing is good enough.

・As Mates it's easy to explain. Your souls were made for one another, and so is your biology. Therefore, you both have high fucking sex drives.

・You're obsessed with Ruhn's hands and he knows it. Large, veiny and usually with a few rings. He rests his hand on your thigh, and will slowly move it closer and closer to your core - no matter who is around

・His cock is 8 inches when hard, veined, 3cm in girth. Circumcised; when he's horny the tip is a dark weepy red and when after orgasm it's slightly darker.

・As much as he can be serious and passionate, Ruhn also loves when you two can be silly while having sex. Talking about your day, or laughing when you two almost fall off the bed.

・The first time you had sex, Ruhn didn't last as long as he usually does. He was a whiny, whimpering mess, head in the crook of your neck, pumping in and out of you relentlessly.

・It was like fucking for the first time.

・Nothing compared to being with the person you were supposed to be with.

・Ruhn couldn't stop kissing you, and not just your lips. His favourite part was behind your ear. Trailing hot breathy kisses down to your neck.

・He apologised, but it didn't mean he was done. It just meant there was more natural lube for you.

[atinymekanie]

The Night We Met - Chapter 11: The Hand That Holds

|| Premise: What if Dawnbreaker's wish for one day and one night with the woman who lives only in his dreams... came true? ||

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Updates Weekly

A soft chime sounded as Zayne pulled open the door to Meow’s Café, allowing the woman to enter before him. Following after her, he entered the well-lit café with trepidation, his heart sinking slightly, although he did his best to hide it. This was likely not going to go well. Whether it was his stand-offish demeanor or his literally cold hands, cats and other small animals did not seem to enjoy his presence. Zayne couldn’t be sure which was the culprit, but he had never successfully managed to pet any of the very few small animals he had encountered in his life. At least thus far. But perhaps small creatures in this time were different.

The interior of the café was well-lit, with plenty of sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front. Decorated in shades of tan and soft green, with lots of indoor foliage, comfy table arrangements, and the smell of espresso and sweet treats wafting through the air, the environment was bright and welcoming. Despite the cheery atmosphere, Zayne felt a hint of dread at the thought of the woman’s disappointment when she witnessed how the cats would inevitably shrink away from him.

Still, he followed her dutifully through the door and over to the café’s counter, behind which were all sorts of pastries and desserts as well as many contraptions, all for brewing a myriad of tasty beverages. As they waited to speak to the barista, a smattering of small talk filled the air, along with soft mews and purrs, as well as the occasional plaintive yowl. All the sounds were so…high-pitched. Zayne glanced around the café, craning his neck to see if he could spot the cats that were making the noises, expecting them to be slinking across the floor or lounging on the furniture.

Zayne frowned slightly, his cursory glance not encountering any felines, either slinking or lounging. Raising his gaze to the nearest table where a couple was seated, his mouth fell open in surprise. What in the… There, seated inside of the teacups laid out on the table, were the cats. They were so…tiny. Each miniature cat had a different shade to their coat, but the colors weren’t natural – one was a soft purple, another had green stripes, a third was a blushing red color, and so on. One had its tiny paws up on the edge of the cup, yowling pitifully up at the man in front of it.

A gentle tap on his shoulder pulled Zayne back from his astonishment, and he realized he had been staring. The woman was gazing up at him, a mischievous look crossing her face as she noticed his expression. She had hoped to surprise him with the oddity that was Meow’s Café, but part of her had assumed he might already know of it, given his dreams. That did not seem to be the case, she now realized.

“So, I take it this place hasn’t been the grand stage for any of your dreams, then?” Her voice was a gentle whisper as she raised up on tiptoe, aligning her lips with Zayne’s ear. She bounced on her toes as she tilted her head, waiting for his answer.

“No. It would appear not,” Zayne murmured, inclining his head slightly toward her as he answered, a very tiny smile lifting the corners of his lips as he took in her apparent excitement at that tidbit of knowledge. “I did not realize cats came in this…size. Model? Style?” His brow furrowed, unsure of what the little cats were, exactly. Alive? Robotic? Holographic? Zayne snuck a glance back at the table, his gaze wandering over the teacups and their minute occupants as if further inspection would provide the answer.

“They’re Evol kitties,” she answered, her eyes shining with mirth. “They’re a manifestation of Evol energy, and they can be quite the handful. But they’re very adorable, aren’t they?” The woman peered around Zayne, noticing the direction of his gaze and the little smile on his face as he watched the cats.

Zayne glanced back at her, chiding himself inwardly for staring again. “Yes. I suppose they are,” he replied, his voice still lower than normal. He had lowered his voice for two reasons – partially because of the relatively quiet environment of the café, and partially because he wasn’t used to being around animals, even ones that he wasn’t entirely sure were real. Especially that kind. There was nothing like this in his time, but perhaps that would work in his favor. Perhaps these odd little cats wouldn’t be put off by him.

The woman grinned up at him and then moved toward the counter, noticing it was their turn in line. She spoke with the barista for a moment, then motioned for Zayne to follow. He hadn’t quite heard what had been said – his focus was on the cats, his gaze returning to them no matter where in the café he looked, but he followed her without question as she led him over to a small round table by one of the windows.

“We had made reservations for today a while ago, and I’d almost forgotten about them, what with you being here. But when I saw the reminder on my phone, I figured you might actually enjoy seeing this place.” She chose a seat at the table while speaking animatedly, her hands gesturing throughout the conversation. “They’ll bring over the card game and the cats, along with the food we pre-ordered soon. I’m fairly certain you’ll enjoy what we’d picked out, based on your previous reactions to the food we’ve had.”

Zayne sat down as well, noticing her talking with her hands and remembering this small quirk of hers from his dreams. He realized it was something he couldn’t get enough of, now that he was seeing it in person. Idly, he wondered what would happen if he reached out and held her hands, ceasing their movements. Would she cease speaking as well? Zayne lifted his hands from his lap without thinking, his mind catching up only a second later, causing him to pause, mid-motion.

Freezing in place for a moment, Zayne tried to rein in the sharp spike of panic that rose inside him. What was he thinking – was he just going to take her hands in his? This was dangerous. He was getting way too comfortable around her. First, he had kissed her hand without thinking at the botanical garden, then he had hugged her impulsively while sitting on the bench outside, and now he was about to reach out and hold her hands? That wouldn’t do, at all. Better control was needed. Clearly.

Swallowing down the mild panic that had risen in his throat, Zayne instead raised his hands to his coat, shrugging it off and hanging it on the back of the chair, plushies and all. While Zayne had known the woman for years from seeing her in his dreams, even to the point of intimacy, he was still very aware of the fact that she didn’t know him. At least, not the way he knew her. The way he loved her. The fact that he was growing so comfortable around her so quickly startled him and left him feeling off balance, especially knowing that she likely did not feel the same way.

Zayne had been trying so hard to keep from doing anything that might make her uncomfortable, that he had not realized just how at ease he found himself when he was with her. Having to keep his hands to himself had not been a problem he had anticipated – at least, not this much of a problem.

Normally, Zayne never wanted to touch anyone or have anyone touch him. But with her, it was different. The desire to be in contact with her in some way had begun to surface far more often than he had thought it would. The desire to reach out and brush the hair from her face, or take her hand in his, or even lean down and… No. Zayne forced his mind away from that train of thought, praying that she wouldn’t notice his moment of distraction. While he had realized he would likely think about all those things during the day, he had not realized just how easily this body seemed to fall into the habit of just doing them, without conscious thought.

His ruminations were interrupted as the barista appeared beside them, setting down a board with nine tiles, eight of them covered with teacups, the center one holding a stack of cards, and a small basket lined with soft cloth. Inside the basket were eight of the tiny Evol kitties, some of them curled up sleeping, and two poking their tiny heads out of the basket. At the moment, they had no odd colors, their coats a soft white with grey stripes. The woman thanked the barista and then turned back to look at Zayne.

“I’ll be right back with your order,” chirped the barista, disappearing off to the counter to retrieve it. Zayne stared down at the basket with the minuscule cats in it, his hands clasped firmly in his lap. Not only had his hands been traitorous recently, but he was also sure that the cats would not want his cold hands anywhere near them. His somewhat rigid posture caught the woman’s eye, and she leaned forward, pushing the basket toward him a little.

“They won’t bite, you know.” She smiled gently as she spoke, the slightest hint of teasing in her tone. “I promise, these little kitties don’t mind cold hands.” Reaching into the basket, she scooped up one of the small creatures and cradled it in her palm before holding it out to him. The little cat blinked up at him, clinging to one of her fingers as it yawned.

Zayne raised his gaze to her face for a moment, then lowered it again to the tiny cat, innocently lounging in her hand. Well, if she insisted. Tentatively, he raised his right hand, index finger extended towards the cat. When it didn’t show any sign of being afraid of him, Zayne very slowly lowered his fingertip until it lightly touched the small animal’s head, just between its ears. It was soft, and somewhat cool to the touch, rather than being warm like a normal cat. Huh. The cat tilted its head up further, then batted at his finger gently with a minuscule paw. Without his knowledge, a slow smile began to creep across his countenance.

The woman watched as the smile spread across Zayne’s face, a matching one playing across hers. Just as expected. Her gaze followed his hand as it moved at a glacial pace, slowly running a finger down the back of the little cat, petting it extremely gently. It struck her then that he likely had no idea how to pet a cat. Let alone an Evol kitty. The hesitance and awkwardness in his touch were adorable, and she had to stifle a chuckle. The last thing she wanted was for Zayne to think she was laughing at him.

“Do you want to hold one?” She nodded toward the basket as she spoke, her tone soft and as encouraging as she could make it. When he glanced up at her, she could see some of that same childlike wonder shining in his eyes, the way it had in the garden. A familiar warmth blossomed in her chest, her smile growing into a grin as she gestured with her free hand toward the basket. “Why don’t you pick one of the kitties up and get used to holding it, while I explain the rules of the card game?”

At the words ‘card game’, Zayne looked up, his hand hovering above the small basket of tiny cats. “Card game?” Glancing over, he belatedly took stock of the pile of cards sitting in the middle of the teacups on the board. There had never been anyone to play card games with before. How did they work? Before he could continue speaking, he felt a light tap on his hand, his eyes returning to the basket.

One of the tiny cats had climbed up on the edge of the basket and was bapping at his hand, its teeny paw flailing as it started to lose its balance. Without thinking, Zayne cupped his hands to catch the little cat, gasping softly in surprise as it fell into his waiting palms. Now what? Worry nagged at the back of his mind, concern that the small being might yowl and jump away filling him like ice water rising in a glass, but the little creature did nothing of the sort.

Instead, the cat collected itself, scratching behind an ear with its hind leg for a second before blinking lazily up at him. It didn’t run. Zayne held his breath, his eyes wide as he stared down at the minuscule cat sitting in his large, scarred hands. He was holding a cat. For the first time. Uncertainty clear in every movement, he slowly brought his hands toward his chest, his posture that of someone holding either a precious jewel or a bomb that might go off at any minute. Little did he know – that was pretty much the essence of a cat. Slowly, Zayne lifted his gaze to meet that of the woman sitting across from him, unsure of what to do now that he was holding the teeny creature.

“It’s alright, just hold it for a little while. Let it warm up to you. You’ll be an expert cat wrangler in no time.” Smiling kindly at him as she spoke, the woman placed the cat she had been holding back into the basket, then picked up the deck of cards. She was about to start explaining the rules when the barista returned, dropping off the drinks that had been pre-ordered.

“Here you go! One fifty-percent sugar taro milk tea with boba, and one hundred-percent sugar latte with vanilla. Enjoy!” The barista set down the drinks beside the game board and hurried off, a small smile crossing their face as they noticed how carefully the man at the table was holding the tiny cat. Zayne managed to nod in thanks at the barista, his overall appearance rather flustered.

“Why don’t you try this one?” she said as she pushed the latte over to Zayne. “I’m positive you’ll enjoy it.” Picking up her own beverage in one hand and holding the card deck in the other, she began to explain the rules of the basic game known as Kitty Cards.

____________________________________

It had only taken about ten minutes or so to explain the basic version of Kitty Cards but playing through the rounds was another matter. This was not because Zayne didn’t understand the rules or took too long to make a play. That wasn’t it at all. He stared down at the teacups, his gaze taking in the couple of cards he had, and the number of cups left, along with the colors available. A clear move was open, but that wasn’t the problem.

No, the problem was that Zayne kept getting distracted. At the moment, one of the remaining two Evol kitties was attempting to scale the side of his head, using his hair as a ladder, and the other was about to swan dive off of his lap. Dropping his cards, Zayne scooped up the little cat as it leapt off his leg, turning and depositing it back into its basket. The sudden motion caused the cat doing an impression of a mountain climber to slide off his head, bounce off his shoulder, and disappear behind him.

“Oh no.” Zayne froze for a second, his eyes wide, guilt written across his face. The woman across from him attempted to stifle a laugh but failed miserably as he rotated slowly and stared down behind his chair with concern. Gazing down at his coat hanging on the back of the chair, Zayne breathed a sigh of relief. Instead of falling the comparatively long distance to the hard floor, the tiny cat had slid down his jacket and landed in the pocket of his coat, right next to the cat plushie.

“There you are, little one,” said Zayne as he reached down into the pocket to scoop the small feline out of its comfy new lair. It mewed angrily in response, causing him to chuckle softly as he lifted it back up to the table, ignoring its very angry expression. “These small ones are quite temperamental, no?” Zayne glanced across the table at the woman, a smile lighting his emerald eyes as he saw her trying desperately not to laugh.

“They certainly can be, but they’ve taken quite a liking to you, it seems,” she teased, the laughter and joy clear in her voice. Watching him from across the table, the woman wasn’t sure if it was just the cats she was talking about, or herself. While this version of Zayne was somewhat different than she was used to, it was becoming extremely self-evident that this was, without a doubt, still Zayne.

She felt her heart twist in her chest, constricting uncomfortably as she subconsciously made this realization. Somewhere out there, somewhen, this version of the man she loved lived in an unimaginable hell, a place she didn’t want to fathom. And he would have to go back. Sooner or later, he would be returned to wherever, whenever, he had come from. And her Zayne would be returned.

The woman was glad for that in so many ways, as she knew her Zayne was likely facing one of the hardest times of his life, and she missed him dearly. But it was for one day. Her Zayne was a capable, intelligent, disciplined, trained fighter, who would no doubt find his way through whatever he faced. She had complete faith in him.

This Zayne, however, the one in front of her… This Zayne would be returned to that hell, returned to a place where monsters walked the streets, where technology had come to control the world because people lived in fear of setting foot outside, and the food tasted like the ashes of what it once was – not for a day, but for life. For the rest of his life. The laughter died in her throat, her face falling as she watched Zayne gently place the tiny feline into the cup he was choosing, the color of its grey coat turning a lilac purple as he played his card.

Glancing down at her cards in an attempt to hide her sudden change in temperament, the woman fiddled with the two cards at her disposal. Neither card was a good choice, but there wasn’t much of an option left – only one cup was still open. Her hands rested on the table; the cards clasped between the fingers of both hands. She felt her eyes blur slightly, blinking rapidly to clear the stinging sensation, when movement startled her.

Suddenly, a large, scarred hand enclosed one of hers, the touch gentle despite the appearance of said hand. Surprised, she lifted her gaze to see Zayne leaning forward, his arm outstretched across the table, his hand covering hers, his brow furrowed in concern. She met his quartzite gaze, her lips parting slightly when she saw the genuine worry held there.

“Are you alright?” Zayne spoke softly, his voice lowered to just shy of a whisper, the sound floating across the table and drifting into her ears. It seemed this Zayne was just as perceptive of her moods and emotions as her own. Her surprise faded as quickly as it had come, the realization clicking into place like the last piece of a puzzle. Of course, he was, because he…

The woman gazed at him for a moment, taking in the way he leaned towards her, the soft touch of his hand on hers, the way he squeezed her hand in his, reassuring her he was there. Warmth blossomed in her cheeks, her heart pounding in her chest as she met his gaze and saw the love shining in it. Her mind whirred as it spun through this revelation, her body responding before her brain could. She set down her cards and returned the gentle squeeze of his hand, her fingers curling about his as she did so, her lips curving into a smile, albeit a wistful one.

Zayne watched her worriedly, his own social anxiety forgotten at the first sign of her distress. He had reached over and placed his hand over hers when he heard her laugh falter and saw her blinking as if to rid herself of tears. Why was she upset? Had he done something wrong? Though his first thought was to worry if he had somehow upset her, the rational part of him knew that he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. It must be something else then. Perhaps she missed the doctor – that would certainly be understandable, given the situation.

While he knew that he was the last person she probably wanted to comfort her in such a situation, Zayne also couldn’t stop himself from trying. Seeing her upset, even for a moment, sent an icepick of alarm through him, his heart thudding painfully behind his ribs at the sight. He barely even registered that he had reached out to hold her hand, the need to console her overriding his fear of offending her.

As he felt her take his hand, Zayne offered her a tentative smile, unsure what to say but wanting to do whatever he could to help. Thankfully, the woman smiled back at him, her eyes no longer blurring with tears. They stayed that way for a moment, their gazes locked, his right hand and her left hand clasped, the little cats in the teacups between them mewing softly, completely oblivious to the tumultuous emotions roiling inside each of them.

Before either of them could say anything further, the last tiny creature in the basket promptly rolled out of it, tumbling ass over teakettle into the side of Zayne’s arm. The tension of the moment broke, both of their gazes moving to the fallen feline who sat up, shaking its head and yowling in indignation at its predicament.

The laughter started as a snicker on the part of the woman, the sound huffing through her nostrils in response to the ridiculous turn of events. Much to Zayne’s surprise, her laughter was infectious, and he found himself chuckling along with her, unable to disguise his amusement at the antics of the Evol kitty. This in turn caused her to laugh harder, the snicker becoming a chortle, which of course resulted in Zayne’s chuckle becoming actual laughter, even as he attempted to hide his mouth with his other hand. Still, they held hands across the table, both of them covering their mouths with their free hands to stifle the laughter, attempting to keep from disturbing the other customers in the café.

After a moment where they both caught their breath, the woman finally withdrew her hand from Zayne’s, picked up one of her cards and placed it face up, revealing its pale green face with a number two on it. She reached for the small cat who had tried its hand at acrobatics and placed it into the last teacup, its coat flooding with the same light green color.

“Well, it didn’t win me the round, but it will at least keep this little one out of further mischief, so that’s something,” she quipped, her eyes twinkling as she glanced over at Zayne. He gazed back at her, his cheeks slightly flushed and his eyes sparkling, his amusement clear on his face despite only a hint of a smile curving his lips.

“That it will. I suppose this makes me the winner. Two out of three, hmm?” Zayne replied, his voice holding a gentle note of teasing competition in it. He had surprised himself by winning both the second and now the third rounds, despite having never played before. Or maybe she had just gone easy on him. That was likely the case. But either way, Zayne was happy they had played, and happier still that he had finally been able to interact with cats for the first time. Even if he still wasn’t sure just how real these ones were. His voice softened as he continued speaking. “This was…quite enjoyable. Thank you.”

“Oh… Of course. There was no point in wasting the reservation, especially once I realized you would probably find it interesting if nothing else,” she responded. Her gaze found his again, their eyes meeting over the softly meowing game board, and a rush of affection flowed through her. “I’m very glad you enjoyed it. I…want you to enjoy as much of today as possible.” Because it might be the only time he could. The rest of that thought remained unspoken, and she managed to keep her voice steady, at least for the most part. Before she allowed herself to get any further down that line of thought, the woman stood and waved to the barista, letting them know they were done with their time slot, having finished their three rounds.

Zayne watched her stand, his mind still processing what she had said. It was an innocuous statement, a kind offering in an uncertain and strange situation, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there had been something else behind it. Something more. The barista hastening over to them interrupted his thought process and he lost the nagging sensation as he too stood, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair. After thanking them for visiting, the barista took away the basket and game board, the tiny cats yowling mournfully as they were carried away.

“Where to next? I remember you had said something this morning about new food stalls opening…?” He quirked an eyebrow at her as he spoke, donning his coat at the same time. The woman had stepped up beside him after the barista left, gazing up at him, an unreadable look on her face. Zayne had remembered the original plan for her day with the doctor when she had mentioned the reservation for Meow’s Café.

A small, selfish part of him wanted to prove that he could remember the details of their past conversations, to show that she was important to him, that her desires and interests aligned with his…and to have that experience of visiting the food stalls with her. For what little good it did him. Still, it wasn’t a part of him that Zayne could easily let go of, not when she was so close. Another part of him felt bad about bringing up the plans she had originally made with the doctor, but the words had already slipped out.

“Yes, I… That was the plan,” she answered, her voice somewhat hesitant in the quiet atmosphere of the café. Looking up at him, she couldn’t help but feel a dual sadness – on one hand, she was missing out on this experience with the Zayne she knew, and on the other, she knew that the Zayne right in front of her only had today to experience this. Her heart felt torn in more ways than one.

Glancing down at her watch, she saw the time: 17:22. The afternoon was mostly gone. Taking a deep breath, the woman reached out toward him, her hand finding its place in his, rather than in the crook of his elbow. “They’re about three blocks over. We can stroll through there, grab some of the yummy food for dinner, and then head out to the bay. How does that sound?”

Zayne fought to hide his surprise as her hand slipped into his, turning his head towards the door of the café as he willed himself not to tense at the sensation. He had been offering her his arm throughout the day, but the contact of her hand in his, her skin on his directly instead of through the fabric of his coat, seemed almost intimate in comparison.

As carefully as he could, Zayne allowed himself to wrap his hand around hers, turning back towards her with a soft smile that he was unable to hide. “That sounds…lovely.”

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Tags: @callme-naomi @altair718 @seris-the-amious @schnittled @punk-cat

[susoriginals]

Vintage Black T Strap Sandals Strappy Open Toe by Van Eli Women's Size 8 Only $6

[is-on-its-way]

My one Fictober post

(because im a slow writer)

Prompt: 22 why are we doing this again?

This is “au” for after season 8 || read on AO3

She stared out across the lake sized pond, they called lakes ponds here, making her wonder what Maine’s lakes looked like. She made a mental note to ask Mulder to take them to see one after. 

Everything was so vast and open and endless. Sun drenched mountains stood ancient and unmoving past the parting of the trees on the opposite bank. Their rocky tops colored an amber yellow in the sunrise. Tall pine trees hugged the shore but for the rocky beach she was standing on. The water was a clear shade of greenish blue, reminding her of his eyes in the light of a sunrise. 

Rocks as big as her feet under her bare toes were warm to the touch, baked in the morning sun. They felt wonderful in the chill air surrounding her, remembered from the night before. It was cold here in the evenings, the warning of winter came as early as late August. But they were cozy in their cabin, with a cast iron stove and a furnace and a fireplace to keep the chill out. 

She liked the wildness of it and loved feeling the cold prick her skin at the closing and opening of each day, chasing her and being chased by the sun. There was a comfort there, of the silent and unmovable force of nature after being pursued for so much of their lives by things much less impressive. 

They would all flee inside as their daily ritual, Mulder their shepard when she or their boy were inevitably stubborn. But he was being strict with her, and would never allow it. 

She wanted to sit outside around the firepit on occasion but Mulder wouldn’t hear it. He worried about her, insisting she come inside. Telling her there would be other summers and autumns when she could. And the funny thing was, she let him. She didn’t even have to fight herself and her independence at all really, she found his protectiveness, her cheeks reddened just thinking about it, sexy. 

He’d missed out the last time she told herself, he deserved to have this. So she let him herd them all inside and cuddle up as a family every night on the cozy couch by the fireplace and they would all take turns telling stories and adding new chapters to their favorite ones until one of them, usually her, fell asleep. 

Besides it made her feel a comfort she couldn’t describe or understand. His care for them, she couldn’t have imagined how good this could be.

A wind blew off the water wipping her hair around her neck and she shivered pulling her sweater tight around her and glancing back to the hammock tied between two trees to make sure it wasnt swaying too much in the wind. He was warm enough she’d put a sheepskin down and then a wool blanket over top of him. The impression their little boy made was so tiny and she had a sudden wild feeling of joy and sorrow mixed together in the most confounding way. How small he used to be, with his little rabbit ear hat. How big he would seem in seven more months. Everything felt like it was going so slowly in this calm, but when she stopped to look she realized everything was going at the speed of light. 

The truth was he wasn’t tiny, she couldn’t really lift him up anymore, and they’d started transitioning to couch cuddles when he needed comfort. He was in the 94th percentile for height. Mulder had kissed her head and said “Thank those recessive Scully genes your brother got, huh?” at his last checkup. To which she’d muttered back “He's a Mulder.” Mainly to see the pride flicker across his face. He had started planning to put a basketball court in beside the driveway.

She turned back to the water chin dimpling at the passage of time. She’d always loved the fall, the shade of sunlight on her skin in the mornings and the sharp angles and yellow sunsets cast across living rooms in the evenings. This fall though, was the happiest of her life. The stillness of it was turning her world on its axis. God knows, she wasn’t one to remain in one place for long, neither was Mulder. She smiled at the thought. But they had soaked this in for two weeks now and she could envision seven months more, longer. Safe. Him safe. Together and enjoying each other for the first time… ever. 

It was like a honeymoon phase they never really had. They were like teenagers exploring their newfound freedom and the change in their lives for the first time it felt like, for the better. She couldn't stop smiling. Neither could he. Sometimes by the fire in the evenings, her, curled up in the big armchair reading, him, typing on the sofa next to their son fast asleep; they’d meet each others gaze and just grin dopily at each other.

Even Liam saw their newfound giddiness. “Momma you’re happy now?” Hed asked this morning, through a spoonful of oatmeal. They’d eaten a later breakfast than Mulder after he had left for an early morning hike. 

“Yes baby, I’m happy.” she’d said kissing the top of his sun bleached, sandy brown head.

“Are you happy my love?” She asked, playing with his hair.

“Yeaaaaah!” he’d exclaimed and wiggled in his chair and shed laughed.

Shed been saddened a bit by this. It had only been months that they’d finally been free.

Their son had grown up with both of his parents filled with worry, and anxiety, and serious conversations, and fights even, about the right thing to do, the time it would take them, the sacrifices they were making, even the moral thing to do. He’d spent his toddlerhood in an underground medical lab that was soulless and sunless and the bane of her existence for three hellish years.

Scully sometimes couldnt believe they’d gotten through it. Couldn’t believe she and Mulder had come out of it together and loving each other the same way, if not more deeply. 

She shook off her memories of that time determined to enjoy the world in front of her now. Mostly alien-less and beautiful and sunny and windy. Oh how she’d missed the wind. 

And people! Strangers, smiling as you passed them on the street. It’d taken them a couple of days to get used to the college town hospitality but how refreshing it was to see people. No weirdos, no cults, they'd employed the gunmen to double check, just students and parents and seniors posted up at the local coffee shop all day. Nothing but normalicy. Well except for the three of them. But she could live with that. 

She could live with a lot, she realized, once that low hum of anxiety, the constantly on guard state of being she’d become so accustomed to fell away. Mulder too, was more relaxed and happy here, just them, in their own universe. 

——————————

He’d been booked for a flight to a case he’d been working with the lone gunmen when it happened. It would’ve been a normal case with them otherwise, like he had done since they’d been freed. Free of the FBI, free of the conspiracy, and the group that had been a danger to them. Some in the government were taking the threat seriously and many of the survivors had been placed on the most wanted list. They were, more importantly, free of the colonists. They’d gone once the vaccine program had been rolled out, the earth, useless to them now. 

It felt like a weight that she hadn’t known she carried since she had woken up in the hospital in 1994 had been lifted off of her. No more experiments, no more women and children in danger. She could rest now. They could rest now. And rest they had.

She’d come back from the doctor in a daze. She’d been feeling under the weather and silently, she’d feared cancer, she hadn’t said as much to Mulder, but he had offered to drop Liam off at her mothers and go with her. She’d said no, it was probably nothing and if she needed him she’d call. He’d sent her off with an extra tight hug and a thousand kisses, whispering things that made her face flush thinking of them now. When the nurse had told her to do the standard pregnancy test before any imaging could be done she hadn’t even thought…

Mulder and Liam were dozing on the couch when she got home. She’d gone to the kitchen and turned on the faucet, hands shaking, mind blank, watching the water.

Mulder appeared at the kitchen door, wordless and waiting. She swallowed and managed a smile. “Not sick” she’d said.

And he’d been so relieved by this news he’d hardly noticed her fighting to remain calm while he woke Liam and they’d jumped around the kitchen shouting the lyrics to everything’s gonna be alright by Bob Marley. Mulder said they’d been waiting to have dessert with her, so she picked at the ice cream and watched her boys chatter and laugh for what she realized would be the last time as just the three of them. 

She’d waited until they’d put him to bed and he went to the couch holding a hand out, waiting for her to join him in their nightly cuddle. 

Instead she’d sat on the coffee table, taking his hand. She’d whispered “Mulder, I got some news at the doctor.” 

“I thought..?” He’d looked worried then and she’d wanted to beam her thoughts into his mind to stave off the five extra seconds of worry. 

“No its nothing bad, its…” She didn’t quite know how to say it, which if she wasnt so distracted she would find hilarious given this was the one thing she’d rehearsed in her dreams every single night the first time around. It came tumbling out of her mouth instead. 

“We’re going to have a baby.”

He’d blinked at her in complete shock and then his brow had furrowed and she’d wanted to say something else but he’d just leaned into her, took her in his arms and drew her into his lap.

“You’re sure? How scully..?” He’d mumbled from her neck. 

“I dont know” she’d cried, holding onto him like a life raft. 

They’d been overcome, trembling together, his tears wetting her neck. And she’d held him and kissed his cheek. 

He’d whispered ‘oh my god’ and found her hands and kissed each finger and then her face giving her little kisses all over, until the tears turned into giggles and they sat back and looked at each other faces red and puffy and happy.

The feeling that welled inside her then was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. At the chance to tell him. The second chance at everything. 

“What about the placenta?” he'd blurted out serious. And her heart could’ve shattered at his care for her. “Will they check it? Make sure you two will be safe not like last time?” His arms wrapped around her waist hugging her close to him.

“Well it was a great deal more stressful last time.” He squeezed her hand “but yes my OBGYN wants me to come in as soon as possible to do some testing.”

“Tomorrow?”

She nodded. 

“I’ll take you.” he said it with a finality that raised her deeply ingrained self suffient hackles and perplexingly turned her on a little.

Normally she’d have shaken her head. She almost did it automatically. But instead she’d smiled. “I’ll call to see if we can come in when Liam is at Bill and Taras.”

He’d sunk to the carpet, let her lie back on the couch as he rested his chin on her hipbone and whisped salutations to their child. Her fingers raked through his chinchilla hair. Trailing his fingers across her bare belly, asking for her to un button and unzip her pants so as to be as close as possble to where their baby currently inhabited her belly. He whispered about how he hoped they’d get her beautiful nose and come to think of it her eyes and the shape of her earlobes. She’d added 

“Tell them about your jawline and your soft hair.” 

“And your mom wishes you’d get my jawline so maybe work on that in there while you can, but I like her hair better so its up to you kid.”

She’d giggled, and they’d cried, and he’d carried her to bed. That night Mulder wrapped his body around her, entangling his limbs in hers, his hands placed protectively around her belly.

And when they woke up three days later and he’d prepared to go to the airport for the gunmen’s case, they both could barely look at each other. 

And he’d hugged her and said, “Don’t worry Scully, no monsters just run of the mill missing persons.” 

But her stomach dropped into her abdomen and stayed there as the door closed behind him, and as she’d started breakfast and cried silently at the stove begging god not to be so cruel. Not to take him a second time. Knowing he’d be okay but feeing deep down something would go wrong, the darkness would find him. 

And it jumped into her throat ten minutes later as the door crashed open and she heard him call her name and his long strides coming determinedly to her in the kitchen, catching her face in his hands, and wildly searching her eyes.

She’d cried his name as he’d asked desperately.

“Why are we doing this again?”

“I dont know” she’d broken down then; relieved, and so happy he’d come back to her. And he’d grabbed her and kissed her like he should’ve the first time, like he wanted a second chance, like they could relive the past and physically force it to change. 

“I dont want to miss a second of you this time.” he’d muttered into her hair holding her to him. 

“Mulder” she’d choked out, emotions too vast to put into words.

“Momma waffles” Liam had reminded her and she saved them before they burned

“Breakfast” she’d smiled weepily at Mulder, as they both wiped tears away.

“Yes, then let’s get out of here.” he’d said looking at her as seriously as she’d ever seen him.

She tilted her head in question

“Lets go to the maine house.”

She tried to hide a smile. “For how long?”

“The rest of it. A year. Forever. However long you want.”

She’d raised her eyebrows. This was her Mulder, all or nothing all the time. She’d fought a smile. “What happens when we get bored?” She crossed her arms, spatula still in hand, after putting the waffle on Liam's plate.

“I have a book to write that I’ve been putting off. You have a baby to grow and two full shelves of books you've been wanting to get through and…” he searched for more concrete reasons, “you wanted to decorate that house…Fall is the best time for antiquing” he’d said fluttering his eyebrows enticingly.

“We can stop at Brimfield on the way up.” he added in a sing song, knowing this would do the trick.

Her eyes lit up, he knew he had her, and he grinned.

“What about my training?”

“Can you take a sebatical?”

“Maybe, I can ask” 

“Ask”

“Okay I’ll call after breakfast.” She said excited at their new plan. 

“Good” his fingers found hers and pulled them around him spatuala and all, as he pulled her into a hug. 

“I’m so happy.” he mumbled in her hair “Its terrifying.” 

She nodded into his chest and said “I know exactly what you mean.”

And then he started laughing and she laughed with him and then Liam started his cutest five year old laugh and soon everyone had dissolved into giggles and hugs.

—————

The sun dappled her dappled cheeks catching a tree on its rise. She found herself smiling at the memories and she sighed.

He walked up behind her. She didn’t turn around knowing it was him from the sound of his footfalls. He stopped behind her and wrapped his arms under hers and over her slightly swollen belly, tucking his nose into the side of her neck. “Mmm” she hummed “Hi”

“Hi”

“Nice walk?”

“Very relaxing” he muttered into her, lips brushing against the top of her shoulder setting her skin alight in goosebumps. 

“Tomorrow we can all go.” She whispered, tilting her head so he could continue the path up her neck.

“Okay. I found a perfect little outcrop that looks over the lake. The trail is mostly flat.” His nose drifted across her jaw.

She smiled at his worry.

“Mulder” she said in that exasperated voice she knew he loved “I worked for the FBI the first time I was pregnant I can do a hike.”

He just breathed her in. “You smell different.” He murmured from the soft bare skin behind her ear.

“Better or worse” she asked, voice still playful.

“Just different. I love it. I love being here with you, watching you.” He breathed her in deep over exaggerating, and she giggled.

“You’re amazing. Have I told you?”

“Today? Not yet” she teased.

“You’re amazing Dana.” He said kissing her jawline.

“Thank you Fox.” she whispered as if his name was their secret.

“I have something for you.”

She turned in his arms looking at him questioningly. He dug in his back pocket and pulled a notebook out, opened it and on the page there was a perfect maple leaf in fall colors. The veins of it were still green but the colors faded outwards from them in a tricolor rainbow of brightest yellow to deepest red around the very edges.

“It’s beautiful” she said studying the way the colors merged from one vein into another.

“It wasn't ready to fall but it did and it ended up better for it.” He said. “Like us.”

She smiled earnestly up into his eyes. She twirled the stem in her fingertips the light catching it and illuminating the colors even more. 

“Fall always reminded me of you.” He said in a low voice still holding her. She reached up to his face brushing a finger across his plump lower lip. He answered her unspoken request, bending down to brush his lips to hers and allow her to open her mouth to him playing with them between her own, tasting the familiar taste of him on his tongue. Before parting, and pressing her cheek against his chest, looking out at the sun fully risen over the water now.

“I have something for you too” she said glancing up at him, finding his eyes a smile playing on her lips. She dug in her sweater pocket and pulled out a smooth stone and held her hand out with it lying on her palm. He took it beamused, then his eyebrows raised “Its shaped like a UFO” he said surprised. She laughed pleased he could see it too.

It was. It was oblong a perfect sphere from the top with a small hump on one side that could’ve been a cockpit.

“Don’t go imagining it actually is with tiny aliens inside, its just a coincidence in a stone.”

He smirked at her “Maybe” he said suggestively.

She shook her head staring back at her leaf 

“I think I can put this between wax paper and preserve it.”

He kissed her temple their presents held in each others hands.

“I can’t wait for spring, we can swim.”

“The babys due in May, I dont think I’ll be able to for a while after.”

He shrugged. “Then we’ll wait for summer.”

“You’ll take Liam, teach him to swim.” She said with certainty. “We can watch.” She spoke as much to him as her belly.

Mulder smiled and she saw tears flood his eyes threatening to spill over his bottom lashes. She put a hand to his cheek and asked for his eyes. 

He sighed and smiled “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

@today-in-fic

[animasolaoriginal]

I n n o c e n c e L o s t 🟪 9

Under the scorching sun, Ben's mind wanders... until he and Nebbia find themselves on the run from a bunch of enemies that bring forth a whole new problem.

lonely cowboy/outlaw ✖️ prostitute who's so much more than that

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

WORDS: 4.4k 🟪 READ ON AO3

Chapter 8 🟪 Chapter 10

Additional warning: explicit sexual content ahead! (The smut tag makes sense now!)

Chapter 9: The Temptation

The constant sway of Thunder's strong steps through the plain have him quickly losing focus. With Nebbia pressed to his chest, wedged between his thighs, held securely in his arm, her feet bouncing slightly, her whole body rubbing against him with every up and down motion, Ben's mind starts to wander.

He sees her outside a small cabin, their cabin, deep in the woods, close to a lake, where she tends to the garden while he hunts or catches fish, where she hangs the sheets out to dry in the soft breeze, her long brown hair moving in the same flow, her skirt billowing around her. She has to stretch to reach the line he's spanned between the trees, balancing on her toes as she fixes the sheets to it with the wooden clothespins, her shirt riding up slightly, exposing just a sliver of soft, pale skin.

It's his shirt, he notices, the plaid one he's given her, so many moons ago. She's tied it around her waist, knotted in the front, the sleeves rolled up, just enough buttons undone to tease at the soft mounds beneath the warm fabric.

When she returns to the cabin, she finds him leaning by the window, watching her. There's a blush on her pale cheeks when she looks up at him. He doesn't hesitate when he grabs her waist and hoists her onto the kitchen counter effortlessly. A little yelp escapes her, then a laugh, her smile warm and happy when she extends her arms and pulls him closer, wrapping them around his neck, playing with his hair.

He obliges, indulges her, leans in and presses his mouth to hers. He can feel the warmth and wetness of her tongue when it moves between his lips, when it meets his, tastes him, licks him, makes his heart flutter, a sensual dance while he steps closer, caging her in, his hands running under her thighs to urge her to wrap her legs around him. She does.

She always does. He deepens the kiss, swallows her mewls when he moves his large hands around her legs and under her skirt to grab her rear, sinks his long fingers into her plump ass cheeks, kneads them, pulls them apart slightly, teases between them. She rubs her pelvis against him, and she must feel how hard he is for her.

He's always hard for her. It's almost a problem, if she wouldn't know how to help him with it. Her hands move expertly, down the back of his neck, fingernails scraping over his broad shoulders, snake around to the front, unbutton his shirt, all while her lips are glued to his, tongue sliding against his, accompanied by frantic little puffs right into his mouth.

When her tongue plunges deeper and he invites it with a gentle suck, her warm fingers scrape over his chest, down his toned abs, lower, lower. His belt clinks when she opens it, her delicate hands gliding down over the bulge, palming him, teasing him. One grips him through the fabric, the other slips into the thin opening between his warm skin and the waistband.

He groans against her, gripping her ass, groping it hard as she brushes her fingertips along his sensitive skin. Impatience makes him twitch, jerk his hips against her hands. She finally unbuttons his jeans completely, pushes it down enough to free his hard erection. He can only grunt into her mouth when she closes her small hands around his girth before she starts moving them up and down, in a twisting motion, how he's shown her, with just enough grip and strength, to make his stomach tighten up.

His hands slip upwards, sliding over her sides, over the front of her (his) shirt, palming at her small breasts, eager fingers playing with the buttons. He's tempted to just rip it open, but she'd be furious with him for destroying another shirt, telling him buttons are hard to come by.

A laugh rumbles through his throat as she keeps nibbling on his bottom lip, rubbing her chin against his beard, the scrape adding to the breathy little moans that tumble over her lips as he slips his big hands into her open shirt and cups her soft mounds, weighing them gently, kneading them carefully.

Her hard nipples press into his palms while she squirms on the kitchen counter, her legs tightening around his waist, feet digging into his lower back. He lets go of her breasts and moves lower, gathers her skirt and pushes it aside enough to expose her pink little pussy with the soft patch of hair right above. He breaks the kiss to look down at it, while she keeps planting soft kisses on his cheek and jaw and down his neck, still pumping his cock expertly in her small hands.

Her folds are glistening, she's so wet, he can tell, and when he tests the waters, literally, she mewls softly. His fingers slip into her slick, up and down, up and down, until he dips two of them into her tightness. She arches her back, tilts her neck back, moans softly at the stretch, and as he starts pumping his fingers in and out slowly, he finds her mouth again, plunging his tongue in, tasting her as breathless whimpers echo in his ears.

She's stopped stroking his cock, and he feels it throbbing in her hold, ready to feel more of her. Kissing her deeply, he keeps his digits buried deep in her cute little cunt, scissoring them, stretching her, massaging her soft insides, while his other hand gently pries her hands off his arousal before he grabs it and brings it closer to her heat.

A disappointed little huff of air escapes her when he pulls his fingers out, only to be replaced by a loud gasp when he presses the head of his cock against her entrance. It's taken her a long time to be able to take all of him, and he thinks fondly about the many times they've tried, endless nights and even longer days, holed up in bed, or on any other surface, each time an inch more, until he could finally bottom out inside her tight wet warmth.

She leans back on her arms, bracing herself as he moves his hips closer, closer, the tip plunges into her hole, sinks deeper, she moans softly, calls his name, and he gets lost in the feeling of being choked so deliciously. So tight... so warm...

“Ben...” Her walls clench around him, pulling him deeper. “Ben.” The heat is intoxicating, he can barely breathe. “Ben!”

His eyes fly open, and he blinks in confusion, squinting at the bright sun, breathing heavily, trying to focus through the haze inside his mind. His stomach is tight and the strain on his jeans is almost unbearable. And against that very obvious bulge presses a cute little butt, clad in a brown riding skirt, tied in the waist, where his hand rests, big and heavy on her flat stomach. He swallows dryly as his gaze wanders higher until he meets Nebbia's bright green eyes.

Something warm creeps up his neck. “Huh?”

A shy smile curls her lips. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, watching him closely, a little too closely for his taste.

It takes him a long moment to realize he's sitting on Thunder's back, under the blazing sun, and an even longer moment that they're no longer moving. The horse's long neck is bent downwards, and he seems to graze peacefully.

“I think you fell asleep,” she whispers, shifting slightly against him. “Glad you didn't fall off...”

“M'sorry,” he growls, rubbing his face with his free hand. “Just a little... daydream, I guess...”

“I think you might have a sunstroke,” she says, tilting her head. “Should have thought to bring a hat after all, eh?” Her teasing tone makes his lips twitch.

He puts his hand on top of her head, feeling her warm soft hair, ruffles it playfully. She tries to squirm away with a soft laugh. Inhaling deeply, he lets go of her completely and pushes both hands through his messy hair, groaning quietly. “Why aren't we moving anymore?” he mumbles.

“Thunder must have felt that you weren't... really with us anymore, so he slowed down on his own and decided to have a little snack,” she explains, turning slightly back to weave her fingers through the horse's long mane.

Ben takes another deep breath and looks around, still trying to fight the remnants of that delicious daydream. Another grunt escapes him. Focus! The horse decided to stop near a little meadow off the path, and he can hear a creek bubbling close-by. When he looks back, however, there's more than a little sunburn prickling on his neck.

They haven't come far. Too close to town still, they shouldn't stay here. But he could use a break, a quiet moment behind a tree maybe... Rubbing his face once more for good measure, he then leans around Nebbia, grabs the horn and hoists himself off Thunder's large back, his boots thudding quietly in the soft grass beneath.

Without waiting, he grabs the girl's waist and pulls her off as well, gently putting her down in front of him. “Let's take five,” he says in a deep growl, already moving past her towards the tree line and the creek. “Stay close to Thunder,” he calls to her, shoving one hand into his pocket to adjust himself.

Goddamn daydream...

He doesn't follow through on his first instinct to relieve the ache with his right hand, instead he walks right into the creek, boots and all, crouches down and splashes the cold water into his heated face. It helps a little. But the guilt burns on. Imagining these things with her, so detailed, so real, it's wrong. He shouldn't be thinking this, not yet, not until he is sure that he's not her –

Another splash into his face. Not. Splash. Her. Splash. Father.

An angry grunt escapes him as he gets up and kicks his boot through the water, scaring away some critters. Fuck. Rubbing his wet face, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he groans a little more. What was he thinking, taking her away? Nothing, that's the problem, he didn't think a single thought. It was all instinct, as usual.

The same instinct that almost got him hanged.

Inhaling deeply, he pushes one hand through his hair, then lowers it and rolls his shoulders. A few more deep breaths through his nose, and he is walking back to her and the giant horse. She's feeding him tufts of grass, watching the animal with a loving gaze, patting his large head. Innocent. So fucking innocent.

Slowly, she turns her head towards him, frowning when she sees him – and the state he's in. “Did you fall into the creek?” she asks, a smirk playing around her lips.

He looks down at himself, shirt wet, boots and jeans wet, hair ruffled, water droplets still rolling down his temples. He only huffs a groan and walks up to Thunder, slipping his hand underneath the saddle. They should take a longer break soon, the poor animal's been carrying them and the heavy saddle for too long now. The brutal sun on his shiny black coat isn't helping.

But they have to get away a little further. Too close to town.

With his mind still spinning a little, battling dreams and memories and future scenarios, he puts his boot into the stirrup and hoists himself up the horse's back, settling into the seat once more. Nebbia stares up at him, surprised. And she should be, he usually puts her on first.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and holds out his hand to her. “Still a little fuzzy in the head,” he says with a tired smirk. She walks towards him, one hand on Thunder's neck, the other about to grab his fingers.

Suddenly he hears hooves in the distance. Dropping his hand, he turns around, instinctively grabbing the reins to make Thunder move. Nebbia steps away with a little yelp as the large animal bows his long neck and snorts loudly at the sudden command. Ben's eyes scan the horizon. The shapes of riders approach, three, no, four. Squinting at them, he can feel his skin prickling.

The West is vast, and meeting other riders in the middle of nowhere is never a good omen, no matter their intentions. He has to be careful. Especially now. Because of her. He pries his eyes from the fast approaching horses and the men on top of them, holding out his hand to Nebbia again.

“Come on,” he urges, looking down at her. Her eyes are wide, fearful, her lips trembling. She grabs his wrist, he grabs her arm, pulling her towards him.

The sound of hooves comes closer, his heart is racing. He leans down more, his other hand extending. The angle is awkward, he hooks his hand under her arm, grips at the fabric of her blouse, pulls her up.

She clambers forward, small hands gripping at his shoulders, and somehow she ends up facing him, her knees bent and pressing against his stomach, her skirt bunched up between them, the pointy tips of her boots tucked under his thigh. But there's no time.

“Hold on,” he says, wrapping one arm around her back, pulling her against him as she presses her chest into his, arms tight around his neck while she looks over his shoulder.

“Ben!” she gasps, but he doesn't have to see what she sees, he can hear them, circling around them. He tugs at the reins, presses his spurs into Thunder's stomach, urges him on. The large horse neighs in protest, but moves, turns in a half-circle, then falls into faster steps, away from whoever is catching up to them.

“Hey!” a deep voice calls from behind them. “We just wanna talk!”

Ben grunts, pushing Thunder forwards, tightening his grip around the girl on his lap. The horse dashes along the tree line, close to the creek, right beneath the low hanging branches. He ducks his head, putting his hand on Nebbia's to shield her as well. She grips at him, curling into a ball on his thighs.

He's white-knuckling the reins, maneuvering his steed into the forest as the hooves behind him become louder. “How many?” he grunts, then feels how Nebbia emerges from her cowered position and looks over his shoulder again.

“Three,” she breathes.

Where's the fourth? He looks around, ducking from another branch. Thunder's heavy hooves stomp along the soft forest floor, tip-tapping urgently as he tries to move him around the tree trunks. Bad idea to bring a large horse into a dense forest. But he didn't have a choice.

Low hanging branches grip at his shoulders, his arms, scrape over his head. He holds Nebbia tight against him, shielding her, her rapid breaths hitting his collarbone, her fingers digging into the back of his neck, causing shivers to rush down his spine, straight into –

Ugh. Not the time.

The noises behind him are quieter now, and he dares a look over his shoulder. They've fallen back. He looks ahead again, clenching his jaw. They're circling around. He pulls on the reins hard, making Thunder whinny angrily. With another tug and a sharp poke into his side, he makes the horse turn around, not the way they came, but further into the forest.

His heart is so loud in his ears, it's hard to focus on the surrounding noises. Nebbia's panicked little breaths aren't helping either. “It's okay,” he whispers, pressing her against him, large hand splayed on her back, fingers curling slightly around her small body. “Don't worry, we'll get away.”

She swallows hard, a little gulping sound against his shoulder. “What do they want?” she asks quietly.

Her, is his first response, but then he wonders why. Why here. Those men didn't look like they belonged to the Daniels family, he would have known. He'd recognize those bastards a mile away. No, those were different men, normal men too, not the law, no Pinkertons, so what do they want from her?

“I'd rather not find out,” he replies, spurring Thunder on more as the trees stand gradually further apart, opening up to a meadow beyond. Holding her in his arm, he leans in a little, grabbing the horn behind her, when the horse falls into a steady canter, the wind rushing in his ears.

He stays close to the edge of the forest, eyes scanning his surroundings. Are they gone? That easy? He slows Thunder and straightens up, turning more to look behind him, listening. Only the birds, the horse's loud snorts, Nebbia's breaths, his own heart. He's about to calm down, loosen his grip around her, but then he sees it.

Movement in the corner of his eye. To their left. He whips his head around, stares into the forest. The rider approaches slowly, stupidly confident, close enough that he can see the sneer on his face. Unfamiliar. Ben tugs on the reins, spurs pressed into Thunder's stomach. The horse neighs loudly, whips his head up, snorts, follows the curve of Ben's arm and turns right.

“Wait!” the man calls after him. “I don't mean any harm!”

Ben looks back at him, sees him raising his hands in a surrendering motion. “What do you want?” he shouts over the noise of his thundering heart, holding Nebbia closer to him. The curious thing turns her head slightly, looks back to the stranger. The hand on her back itches, inches closer to her hip, to his hip, to the gun in the holster.

“Just a look,” the other man drawls, chewing on the stump of a cigar, as his beady eyes wander over the sight in front of him.

The girl on his lap stiffens, grips his neck tighter, gasps, but doesn't look away. Ben stares at the rider. Well-fed horse, wealthy, not the typical cowboy look. A lot of blacks and reds, expensive looking clothes. His age or older. A fedora on dark hair, a clean shaven face.

“Why are you so skittish?” he continues, eyes fixed on Nebbia. “No need to run away from us...”

“I don't trust strangers,” Ben replies darkly, feeling his skin crawl by the way the man watches the girl. “And I don't like being followed, mister,” he adds, tugging gently on the reins, turning Thunder more, ready to bolt again. His hand rests on his gun now, ready to pull and shoot the bastard.

“My apologies, sir,” the other man says slowly. “We were just curious... haven't seen such a beauty in a long while, you know?”

Clenching his jaw, he feels shivers rushing down his spine, more so when Nebbia leans closer against him, holding onto him tightly. “Awful lot of hassle to take a look at a girl...” he grunts, fingers closing around the cold metal of his pistol.

The stranger leans back in his saddle, hands folded over the horn of it, a lopsided grin on his face. “Anything for one of Roberto's,” he says, his dark eyes wandering up to meet Ben's.

He frowns, something hot and heavy sinking into his guts. His mind is spinning. Fuck. It takes him three seconds, while his heart skips a beat, his hand moves back around Nebbia, his heels sink into Thunder's stomach, and then with a tug to the reins, he moves the horse along, spurring him on with a loud call. The animal snorts, neighs loudly, but follows the command instantly, turning and bringing his massive body quickly into motion.

He doesn't look back, but Nebbia does, as they gallop over the meadow, away from the stranger. “He's not following us,” she gasps against him, fingernails digging into his skin as she holds onto him frantically.

Ben only grunts, unsure if that's a good thing or not.

And as they dash away at breakneck speed, Ben's head is hurting from the sudden onslaught of memories. Faces, names, words, threats, cries and shouts and noises, tumbling over each other. Roberto. Roberto... The Daniels don't own the brothel, they're just henchmen, working for somebody else. There are always more layers.

He's been so fucking stupid!

With a sudden grunt, he pulls at the reins, forcing Thunder to turn right. The mystery deepens. He has to know. He has to know! They have to go back. He needs answers.

Nebbia clings to him, her soft but slightly panicked breaths warm against his collarbone. They reach another patch of forest, and he slows Thunder a little, ducking his head when they dash between the trees. His heart races, the horse snorts loudly, he's white-knuckling the reins. Left and right around the thick tree trunks, ducking under low hanging branches, a little jump over obstacles in the path, he's hectic, and they're not even being followed anymore.

Inhaling sharply he stops the horse abruptly. Thunder whinnies angrily, whipping his head up and down, stomping his hooves. Ben closes both arms around Nebbia and just holds her, feels her warmth, hears her surprised little gasps, the tension of her small body, breathes her in, relaxes.

“We have to go back,” he mutters into her soft hair. “I need to talk to your Madam Claire.” The plan is there, she must hold the answers he needs. (Was Keira already pregnant when she got there? If not, who knocked her up? Was it... who Ben fears it was?) But the way is long, and it's completely foolish to return, now that he knows who's really after her. But he needs to know.

“Why?” she whispers against him, moving her hands down his chest before she gives the gentlest of pushes to make him lean back. Their eyes meet, his hands slip to her waist, holding her firmly.

“I have to know, Nebbia,” he says quietly, licking his dry lips. “Have to make sure...” He must not make any sense to her, but she doesn't press, just stares at him with those big, confused eyes that glisten slightly, glowing in the sunlight breaching through the canopy above them.

“Who's Roberto?” she asks after a long moment of just looking at him.

“A very bad man,” he replies. “Pulls a lot of strings around here, his reach is far... I had no idea he'd be interested in a small town brothel... in you...”

The frown on her soft face is almost comical, definitely adorable, and he's tempted to grab her and shower her with kisses. But he inhales deeply instead, rolling his shoulders, swallowing the urge. “You're not bringing me back, are you?” she whispers, chewing on her lip.

His eyebrows almost meet his hairline. “No! Of course not, you won't step another foot in that establishment!” He tightens the grip on her waist, tilting his head. “I'll take you somewhere safe, I promise, then I'll ask your Madam some questions, and will be back with you in no time.”

Her fingers fidget with the buttons of his shirt as she listens, her gaze lowered, jaw working slightly. “What if... what if the answers are not... what you want to hear?” she asks barely audible.

Now his hands are on her cheeks, his thumbs pushing her chin up until she looks at him. “It doesn't matter, remember?” he says softly, leaning slightly closer. “Whatever the answer, it won't change anything. I promised you a better life, I swore to protect you, and I will, no matter the outcome. I just need to know...” It will change a lot, but not the way he'll always be there for her. He'll just have to learn to suppress his urges, control his fucking daydreams...

She licks her lips, he stares at the movement of her tongue, his stomach tightens. Her hands move up his chest, warm, scorching hot through the fabric of his shirt, until he feels her fingertips on his jaw, the scrape of his beard under her soft skin loud in his ears. “It doesn't matter,” she repeats in a breathy whisper as she leans up on her knees, brings her face closer to his, her hands snaking around his head, digging into his hair. “Right?”

He holds his breath, body tense against her. The fucking temptations! Her small fingers press into his scalp, her hot breath ghosts his lips. Her big eyes are full of expectations, desire, need. The exhale he issues through his nose rivals one of Thunder's snorts. Seconds later his mouth has captured hers, his hands pulling her closer, one behind her head, one on her lower back, her body molding into his.

She gasps against him, her small warm wet tongue quickly finding his, the moment heated and desperate, the dance wild and raw. Everything that happened earlier sinks into the kiss, his daydream, the chase, the revelations. And he just feels her, her heat, her body squirming into his, knees pushing between his thighs, just the right pressure. A groan escapes him, a touch like an electric shock.

And as quick and eager as it has started, as harsh and fast it ends, when his hands push down to her upper arms, grab her and lean her back again. She stares up at him, lips parted, trembling, red, rapid little breaths, her eyes big and confused, her cheeks flushed. He presses his own tingling lips into a thin line, tries to ignore the throbbing in his groin, the need burning through his stomach. Instead he focuses on lifting her up, uncurling her legs from his lap, and turns her around until she's sitting with her back to him, legs sideways, tucked between his thighs, but no longer as close, no longer as tempting.

He breathes deeply, leans down and presses his lips to her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “We need to keep going...”

She sighs, body slumping slightly, her small hands closing around the horn of the saddle as she settles in. He leans both arms around her and grabs the reins, gently spurring Thunder on to start moving again. The pace is much calmer as he maneuvers him through the forest, forcing himself to look around, take in his surroundings, look out for dangers, possible followers.

It's eerily quiet around them. But he can't relax, his mind still racing. They're after her, after them. One of Roberto's. Roberto... Roberto fucking DeLuca. This has gotten a lot more complicated all of a sudden.

Chapter 8 🟪 Chapter 10

End notes: I gotta say, this was my favorite chapter to write thus far, and one I'm particularly proud of. That daydream, finally some smut, and how Ben deals with it, then the chase, I love me some action sequences, I hope I got it across as I intended, hectic, fast, thrilling, unexpected. And the plot is finally going places, at least a little more specifically. Back to where it all began...

Thanks for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[delusional-through-and-through]

UNEXPECTED 🥀

next?

The Fire Force guardhouse of Company 7 was bustling as usual, but today's commotion wasn’t because of some Infernal outbreak or training gone wrong—it was because of a meeting.

The combined forces of Companies 7 and 8 had gathered for a strategy discussion that so far, progressing . Captain Shinmon Benimaru sat with his trademark scowl plastered across his face, while the ever-so-serious members of both brigades nodded along to Obi’s usual speeches about teamwork.

Then, the unexpected happened.

The door creaked open, and one of Company 7’s brigade members poked his head inside, looking like he’d just stumbled into a bizarre dream.

“Uh, Captain… we’ve got a situation.”

Before Benimaru could grumble out his usual “Deal with it yourself", the brigade member stepped aside, revealing two pint-sized intruders—a pair of five-year-old, a girl and a boy.

The little girl stood meekly behind his brother, clutching the hem of his shirt. The other had his arms crossed, a sour expression plastered on his face that mirrored Benimaru’s scowl so perfectly it might as well have been photocopied.

The room fell silent as the twins marched up to Benimaru.

“Shinmon Benimaru,” the bold one declared, his voice small but firm, “we’re your kids.”

For a full five seconds, nobody moved. Then, like a dam breaking, the room erupted into chaos.

“What the—?!” Maki shrieked, her drink spilling onto the table.

“Wait, does this mean you…?!” Obi tried to say something authoritative but failed miserably.

Arthur, meanwhile, squinted at the twins. “Which one of you is stronger?” he asked, ignoring the bigger picture entirely.

Benimaru’s face twitched as his brain tried to process the absurdity. “You’ve got the wrong guy, brats. I don’t even—wait, Konro! Why the hell are you laughing?!”

Indeed, Konro, Benimaru’s ever-loyal second-in-command, was stifling chuckles behind his hand. “Sorry, Captain,” Konro said, eyes darting between the twins. “But… don’t you think they look a little too much like you? Red eyes, tick-tack-toe marks on them… and that one even got your entire personality.”

“Yeah, but the hair?” Benimaru protested, gesturing to the twins’ platinum blond locks.

“Recessive genes?” Licht offered, unhelpfully.

The scowling one huffed. "Mom had this hair color. She was way cooler than you!”

The little girl looked like she wanted to vanish. “Um… we came from the future… and you’re our dad. But we don’t know how we got here, can you please help us?"

“Future kids?!” Iris whispered, her hands clasped together in disbelief. "Latom"

Obi, ever the responsible leader, cleared his throat. “Alright, kids. If you’re really from the future, where’s your mother?”

At this, both kids brightened momentarily. “Our mom is the best!” the shy girl gushed. “She’s so pretty, and cool, and strong—”

“But she died" the boy interrupted, and just like that, both kids burst into tears so violently it was like a faucet had been turned on.

“W-Wait, don’t cry!” Maki tried to soothe them, flailing awkwardly.

As everyone panicked over the sobbing children, the door opened again, and in walked Izanami Yoru, the 8th Company’s doctor.

Cigarette in hand, her platinum blonde hair fluttering as she strolled into the chaos, completely unbothered. “What’s all the racket? You’re supposed to be having a meeting.”

“Yoru!” Obi said, relieved. “Perfect timing—”

Before anyone could explain, the twins let out a gasps and launched themselves at Yoru, and tackled her to the ground, sobbing into her lab coat.

"FUCK!"

“MOM!”

“MAMA!”

Yoru froze, her cigarette dangling from her lips. “...Huh?”

“Mama, we missed you so much!” the shy girl wailed.

“You’re alive! And younger! But you’re still smoking, dammit! the boy yelled through his tears.

Flat on her back, Yoru blinked up at the ceiling. “Mom?.... Me?..... Wait, I haven’t done the deed yet!, Hell, I don't even have a boyfriend!”

The room erupted into laughter. Shinra flashing his shark like grin, Tamaki was wheezing, and Arthur was convinced this was somehow related to a knightly prophecy.

Benimaru muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “First, I’ve got kids I didn’t ask for. Now, they’re clinging to her?”

........

Finally, with the twins still stuck to her, Yoru sat up and gave everyone her trademark deadpan stare. “Alright, what’s going on?”

Konro crouched beside her, looking almost sympathetic. “We were just about to figure that out. But, uh… congrats, Yoru. Seems like you’ve got two future kids.”

"Uhm.., what the fuck?"

The meek girl sniffed and wiped her nose on her jacket. “Mom, don’t say bad words!”

The twins, still sniffling, immediately switched gears. “You need to stop smoking too!” the little boy scolded. “It’s bad for you! You’re a doctor! How do you not know this?!”

“I know that brat, stop with the nagging.” Yoru muttered, flicking her cigarette away. “Doesn’t mean I care.”

After a second Yoru asked, "So.... if I'm your mother, who's your father? or did i just miraculously undergo a virgin birth? without a partner?" Yoru paused to think for a moment "that's kinda pathetic honestly."

Both twins pointed to none other than Benimaru. There was a brief pause as Yoru turned her gaze to him, eyebrow raised. “Are you... their father?”

Benimaru stared back at Yoru like she had just asked him the most stupidest question ever. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I don't even know them.”

Yoru raised an eyebrow, leaned down and whispered to the twins, "Are you sure that’s your dad?” though the entire room overheard it. There was a burst of laughter from the other members, causing Benimaru to scowl. "What’s so funny?" he asked.

Yoru raised her hands in mock surrender. "Just asking."

“What are your names, anyway?” Yoru asked the twins.

The bold twin puffed out his chest. “I’m Shinmon Akito!”

“And I’m Shinmon Akari.” The girl said, still clinging to her.

“Well… I guess nice to meet you, Akito, Akari. Uh, sorry about the whole dying thing?”

The room erupted into chaos again.

“Beni, you and Yoru have been holding out on us!” one brigade member cackled.

“You make such a cute family,” another teased.

“I don’t have kids!” Benimaru snapped.

“Well, looks like Benimaru’s the least favorite parent!, they didn't even hug you.”

Benimaru’s eye twitched. “Shut it.”

“Dad,” Akito said, smirking. “You’re okay, but mom is way cooler.”

The teasing only got worse from there, as the company members took turns interrogating and embarrassing both Benimaru and Yoru.

Maki wanted to know how they will end up together. Vulcan and Licht started theorizing about the exact mechanics of their apparent time travel. Even Iris tried to make Benimaru admit he likes Yoru (he didn’t, obviously).

Meanwhile, the twins clung to their “mother,” refusing to leave her side. After much arguing and laughter, Obi finally suggested they spend time with the kids until they figured out how to send them back.

...........

Yoru sat in the clinic, her glasses slipping down her nose as she glared at the DNA test results in her hand.

The twins sat on a nearby bench, swinging their legs innocently, while Benimaru leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking as uninterested as ever.

Despite her initial disbelief, the results were undeniable: a 99.9% match for both parents. She slapped the paper onto the desk and let out a sharp sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Well, congratulations, Captain," she muttered dryly, flicking her eyes up at him. "We're officially responsible for these little gremlins."

Benimaru’s eyes twitched, while Akito and Akira exchanged a triumphant look before launching into a chorus of "Told you so!"

The next few hours were chaos: Akito insisted on sparring with Benimaru, Akira made Yoru promise to eat healthier, and the companies couldn’t stop cracking jokes at their expense.

By the end of the day, Yoru looked ready to combust, and Benimaru was debating setting something on fire—preferably whoever started this madness.

..........

The room was quiet, save for the soft breathing of the twins as they slept soundly on the couch. Yoru leaned back on her chair, her arms crossed, while Benimaru sat opposite her, his head tilted against the wall.

Yoru broke the silence first, her tone teasing as she smirked at him. "So, Captain Shinmon, you sure you don’t have a little secret crush on me or something? You know, since apparently, we’re married and made those two in the future?"

Benimaru scoffed, keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "You? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not even my type."

Yoru chuckled, flicking a stray strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear. "Right back at you, hotshot. I mean, come on—how did these two even become possible? We’re not really compatible. No way this happens naturally."

Benimaru shrugged, finally glancing at her. "Maybe you lose a bet or something. Or you get tired of scaring off everyone else with your attitude."

"Oh, please. You’d be lucky to have me. I’m the full package—brains, brawn, and charm. What’ve you got? A bad temper and a perpetual scowl?" Yoru snorted.

"But honestly, I'm still hung up at the thought that I'll die in the future." She continued as she glanced up the ceiling.

Silence...

After the pause, she glanced at him again, her voice quieter but teasing. "Just to make sure again....no secret little crush on me? None? Really?"

Benimaru rolled his eyes, settling his back against the wall. "Shut up and go to sleep, woman."

She chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Sure thing… future hubby."

next?

[innocentlymacabre]

DUE NORTH: VIGNETTES / 8

A cozy urban fantasy about two best friends who move to the pocket of eccentricity and magic that is Due North

cw: drug mention

The quiet early morning moon washed Alecia Ossario in its silvery tinge. She was dressed in black from head to toe, turtleneck covered with a leather jacket with far too many pockets to even be possible on top and jeans and lace-up boots on the bottom, save for her hair which had decided green was the way to go tonight. She made a mental note to tell Jasper to bring the delivery time a couple hours ahead, so she doesn’t have to be up when the only other people awake are the aquatics, gnomes, and faeries. Still, primetime for client scouting.

The silence of the night was broken only by the faint sound of an approaching car, thrumbling slowly down the end of the road. It purred along almost noiselessly, but on this particular night, nothing else, not a frog or an angry moth (those things could work up a real racket when they wanted) stirred even in the slightest, and no music from a water sprite afterparty rung through the night (If there’s one thing those guys know, it’s how to party, Alecia thought to herself), making it the loudest sound for miles.

Its busted headlights illuminated only a few feet of the winding road in front of it, something that Alecia thought was a touch risqué, especially considering she quite valued the cargo, and the side lines were more amphibian than she would have liked. She spun her fingers by her side, weaving a little light in between her slender fingers and let it fall in front of the car. Grateful for the light, it steered a bit more steadily before coming calmly to a stop a few feet in front of Alecia.

The driver turned the engine off and stepped out. A black boot hit the ground first, a tiny spark flying off, before a jaunty, dapper man stepped out. He had a dark trench coat draped over a brown suit and a half-buttoned olive-green shirt. He rounded out the sombreness with a yellow scarf and topped it all off with a top hat balanced on his head, tilted precariously to one side. His face belonged to a much younger man, all save for the eyes, which betrayed his true age.

“Alecia!” he exclaimed. “How you doing, darling?”

“Just fine, J, just fine. You should really get that headlight fixed, ya know.”

“Yeah, you know how it is. Always something in the way.”

“Uh huh. Well, shall we get down to business?”

“Always so quick on the draw, Alecia. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t like me very much,” he jested, leading the way to the back of the car nonetheless.

“Who said I liked ya? I do like what you’re carrying though, if that helps,” she said, winking.

Jasper mimed being shot in the heart with a laugh, then opened the trunk; Alecia twiddled her fingers and redirected the light from the road to the trunk to get a better view. Two plastic-wrapped packages, roughly the size of sacks of flour, gleamed in her light, boasting colourful pills packed to the brim, threatening to spill and scatter across the pavement.

“Jasper, plastic? I thought we’d already had this conversation, come on.”

“I know, I know, sorry. Last-minute complication leaving me with no choice. Won’t happen again, don’t worry.”

Alecia huffed. “Fine. Leave it with me. If a satyr drops by, I’ll throw it in as a “gesture of good faith”.”

Support the author: free stories | ko-fi 💜 | paid fiction

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[oceanreveuse]

INTRODUCING #OCÉANRÊVEUSE’S 2024 KINKTOBER EVENT… GRAVEYARD OF THE SIREN.

salut darlings, it’s officially mother circe’s favourite time of year — which means it’s kinktober time too! i’m having a handful running the house of solis occasum’s kinktober event (shoutout to us) and i thought that while i don’t accept requests, i’ll open my requests explicitly for kinktober! below are a handful of kinktober prompts i gathered + the fandoms i write for. happy october sweethearts! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[ 🌙 ] RULES…

this is a nsfw event and 18+ blog, minors & ageless blogs do not interact or request!

you can request from my upcoming fandoms too to try debut them! i’ll try my hardest to do them but they may be a little ooc… ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

choose one prompt to one character but you can request more than once - just please don’t flood me! chances are i will sprinkle other prompts into your request revolving around your chosen prompt!

my writing can be a little spontaneous so getting these requests out may be quick or may take a while, don’t panic - i’ll get around to them!

i write both dom!character and sub!character so please specify in your request which one you want, if you don’t, you’re giving me too much freedom hehe!

this event includes dark content prompts! you have been warned in advance. i always tag my works appropriately so please read tags before indulging.

🔴 i won’t write incest, characters that are related, children, unsure about the age, etc., scat, vomit, heavy gore, rape and sexual abuse, watersports, etc. so these will not be touched upon in any of these works!

[ 🕸️ ] PROMPTS…

pet play

bondage

asphyxiation

exhibitionism

somnophilia

breeding

corruption

camgirl / camboy - specify reader or character (or both…)

dumbification

size kink

weapon play

hybrids - specify

pegging

temperature play

food play

[ 🩸 ] FANDOMS…

genshin impact

honkai star rail

blue lock (dipping my toes in the water here still)

haikyuu

bungou stray dogs

jujutsu kaisen

stardew valley

love & deepspace (upcoming)

kaiju no.8 (upcoming)

demon slayer / kny (upcoming)

windbreaker (upcoming)

overwatch (upcoming)

works under this event will be tagged with :: graveyard of the siren ‘24 and all works will be on my general masterlists marked with 🕸️!

© oceanreveuse 2024 | reblogs appreciated | do not repost, steal, translate, etc. on any social media platform & do not feed to ai.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 8

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Comet, Cara (child OFC)

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: After two consecutive heavy chapters of Wolffe angst, I figured it was time for something a bit lighter. So, you get more Comet and Cara! Honestly, I love their dynamic so much. It's cute and adorable, and it's my favorite. Cara doesn't view Comet as an uncle, but more like a big brother and that's how Comet feels too. Be forewarned, there are still sad undertones. I also really wanted to cut this chapter in half, but there was no good way to do it. As always, please enjoy 💚

Part 1 || Prev | Next

Series Masterlist

Before Comet made his way to Cara's room, he stopped by the kitchen to do what Wolffe asked him. It really was a mess, but at least they were able to make Wolffe think about something else for a couple of minutes. Comet couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult it was for Wolffe to go through this, but on the flip-side, it was incredibly difficult for any of them to watch, especially when they knew there was nothing they could do to alleviate Wolffe's or Cara's pain. It was such a tragedy.

While still in the kitchen, Comet caught a glimpse of a flower-patterned apron hanging on a bronze hook. He approached the garment and rubbed the fabric between his fingers with fondness, remembering when he first became part of the Wolfpack. He was just a shiny, hot off Kamino, and assigned to the most rugged of commanders serving alongside two veteran clones, and yet, they took him in like family. She took him in like family, too, and made him his first real meal.

Comet smiled at the memory. The Pack missed her too, even if they didn't say it out loud. With Wolffe still raw from her passing, it wasn't the time nor the place for them to air their own sorrows, but they still felt it. The hole she left behind and the vacuum it created in all of their lives. She was kind, gentle, loving, and could go toe-to-toe with Wolffe like no one he'd ever seen. He chuckled at a memory of Wolffe retreating with his tail between his legs after being scolded by her.

Realizing that he forgot about his other mission, Comet left the apron where it hung and made his way back to Cara's room. He'd have to remember to grab it before they left. Wolffe would want to take it with him. At least, he thought Wolffe would want to take it. If not, then he might grab it out of pure fondness. They were all aware that once they vacated the apartment, everything in it would be trashed, and the thought of that apron laying in a pile of trash somewhere made his skin prickle.

On his way to Cara's room, Comet grabbed the largest box he could find. Wolffe said one box, but he didn't say it had to be a certain size. He knew it was going to be an uphill battle to get Cara to pick and choose what she kept and left behind, so a bigger box would make it easier. She was four, and she'd grow out of most of her things in a couple of cycles, which meant he needed to guide the choosing. It might be difficult now, but she'd thank him one day when she was older. If he was even alive to see her get older.

As he approached her room, he didn't hear any noise, which made him suspicious of what she could be doing in there. Maybe all of that crying and screaming wore her out and she fell asleep. If that was the case, then this just became a lot more difficult. If there was one thing Comet had learned from spending time with children, it was to never wake them from a nap. Kids were mean when they were tired and they would make everyone around them feel every ounce of their displeasure at being woken up.

Reluctantly, Comet opened the door, and not-surprisingly the lights were still on. A quick inspection of the room showed no signs of life within the four corners, but there was a suspicious looking child-sized lump under a blanket in the middle of the bed. Comet sighed. Just what he was afraid of. When he stepped closer, the lump moved. He crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, watching as the lump squirmed around. She wasn't asleep, she was hiding. Comet smirked and decided to play along.

"Oh, no," he said dramatically. "Whatever will I do? I seem to have lost Cara."

The lump giggled and Comet smiled.

"Wolffe is going to kill me," he continued while slowly creeping towards the bed.

The lump giggled louder and Comet snuck up real close, ready to pounce.

"I'll be decommissioned for sure," he joked, then grabbed the lump and hoisted it up into the air.

Cara squealed.

"Found you!" he exclaimed.

"No!" Cara squirmed in Comet's grasp. "Put me down!"

Comet plopped down onto Cara's bed, placed her on his lap, and uncovered her from the blanket. "Are you hiding from me, ad'ika?" he asked.

She wiggled her little body and tried to escape from him, but his grip was firm. "No," she pouted and stuck her tongue out at him.

Comet raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I don't want to," she whined.

"Ad'ika," he sighed. "I don't want to either, but sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do."

"What's an add-ee-ka?" she asked.

Comet knew she was stalling, but it was an easy enough question to answer. "It means child, but in a more loving way." He wanted to use the word affectionate, but she might not understand that one yet.

"Why doesn't daddy call me that?" she asked.

Comet thought about it for a moment, because he too wondered why Wolffe didn't use Mando'a around Cara, and shrugged. "I don't really know why."

"Does daddy not love me?" she asked.

Comet's brain stalled. The mental leaps and bounds she just made caught him completely off guard. How could she think, even for a second, that Wolffe didn't love her? It baffled him. Wolffe talked about her all of the time, to anyone who would listen, and even to those who wouldn't. There was nothing Wolffe wouldn't do for his daughter, well, except leave the GAR. He knew Wolffe would if he could, in a heartbeat, but they'd track him down and decommission him without a second thought.

Comet shifted Cara on his lap so that she was facing him and gently brushed some of the curls out of her face. "Your dad loves you very much," he said. "So much so that he can't express all of it, even if he tries. He misses you all of the time when he's out on missions and it makes him very sad to be away from you."

"Oh," she said. "Does daddy love mommy?"

"Very much," he answered. "Almost as much as he loves you."

"Then why isn't daddy sad about mommy?" she asked.

"What makes you think he's not sad?" he asked in return.

"Daddy doesn't cry," she said. "I cry when I'm sad."

Comet's eyes softened and he wrapped his arms around her. "He does. Trust me, he does. But daddies are different from ad'ike. Daddies don't cry like you do when you're sad. They cry by themselves."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because," he began, then paused as he tried to figure out how to explain it. "He wants to be strong so he can take care of you."

"Oh," she said. Comet could tell she was still confused.

"You see," he explained further. "Love isn't stored in our words or even our actions. It's stored here." He placed a hand on his heart. "Inside our hearts, our ka'rta."

"Ka-ro-ta," she pronounced. "Sounds like carrot."

Comet snorted, then started laughing. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"So, daddy loves mommy in here?" she asked while pointing at her heart.

"Yes, exactly," he said, then tapped her nose. "And he loves you in there, too."

"I love daddy in here, too," she said. "And mommy."

"Good," he smiled. "You keep them in there forever, okay?"

Cara smiles. "I will."

Comet really didn't want to change the subject or ruin the mood, but time was running short and he still had a job to do. "You know," he began. "If we don't pack up this box, you won't be able to bring anything with you."

Cara's eyes widened and she scrambled off of Comet's lap to start filling the box. She might have been stalling, but he was glad she asked those questions. The last thing Wolffe needed was for his daughter to think he didn't love her. He would crumble into a pile of dust if he ever found that out. Wolffe might not be able to spend a lot of time with Cara because of the War, but he really did love her, and Comet hoped Wolffe would continue to show her that love every chance he got.

The packing process went pretty much as Comet expected. Cara grabbed a whole bunch of things and tossed them into the box without really thinking about it. While she rummaged through her shelves and closets, Comet stealthily removed certain things from the box. If she realized they were gone, then maybe she did want them, but if she didn't see them missing from the box, then she probably wouldn't miss them at all. It was a gamble, but one he was willing to take for her sake.

Comet made sure to grab a few of the things he knew she'd actually want and need, like Cloney, ducky, her favorite pajamas, other important pieces of clothing, a few bedtime stories, and the drawings she made of her family. The drawings were easy because they were flat and could lay flush against the side of the box, so he was able to fit them all in. He knew she was going to need them once they were deployed again and she was alone. Some of the toys were a bit harder to fit, since they were bulky or oddly shaped, but he managed.

When the box was nearly full, Cara grabbed the blanket off her bed and tried to stuff it in the box, but it was just too big and it spilled out all over the top and sides. She had that blanket since birth, so Comet knew there was no parting with it and he needed to find a way to fit it in somehow. He rearranged some of the items in the box, rolled the clothing instead of folding it, and adjusted the more angular things, but it still wouldn't fit. Cara was on the verge of tears and Comet needed a new plan.

"Ad'ika," Comet said. "Would it be okay if I made your blanket into something else?"

Cara looked at him with watery eyes, and nodded silently.

Comet smiled and scruffed her hair. "Don't worry. I'll fix this."

Besides learning how to cook delicious food, Comet picked up something else from Wolffe's wife: how to sew. It was an odd skill for a clone to have, sure, but she loved to do it and he was always mesmerized by what she could make with some scraps of fabric and a little imagination. He was definitely not a master seamstress like her, but he knew his way around a needle and thread enough to be dangerous. He left Cara's room and grabbed what he needed from the sewing closet: scissors, chalk, a needle, blue and black thread, two gray buttons, and some stuffing.

Comet returned to Cara's room and laid out the blanket flat on the floor. He marked out the pattern with some chalk, and with Cara standing back, he cut out the pattern. Placing that piece on more of the blanket, he cut out the second piece in the same shape. With the cutting done, he placed the scissors out of Cara's reach and sat on the floor to start sewing the pieces together. Cara leaned over his shoulder to watch, just like she did with her mom, and Comet smiled at her curiosity.

He took his time with the stitching, because it would be of no use to her if it fell apart while he was gone and wasn't there to fix it. When he was done stitching most of the outer edge, he sewed on the two button eyes, which proved to be difficult when Cara wrapped her arms around his neck, practically strangling him. He readjusted her so he could breathe, then finished sewing the buttons on. Lastly, he filled the opening with lots of stuffing, then closed the final stitches to finish the doll.

"Ta-da," he said, then handed the finished doll to her. "One tooka doll."

Cara's eyes lit up and she squeezed it against her chest. "I love it!"

Comet smiled. "It should fit in the box now."

Cara placed the doll in the box and smiled at Comet. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Comet said. "Ready to go find your dad?"

Cara nodded her head and ran out of the room.

Comet shook his head and got up off the floor. He picked the box up and grunted. It was a little heavier than he was expecting, but he did a good job of fitting everything in there. Cara would never be able to carry it, but he could. He'd carry anything for her. He'd carry her sadness if he could. He knew Wolffe would, too. Actually, there wasn't a member of the Wolfpack who wouldn't do anything for Cara. She was family, a part of the Pack, and now also motherless, just like them.

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