#than my current earring size. and it’s so heavy. and my ear is not shaped to fit it comfortably

[saltinesinsoup]

poked myself with an earring needle on my thumb. pray for no tetanus folks

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 4 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

there is a mild noncon scene in this chapter. read at your own risk or skip past it.

word count: 5.2k

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In that strange place between waking and sleep- that's where you currently existed. You made a home there, wading through the waters of confusion as the events of last night came flooding back to you. At first none of it felt real. It was all a dream. . . it had to be. 

But there was a foreign warmth beside you and something heavy weighing down on your chest, and while your limbs were numb with sleep you could still register that it wasn’t you. Not your arm. 

Not your warmth. 

So you opened your eyes and joined the land of the living once more. 

The mornings on Caladan were lovely. Light filtered through your curtains regardless of the frequent overcast, the sprawling farmlands vibrant and oh so alive all around you. Your childhood home was all blue-grays and greens. The halls smelled briney- slightly citrus during the spring and summer months. The air was always humid, despite the chill; moisture clinging to your skin and clothes. 

Feyd’s room was slate gray and black, slightly bigger than the one you had been sleeping in since your arrival on Giedi Prime. The air was acrid, the scent of iron so heavy in the air that it almost tasted sweet on your tongue. It was on your palate now, nearly causing you to gag when you took in a deep, steadying breath. 

You had wanted to go home the second you stepped foot on the industrial planet, if only because you despised change. You wanted your family, your horses, your ocean-side view. Now, looking back at how childish your home-sick reasonings were, you couldn’t help but feel naive. 

Not one, but many, had conspired against you. They had hopes that their pale prince would cut his losses and grow bored of you, but took it upon themselves to rid their hallowed halls of your presence. Anger began strumming through your veins, begging for release. 

You did not let the feeling take shape. Acting on hate alone would be your undoing, you knew that. Yes, you were not as strong as some of Geidi Primes weakest warriors, but you made up for it with your. . . inherited gifts. 

Your hand flew to your neck, hissing when your fingertips made contact with the tender skin. You groaned, your larynx screaming at protest. Did this mean. . . 

No. 

No, no, no.

You sat upright in bed, Feyd groaning as his arm was flung off of your chest due to your haste. Unable to process the reality that he had been touching you so casually, you instead focused on the fact that the noise you had just emitted sounded choppy. Garbled. Useless.

“My voice,” You started, eyes widening to the size of saucers as the words reached your ears. It was exactly as you feared. “I can’t use it.” 

You could barely speak normally, let alone be able to manipulate the Voice. How long would it take your throat to heal? A few days? A week? A month? It had only taken two days for a few of the Baron’s men to plan out their attack. Who knew when they would try to strike again? You were a sitting duck and you refused to die like this. 

“You won’t need it.” Feyd’s deep voice sounded beside you, the sheets rustling as his muscled body rolled over on the plush bed. 

You tried in vain not to be distracted by his naked chest- by the planes of perfectly toned abs and the swell of his biceps as he stretched them above his head. It was gross to be attracted to him; disgusting, really. 

Even in the light of day- if you could even call the murky gray that came in through the blinds light- the shadows seemed to pool around the bloodthirsty man. He wore them like a second skin. Had become them and learned to wield them at will. 

His face was once again spotless, no blood to be found on him from last night's activities. He had been utterly soaked just a few hours ago. It had dripped down his sword arm, his nightshirt clinging to his chest and shoulders. . . and he had washed it all away down the drain like the lives he had taken meant nothing. 

And it probably didn’t mean a damn thing to a man like him. Someone so used to reaping souls and shattering lives. 

Your chest swelled as you turned to face him, scooting as far back on the bed as you possibly could. When you had fallen asleep he was lounging on the couch. He must have slipped into bed once you were asleep, outwardly lying about the fact that he would put distance between the two of you. 

“I am not safe here.” You spat out, your broken voice still dripping with venom. 

He seemed bored, as if your worries were unfounded. “I will cleave the heads off of anyone that even looks in your direction.” He said simply. Not a threat but a crimson stained promise.

Gone was the starry eyed girl who saw nothing wrong with the galaxy. Your innocence had been stripped from you the second that the man’s hands had found their way around your throat. Your body finally seemed to register pain now that you were fully awake. Your back felt like hell- a purple bruise no doubt marring your skin where it had connected with the heavy dresser. And your cheek? You brushed your fingers over that spot next. It felt hot under your touch. 

“I can protect myself.” That was a lie. You could taste the horribly constructed fib on the tip of your tongue and it was bitter. Impossible to stomach. 

Feyd sat up on his elbows then, looking over your face. His eyes hardened on your cheek, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth when his eyes started to dip lower. How was it possible that anyone expected you to ever grow used to his presence? His eyes on you felt like a hot brand. You attempted to flinch away from him as his hand reached out for your neck, but he touched you anyway. 

“I should have savored that kill. Taken my time.” His voice was still gravely from sleep, but the anger was clear on his face. 

Seeing you like this, for whatever reason, enraged him. You didn’t want to know why. . . at least you told yourself that. A man like Feyd couldn’t possibly care for anyone and you doubted that he would ever be capable of such an emotion. 

“Do you truly take joy in murdering others?” You couldn’t understand him. There was no common ground between the two of you. He was a complete mystery to you. 

They hadn’t even been your deaths, and yet here you were, feeling torn about all of the blood that had been shed. Feyd had killed seven men last night. Were you really worth all of that? 

“I’m culling the herd,” He sat up then, his eyes sparking with a sick sense of delight that had your stomach roiling. This sounded like the ramblings of a madman.“They were weak, body and mind. Disobedient soldiers should always be purged. They were a disease, and I treated them as such.” The corner of his lip tugged up into a small smirk, as if he was reliving the moment that his blade cleaved through flesh and bone. 

“You went overboard on my behalf.” They would hate you more now. Those guards no doubt had loved ones, all of whom would be gunning for you now. 

“Would you rather I left them all alive? Given them a small slap on the wrist?” He was leaning in now, as if being closer to you would give him a better understanding of where you were coming from. 

The sheets wrapped around your limbs, acting like restraints as you tried to back away from him and his intimidating presence. You couldn’t help but feel as though he was sizing you up, questioning whether he could swallow you up in one bite. His eyes, lidded with sleep and hazy with something you couldn’t quite discern told you that he would eat very, very slowly. Your fingers twitched at your sides, his eyes narrowing as though he could smell your fear in the air that the both of you now shared due to your close proximity.

“No,” You hated that you were agreeing with him. “They would have found another way to kill me. I just hate that you had to make such a show of it all.” I hate that I couldn’t kill them myself. 

Who were you to decide if someone lived or died for their crimes? And yet. . . you were glad that they were dead. You couldn’t find it within yourself to feel sorry for them. They got exactly what they deserve, so why did you feel so awful about it? 

Because the “old” you would have begged for their lives to be spared. That sweet, innocent girl would have abhorred the blood and gore, which begged the question: who did that make you now? Has this place truly changed you so intrinsically in a matter of days? You hated the idea that you were adjusting to the environment. It terrified you.

Feyd could see the anger churning behind your wide eyes, no matter how hard you tried to mask it. You were beautiful like this, so accepting of his nature. . . and yet you still fought him. Still fought this. He adored you for it. Loved you for it. There it was again- that word. He let the phrase sink into his bones, settle inside of his chest. 

‘I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Look at what I can do for you. Let me kill again for you. Let me prove my worth. Let me have you. Let me taste you. Let me devour you until there is nothing left.’ 

He was so close now that the heat and smell of him was clouding your mind. Much like the smog outside, he was poisoning the air around you. The sheets tightened around your legs as you tried to kick them off of you, hellbent on escaping the bed and dressing for the day. You were starving, sore, and in desperate need of another hot bath. You still felt dirty after last night, like the stains hadn’t been completely washed away. 

He was looking at you with those eyes. God, his eyes. . . they were blue, bottomless pits and you were sinking. . . drowning. You found it hard to breathe while he was looking at you like that. He was assessing you with a heated gaze that unwillingly set your insides ablaze. His hands were suddenly on the sides of your upper thighs, the insides of his wrists brushing against them. You could feel skin against skin, your thin nightdress doing nothing to shield you from his touch. 

“You wanted them dead, I can tell.” And he smiled at that, a genuine one full of misplaced mirth. 

“I don’t want anyone to die.” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, so heavy that you suddenly found it hard to speak. 

“I didn’t take you for a liar, little Atreides.” His head tilted to the side as he licked his lips. He was so close to you that his tongue nearly brushed against your parted lips. 

And then he was pulling away, his warmth being ripped away from you far too quickly. Feyd left you on the bed as he sauntered over to his closet, unabashed of his half naked body- almost as though he was proud to show it off to you. His broad shoulders, toned back- it was well earned. It was the body of a warrior- of a killer. 

You had to remind yourself that he was a murderer, tearing your eyes from him. It was almost as though you couldn’t get enough oxygen. Your lungs ached as you realized that he had practically siphoned it out of the room with his commanding presence. 

He terrified you down to your very core. It was as though he was seeing your soul for what it truly was. . . 

And it was as black as his own.

The Na-Baron’s hand against the small of your back felt more like a collar than anything. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was how you appeared to others now, like nothing more than a pet. It was a silent show of ownership, as were his hardened eyes as he turned his head to glare at each and every guard that passed in the hall. Their familiar uniform had your knees buckling and your hands shaking. He must have felt those tremors, for his fingers tangled themselves into the fabric of your shirt, like he could anchor you to him. ‘You’re safe with me,’ the gesture seemed to say. 

The floor had been wiped clean of last night's massacre and it was almost as if it had never happened at all. You wished that you could delude yourself into believing that it hadn’t, but your aching bones were a constant reminder. An Atreides did not belong here. 

The distance that you craved was not something that Feyd seemed keen on granting. When you had finished bathing earlier, your skin scrubbed raw, you had found him lounging back against the bed, eyes trained on the bathroom door. His presence was stifling, as were the halls of this strange empire. They appeared to be tightening around you, reminding you of your lack of freedom. 

A canary in a gilded cage. 

“I’ve been filled in on the events of last night,” The Baron said as a way of greeting when the two of you found your way into the dining room. “You had your fun it seemed, nephew.” He didn’t sound angry, which was good you supposed. Then again, he didn’t sound very approving either. 

Feyd paused for a split second in the doorway, his lips pursing in confusion. You recalled him saying that the Baron always ate his meals in his own quarters. Your throat bobbed as Feyd’s hands urged you further into the room. Suddenly you were no longer hungry. Like a child, you wished that you could dig your heels in and refuse to make your way any further inside. While his nephew scared and confused you, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was an absolute waking nightmare. From his pale, unattractive face to his plump, gluttonous build- even his eyes seemed completely void of any light. Your quivering worsened because you knew, even if Feyd wanted to keep you alive for whatever reason, that he would not disobey his beloved uncle. You would never expect that of him. If the Harkonnen wanted you dead. . . then so it shall be. 

“It was very enjoyable.” Feyd said simply, sitting down in the chair directly beside you. 

The Baron, at his spot at the head of the table, felt miles away. He was assessing the two of you, his gaze bouncing from your form and then to that of his nephew. It wasn’t until Feyd placed his arm over the back of your chair that he finally smiled. It looked more like a sneer than anything else, and all at once you wished to punch those teeth right out of his skull. His ill treatment of your father would never be forgotten, forced marriage or not. 

“You two look. . . close.” He concluded, folding his hands in his lap as he sat back. His dark robes hugged all of the wrong places- he was greed in the flesh. 

Feyd didn’t say anything, but he did lean in closer. It occurred to you that he was acting almost like a shield between you and his uncle. All at once your shaking stopped, your eyes flickering up to meet his face for the briefest of moments before you finally looked down at your plate. Again, the food did not appeal to your appetite. There were no fresh fruits or vegetables. Everything was brown, beige and white. The meals here were void of any color or variety and you found it fitting. 

“We slept together last night, as it should have been from the very beginning.” Feyd said, no room for arguments. His tone was final- absolute, even in the face of the one person that he answered directly to. 

Your cheeks were suddenly blazing hot as you realized how easily his statement could be misunderstood. Your lips parted, as though you could defend yourself and set the record straight, but the Baron was already nodding. He didn’t care either way. You were sent here to procreate, afterall. What the two of you did or didn’t do meant nothing to him. As the daughter of Duke Atreides you were nothing more than a pawn- a bargaining piece at best. Your blood boiled as you stabbed your fork into whatever meat had been served. It was all you could do not to brandish the small serrated blade that laid beside your plate and shove it through one of Vladimir’s overly assessing eyes. 

“I just thought that she might have wanted her own space before the ceremony,” He started, gesturing towards you. It was as though you weren’t even in the room at all. “But I’ll make sure that her things are brought to your room.” 

You did want your own space. Desperately. This whole situation felt wrong, and yet you were helpless. A few more days in your own room was nothing, really. Not when the two of you would be sharing a room for the remainder of your lives. 

“It’s our room.” Feyd corrected, using his free hand so that he could take a sip of his drink. 

His arm brushed against the back of your neck as he leaned forward ever-so-slightly so that he could place the cup back down on the table. The brush of his skin against yours sent a chill down your spine. 

“Very well. Your shared room.” And the Baron seemed pleased.

The cogs started turning in your head as you stared at that expression on his face. Was that gloating that you sensed?

He looked as though he had won. 

It would make no sense at all for the Baron to be so concerned with the status of your relationship, and yet there he had been, smiling as if he had bested you. Did he know something that you didn’t? It would be dangerous to voice the thoughts that you were having- unwise. Feyd was sure to take his uncle’s side on everything. At the end of the day you were little more than a warm, wet hole to breed. . . right? 

Your skin crawled, your breathing growing more and more shallow as the seconds passed. What would your mother do if she was put in a situation like this? The urge to talk to her was stifling, and yet you were here alone. You had no allies here. You had been left to your own devices. 

“You aren’t going to beg me to train with you today?” Feyd asked from the open door of the bathroom. 

He’d left it wide open while he changed, as if he was daring you to gawk and stare. You were too busy panicking to even care that he could very well be naked mere feet away from where you sat on the bed. The Baron was guilty of something, that you knew with certainty. You bit down onto your lower lip, staring blankly ahead at the wall as you became more and more consumed by your frightening thoughts. 

“What are you thinking about, little one?” His voice was right beside your ear and you jumped back, staring wide eyed at where he was kneeling before you. 

He stared up at you expectantly, waiting for you to tell him what currently had you so quiet. His uncle had been unusual at breakfast, more so than Feyd was used to. The Baron was a busy man, and the last thing on his agenda was to eat with his nephew and his bride-to-be. He was cautious, and yet he didn’t want you to know. He would handle your safety from now on, even if that meant going against those that shared the very blood that pumped through his own veins. 

The expression on your face had him leaning closer. You were so meek. . . so fearful. The need to protect you was overwhelming. How could someone ever want to hurt you? His eyes flickered over your bruises for the one hundredth time that afternoon, rage settling like lead in the pit of his stomach. 

“I’m thinking. . .” You started, eyes becoming glassy. “That I was sent here to die.” 

Feyd, for the first time in his life, felt helpless. He did not know how to calm you down. The man didn’t know the first thing about comforting someone, but the thought of leaving you to your own devices and panic had a gasp escaping his throat. 

“Do you not believe me when I say that I will protect you? Have I not proved myself?” Actions spoke louder than words, or at least Feyd had always believed that, and yet you didn’t seem to understand what he was trying to say. His actions weren’t enough. 

“You’re protecting me because you have to. I understand that well enough, but that doesn’t mean that something won’t happen. You are the enemy Feyd. My enemy.” You spoke with so much conviction and looked at him like you hadn’t just gutted him. 

Feyd felt as though you had physically slapped him across the face. The chase was fun, but this. . . this wasn’t you acting hard to get. This was you drawing a very clear line in the sand. You didn’t like him and perhaps never would. And maybe it made Feyd even more despicable than anyone ever thought possible, but part of him did not care. You could fight it all you wanted, it did not negate the fact that you belonged to him. It did not negate the fact that he cared for you. . .

Cared so deeply that it had him questioning whether or not he had ever really known joy or a true sense of belonging before now. 

“I am not them.” He rasped out, knowing that you’d understand exactly who he was implying. 

He was not like the others. He never had been. He had a penchant for cruelty and a talent for killing, but he would never hurt you for sport. He knew of Harkonnen men that battered their women simply because they could, but the mere idea of putting his hands on you made him want to sink his blade into his own chest and twist. How could he ever explain that to you? Put his emotions into words when you knew so little about him? How could he tell you that he’d been dreaming of you since he was a child? Vivid, prophetic dreams that left him lonely and impatient. 

“But you are.” There was a strange glint in his eyes that had your words leaving you in a breathy whisper. You were being vulnerable with him. Showing him your worst fears and letting him know that you currently had no more aces up your sleeves. The Voice was useless to you right now, and no matter how skilled you were in combat, it would mean nothing if you were up against an entire planet of people that wished you dead and silenced. You had kept the fear bottled in for three days now, and you had no one to confide in. 

You would regret this, you knew it with a surety that nearly had you choking on a sob. This information could be used against you. He’d make sure that you met your end the second that you birthed him an heir. . . 

So why did he look offended by your words? 

His plush lips parted, blue eyes widening for a second as he fully comprehended what you had just uttered to him. Having you as his would be sweet, yes, but it paled in comparison to the idea that you would eventually care for him in the same way that he did for you. It lit a fire inside of him, and he didn’t understand how to make you see. 

Feyd needed you to open your eyes and understand that he was not your enemy. He was the only person on all of Giedi Prime that was absolutely, without any question or doubt, on your side. He would burn the entire planet to ash if he had to. He’d serve his uncle’s heart on a silver platter and let you eat your fill if it meant that you would come to understand his level of utter devotion. 

You blinked and suddenly you were on your back, a small grunt escaping you as his calloused palm pushed against your chest, too fast for you to even register. He was on top of you, straddling your hips. The weight of him on top of you had your teeth clenching, your traitorous body reacting in a way that sickened you. Civilizations had worshiped at the feet of long forgotten Gods that weren’t half as beautiful and cruel as Feyd-Rautha. 

“You are my wife-” He started to speak, but you were quick to interrupt him, refusing to back down. 

“Not yet.” You seethed. 

Feyd couldn’t help but want to fight you on that, to challenge the unnecessary bite in your tone. If you were so hellbent on treating him like an enemy then so be it. He’d push you to a breaking point. He’d make you love and trust him. He’d show your true enemies such cruelty that you’d have no reason to doubt his convictions. 

And before he could reign in his emotions, before he could feel any guilt, he was lurching forward. Long fingers tangled themselves into your hair as his lips pressed against yours. Unyielding, he dominated your mouth, teeth sinking into your lower lip. He needed to taste you- your mouth, your blood. 

Sweat, tears, slick. He wanted all of it on his tongue. 

The years spent waiting and biding his time had been worse than he realized, for the second his lips pressed against yours he found it hard to stop himself. The need that coursed through him now was more powerful than anything else he had ever experienced. You yelped against his mouth in pain, trying your hardest to flinch back at the sharp pain in your lip. The mattress and his unyielding grip on you kept you from moving even an inch. He took advantage of that small sound, his tongue lapping at the roof of your mouth lazily, the salty iron of your own blood invading your senses. 

And he was everywhere. His weight was on top of you, his arms on either side of your head, his fingers buried in your hair- and you couldn’t get away. You tried bucking him off, hands grabbing at his training shirt so that you could try and pry him off of you. The muscles in your arms strained as you pulled, thighs quivering as you tried your damndest to flip him over onto the bed. You would not kiss him back. 

No matter how badly your instincts were telling you to give in. That voice in the back of your head was loud, but the sound of your own pounding heart in your ears drowned it out. Your body burned as he slid his hips down slightly, changing his angle so that he could grind himself against you. The friction sent a jolt of what felt like lightning shooting up your spine. It took all of your self restraint not to moan into his mouth, which would no doubt motivate him to push this even further. 

You felt him. All of him, even through all the layers of clothing that separated the two of you. He was hard, to what must have been a point of physical pain, over a mere kiss. His lips were unexpectedly soft on yours, far softer than the very few men that you had kissed in the past. They moved languidly against yours, and you wanted to be disgusted by the fact that he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. 

You hated the part of you that craved this. You could deny it all that you wanted, but the dull ache between your traitorous legs told you what your mind could not: a sick part of you wanted this. Maybe it was the very same part of you that had wanted those guards dead. 

You should hate him. You wanted to hate him. You needed to hate him. 

And then his hands were sliding down the back of your neck, his lips sliding down the base of your throat- 

“Stop! Feyd, stop!” You finally found your voice, sucking in a breath of air. You felt dizzy, and yet your body was more alive than it ever had been. 

Traitor. You were a traitor to your family. 

He sat up then, eyes glazed over, his thick lashes casting shadows on the tops of his cheeks in the dim lighting. 

“Do you hate me?” He panted out, voice thick with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place. It was as if he could read your mind. 

“Yes.” You lied. This lie was even harder to swallow than your last for whatever reason. Maybe it was the heady look in your eyes or your swollen, well kissed lips. . . but Feyd knew you weren’t telling the truth.

“I’ll fuck you until you want me,” And his harsh, horrible words didn’t quite match the tender way he cupped your cheek. “And then you’ll want me so badly that you’ll love me.” 

He got off of you then, forcing himself away from you before he made a mistake. Today was not the day to claim you, not with the previous night so fresh on your mind. He would figure out a way to apologize for his loss of control later. For now he needed a change of scenery, preferably one that didn’t have a bed. . . or a couch. . . or a table. . . or a counter- 

“Pig,” You spat in his direction, quickly fumbling to straighten out your now wrinkled clothing. 

“Your training clothes are in our closet. Put them on.” He was still breathing heavily, pacing around the room with his hands on his hips. His cock was straining against the confines of his pants, begging him to turn around and finish what he started- make good on the promise he just made to you. 

“Are you crazy?” You screamed at him, lurching up from the bed as though you were going to attack him. 

Slowly he turned to face you, his features twisting into something that looked a tad bit like forlorn yearning. 

“Yes,” And he nodded, not denying the fact. “Yes I am.” 

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[falmerbrook]

How are the Falmer hitting me with arrows? (headcanons on how Falmer navigate and hunt/fight)

I'm keeping up the Falmer headcanon momentum.

So Falmer in Skyrim (the game) have a blind effect applied to them and fortify sneak. As I'm sure anyone who has plundered a Dwemer ruin has experienced, despite their blindness, those buggers sure can shoot and arrow. As a matter of fact, they have a surprising amount of archers in their communities. There's also a question of how they are able to navigate the often treacherous Dwemer cities filled with dangerous guarding contraptions and tall drops. So here's my thoughts on how they get around and navigate/fight/hunt so well.

Echolocation

You know what other (real life) creature has poor eyesight, big ears, and is able to pinpoint small targets for hunting? Bats.

I like to imagine that Falmer are in the early stages of evolving echolocation. While they don't have the precise echolocation capabilities of bats, I headcanon they can use it to get a general picture of the size and shape of their surroundings, so they can get a decent idea of obstacles, the size of a room/cavern, if there is a gap or cliff, and if an object or creature is moving around. Falmer moving about will use echolocation to navigate (akin to using something like a cane to just detect obstacles or walls), and while on guard or hunting they can use it to scan an area to get a baseline for what the area is like and therefore if something changes within it.

Bats that have evolved echolocation tend to have large ears to better pick up the reflected noises, and strange looking wrinkles and folds in their faces to help reflect or project the sound to the ears better. This could explain the wrinkles on Falmers' faces and the larger ears (I also tend to make their ears bigger than in the games in my drawings for that reason).

That all being said, for your consideration, please imagine if Falmer's faces looked like this:

(Wrinkle-faced bat, white-throated round-eared bat, vampire bat, horseshoe bat, great stripe-faced bat, slit-faced bat)

And if they sounded like this (as I picture it, it would be a sort of secondary noise set alongside their normal vocalizations that we hear in-game):

(in real life, this is more of a noise you can feel in your head than hear)

(this one is slowed and pitched down so we can hear it)

Clairvoyance

I've often wondered (these are the sorts of things I think about while I'm working) how clairvoyance would work in-universe, but I think it could be useful to someone (or a group of someones) who can't see. For those who don't know, clairvoyance is an illusion spell in Skyrim (the game) that shows a blue magical path towards the current objective (quest marker). They way I like to headcanon it, the way clairvoyance works in-universe can vary, but it’s mostly used for giving the mind’s-eye an “image” of the route/location of what the caster is thinking about. It’s like a mix of a clarity of understanding (a “eureka!” moment) and a mental picture. It’s a spell that requires pretty heavy concentration and mental training, since it requires not only casting the spell but maintaining a certain objective in your mind.

Falmer have figured out how to use it to “see” (understand) their surroundings in a way that allows them to fight, hunt, and navigate complex architecture. It’s not a replacement for sight though, just a way of adjusting without it. This is the skill that allows them to use bows with fairly good accuracy. They understand this spell more as a navigational skill than what the above world sees it as (a spell). I imagine they have their own very different system of understanding and classifying magic since they've been so separated from the rest of the world, but that's a post for another day.

While echolocation is mostly used for purely navigating and scanning the environment to get a sense of scale and placement, clairvoyance is used more for a specific purpose, whether that be to navigate to a specific point, navigate difficult terrain, pinpoint the position of a target/enemy, find something (an object they lost, a friend or family member, etc.), etc. While a guard or hunter may use echolocation to scan, they may then use clairvoyance to pin down a potential threat. Usually, unless one is very skilled in magic, they can only focus on a single target or subject at a time using clairvoyance, and it is a learned skill that most individuals have at least a basic grasp on, but only those more skilled in magic can use for complex, frantic, or stressful situations. They don't see it so much as a spell to learn and master, but rather a basic skill of life, like how we may see learning to read and write.

Of course, part of their ability to navigate also just comes down to having been born that way and just naturally learning the placement and arrangement of things in their environment. They don't know what they're missing, and like a blind person or animal, could adapt to it in their own non-magical ways as well. The magic and evolution just help them thrive.

Anyway, thanks for reading another Falmer Post™!!

[mikeys-jellycat-selection]

Jellycat Review: Wilf Wolf! 🎀

I remember the first time I saw this guy, when he was released. I knew immediately that I had to have him... His little fangs... His precious paws... his chunky rump... It was love at first sight for me with this delightful doggy, and he did not disappoint. He's the only plush I've ever bought two of.

The specs 🎀

Fur texture: 10/10

Wilf's fur is indescribable... it's soft and silky, almost like real rabbit's fur, and it's so long that it really bulks up his figure, giving him a super plump appearance without making him stiff. In fact, his fur is so soft that I find myself handling him very gently, as I'm terrified of ruining that amazing texture. In my experience, however, he's rather sturdy, has had minimal shedding, and is able to be cleaned with a machine (WILF HATES HOT DRYING MACHINES... AIR DRY OR FLUFF ONLY. Heat will ruin his texture. I learned this the hard way 😢) provided you treat him with EXTREME care. Overall, I'd say his fur has the best texture in the entire jellycat kingdom. The shorter fur on his face and paws is incredibly soft too, and has a nice curl to it...

Design: 10/10

Just look at him. He's so precious. What's not to love about this tubby little werewolf? He is literally shaped like a friend. His little nose and his precious fangs are a highlight, and his ears are so perky and fun to grab. Not to mention, his limbs are floppy! Floppy!! I enjoy giving him a good shake to watch him bounce around and fluff out... shake your wilf. You won't regret it.

Size: 10/10

His size is perfect, at W11" × H9" inches. He's big enough to fill out a hug, but not big enough to be an inconvenience when carrying. He's not very heavy, but the beans in his booty do give him some weight.

Accessibility:

I will never understand why they decided to retire this fellow. As one of the most popular jellycats (and for good reason), he is now even more sought out than he originally was. While his asking price was $45.00 usd, he's currently listed on the second hand market (as of 2/12/23) for anywhere from $75.00 to $180.00 usd... sad! While I think he's absolutely a wonderul, perfect, amazing, adorable, worthwhile purchase, I don't know if he's worth $200~ dollars... If you have the money and you want him (as you should), try to buy him for a reasonable price.

Overall 🎀

Wilf has earned the prestigious title of Mikey's Fav, and for good reason! He's well designed, has a great texture, and is the perfect size for even perfect-er hugs. Jellycat struck gold with this precious lad, and I'll never, ever forgive them for sending him to the shadow realm. If I had my way, every human being on earth would be equipped with a standard issue Wilf Wolf for emotional support. Mental illness rates would plunge. World peace would finally be achieved. Society would finally heal. I hope one day I can procure a THIRD Wilf Wolf, so I can keep one trapped in a prison of glass to forever remain perfect and pristine, and love the hell out of the other two.

Overall I give Wilfy a perfect 10/10 rating! I will now attach a picture of my personal Wilf Wolf.

[acethatlovesdinos]

Tw: vent, female body dysmorphia? (Idk I don't have an official diagnosis). description of feminine anatomy (boobs). I'm not asking for pity, I'm just spitting words out because I feel the need to make them known. A confession, of sorts. And maybe it'll help some of you feel less alone in your own journey.

~~~~~~

I'm not pretty.

I'm aware of the fact. Never really have been. Not exactly the textbook definition of "attractive" when I look in the mirror.

I dont feel unloved, I think that's a different thing. I know i have caring friends and family who have my back, but it's still not quite what Im getting at.

I hate mirrors. Specifically the big ones in the bathroom before I shower. I look at myself, my eyes taking in every flaw.

I used to be bigger, you see, and I do feel much better having lost a significant amount of weight but that in itself brought upon an entirely new type of insecurity.

At least when I was a larger size my shape was "normal," per se, in that i expected and understood that physique well.

I had gotten a gastric sleeve surgery (make stomach smaller so you can absorb less food, thus losing weight in a more "natural" manner). Considering my morbidly obese state at the time, it was a necessary adjustment for the sake of my own health.

Dont get me wrong, I'm happy with what I've done. It's been a massive change and I feel so much better from both a physical and mental perspective.

but oh boy, I never could have expected the kind of insecurity that accompanied rapid weightloss.

it was incredible for a while, watching my clothes fit looser and feeling like I had more energy. my mental health improved drastically. truly, this was one of the best decisions I ever made, and I dont think Id change it if given the chance. I do want to make that clear, my current feelings are just a bit of a side effect.

quickly shedding pounds means that your body doesnt really get a chance to re-absorb that loose skin. what once was round, fatty pudge has now become loose, dangling flab. it hangs over my waist, accentuating my gut and making it still look larger than it is. Unfortunately, the weight I've lost isnt enough to properly constitute those surgeries to remove the loose skin that exists, so I'm sort of just...stuck with it. Im still certainly not skinny by any means, but I feel as though I'd be a size or two smaller if that extra flab wasn't there.

My hips and thighs didnt change a whole lot, so I remain with a bottom-heavy, pear shaped form with a waist several inches behind my hips. pants are a struggle to find a comfortable fit as a result.

It doesnt really strike much thought at first, but I was pretty quick to remember that breasts are composed mostly of fat and soft tissue. One of the first places to start showing a decrease in size? yeah. My chest wasn't particularly huge in proportion to my body anyway, and they only got smaller. that's a blow to the self-esteem if ive ever seen one. ever try shopping for a 40A bra? they aren't very common.

Oh, and what I said before about loose skin? that applies there too. there's no shape, it just sort of...sags pathetically. it could almost be compared to the "boobs" of an obese man with the way they sit, and the thought disgusts me.

all in all im sagging, loose, and not what someone would call a pretty sight...ever. It makes me fear the longevity and even possibility of future relationships, because who would want something like this?

my only saving grace is when I take a closer look at myself. Look closer in the mirror, look at my face. that seems to be the only part of myself im mostly okay with.

I've got a soft, round face, dusted with a natural blush and a gentle chin. my ears arent too big, and ive got a little dimple when my mouth moves the right way.

pale blue eyes provide the only pop of color on my otherwise pale, boring body, a cloudy shade of slate with a ring of green around the pupil. I dont want to sound basic, bit they really do seem to change under the sun. hooded eyelids occasionally cause makeup to be frustrating, but i only wear the stuff on special occasions anyway so it's not exactly a huge deal for me.

My glasses help to frame my face, a cute but necessary prop(bc i am blind lol), with the added bonus of helping to hide the tired circles under my eyes.

A lot of people seem insecure about their noses, but mine has been mostly unproblematic throughout my experience with it.

I've had a surprising number of people comment on my "perfect lips" (a few ladies who helped me with makeup), bringing up the defined Cupid's Bow and naturally plump shape, a soft pink hue that exists all on its own. I never really thought much of it until someone told me.

My hair has always been a fickle thing, and I've had a bit if a love-hate relationship with it until fairly recently. I've found that I like it bobbed at my chin, where its light enough that the natural curls can have a strong effect. the most product I tend to use is this nice-smelling leave-in conditioner, which just helps to tone down the frizziness. I love the way the curls frame my chin and jawline, and it coils into these thick, beautiful springs after it dries from a shower. it's so soft and I love to run my fingers through it when it's been freshly cleaned. The current color is a dark purple, that looks almost black indoors, but it nearly lights up when the sun hits it. its natural color is a deep brown, and i still do like it, I just thought a bit of color would be nice for once.

Ive got moles and marks everywhere, but that's never bothered me. the little brown spots are fun, and a few of them on my arm can even be traced into a perfect arch.

the most unique aspect of my appearance is this...little patch of tiny moles in the center of my throat. The patch is only about a centimeter in full area, and it's covered in little raised brown bumps. Oddly enough, this part of my body has never been something I felt ashamed of, as the little patch of marks were one of the many things that made me, me.

So maybe my body isnt perfect. it's not the ideal shape, nor size, nor whatever else, but I guess there's some things about it that I dont mind so much.

[girls4keigo]

A Bird Whisperer’s Guide to Fighting Villains and Falling in Love | Hawks x Hero!Reader

Summary: Hawks needs help to defeat an upcoming hero attack in Tokyo. What better hero to ask than the one he’s been crushing on for months

Warnings: F!Reader, Hero!Reader, Fluff, Cursing

Reader plays hard to get. Reader has a nature quirk and can control natural elements and talk to animals. Reader is a popular hero

a/n: hi! this is my first post i hope you all enjoy! :)

————

You sighed, trying to keep your composure while talking to a bunch of big name heroes. The fundraiser events that your agency made you go to were unbearable. Standing around for hours listening to the most mundane heroes try to impress you with their line of work. But hey, if it helps boost approval ratings I guess it’s not that bad.

For the past year you’ve slowly been climbing the ranks of the hero world. With a powerful quirk and unique fighting styles it was hard to go unnoticed. By now you were familiar with how the industry treated female heroes. It seemed as if the general public cared about anything but your hero duties.

It was all love, relationships, “Who are you dating?”, “What’s your skincare routine?”

You honestly didn’t expect any different but geez, it sure did piss you off. And now that you were in the top 3, you weren’t expecting any of it to die down. Might as well just get used to it.

You continued to chat when suddenly your ear twitched as you sensed a certain birdie approaching.

Oh God.

“Hey. Mind if I steal ya away for a little?” Hawks’ signature smirk appeared on his face as he approached you.

Hawks seemed to really be latching onto you for quite some time, well since the new hero rankings were announced. You were on your way to surpassing the number 2 hero and had gained a lot of notoriety in the past couple of months. 

He was clingy for sure, always play flirting, inviting you to lunch, showing up at your agency unannounced. It was obvious that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. You’d be surprised if he admitted to actually having feelings for you. Well, not that you cared anyways. Your job was to save civilians, defeat villains, and do things that any other normal hero would. Love was simply not on your agenda.

Holding back a heavy sigh, you complied and stepped off to the side with Hawks.

He seemed delighted by your decision, using his feathers to fetch you a glass of champagne off of one of the caterer’s trays as you two walked over to the bar area.

“So your agency makes you come to these lame things too, huh?”

You didn’t answer, not very interested in the direction that the conversation was going in.

“You look nice.” He bit his lower lip, dragging his eyes vertically across your figure.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking a sip of your champagne.

After you both had made your way over to the bar he instructed his order to the bartender, asking you if you wanted anything and keeping the same dumb smirk on his face when you denied.

“Rarely ever see you in a color other than green. I mean, I guess it’s your entire thing but I really dig this red look you’ve got goin’ on” He mused, as he watched the bartender carefully make his drink.

He wasn’t lying. He’s been eyeing you since you walked in, you look good.

“What do you want, Hawks?” You asked, visibly annoyed.

“Damn.” He chuckled, “Small talk isn’t your thing, noted.”

You side-eyed him, getting impatient with his overly relaxed demeanor.

Catching the hint, he got straight to the point. “There’s some trouble going on in Tokyo.”

Now you were intrigued. You took another sip of your champagne, “Petty villain attacks like always, isn’t it?”

You turned towards him, he got a good look at your face before he answered.

Fucking pretty, he thought to himself.

“That’s what I thought at first but it’s getting harder to believe that as I do more digging.” He looks around before inching closer to you, trying to keep his volume to a minimum. “The League is planning something big next week. The ‘Rain of Terror’, they’re callin’ it. They’re trying to ease the amount of big attacks in the city to let our gaurds down. And frankly, I think it’s working.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know all of this?”

“I’ve got connections,” Was all he said, with a shrug.

Ok, whatever. You’ll confront him about that later. “And this ‘Rain of Terror…’ what does it entail?”

“Bombs.”

“Shit,” You muttered.

“Big ones. Huge ones, actually. I don’t know how the fuckers did it but they found a way to make these huge, bioengineered clouds that ‘rain’ bombs.”

You grew uneasy. Raining bombs? Over the entirety of Tokyo? The amount of destruction it would do to the earth, to civilians, made you panic. Hawks sensed your uneasiness but continued anyways, “I want us to team up. Your quirk would be useful with the entire controlling nature n’ weather thing.”

He loosened up from his serious expression, talking a bit louder and showing a teethy smile, “Plus I think we’d make a pretty good team. I’ve already got a plan so we’ll meet up at yours tomorrow.”

“As in my house? Why not anywhere else?” You questioned.

“Well,” He grabbed his drink and used his free hand to rub the back of his heck, “This isn’t really the typa thing we can talk about in public. Mass hysteria, panic, that type of thing. And my living situation is pretty…complicated right now.”

You felt a small tap on your shoulder, followed by the voice of your high school aged sidekick. You turned to the younger hero. “Uh..Y/N? It’s time to go. I gotta be back by 11.”

You sighed before turning back to Hawks.

“Kids and their curfews, right?” He commented.

“Fine. I’ll have my agency send you my address. Don’t come during the day.” That was the last thing you said before finishing your drink all in one quick sip and making your way to the exit. You could feel his eyes on your backside until you left the venue. And the singular scarlet feather rushing in front of you to open the car door for you was really the cherry on top.

You rolled your eyes.

“Woah.” Your sidekick mused, “He seems to really like you. You should give him a chance, he’s hot.”

You giggled at her comment, “He doesn’t really like me, y’know? He flirts with every female hero.”

—

You heard a slight tap on the window leading up to your balcony. You already sensed him flying towards you when he was about a mile away, but your bedroom? Reluctantly you walked over and opened the sliding door.

“Never heard of a front door?”

“Well that’s no fun, is it?” He said, displaying his signature smirk. You looked cute out of your hero clothes. Hair tied up and messy, and in big comfy clothes.

Adorable, he thought to himself. He walked in as if it was his own befroom, slipping off his shoes, gloves and jacket and placing them in the corner of your room.

“Make yourself comfortable I guess.” You deadpanned at him, “And we’re still going downstairs anyways.” He shrugged.

He couldn’t help but be taken aback by the layout of your room. There were plants in almost every corner, on every shelf. Vines growing on your walls, half read books strewn across your bedside table and dresser, your pet birds of all different shaped and sizes flew freely around your room, chirping every once in a while. “So you’re a bird whisperer, huh?” He said, looking around.

“I’m an animal whisperer.” You said, “That’s kind of like my entire thing.”

He let out a hearty laugh before making his way out of your room.

“Tea?” You asked, heading towards the kitchen as the winged hero made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Sure.” He picked up your remote with one his feathers, flicking through the channels.

He turned his attention to you a couple moments later as you took a seat across from him at your coffee table, setting down two mugs of green tea.

He explained his plan carefully, paying close attention to all details and pausing for any questions you might have. You had to admit, as much as an annoying asshole this guy could be, he knew what he was doing. You could tell he plans his strategies very carefully, as much as he likes to come off as lazy and laid back to the general public. He was a damn good hero. And you hated admitting it but he was right, utlizing his speed and your ability to control weather, it wouldn’t be all that hard to stop villain attacks.

Hawks also couldn’t help but admire you. You seemed attentive, always paying close attention to detail and asking a lot of questions. I mean he already knew you were good at your job, watching some of the viral videos of your fights with villains.

—

When the day finally came, it went as smoothly as planned, of course with a little bumps along the way. Still, the few civilians that were hurt only had minor injuries, and you and hawks made it so only a couple bombs hit the ground.

You, Hawks, and some other minor heroes who had joined mid-battle regrouped to talk about how to resolve the collateral damage.

“It’s not too much to be honest, I’ll have it all repaired by midni-“

“Wow! What an incredible display of courage from Hawks and Mother Nature, currently sitting at number 2 and number 3 of Japan’s Hero BillBoard Chart!” A loud reporter exclaimed, accompanied by a camera crew.

Of course.

You tried your best to ignore and keep talking to fellow heroes until a microphone was shoved in your face. The face of the reporter gleamed as she talked to you. “Tell me Mother Nature, how does it feel working with number 2 hero Hawks?” You winced at the question, but answered nevertheless.

“Hawks is a  diligent hero with a lot of experience under his belt despite being so young. It was great working with him.” You answered, forcing a smile on your face.

“There’s speculation that you two planned this together..is this true? How were you able to predict this attack? More importantly, are you two dating?” Those questions hit you like a truck.

“Um..no comment.” Was all you could answer with.

Nevertheless, the reporter persisted, “Well there has to be something going on. It’s just my opinion but you two seem perfect for each other.” She giggled at the camera, “Please! The public is dying to know!”

Before you could even muster up an answer to the reporter’s overwhelming question, a giant scarlet wing came between you and the reporter, blinding both her and the camera from your view.

“Hey. She said she doesn’t wanna talk about it. Let’s respect personal boundaries, yeah?” Hawks said in a nice but slightly defensive tone.

You blushed, looking up at him. As nice we he was trying to sound, he looked angry. And damn right he was. How dare they talk to you like you’re no more than just some D-list celebrity? You’re a fucking hero, who cares about dating speculation when you just saved Japan’s largest city? And how dare they ask questions about him when you were the one doing most of the work. He was enraged, and it was his natural instinct to protect the thing he cared for.

Before you knew it, he latched his arms around your waist, pushing you into his chest.

You were flustered. “What are you-“

“Let’s go.” Was all he said before flapping his wings, sending you guys soaring through the air.

You held on to him for dear life, damn was he fast.

Hawks smirked to himself, feeling your rapid heartbeat against his chest. You were trying your best to hide your blushing by burying your face in his neck, granted that probably made it worse because he could already tell by how hot your face was.

God, she’s adorable

As soon as you two landed on top of a building, you pushed him away as quickly as possible.

He chuckled, putting both of his hands up in defense, “You’re the one making this awkward y’know? Plus you owe me for saving your ass.”

You were angry. Was it because of the downright rude questions that the reporter asked you not too long ago, was it because you knew tabloids would be posting all about you and Hawks for the next couple of days, was it because you were..warming up to that damned bird?

And then you started. “Just so you know, this..us..is not a thing. It will never be a thing. I wish you’d just stop flirting with me all the damn time. Just move on to the next female hero. I actually don’t care what you do. Just leave me alone. I don’t understand why you have to be so clingy, it’s annoying.”

Hawks did nothing but smile, listening to you ramble.

“You know…I-“ He interjected, only to be interrupted by you.

“And geez, you’re so goddamn entitled. I owe you? I don’t owe you anything. I didn’t even need your help. You’re no different from any other guy, you’re fucking insuffer-“

Hawks shut you up with a gentle kiss on your lips.

Oh.

“You talk too much.” He said in a low whisper, before pulling on your chin to kiss you again. You kissed him back, resting your hands on his chest, completely indulging in the moment.

Fuck. Your knees were weak. As much as you wanted to keep going you pulled away, blushing furiously and refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Oh? So now you’re shy?” He chuckled, pulling you closer to him. He tried to catch your gaze but you just moved your head away from him each time.

“Someone might see us. This is bad,” You were able to muster out.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He said, making you blush even more. He continued, “I don’t flirt with you for no reason, y’know? Sure, sometimes it’s just to tease..but I think you’re amazing.”

You felt like you were melting in his arms. Unable to find the right words, you panicked. You were gone in seconds, manipulating the wind so it could carry you back home, the same stupid blush unable to leave your face.

“Call me!” He yelled.

That damn bird.

[seiyasabi]

Trouble In Paradise

(This is a Yandere Kyoutani x Cute Fem Reader x Yandere (Platonic) Older Bro Iwa-chan  fic :)) This takes place after high school, in a universe where everyone still plays volleyball. 

TW; Jealousy!, turns into dubcon/noncon!!!!, !unwanted choking!, As I’ve said in the past-every character I write for (in my head) are like two feet taller than you!, Possessive behaviour!, he’s highkey soft for u but is still a bastard lol (love him), marking kink!, creampie!, daddy kink!, mentions of Oikawa lowkey being a Yandere too, etc.. 

Kyoutan deserves the world ;)) I love him ajadskhafkah also, sorry if my use of ‘chan’ is cringey, I think it’s funny af tbh, and since I’m Japanese, I’ll do what I want lmao. Anyways, sorry if this sucks, I tried like 5 different ways to write this, and this was the only one that ended up being somewhat decent. ) 

Skipping to the loud gym, your skirt swishes against the fat of your thighs. Your cute ass can be seen peeking out from under the pleated fabric, leaving those around you to coo at your pretty self. Without meaning to, you catch the eye of those around you. 

Seeing the gym’s doors, you push them open with an excited vigour, happy to finally be with your big brother and boyfriend. 

Immediately when you enter, you see Oikawa being swarmed with his fanclub, leaving a straight shot to the rest of the team. Spotting your bad-boy bf, you squeal in delight, gunning at him at top speed. He’s currently sitting on the bleachers, your brother seemingly scolding him for his RBF and bad attitude, but his eyes snap up in an instant, recognising your voice from anywhere. 

An uncharacteristic smile is present on his pierced face, standing to his feet, he readies himself to catch you and twirl you around. That’s a plus of being in shape; picking up your supes cute gf whenever you please! 

That is, until a certain pretty boy steps in the way. 

Tooru has his arms out, in a stance that will allow him to catch you with ease. Before you could slow down and avoid him, he yoinks you up and off of the floor, holding you in a tight embrace, “(Your Name)-chan! I knew you’d come visit me! I’ve been waiting all day for you, Cutie!” The glares from your boyfriend and brother are instantaneous. 

Iwa looks ready to scalp the brunet, whilst Ken looks ready to scrap-possibly even catch a body. Oikawa’s fans look absolutely bloodthirsty, jealous of your cute self being in the arms of the equally cute male. 

Pouting, you push at the pretty boy’s chest, “Put me down! I’m not here for you!” He coos at you, moving in to kiss you on the cheek, only for you to push him away by his face, “Stop it, you’re being weird! Put me down, I wanna see Ken-Chan!” 

By this point, your boyfriend and brother have made their way to you, ready to rip him to shreds, “Put my sister down, Shittykawa! Don’t be a perv!” He karate chops the starlet on the head, causing him to drop you in surprise. 

“Iwa-Chan! You’re so mean to me! Now look what you did, (Your Name)-Chan is hurt-” Kentarou catches you in an instant, cradling you in his scarred arms. Oikawa’s mouth gapes in shock, brain not computing the fact that the dyed haired male moved at lightning speed. 

“No, she ain’t,” He gruffs out, smooching you on the cheek. You giggle, hugging the tatted male tightly. Your (size) breasts smoosh against his buff chest, as you start to pepper kisses all over his face, “She ain’t ever gettin’ hurt if I’m here,” He places a kiss on your lips, relishing how you immediately kiss back. 

“Ken-Chan! I missed you so much!” He rolls his eyes, the tips of his ears turning red. Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your ass instead of your thighs, causing you to gasp, “Kyoutan, don’t be a perv!” 

He smirks, readying himself to respond, only for your brother to beat you to it, “Yeah, ‘Kyoutan,’ don’t be perving on my little sister!” Redirecting his smug look, he sticks his tongue out at your fuming sibling. 

“Bite me.”

The look on Hajime’s face is priceless, “Biting you isn’t the only thing you need to worry about-” 

“Haji,” His attention immediately snaps to your sweet face, which is currently pouting, “Don’t threaten him! He’s precious to me!” Before Kyoutani can say something smart, you rest your head against his neck, practically nuzzling him, which also shuts him up. 

The spikey haired ace is immediately offended, “I-wha-(Nickname), aren’t I precious to you? Aren’t I your most wonderful older brother?” You giggle, nodding your head. 

“Yes! But Ken-Chan is baby-”

“(Nickname)-Chan, aren’t I baby?! I feel so left out!” Oikawa and his fangirls are off to the side, watching the interaction. Whilst Oinks looks positively offended and left out, the girls are angry that you’ve stolen the captain’s attention. 

“No, you’re the ugly side character,” Hajime states nonchalantly. 

“Yea, yer uglier than the dirt under (Your Name)’s shoe,” Offended noises and indignant hand movements follow their words, as his fans start to shout in anger and shock. 

You lightly whack Kyoutani on the shoulder, scolding him with your eyes, “Haji, Kyoutan, don’t be mean! Tooru is pretty,” The setter preens in delight, “But, he’s dumb. So, he’s the dumb, but pretty, character!” 

His hands grasp his chest as if you’d stabbed him, “(Nickname)-Chan, my heart, it’s breaking-” He fake gags, causing your brother and boyfriend to roll their eyes, “The only way to fix it…. Is to get a kiss!” He bolts towards you, causing you to shriek in surprise. Placing you on your feet, you’re quickly placed behind the dyed haired man, ‘Mad Dog’ making an appearance. 

Practically frothing at the mouth, he snarls at Oikawa, whilst Hajime sticks out his foot, effectively tripping him. Once falling, the pierced male yanks him up by his shirt collar, and hauls him up to his feet. Now face to face with the scary male, Oikawa gulps in fear, “I’ll kill ya, put ya in the ground, Pretty Boy. Once yer dead, Iwaizumi’ll dance over yer corpse.”

“Yes, I think I will,” Hearing his bestie agree with the sentiment, Oinks finally realises that he messed around too much. 

“Now, yer gonna apologise to (Your Name), or I’ll shave yer head,” Now fully standing, Kyoutani moves out of the way, allowing the setter to apologise face-to-face. 

Dropping to his hands and knees, he starts to bow at you as if you’re royalty, “I’m sorry, (Your Name)-Chan! I promise I didn’t mean to offend you! Please don’t let Mad Dog-Chan and Iwa-Chan kill me!” Giggling at his over the top words, you nod your head. 

“It’s okay, Tooru-Chan,” You pat his head reassuringly, “I know you love your fangirls more than me,” This causes the gym to erupt into cheers, as the other girls start to swarm the male. You can hear him scream in fear, but are quickly pulled away from the crime scene, and taken out to the car park. 

Your brother holds you close to him, glaring at your boyfriend who looks equally as angry. There’s a heavy silence between the three of you, as you’re squished into a hug by your brother. 

“Haji, why’re you holding me so tight? Don’t you have to get back to practice?” He doesn’t answer, instead speaking to your boyfriend. 

“Take her home, Kyoutani. I’ll deal with him now, you can deal with him later,” He nods, taking you from your older brother’s arms, and practically carrying you to his motorcycle. Setting you on the back of the bike, he opens the back hatch of the bike, and pulls out your pastel pink helmet. Placing it onto your head tenderly, he flips the eye cover up, allowing you to see him clearly for a moment. 

Smiling up at him (he can only see your eyes crinkle), you speak, “Hi!” His pissed off face immediately dissolves, causing him to smile at your cute self. 

“Hi, Baby,” Grabbing his rough hands, you interlace your fingers between his. 

“Aren’t you going to practice, Kyo-Ken?” He rolls his eyes, but gives your hands a squeeze. 

“Nah, I gotta take my Baby Girl home, so I can show her who she belongs to,” He gives you a wink, leaving you to splutter in surprise. 

“You-you can’t say that in public!” Chuckling, he releases your hands and flips your eye cover down, before chucking on his own helmet, and settling on the front of the bike. 

Pulling Your arms around his waist, he waits for you to settle against him. He relishes your tight hold, as you practically cling onto him for dear life. 

Starting up the engine, he kicks up the kick stand, and speeds off to your shared apartment. 

-

Your body bounces off of the mattress, as you let out a small scream. A giggle escapes your lips, as you smile up at Kyoutani, “Ken-Ken, are you still mad?” He nods, his hands pulling off your cropped sweater, and pushing up your skirt to expose your pastel yellow panties. 

“That ugly bastard should’a know better than t’a put his disgusting hands on ya,” He practically growls, undoing your bra and letting your pretty tits flop out. Kissing up your neck, he sucks hickies onto the previously unblemished skin. A small moan leaves your lips at the feeling, as he starts to pinch and twist your nipples. 

“Daddy!” He releases your neck with a ‘pop,’ smirking down at you. 

“Yes, Princess? Do ya need something?” He rubs the skin on the inside of your thighs, purposefully missing your dampening cunny, “Do ya need yer Daddy to touch yer Princess parts?” 

Nodding, you plead with him, “Yes! Please touch me!” 

Chuckling, he pulls your panties off of you, letting the cool air of your shared room caress your cunny. Running a single finger up your slit, he barely taps your clit, causing your hips to jerk up and off of the mattress, “Yer such a sensitive baby, I love ya so much.”

“I love you too, Daddy! Please fuck me!” He hums, mulling over your words. 

“Want me to show everyone who ya belong to?” You nod your head rapidly. 

“Yes! Yes, please!” Kissing you on the lips sloppily, he reaches down to pull out his cock from his Adidas sport shorts. His tip is pierced, and when he rubs it against your clit, you practically see stars. 

“My good, cute, polite girl,” He gathers your slick on his tip, before he pushes in. Your walls burn as you try to accommodate to his thick size, practically sucking the air from your lungs. A wanton moan is heard from you, as he waits for you to accept him comfortably, “Relax, Princess. Let me int’a yer pretty cunny.” 

“Da-Daddy,” Your arms wrap around him, clawing at his shirt covered back, “You’re too big!” He shushes you softly, rubbing your clit with two fingers. Your juices slowly drip out of you and onto his cock. After a moment, he begins to move, practically rearranging your guts. 

“You’ve taken me before, Princess. I know ya can do it, just let me in,” He starts to thrust into you at a medium speed, rubbing your clit at the same pace. Your eyes glaze over, practically rolling into the back of your head. 

His cock is heavy and girthy inside of your slick walls, spearing you open with each thrust. Moans and keens leave your throat, as you grip onto him. Your hips meet his, your juices spraying onto the both of you. 

“Look at my pretty baby, so fucked out already,” He uses the hand that’s not on your clit to grasp your throat, causing your body to go rigid and eyes to go wide. 

“Ken-” He shuts you up with a kiss, swallowing your words. You try to push his hand off, but it’s to no avail. He continues to fuck into you, your cunny still sucking him in, even as you’re scared of his actions. 

“Fuck, yer practically milking me for all I’ve got,” He removes his lips from yours, his grip becoming a bit tighter, “Ya want yer Daddy to cum in ya? Yea ya do.”

Now, you’re really pushing against him. You’re not on the pill, “Ken, pull out!” He shushes you, rubbing on your clit even harder than before, trying to make you cum before him. Kentarou relishes the small tears at the corner of your eyes, loving how cute you look. 

Without you wanting to, you cum with a small gush of liquid, a whine echoing through your chest. He follows not long after you, filling you to the brim with his virile cum. 

With a grunt and a huff, he pulls out of you, loving how his cum looks leaking out of you. Removing his hand from your throat, he looks down once more, realising that you don’t look very happy. 

“You didn’t listen to me,” You rub the hand mark around your neck, as you sit up, moving away from him. 

“Awe, don’t be like that, Baby,” He reaches out for you, but you move away from him. 

“I don’t want to be near you right now, Kyoutani. You didn’t stop…” Moving off of the bed, you stand to your feet. Going to your dresser, you grab a week’s worth of clothes, including your work uniform. Pulling on a new shirt, you fix your previous outfit, as you start to cry. 

“Wait-I-ya-ya aren’t leaving me, are ya?” For once, the spitfire male is at a loss for words. 

“No, I just need time away from you. You say that Tooru is bad, but you hurt me a lot just now. I’m calling Haji, and I’m going to stay with him for a little while,” Your brother has your daily items there, just because you’d sleep over sometimes, so you aren’t too worried about not having soap and such. 

Grabbing your phone from your purse by your bedroom door, you call him, Ken watching you with wide eyes, “Haji, please pick me up. Kyoutani and I got into a fight.”

-

Hajime helps you into his car, before turning to the still shocked male you call your boyfriend. He hasn’t said a word, if anything, he looks shocked beyond anything else. 

Shutting the car door, your brother finally speaks, “I knew you were no good for her. Your jealousy got the better of you.”

“I didn’t mean to, it-it just-”

“Got out of control?” Your brother raises an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest, “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You hurt my little sister,” He moves closer to the dyed haired man, eyes flashing with anger, “You choked her out. Why? Because Oikawa made you jealous? Despicable.”

“It isn’t like that! We-we were having se-” He holds up a hand, stopping your boyfriend from continuing. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Just know that if you come near her without her allowing you to be in her presence, I’ll kill you. I never wanted you to be with her, and you just proved my fears correct.”

Realisation dawns on Kyoutani, “Wait- is this why ya wanted me to come home with her? So I could fuck up?” 

Hajime smirks, “Of course. My little sister is too good for you. Now, fuck off, before I do something you won’t like.” 

Ken watches as you go, tears brimming his eyes. He should’ve known your brother would find you too precious to be with him. He most likely asked Oikawa to help him, seeing as the pretty boy was in the car with you, looking as perfect as ever. 

He fucked up, and now Hajime has won their rivalry. 

[mitts2002]

JJK pottery dates

Hii I've already made a separate inumaki fic on this so he won't be included. I was originally meant to do this for one character but I've decided to do multiple cause I can😌 Also I've never done pottery so I'm just winging this!

Itadori Yuuji

Yuuji would assume that he's gonna be a natural at pottery despite being both your first time

But yuuji would definitely not care about the end result of it

As long as he has a good time with (Y/N) that's all that matters

He'll accidentally use too much strength when handling the clay. Instructor tells him he's too heavy handed

(Y/N) on the other hand is doing pretty well. Shes almost done shaping and is ready to add some decorations

This is when Yuuji realises he does care about the end result because his looks like a complete mess

To cheer him up (Y/N) engraves Yuujis name into her pot and gives it to him as a gift.

You also offer to take yuujis piece in return

(Y/N) uses yuujis clay thing as a place for small trinkets and earrings

Yuuji uses (Y/N)s pot to plant a cactus

The couple had decided to go on a cute little pottery date for their first date, so why was Yuuji pouting in the corner?

Well at first (Y/N) and Yuuji were having a great time together. Messing around and quoting stupid memes and movie references was just their thing so when it was actually their turn to make something Yuuji had no idea what he was doing.

(Y/N) despite messing around with him had actually paid attention to the instructor and was doing just fine which made matters even worse for Yuuji. He assumed this would be a piece of cake when in reality it wasn't.

"Yuuji stop sobbing in the corner babe, it doesn't even look that bad!" You clearly lied to him but you knew it was for his own good.

"NO ITS TRASH look at yours (Y/N) so nice and pretty no one would ever want mine! Now I'll never be the world's best pottery maker" Yuuji babbled on just being his overdramatic self.

"Well I'd love love yours! I could put my jewellery in it, I needed a new trinket box anyways" you quickly thought on the spot and sighed in relief when Yuujis head perked up

"Really?" Yuuji sniffled and grabbed onto your waist. "Yeah and ill carve your name into mine! Then give it to you as a gift. Equivalent exchange" you winked at Yuuji knowing its an offer he couldn't refuse.

"Okay deal" Yuuji sat back next to you working on your trinket box while your worked on carving his name into his plant pot.

Choso

Choso was trying to learn more about the 21st century

How did he do this? By binge watching old rom coms on netflix.

In the middle of one of the movies a pottery scene comes up and chosos eyes couldn't shine more bright.

He loved the idea. It was a great way to spend your time with your loved one.

Choso immediately rang (Y/N) and demanded she arrange a date, which she did

You and Choso couldn't find any classes near you but looking at Chosos pout and puppy dog eyes begging to find a way you had no choice.

(Y/N) did the next best thing and decided to buy a beginners home kit. Now you both sat in the living room with newspapers littering the table and large aprons on yourselves.

"Okay so let's read the instructions first" you picked up the small booklet and looked over to Chosos who couldn't contain his excitement.

His buns were a little messier than usual as he rushed them the moment the package arrived but he still looked cute nonetheless. "Let me set it up then I guess we can try make a bowl? That seems to be the easiest option" you suggested while flicking through the pages and setting things up.

"Can we make a plant pot? I wanna give yuuji a plant for his birthday" Choso proposed. "Aww that's actually a great idea yuuji would love it!" You exclaimed in return and motioned him to come closer as you were ready to begin.

Choso had sat you in between his legs and leaned his head on your shoulder. His hairs tickled you and butterflys fluttered in your stomach when Choso began to kiss your cheeks slowly inching down to you neck.

"Oi behave" you ordered trying to sound intimidating but just burst out in laughter instead. "Fine sorry sorry let's focus on the pot" Choso apologised giving one last kiss to your head.

The pot was forming nicely but was a bit wonkey due to the hand size difference between you both.

Neither of you could care though, the intimacy of his hands on yours, music playing in the background and laughter filling the room from your stupid stories and Chosos dad jokes he recently learnt was just what Choso wanted.

The plant pot had turned out to be very cute and Yuuji ended up loving it.

Kamo Noritoshi

Kamo noritoshi was brought up in a strict household

During his childhood he was expected to be talented in many areas

Archery, studying, drawing, poetry, crochet, painting and even pottery were part of the many skills kamo noritoshi had devloped

The moment (Y/N) had learnt that the vase and other ornaments in noritoshis room were hand crafted by him she wanted to learn too

Now Noritoshi is sitting here behind his girlfriend teaching her how to make a vase because she wouldn't stop pestering him

"Noriii STOP being so perfect!" (Y/N) had yelled at her confused boyfriend who was simply decorating his clay piece.

"You wanted to do pottery with me and now your doing it. What's the problem?" Norotoshi sighed and turned to look at your vase. If he could even call it that.

"If you were struggling you could've asked me for help" Noritoshi scolded while your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah well I wanted to do it myself" you whined and crossed your arms in defeat.

"FINE help me please it's way harder than it looks" you admitted as nori made his way over to you.

"Firstly you need to be more gentle, it's wet clay not a damn rock (Y/N)" he corrected you and put his hands upon yours.

"Your hands are cold" you whispered to him feeling his slightly calloused hands touch yours.

"Focus (Y/N)" he responded equally as quiet as you. The room fell into a comfortable silence as your and nori moulded your vase together.

When it was finally finished you kissed noritoshi on the cheek. His cheeks turned slightly red but he kept his composure.

"It's fine (Y/N) just don't break it okay" the black haired male reminded you since you were quite clumsy.

"I promise I won't! But next time you have to do this call me and I'll join"

After this date, pottery became a common occurance for (Y/N) and Noritoshi. (Y/N) kept her promise and still fills her vase with flowers nori buys her to this day.

Okkotsu Yuta

Yuta okkotsu was a nervous wreck

You were given free tickets to a pottery event and asked Yuuta if he would accompany you

Of course he agreed without realising what he was actually getting himself into

The couple were currently at the event extremely close to make a bowl together

Yuuta could feel your hair on his skin and wanted to lean closer to bask in your presence

The moment he finally mustered the courage to lean onto your shoulder a little interruption had scared you both

'Okay Yuuta you got this. My wonderful (Y/N) is focused on the bowl so just slowly lean onto her' Yuuta thought to himself before looking towards his hands that were on yours. 'I GOT THIS' Yuuta had slowly inched closer while you continuously spoke so close to achieving his goal.

"IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!' a young girl with pigtails and pink bobbles yelled at Yuuta. The pair had jumped and practically ruined their bowl but yuuta couldn't care less. His chance was ruined.

"Yuuta she asked you a question" you reminded him and causing the black haired male to turn back to the small girl

"Ah yes this is my girlfriend" He responded with a small blush. "Well she's very pretty!" The cute child exclaimed.

"Thank you sweetie you're very cute too" (Y/N) cooed at the small girl and patted yutas arm telling him to compliment her aswell. Before yuuta could speak the young girl had beat him to it.

"OH YOU MUST BE ON A DATE! Sorry I ruined your bowl" she apologised looking down in guilt for interrupting you both.

"No no it's okay don't worry about it" Yuuta reasured and patted her head giving her a soft smile. (Y/N) blushed at the sight of her loving boyfriend with a child and gave the girl a quick high five before she scurried off to her parents.

"Wasn't she the sweetest little girl yuuta?" You asked and got a small 'hm' in response. "Our bowls a bit messy but I think we can salvage it right? Come closer so we can fix it properly" you grabbed his arms pulling him closer to you. Maybe that little interruption helped him after all.

[americxn]

Hi! Can I request a reader having a quickie with Colin? I have no particular scenario in mind so go wild ;)

wordcount: 1.5k warnings: NSFW 18+, penetration, giving oral

In Secret (Colin Zabel x fem!reader)

The heavy door to the storage cupboard slamming closed behind your bodies echoed through the currently empty hallway of Colin’s work building, his office just two doors down. The impenetrable darkness of the room settled over the two of you as you shoved Colin further into the tiny space, your fingers already attacking the buttons holding his shirt together and feverishly undoing them.  “Does this room have a lock?” You asked under a hushed breath as you completed the final button of his black shirt, your hands immediately raising to press into the hard plane of his chest, your fingertips trailing lightly down the exposed slice of skin. Colin shuddered beneath your touch, his own fingers moving for the tights beneath your casual work dress, the thin fabric tearing as he ripped them down your legs, taking your panties along with them. “Nope.” He responded breathlessly as you fondled with the zipper of his pants, successfully having the garment pulled down to his thighs in a matter of seconds. “Fuck it.” You murmured, your hands moving to grab onto the collar of his shirt and pulling his body roughly to yours.

His hot lips attached to the side of your neck, drawing a deep groan from the back of your throat, your wetness building even more in desperate need for the man before you as he shoved you against the wall. You couldn’t see the painful hardness of his cock as he pulled his underwear down to his knees, but your thirst for it was immense as he reached for you once more, flicking the short skirt of your dress up and holding it at your waist. “This is exciting.” Colin whispered roughly, his lips attaching to the sweetly sensitive skin just below your ear. You hummed in agreement, grabbing his face and steering his kiss to your lips instead. Colin hooked his hand under your upper thigh, pulling your leg up and around his waist as he bent at the knees slightly, his tongue flooding into your mouth as he aligned the swollen tip of his cock with your opening. Your head fell back against the wall as he eased himself inside of you slowly, his lips once again finding your neck and nipping and licking along the prominent column of your throat. “Fuck.” You hissed as Colin fully straightened, his cock pushing even deeper into you as he stood to his full height with your soaked pussy stretched out deliciously around him. His spare hand settled on the back of your knee, hoisting you up and wrapping your other leg around his waist so that you were securely pinned between his body and the wall. Gravity aided you, pulling you even further onto his hard length, the walls of your cunt clenching around him as you let out an exhale accented with a whine. You could do nothing but grip onto Colin’s clothed shoulders as he made the first thrust into you, his cock hitting so deep that any thought other than that of the man before you evaporated from your mind, the fullness of your pussy dizzying. A familiar sweet pressure, bordered slightly by a pleasant ache, built in your lower abdomen as Colin pulled out slightly, his hands moving to grip your sides, letting out a shuddering breath as he filled you fully once. You were already moaning, unable to help yourself as Colin unleashed himself upon you, quickening his upwards thrusting so that your back slid up and down the wall you were pressed against, your toes beginning to tingle with the overwhelming stimulation. “I don’t think that you’ve ever taken me this deep before.” Colin commented through clenched teeth as your hands snaked beneath his shirt, settling on his shoulder blades to claw at his back. “But look at you, taking me so deep.” Your moan of response was loud, Colin’s hand leaving your torso to shoot up and press against your mouth, the back of your head pressing into the wall. The sound of skin on skin filled the tiny room, the hallway beyond the cupboard still thankfully quiet. Colin quickened his pace, his legs bending slightly at knee to allow him to angle his hips up, ensuring that each of his relentless thrusts into you hit deep and hard. His hand did nothing to quieten the moans tumbling from your parted mouth, your wetness practically dripping down his shaft each time he pulled out, only to be shoved back inside of you again and again. “Shhh,” he scolded lowly, to which you let out a mumbled string of breathy groans, his thrusts quickening with unrestrained lust. Colin moaned softly as you dug your fingernails deeper into the soft flesh of his shoulders, trying to gain purchase on his skin to ground yourself in the midst of your mounting pleasure. Your breath was hot on the hand Colin kept securely over your mouth, the outline of your body pressed against the wall before him doing unspeakable things to him, turning his stomach to tight knots. Before him, your eyes began to roll back slightly with each thrust, the honeyed pressure in your pussy and abdomen at the sheer size and reach of him giving way to undiluted pleasure, leaving you gasping behind his hand for a full breath of air. Blissful moans gave way to squeaks of desperation with each of Colin’s thrusts, his own huffed growls of pleasure filling the small room, the air heavy with the mingled scent of your arousal. “I’m gonna - Colin!” Your shrieked announcement was muffled beneath the barrier of his large hand, one of your own reaching up to grasp his wrist as each of his thrusts brought you closer and closer to the edge that you would soon surely topple off.  Moaning his name once more, your head tipped back, your mouth falling open behind Colin’s hand as your release crashed into you. Your legs tightened around Colin’s waist, who continued pounding up into you, grunting furiously and praising you as you came, the slick walls of your cunt tightening and roiling around him. The muscles in your back tensed, straining to arch against the flat wall you were pressed against, your chest pushing more persistently into Colins. He lowered his head, nipping and sucking at your jaw to help coax each last intoxicating wave of your ecstasy from you. Even through the thick darkness of the cupboard’s interior, the whites of your eyes were visible as you struggled to gain control over your own body amidst the potent force of your release. Colin thrusted hard and deep into you once more before pulling out, catching you as you slid down the wall. Still recovering from your release, you glanced at the rough shape of his outline in the dark, confused. His hand found the top of your head, pushing you down to your knees before him. Your mouth was open, your tongue out, before he even told you what he wanted, the surface of the wall cold against your shoulders as your pussy continued to pulse pleasantly as your thighs rubbed together. “I wanna cum on your face.” He mumbled, the words slurred in pleasure. He tapped the head on his cock on your tongue, notifying you on what to close your mouth around. You took his entire length, your eyes squeezing shut as he rammed into the back of your throat. Colin’s own groan was loud, the thrusts he made into your mouth shuttering as the muscles in his thighs and ass clenched simultaneously, his orgasm gripping him a second later.  You reached around to hold him in your mouth by his hips, not wanting to have to deal with getting his cum all over your face at 1pm on a Tuesday, sucking him through his orgasm as he groaned, his head falling back. You dutifully swallowed each hot load of seed that Colin emptied into your mouth, his hips rutting against your face in pitiful desperation, a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whine falling from his parted lips above you. You hummed in encouragement, sucking in your cheeks in one last offering of pleasure as he slowly drew out of you. Heaving down a breath, you swiped away the wetness coating your lips, Colin reaching down and finding your already raised hands to help pull you to your feet. He pressed a single lingering kiss to your upturned lips, your body heavy in gratification. “That was good.” You whispered drowsily into the dark, Colin quick to agree as he reached up to begin re-buttoning his shirt. “Oh shit.” You muttered, falling to your knees before Colin once more and feeling around the floor unseeingly, patting around Colin’s feet. “What’s up?” He whispered from above you. “Zabel... what the fuck did you do with my panties?”  Colin stilled above you, uttering a curse of his own before falling to the floor beside you, almost hitting your head against his as he, too, began feeling around the floor.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic (it’s not letting me tag you for some reason) @divineruler (if you wanna be added or removed just let me know)

[bibliocratic]

How about Jon Martin and the cursed trip to IKEA?

Thanks for the prompt! :D

I’m sure this absolutely could have been read as like ‘IKEA is not-so-secretly a Spiral domain’ but this non-Euclidean hell-hole is of mortal making I’m sure of it.

(I love and fear you IKEA, never change <3)

 --

“I simply don’t see the reason why we’d ever need them.”

“If we have guests over!”

“We’ve never had guests over.”

“One day we might!”

“And over for what?”

“I dunno! Dinner or something, make a night of it.”

“Martin, neither of us can cook.”

“Well, we could learn.”

“Alright, fine. Pushing that to one side for the moment, my question is why do our hypothetical guests require a different set of fancier cutlery? What’s wrong with the ones we’ve got at home?”

“I mean, nothing really, just… well, it’s a thing, isn’t it? Having some nice stuff to bring out if people come round.”

“Will we be moving on to the fine china aisle next?”

“Maybe! Ha, ha, don’t give me that look – Why not splash out a little? At worst, we just have more forks and some extra knives.”

“…Alright, fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Before I come to my senses. But I reserve the right to refuse guests the good cutlery if they’re undeserving.”

“What, are you planning some rigorous questionnaire they’ve got to pass first?”

“Absolutely. Come on then, the fine china awaits.”

--

Alfonse has never really been one for home improvement. He’s got a rolled-up stick of posters that he’s dragged around from his old room to student digs to slightly nicer student digs since he was a teenager, their corners creased and dotted with blue-tack stains. He’s had the same chipped plate, chipped bowl, chipped cup set since uni, and has been belligerent about swapping them out for anything less likely to shatter the next time he puts it in the dishwasher. But it’s their first flat together, and it feels real, and grown-up, and kind of scary, and he thinks that it’s important to get this part right, to set their life together off with a different start than the other places. Meaning that now, somehow, they’ve got a squeaky-wheeled trolley full of pillows and a cheese grater and storage containers that aren’t see-through plastic boxes and honest-to-god frames for his Quentin Tarantino posters. He’s finding himself entertaining the rather luxurious thought of buying a large and leafy potted plant to brighten up their cramped living room.

Tom is in his element here, and he’s put on his ridiculous reading glasses that Alfonse says make him look like Dame Edna, peering over their chunky glittery frames to inspect the ballroom’s worth of lighting they’ve found themselves amongst. He’s humming as he does so, making notations with the pint-sized pencil they collected at the door. Alfonse is entirely content to let him take the reigns on this one.

He idly people-watches for a while, making noises of interest at another floor lamp when it’s expected of him – the students clearing out the kitchenware section, lugging around the straining blue blags, the parents with children who have been swayed by the toys – before he catches sight of a man circling the desk lamps. Glancing down at his phone, gnawing on his lower lip with some discontent before he glances up and around the terrain before frowning. He swings his phone in an arc, giving the hope of it a hopeful tap, muttering a comeoncomeoncomeon under his breath.

His mobile gives a chirpy buzz, and the man almost hits himself in the ear with the force of answering.

“Where are you?” Alfonse overhears. “I can’t… Jon… Jon, you’re breaking up, yeah, the signal’s… Jon. I’m by the lamps… The lamps. Lamps. I’ve got the trolley, yes, yes – you… hello?”

Alfonse hears a very emphatic fuck’s sake before he decides to go back to Tom and leave the man suffer in private.

--

Sinead’s planted herself on one of the sofas in the well-lit display areas and has committed to not budging an inch for at least ten minutes. The fabric is a cheery yellow, and it suits the colour-coordinated pretend living room, but she’s not sure she’d choose it herself.

She’s getting a headache. Mel’s off with her nephews and nieces over in the kid’s bedroom section and she just needs five more minutes before she can look at another floral wallpaper or toy car bed.

She’s disrupted from massaging her temples by an irate-looking man with some rather intense eyebrow game throwing himself down on the half-egg-shaped armchair nearby, letting forth a truly impressively disgruntled sigh.

“You look like you’re suffering,” she offers, because she is and she wants to know someone else is too, and he nods peevishly and gives another irritated noise.

“I didn’t realise there’d be so much drama involved in buying a sofa,” he grumbles.

“Amen,” she agrees. They share a quiet moment of strung-out solidarity as they sit moulded into the seat cushions.

“… What’s that one called?” the man asks after a moment of stewing in his own mood.

She shrugs but picks up the tag and squints at it.

“Brathult? With one of those… those A’s that have the little bobble hat. Apparently, it comes in yellow, blue and green.”

“Comfortable?”

“Not bad.”

“Hm.” For a while he goes silent. Then he points out two sofas tucked into different displays and artfully layered with appropriate throw pillows; the first, a stocky black number set upon a sleek wooden frame that serve as its legs, the second, a dense cuboid of cushions currently being looked over by in fastidious detail by a tussle-haired man wearing a t-shirt covered in lots of small cartoon cacti.

“Between that one and that one,” her companion in furniture-based suffering says. “What do you think?”

Sinead studies them carefully.

“The second.”

He huffs. It was clearly not the answer he wanted.

“Why?”

“Not sure. I guess, yeah, it’s not as flashy, but the cushions look deeper. And there’s more width there, even just looking at them.”

“But the first one has all that space under it to store things.”

“Yeah, but you just know it’s going to build up with dust, and you’d be having to get the hoover under it all the time. It seems a bit finnicky.”

The man gives a considering nod.

“You’re right.”

He hefts himself up and calls over to the other display room: “Martin!”

The tussle-haired man whirls around.

Her companion holds up his hands. “You were right. The second one.”

The tussle-haired man looks smugly victorious. Sinead tries to hide her smirk at the sight.

--

Andy’s heaving the flat-pack box for a small bookcase into their trolley when they hear a conversation bleed through from the other side of the huge metal shelves in the warehouse part of the store.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”

“It’s coming down on my side – woahwoahwoah – ”

“It’s – Christ, swing it this way a bit – ”

“I’ve not – Jon, I’ve not got – it’s – Jon, it’s slipping.”

“Put it down – DOWN – yes, that’s… Right. Let’s… let’s just have a moment. Catch our breath.”

“God, why’s it so heavy? It’s not like it’s even that big!”

Andy pops their head around to the other side of the shelf. Two men are puffing and sweaty, the colour on their faces blooming with exertion. Between the two of them is the long and bulky cardboard box they are clearly trying to manhandle into their trolley.

“Do you… um, do you need a hand?” they ask.

The shorter one waves a polite but dismissive hand before they manage to wrangle some air into their lungs.

“We’re good, thanks.” He says. The taller one raises an eyebrow.

Andy knows well enough to leave them to it.

--

“Hmmm! You weren’t lying about the meatballs.”

“I know right, like, what’s the secret?”

“Probably E-numbers.”

“Don’t ruin these for me, Jon!”

“Haha, alright. Help me out with the chips?”

“You finished?”

“The hot dog was enough, I’m getting full.”

“Pass them over then…. You know, I think we did alright with our spoils today. And it wasn’t so bad, all told.”

“We have to get this all in the car yet.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

[dreamingofaizawa]

Seraphim

This has been stuck in my head for days, okay? I know it's not MHA. But it's been plaguing my thoughts. My teratophilia is swirling like a hurricane with this man at the epicenter:

Anime: Blood of Zeus on Netflix

Yandere(ish) Seraphim x Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

Please make your way out of the current window if you are not over the age of 18. Thank you.

Warnings: Dub-con, body horror (?) he’s a fucking demon okay?, cumflation, overstimulation, belly bulge, creampie, size kink, kidnapping, kinda yandere-ish behavior if you think about it for a minute

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Alright, this man is a mass murderer and a complete psychopath with horrid trauma. But he’s hot, and my teratophilia and size kink are THRIVING. I couldn’t find his height anywhere but he’s probably like 7 feet tall or sum cause he TOWERS over the other people in the anime. Idk what possessed me to make this so weirdly soft. Anyway, days of horny thoughts of this man have accumulated to whatever this bullshit is.

*Polis = A Greek city-state

Enjoy the filth~

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You'd managed to duck down behind a low stone wall gating off a farmhouse on the outskirts of the polis. The demons had appeared in the treeline when the full moon was high in the sky, flooding the land in cool blue light. There was no warning as people were either killed or gathered into the square, fear wreaking havoc on the minds of men and women alike.

You had to run, get to another polis and warn them of the oncoming bloodbath. But you needed to know what was going on. Quickly, quietly, you snuck past and through homes, sticking to the shadows and creeping up on the square. You were just close enough to hear the commotion among the townspeople. The beating of large wings and a loud ‘thud’ silenced the square, and a voice boomed out.

“I am Seraphim. Leader of the people of Melidoni, the people you call demons.” You listened as he offered strength and power to those who chose to convert to their creed, their species. Those who didn’t would be slaughtered. The choices were to convert, or die. You didn’t stick around to hear who chose which fate, instead beginning to move through the shadows again.

As you neared your previous hideaway, you figured you should try to pack supplies for your journey, especially considering you had no idea how long you’d be travelling. You slipped into one of the homes and searched quietly, gathering supplies as you loaded a burlap sack. You’d been so focused on your tasks, so convinced you’d been silent and sneaky and could slip away, that you were shaken out of your focus by a loud thud just outside the stone wall lining the yard.

You froze, heartbeat in your ears as you waited with baited breath. A loud crack rang in your ears, making you jump and cower backward away from the splintered door. The figure that stepped in struck fear into every fiber of your being. He was huge, having to bend down to fit through the entrance, his shoulders nearly too wide to fit in the frame. 

His skin was deep blue-gray, darker on his extremities and the horns protruding from his head and shoulders. Red marks littered his body like rivers of lava, and his eyes were pitch black with blood red irises. His left eye was different, a gold band in a strange shape surrounding the pool of red. Long white hair held with leather bands fell over his shoulder and down his bare chest, save for the leather strap holding his cloak on his back.

As he stood back to full height, your legs began to shake. If you weren’t paralyzed with fear, you’re sure your legs would have given out underneath you. The demon towered over you, all corded muscle and thick skin. Slowly, he lumbered closer to you, heavy footfalls vibrating the earth under your own feet. He stopped just in front of you, your chest nearly touching his abdomen as you looked up and he glared down at you.

A small smirk curved at the corner of his lips as he lifted a clawed hand, a thick finger hooking under your chin to keep your gaze up. “Hello, pretty.” His voice was deep, and you recognized it nearly instantly. This was Seraphim. The gods had forsaken you, and you’d been caught. You had a choice to make now. Convert, or die. A thumb swept across your cheek, swiping away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. 

A sound rumbled in his chest, something between a hum and a chuckle. “Don’t cry, pretty. You won’t die.” His statement had your mind reeling. Was he going to force you to convert to a demon? He wasn’t giving you a choice like all the other townspeople? He bent down so his mouth was at your ear, his breath hot on your neck and shoulder. “You’ll live, pretty, as a human. So long as you give me what I want.” 

You were afraid to ask, but it was necessary. “W-what do you want?” Your voice was so quiet you almost thought he couldn’t hear you, but his pointed ear twitching next to your face told you he could hear even your smallest breath. A hot, wet tongue laved at your pulsepoint and travelled up to your jaw. Large hands grasped your waist, squeezing and gripping lightly as his voice sat heavy in your ear. “I want you.”

Tears fell down your cheeks at the realization of what was about to happen. You were going to give your womanhood to a demon. Though it was a small price to pay for your freedom and life. You were suddenly lifted off the ground, a gasp leaving your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped his thick neck where there weren’t horns jutting from his body. His hands moved down to encompass your ass, squeezing the supple flesh as he moved and licked at your neck.

You were placed on the bed and he got to work undressing you, and soon your robes were a pile of fabric pooled on the ground as you lay naked before the demon. You grasped the pelts underneath you, shaking as his blood red eyes greedily raked over your form. You squeezed your eyes tight, trying to distance yourself from your current predicament, but a large hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed just lightly enough to be a threat.

Your eyes snapped open and Seraphim leaned close, his breath fanning over your face. “Don’t close your eyes, pretty. I want you to watch me take you.” With that, he released your neck and began to undress himself. Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him, a heat twisted with fear beginning to seep into your belly and between your legs. Was he even going to fit inside you?

He was as thick around as your wrist and nearly as long as your forearm, veins running up his length. Your body shook at the thought of taking him into you, afraid he’d split you in half. A deep chuckle bubbled up from his chest at the sight of your trembling. “Don’t worry, pretty. I don’t want to break you so soon. Especially since you are untainted, pure.” He lifted a hand and you watched as the claws shrank down and gray skin turned tan. His hand was now human, though no smaller than it was previously.

You didn’t know how he could know you were still a virgin, but at this point it didn’t matter. A thick finger teased up and down your folds, gathering the little slick there and moving to rub at your clit. The contact had you gasping and jerking, and his other hand gripped your hip, keeping you still as he rubbed that little nub. It didn’t take long to have you soaked, and he stopped his ministrations on the little bundle of nerves to dip a thick, long finger into your tight heat.

Even just one of his fingers was a stretch, and your walls clamped down around the intrusion. He pumped and curled his finger until you relaxed around him, then pushed a second passed the tight ring of muscle. Your fingers dug into the pelts beneath you and you clenched your jaw as you winced, the stretch burning for a few moments before you relaxed once again. His fingers curled up and hit a spongy spot inside you, making you let out a breathy moan. 

A third finger pushing into you had you squirming and whimpering, the burning stretch becoming uncomfortable, and the fourth was painful as he maneuvered his digits inside you, stretching your walls further than you thought possible. It took a bit for you to finally relax, chest heaving and sweat beading at your forehead, and he rubbed your clit harshly. It only took a few swipes for you to cum on his fingers, clenching down hard as your back arched off the pelts and your mouth fell open in a silent shout.

When you came down from the high he pulled his fingers from your core and licked his fingers clean, groaning as he sucked your juices off his digits. The feral look he shot you made your breath hitch. His hand turned back and he gripped the back of your knees, bending them so your thighs were pressed into your chest. “Hold your legs for me, pretty.” You obliged, and he lined himself up with your core before pushing into you slowly.

Even just the tip of his thick cock had you wincing, nails digging into your thighs as you tried to relax around him. He growled as he slowly pumped himself into you, bit by bit, until he hit your womb and you cried out. It hurt, but it felt so, so good. He stilled his hips, allowing your fluttering walls to adjust to his size. His large hands came around your thighs to cup your face, trailing down to your breasts and toying with the flesh.

The demon had far more patience than you thought he could possess, waiting until your cunt stopped clamping down on his length before replacing your hands with his to grip your thighs, pressing them into your chest as he pumped his hips into you. With every thrust his pace became heavier and quicker, pulling heavenly, sensual noises from your throat. Your voice rang out with every snap of his hips into yours, your body on fire as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

One of his hands pulled your leg and rested your ankle just beside his neck, then moved down and began rubbing at your swollen little clit. The knot in your belly tightened quickly, burning hot in your abdomen until it finally snapped and your legs shook with your orgasm. He slowed to a stop and pulled out of you, flipping you over and yanking your hips back, a hand pressing into your back so your face was in the pelts and your ass was high in the air.

He filled you in one thrust and began a bruising pace, bending over you and biting marks into your shoulders, claws digging into the flesh of your hips. Growls and grunts filled your ears, Seraphim’s deep voice harsh and heavy with lust. You were extremely sensitive from your orgasms, tears beginning to roll down your face at the pleasured pain wracking your body. His hand rubbed over your lower stomach, feeling his length pounding into you.

He grabbed your hand and held it to your stomach, his voice gravelly and heavy. “You feel that, pretty? I’m right here.” Feeling him through your skin had you falling over that edge once more, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, mouth dropping open and drool falling to the furs below you as you came hard around him.

He thrust a few more times before halting completely, filling you up with a long, low growl into your shoulder. His cum filled you, your belly distending a little with the sheer volume. Slowly he pulled out and lay you on your back, smoothing a hand over your stomach and pushing down on the bulge. You moaned out and he watched his seed gush from your gaping hole, your body trembling with exhaustion.

Your breath was ragged as you tried to steady yourself, and Seraphim dressed you just as easily as he’d disrobed you. “Can I go now?” you asked, still in a bit of a daze. His laugh shook his chest and shoulders. “No, pretty. Of course not. Your fate lies with me now.” Your brows scrunched together in confusion. “But you said…” He lifted an eyebrow. “I said you’d live if you gave me what I want. And I said I wanted you. You’re mine now, pretty.” 

You resigned yourself to your fate, too exhausted to try and fight him. He lifted you in his arms and carried you out, mounting his manticore and lifting off into the sky. You rested your head against his solid chest, soaking up the warmth from his body as you drifted off. You vaguely registered Seraphim’s voice over the whipping wind. “That’s right, pretty. Rest up. You’re mine now, you’ll need all the energy you can get.” You didn’t let his words linger in your head before your mind faded to black.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “A Chance.”

A continuation on the Dr. Krill lecture series about humans.

The room was large and echoing, voices raised up towards the ceiling, and despite their being enough room to fit more than three classrooms of the original size, there still wasn’t enough room to fit everyone, with some students standing or sitting off to the side. Cameras had been brought in to observe the lecture, and were being mounted as they watched, so other students from other universities could Audit the lectures.

A group of four students, two Vrul and two Tesraki sat together on the far right of the lecture hall. They had been forced to pair together for another one of their class projects and just ended up naturally gravitating towards what was familiar, sitting next to each other as they waited for the lecture to begin.

“Did you guys finish the assignment?”

“I did.” Of course the two Vrul had, that was to be expected.

The Tesraki looked down at their papers, work halfway finished because they had a tough time from telling what was myth from what was fact.

“Humans, dn not, in fact, cannibalize their young.”

“Where the hell did you hear that.”

“I had an older classmate tell me once, and I saw it in another news article.”

There was muttering, “Even we knew that.”

The other vrul shuffled their papers studiously, “Humans do not have hypnotic gazes that can paralyze their prey.” “Really, I felt for sure that that one was going to be real.”

The Tesraki’s ears drooped, “Well apparently, human stomach acid IS powerful enough to eat through metal.”

There was silence.

“No really, that can’t be true.”

The Tesraki nodded, “It isn’t a myth.” He sighed in frustration, “Everything I looked up about humans was true. Human bones are stronger than steel, the human liver can regenerate,  humans can transplant organs from one human to another and it will work. Humans have a system of language that doesn't require the use of noise, it's called sign language by the way.” 

One of the Vrul vibrated their antenna, “I am sorry to hear your search did not go well, perhaps if you had read more disreputable news articles it would have been better. Some of the major newspapers have the ability to contact better sources, which means their articles are most likely to be right.”

“Did you know the human jaw is powerful enough to bite off their own fingers, but humans don’t do it because number one, that hurts a lot, and number two, their brain doesn’t allow them to even consider it.”

There was a silence.

“Is that a fact or a myth.”

The other Tesraki sighed, “that is a fact.”

Just then the lights overhead blinked once and then twice. The students turned to look down at the room where Dr. Krill was making his way across the floor. Making his way in that unnatural and predatory way he had. His body moved with a fluid grace in comparison to the normal jerky movements of his species. His legs rolled one after the other in a wheel that kept him moving forward, never breaking. The shoulders on his body swayed slightly back and forth lending the power of his arms into the movement of his legs. 

The way he moved his head around the room, seeming to focus on each one of them in turn rather than taking in the whole scene at once was…. Unnerving to say the least his helium sack sat mostly unused against his shoulders and upper back as he moved into the room. Not once since he had started here had anyone seen him use it. 

He said it was too slow and made keeping up with humans difficult unless you were being dragged behind them.

It was…. Strange to watch…. How he never seemed to stop moving. Even when he spoke his four hands and his head moved to emphasize his points. When speaking to students coming up to see him, his body shifted in reaction to their words. His hands wide, then closed then open again, up and then down. His chin rose and fell in greeting to people and students he knew and to those he didn’t know so well.

It was a fascinating scene to watch, and one they were not entirely sure if they liked.

Dr Krill made a strange noise deep inside his throat, that over the speakers had the entire class turning to look at him. It was a strange sort of barking cough mixed with a hum. THey couldn’t have known that krill was imitating  the way humans clear their throat when they want to speak.

“Students, I hope you all had a good week, and I hope you were all able to complete my first, and easiest assignment?”

There was a soft muttering around the room.

The doctor clapped both of his hands together, producing a sharp noise that brought attention back to himself, “Well, as I have said, today, as a special treat for staying….” He turned to look around the room before muttering, “And multiplying, apparently.” He frowned when none of the students seemed amused at his joke but continued, “I am going to be talking about the human fight flight or freeze response and the entire reaction of the sympathetic nervous system.”

Students withdrew their holopads to begin taking notes.

The cameras zoomed in on doctor Krill.

“We discussed last week how humans are technically considered predator animals, and they are as they eat and consume other animals daily. However, humans are not an apex predator as it isn’t often that they consume other predators. In fact, for the longest time humans were some of the weakest, and easiest to kill preditors for larger and more intimidating animals. In this way that lead to the development of the sympathetic nervous system.”

He turned around the room, and the two Vrul cringed back as his eyes seemed to fall on thim. His antenna were unusually still,

“The sympathetic and parasympathetic systems account for two sides of the same coin. The parasympathetic nervous system is responsible for the workings of the body when the human is relaxed. It focuses primarily on digestion, relaxation slower breathing and even blood flow through the major organs including the eyes. It has other properties too of course, but when a human is relaxed their parasympathetic nervous system is the one generally in charge during those times.”

He turned to the projector, “Now assume you are an ancient human out on your natural habitat of the savanna -- without their adaptation the human’s natural habitat is warm and relatively dry with lots of open grassland and the occasional tree.” he flipped a picture on the projector and the class pulled back a bit in surprise at the picture that unfolded before them. It was a strange creature standing upright tall but remarkably hairy accept for on its face and hands, “This is a 3D rendered recreation of what early humans might have looked like based on skeletal remains found in their fossil record. The development of the human sympathetic nervous system likely started long before humans looked like this, but still the visual aid is one that I find compelling.” The class stared at the creatures thick face, heavy brow and sloping shoulders.

Humans today were much more graceful, though much less powerful than what this beast looked like. It was strange trying to determine which one was the superior. They supposed the current human, as its head size looked much bigger in comparison.

Krill pulled up a side by side comparison with his earlier diagram.

They recognized the modern human as he had been rendered in textbooks thousands of times since he had first been studied.

Very pale with his fine blond fur compared to the hulking shape next to him, with course brown fur that covered his entire body.

“Not the evolutionary changes that had to be made to get from this human.” He pointed at the hairy one, “To that one.” He motioned to the pale one, “The hips grew smaller, the spine took on a sharp S curve, the ratio of legs to arms changed dramatically, leaving the human with longer legs and comparatively short arms. The jaw and the face shortened, while the cranium expanded and hair receded across the body. The current human skeletal structure is finer and more delicate than its original counterpart, with a focus on precision in movement over power, which has become so important to their survival today.”

Dr Krill pointed to the picture of the old human, “This human tried its best to stay alive.” He pointed at the other human, “This human seems to be lacking in a lot of those same survival skills as he is constantly trying to get himself killed.” Krill sighed, “Modern humans are a little bit more complicated than their ancestors, but I digress.” Now imagine either on of these humans being faced with what might have been their natural predator on the savanna.

He flipped the image and the crowd gasped as a massive alien shape leaped up into a third projected spot. It was long and sinewy walking on four legs and a had a fur color like the tanned grassland. It’s eyes were face front, and on its massive paws there were huge hooked claws. Dr. Krill pressed a button to start the looping animation that allowed the creature to lope along with a sinuous grace that made the human lok clumsy and awkward in comparison, all three of the animations moving. 

The creature opened its mouth and the entire class pulled back as huge razor sharp teeth glinted in the light, as it yawned, shook its head, and then continued walking.

“This is an African Lion, a female of the species weighing in at only 280 lbs. Now while some humans can weigh that much, a human of comparable fitness like our modern human weigh in at around only 210 lbs as an adult male. Now this female lion has a higher muscle to body mass index than the human, can run faster, jump higher, and bite harder. She has long and protruding K-9 teeth and retractable claws. The human has no chance….. or …. Does he.”

The class shifted slightly in their seats  muttering 

Krill waited for a long drawn out moment before, “No, statistically he is going to get his face eaten off, however, he does still have a slight chance.”

“The human will see the predator, and immediately upon seeing the body is going to flood the system with a hormone called adrenaline. Adrenaline is a natural high for humans that can result in increased strength, speed, and heightened visual perception. The Parasympathetic system is switched off for the sympathetic nervous system. The heart begins to beat faster as blood is routed into all the major muscle groups, those being primarily the legs. All activity in the internal organs shuts down as that blood flow is routed outwards. Blood can even be funneled away from the brain, despite that seeming a bit counter productive, causing tunnel vision in the eyes. Despite this, the brain begins to work faster allowing the human to see at more frames per second which seems, to a human, to slow down time.”

He turned to look at them, “Now a human has three opinions in a dangerous situation like this, either fight, flight, or freeze. All of these responses would have been adaptive in an environment like this with fight being, hopefully, the last response. Many predator animals are geared for a chase, so freezing will give a human a better chance of survival because if they run they will most certainly be attacked. ON the other hand sometimes this will not work, and being able to run as fast as possible is their only option. Backed against a wall and unable to run fast enough, a human has to fight. Some humans do not react in this order.” 

He turned to look at the image, “The human body on adrenaline is capable of some wild and unbelievable things. The average human only uses around 40-60% of their body's natural strength. Systems in the brain will not allow more because if a human were able to use all the power of their body, they could rend muscle from bone. Well trained human athletes can use up to 70-90% of their natural strength, but during a time like this, the average human can be turned into a well trained athlete or more. In dire situations humans have been known to lift up to seven times their own body weight. During this time humans have been known to lift vehicles, wrestle wild animals, and throw large boulders. However, this does not come without a price, and the human will likely receive damage to their muscular structure.”

He turned to point at the pictures again.

“I heard a story about how a human choked to death a small mountain lion, and another man who fought off a shark. Humans are statistically unlikely to win a fight like this, but it isn’t impossible.”

He stalked around the room, “Humans do not just experience adrenaline when dealing with animals, but during accidents, public speaking events, and even in conflict with other humans. Expecting to be hurt, the human body has the ability to completely shut off its pain perception.”

There was a stunned silence all around him, and then an uproar.

Dr. krill seemed almost smug as he watched them react like that, and raised a hand for silence.

They quieted down, “Yes, you heard me, the human brain has the ability to completely ignore pain, until the danger is dealt with. The first surgery I ever did, on this human right here is a good demonstration…. If you do not want to see graphic images turn your head away now.”

Even if they had wanted too it was impossible to tear their eyes away as the image popped up on screen.

The class gasped.

There was a collective sound of disgust.

“That screwdriver had gone in through the front of his eye, broke through the back of the ocular socket and slid into one of the cortical folds of the brain. He WALKED into my surgery and conversed with me like a logical and reasoning person. He did not report any physical discomfort or pain, he did not scream or show any other signs of distress. His brain had completely shut off all response to the pain.”

He turned to walk around the circle.

“You see most of the time pain is a good thing, it allows you to know when something is wrong, but there are other times, dire situations like this where the ability to feel pain will only hinder the subject. If this human had been able to feel pain it is likely his thrashing and screaming would have caused more cortical damage than it already would have. I heard a story of a woman who fell off a cliff and broke both of her legs horribly, while she was still in pain, she managed to crawl her way off a mountain, and as soon as other humans found her she passed out as the pain got worse. Another human, who had been rock climbing, ended up with his arm trapped under a boulder and with no escape. He was there for days, but, in the end, he managed to cut off his own arm in order to escape.”

More horrified gasping from the crowd as they pulled away in shock and terror.

“These are just some of the most impressive stories. Not all humans will react like this. The vast majority of humans will freeze when they should fight, or run when they should freeze. Some will simply give up and curl into a ball, but there are other humans, like this, who under adrenaline can run like olympic sprinters, lift seven times their own size and fight better than the animals attacking them. The capabilities and the possibilities of a human under the influence of adrenaline are remarkable.”

His antenna vibrated just a little in amusement, “As you can imagine, humans do not experience this much these days, but psychological studies have reported that it is actually healthy for humans to experience the fight or flight response as it helps the brain retain that ability. For something to continue working you need to use it. Scientists say that exposing a human to a sympathetic response in a controlled environment is good for their mental health.” He sighed, “Of course this leads humans to watching horror themed movies, skydiving, and recreational fighting. Otherwise humans put themselves into controlled danger in order to feel what their ancestors felt a long time ago when they were being chased by large raging land predators, but when your species developed in an environment that hostile, it is to be expected.”

The group of four stared at krill, and by extension the animation of the real living human behind him. They tried to imagine the slim two legged figure winning a fight against the massive clawed beast, but were having trouble. Its teeth, which had once seemed so sharp, now were dull and almost useless. The nails on its hands, once considered claws were tiny, flimsy and pathetic, but….. It seemed strange, there was still something in the way it moved that suggested possibilities.

Humans were survivors where many other species were not.

Humans may not have had a very high chance.

But at least they had a chance. 

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

M.ilo simp here again...instead of prompts, could you write a story with anything as M.ilo pred? (Again, oral + samesize preferred). Apologies for sending another ask so soon but I can't help myself~

Well, lucky for you, M.ilo is perfect and I'm still in a very particular mood for people eating P.okemon soooo...let's go a bit more in depth with that last prompt I did for him, huh? Because I realized it would work a lot better as a story. Probably my longest one yet, actually!

M.ilo was on break since today was his weekly fan meet-and-greet, and today’s lucky winner was a cute little lad that seemed pretty shy. Not that M.ilo minded, he thought it was just adorable! The trainer seemed more than happy to be with him for the day, though, but now he was getting extra flustered since M.ilo had made his usual request to see the trainer’s P.okemon. It was near the end of the day, so he was going to send the lucky guy home with a fresh bag of his custom manure.

The trainer fumbled a bit with the first P.okeball as he grabbed it and opened it up. M.ilo was expecting something small and cute to come out of it to match the trainer, so he was surprised when a massive R.illaboom practically thumped onto the ground right in front of him. Now he thinks he understands why the trainer was being so flustered with him. Fortuntely, M.ilo was more than capable of handling big meals like this! He wasn’t as big and strong as he was for nothing after all!

“Well, you know that I have to respect the choice of using the G.rass type start!” Milo says with a big grin. “Good thing I also find them to be the tastiest of the bunch!” The R.illaboom seemed to perk up at the comment, but M.ilo grabbed it by the strand of leaf-like hair sticking in front of its face and giving a sharp tug. It cries out and jerks forward, right into M.ilo’s wide open maw. Despite the muscular build of the groilla P.okemon, a few heavy gulps and slurps from M.ilo sent its bulky frame squeezing down his gullet and bloating out his guts. It took him no time at all to reduce what was no doubt a very powerful and well trained starter P.okemon into a bulge in his belly.

A slimy belch rumbles out of M.ilo, both of his hands resting on his hips as he stood tall. He could feel the R.illaboom moving around inside of him, muffled cries echoing from his gut. While the g.ym leader might have normally wanted to relax and enjoy this for a good while, he didn’t have the time for that, so he let his gut get to work. Heavy churning and gurgling rumbled out of him and his powerful abs clench tightly every so often. The R.illaboom got more frantic as the stomach around it began to shrink down. But as the gut kept reducing in inches with every clench, the defined bulges began to soften and shrink down, and the movement and cries got softer and weaker, until M.ilo’s gut finally rounded out at half the original size, filled with nothing but gorilla sludge. Then it was shrinking down even faster as it all went pumping through his intestines. “Been a little while since any of my fans brought me a meal like this. I hope you had more where that came from!”

The trainer’s entire face was bright red after watching his Pokemon be reduced to nothing in less than five minutes by M.ilo’s powerful stomach. He watched as it finally stopped shrinking with a soft gurgle, not a bit thicker than before. M.ilo’s muscles were straining his shirt as well now. He’d already fully processed the R.illaboom and it’d been alive just minutes ago! Realizing he was staring, though, the trainer shook his head and quickly released his next P.okemon, hoping to see it again.

A powerful P.angoro was now towering over M.ilo, arm’s crossed as it huffed, unimpressed. M.ilo just grinned and let out a deep, bassy belch that stunk of digested G.rass type. The panda’s nose twitched a few times and he let out a soft grumble, leaning down closer as if to get a better smell of things. M.ilo grabbed it by the ears and yanked it down, shoving that muzzle into his jaws. A thick gulp slurped in the head, and then the big bear was sliding down the hatch just like the other P.okemon had before it. It actually tried to put up a fight by roaring and struggling with all its might, but it was just a pair of kicking legs hanging out of M.ilo’s jaws by then, and those were slurped up in just a few seconds. It got a few moments to throw some solid punches into the tight stomach walls and let out very intimidating roars before that stomach started up.

It was just as fast as it had been the first time. Those powerful punches started to look less impressive when the bulge was losing its shape and pushing out less. And that intimidating roar was turning into a very pathetic whine as the guts smelted and compacted around the P.angoro. And then he was gone with a clench and a slosh, and all that sludge was pumping along after his teammate. M.ilo gained some extra muscle off of that one, which left him flexing. “F.ighting types always make for a great work out replacement, you know. Nothing quite beats it!”

Next was a chubby O.bstagoon, which found itself staring down a wide open gullet the moment it was let out of its Pokeball. It didn’t even get to make a sound before getting shoveled down the hatch. Despite how scary that P.okemon seemed, the smell of R.illaboom and P.angoro wafting in M.ilo’s groaning stomach left it a frightened, whimpering mess. It put up the least resistance as the stomach began to reduce it down into sludge. O.bstagoon digested the faster, getting out a meek roar before he was suddenly crushed into sludge and pumping down into M.ilo’s bloated intestines. He was mostly reduced to soft belly fat, but there were no complaints for that.

S.awk came after that and he was the smallest so far, but the muscules he had rivaled M.ilo’s! Which also meant he was going to be adding nicely to it as he was grabbed and snarfed down. This one was a bit feistry than the rest, and M.ilo almost fell backwards from the punch he took to the chest once his jaws were over its head. But that first swallow pinned its arms down and he was slurping down the F.ighting type with ease from there. M.ilo had to give it some credit, too. The S.awk fought back to the very last minute, the kicking and punching he was receiving only stopping when his gut finally finished off the softening P.okemon. It made for one impressive belch, too! And as the protein-rich sludge pumped through his lower guts, M.ilo could feel his muscles getting even stronger.

Grimmsnarl came second to last and was easily the largest of the entire team. It complained a lot, too, as Milo started stuffing it down his gullet with each powerful swallow and hard shove against its bulk frame. He could tell the F.airy type was not excited to be his food, but a final gulp sent down its feet and those complaints meant very little. It wasn’t all that resilient, despite its very vocal complaints, and it had gone soft and quiet after only a few clenches. M.ilo’s gut was really noisy as it bubbles and groaned while sending the slop down. He got bigger all around off a meal like that!

And that left the final P.okemon, a fat T.oxicitry who, all things considered, really didn’t seem to mind the current predicament. Since it was the last P.okemon, M.ilo devoured that one feet first, and it didn’t do anything to resist the pull of his gullet. It let out a lazy cry just before it’s head was gulped down and it dropped into M.ilo’s gut. It fell apart in a single clench, but that mix of P.oison and E.lectric typing left him incredibly gassy. He couldn’t stop belching the entire time it was processing.

But before long, it was gone, too. M.ilo had reduced an entire team of clearly powerful P.okemon dow into some added heft on his frame in under half an hour. Well, that, and a massive shit he couldn’t hold in any more. Six bags were filled up due to how large each meal was, all of them the same but different. Each pile was made of thick, soft logs that smelled awfully rancid, the smell only alleviated once they were sealed in the burlap sacks. Each one was packed with bones and whatever fur remained from each meal. The trainer got to watch each bag get filled with his teammates. He let out a soft noise each time he recognized the skull getting pushed out of M.ilo’s ass and into the bag.

Soon enough, he was walking off with a wagon, six heavy bags of dung stacked in it, each one with a cartoon decal to represent the which P.okemon was in which bag. M.ilo grinned and waved as the trainer walked off with his team, and the g.ym l.eader was hoping he’d get another big meal next week as well.

[autumnslance]

"In the five years following your sudden disappearance from the Carteneau Flats, your ever-faithful chocobo spent each waking moment galloping across the realm in search of [his] lost master. [His] myriad adventures are nothing less than fantastical and heartbreaking...but that is a story for another day." - Legacy Chocobo mount description.

((Animal love, loyalty, and those bonds woven by fate. So there’s some animal angst and injury, but also a happy ending. Crossposted below for those who prefer Tumblr:))

“I need you to stay here,” her person said, rubbing her beak and scratching the white feathers of her neck.

She kweh’d softly, not liking the request but because he had asked it, she would obey and listen for the whistle binding them together, when he needed her to come to his aid.

The not-a-moon hung low and burning in the sky. The land’s aether tasted funny, the smells of nature were all wrong. Any creature with sense hid as fiends roamed.

People had little sense, she’d found. Especially her person; in his armor, his axe pulled from his back, he would throw himself into the fray with a shout to fight anything that harmed others. Normally, she would be right there with him, beak and talon and wings alongside his weapon, helping him.

“That’s my Snowlight, my good girl,” he crooned, leaving a kiss on the end of her beak before turning to join his comrades.

She had been injured in their last fight, trying to keep him safe, and so she couldn’t join him in this one but he still said she was good and that was what mattered.

She kweh’d encouragement after him, satisfied he turned back to wave one more time, before joining all the other people leaving to fight.

—-

The not-a-moon broke apart and released Horror. There were flames and pain and ear-splitting roars.

The stables were on fire.

Snowlight was too injured to fight, but not too injured to herd the frightened silly-headed carriage chocobos out of the flames. Not too injured to find the coughing stablemaster, knock a fallen beam aside, and herd him out, too. She even found one of the barn kittens, confused and afraid, carefully picking it up in her beak like a chick.

Snowlight was a good girl. Her person helped others, and so would she.

The Horror was over the field where she knew her person was. It was malms away and he hadn’t called but her heart fluttered wildly and she ignored the grooms and handlers to dash through the burning woods.

He needed her, she couldn’t let him—

The world went white, then red, then white again, and finally black.

—-

The world’s aether tasted thin and strange, like weak juice left out too long.

She pulled herself out of the little hollow of debris and ash, casting a cure on instinct at the twinges in her wings and legs and neck, the injury on her side--the one that had kept her in the stable to begin with--throbbing again. The cure helped.

Snowlight blinked, trying to get a sense of where her person was, the location of the whistle attuning them to one another.

She couldn’t find it.

She shook out her feathers and limped on to where she thought maybe she had last felt it, in the direction he had left with his friends and all the other people, toward the setting sun--though it was currently obscured by angry clouds and more ashes.

Familiar places looked strange, though Snowlight couldn’t really put a talon on why or how. The forest was oddly silent, slow to wake from the disaster. The Elementals seemed especially distant.

She foraged for berries and greens, then slept. She was cautious of water she found but had to drink; the rain that fell later helped a great deal, though it was also heavy with dust and grief. She foraged more, and then slept more under a rocky outcropping.

The pass to the north felt wrong, cold winds blowing from the hills. So she kept heading west, through the less familiar hills, to get to the gloomy place.

Snowlight could always find the gloomy place, especially when the wind blew right. It felt like a scab on the world, the magic—and Something Else—waiting under the lake’s surface. It was an easy place to find, if weird.

It took a couple days for Snowlight to reach the gloomy place; slower than usual, but she was still recovering from her injuries and the paths through the woods were not easy to navigate. There weren’t as many fiends roaming around, at least, and the ones that were could be easily avoided.

The other creatures were waking and coming out of hiding again, too. She was a little less lonely, with the small birds singing.

The gloomy place was more of a mess than usual, a crystal spire piercing the air and giving off waves of suppressed magic. The corpse in the center of the lake continued to sleep but she gave the shore wide berth, both for its slumbering guardian and for the poison filming the water.

Snowlight continued west and a bit south, still not sensing her person, nor had he called for her on the whistle. She couldn’t teleport without the pull of the whistle. Her feet hurt but she kept picking her way through the ruins of machina parts.

She went to the camp for food, but it was empty, the aetheryte exploded in size and twisted in shape, the tents and supplies torn and burned. There were no people anymore.

Snowlight kweh’d sadly, rummaging through the wreckage for anything edible. She was rewarded with burnt gysahl greens, tasting faintly of staticky aether, but it was enough to raise her flagging spirits. After considering the twisty former aetheryte for a long moment, she decided one of the half-fallen tents at the edge of the old camp would be all right for sleeping in. There was still enough man-smell to keep wild creatures away.

—-

“Well ain’t you a beauty,” the big man with the rough voice said. “Fetch a good price at market.”

“To hell with the market,” the skinny man whined. “I’m starved and it’ll feed the whole bloody camp.”

“C’mere—” the scarred lady reached for Snowlight.

She beat her wings and shrieked. The trio swore and threw up their hands to protect their faces.

Snowlight was almost to the terrible place, full of twisted aether and death. The last place she knew her person had been. This trio had come upon her as the noon sun struggled to break through the thick clouds. They smelled of blood and offal and desperation, and she did not trust them.

The whiny man ducked close, so Snowlight leapt and kicked him, throwing him into the lady with a shout.

The big man managed to snag her neck, his arms squeezing. “C’mere you overgrown chicken I’ll—”

Snowlight shoved back and up; she couldn’t fly far with the aether currents so warped, but it was enough to startle him, and now he clung to not fall even the few fulms she had lifted him. She bucked until he slipped off and then she flew away as fast and as far as she could.

There was a whistling noise and a sharp pain in her flank but she swerved and pushed faster, hearing the hissing whistle of more arrows. She fought against the weird currents and her own weary wings, risking crossing a high bank that abruptly dropped into a narrow ravine, almost like a frozen wave of earth instead of water.

On the other side she landed heavily and ran, feeling warm liquid trickle down her leg, the arrow still lodged but loose enough to shift and pinch with every motion. Even so, she pressed on.

She was close.

Spots crossed her vision. She no longer heard the mean people; only the wind. Panting, she stopped finally, swaying on her trembling legs.

Where was he?

She spent a bit of strength to cast a cure, the arrow forced out as the flesh healed. She had to rest, but the mean people might still chase her. And she had to be close to where he was. Surely it was simply the damage caused by the Horror that was obscuring the connection, his call.

He had to have tried to call her. He couldn’t go this long on his own.

There were more people dotting the ruined plain, but they were easy to avoid now that she knew she had to be sneaky. She picked her way through smoldering magitek and torn earth and twisted structures that felt Wrong and smelled Strange. There were bodies, but none of them the one she looked for, thankfully.

A whiff of his scent caught in her beak and she kweh’d happily, seeking more. Still he did not respond, it was merely the scent of his previous presence. Perhaps he was among the people.

She drew as close as she dared to the tents. To the warm, gentle pulse of the Seedseer.

His scent was not among the camp.

Snowlight pondered this as she tried to retrace her steps to where she had caught that whiff. The field was scorched, the ground rippled from the blasts of competing magic. The aftertaste of the old mage lingered on her tongue, though it had a more bitter endnote than she recalled. Snowlight kweh’d again, digging for the scents of her person and his companions, catching hints and traces, but not finding them. Not finding him.

A voice called. She looked up and saw a yellow-clad man pointing in her direction. She turned and jogged away before the Adders could come close. While they would likely be more friendly than the bandits earlier, she had not the time for them.

She still had to find her person.

—-

Snowlight found hiding spots, keeping away from the Adders and adventurers still lingering. The taste of healing magic hung over the camp, competing with the blood and pain.

The camp was the best place to find food, though; this terrible place had none naturally anymore, blasted away or warped beyond recognition.

Snowlight was a good sneak; her person had often said so, when she played the hide and seek game with him. She would hide something he used and he had to find it. It was always great fun. She had also used it to swipe food before, risking a scolding but it was her person’s own fault for trying to deny her treats when she needed them.

Her sneakiness came in handy as she maneuvered herself into the Adders’ flock and helped herself to some of the feed provided. The destriers were too tired themselves to snap or fuss and besides, she could easily fight any of them into submission and they knew it; she was an adventuring bird, after all.

She was careful to keep the others between her and the soldiers, to not let them notice or catch her. It was tricky, given her bright white plumage compared to most army chocobos. But Snowlight was a good sneak, and managed to avoid getting caught. She had things to do, after all, and had to be ready if her person called.

She still couldn’t sense him. She still had not heard his whistle.

Snowlight slipped out of the flock, leaping the makeshift fencing while the handlers were busy. Then she returned to searching the broken plain.

The Adders were getting ready to break camp; there were few bodies left amid the wreckage of the battlefield, few new wounded found. They had worked tirelessly for over a sennight, the Seedseer and the conjurers sparks of the natural world amidst the carnage.

Snowlight returned again to the place where she had scented her person and his friends. She circled around it once more, a periphery she had scratched into the ashes as she tried to figure out where they had gone. How they had gone.

“They aren’t here,” a gentle voice said.

Snowlight warked and jumped, whirling to face the weary Seedseer as she leaned on her staff. Even exhausted, power thrummed through the padjal’s frame, a barely held summer storm. She smiled at Snowlight.

“I think I recognize you,” the Seedseer said. “Yes...I can’t quite recall…” She frowned. “I don’t remember their faces. Their names. But I know you were with them, once.”

Snowlight listened, keeping still. It was only polite in the padjal’s presence. As the Seedseer paused, though, Snowlight asked a tentative “Kweh?”

The Seedseer shook her head. “I don’t know where they have gone. One moment, they were there. I know I must have seen them. But all I remember are their silhouettes in the light. And then…” she trailed off, a perplexed look on her face. “I only know they’re gone. I’m sorry.”

Snowlight chirred in frustration, ruffling her wings. She didn’t understand, and usually the padjali were easier to comprehend than other people. What the Seedseer said made no sense.

“I know, it’s difficult,” the Seedseer said, voice cracking in grief and weariness as she reached out a hand. “But come; we can take care of you, and—’’

Snowlight was a good girl. Usually. The Seedseer was to be respected. Usually.

Snowlight shrieked and reared, flapping her wings as she backpedaled from the startled padjal.

“Wait—” the Seedseer called as Snowlight whirled and dashed, avoiding the soldiers who followed the padjal, who tried to catch Snowlight on their mistress’ command.

A soldier stood in her way. Snowlight warked a single warning before barrelling over and past him, ignoring the shouts.

They were hard to hear through the rushing, pounding feeling in her head, the ache in her heart that already felt like it had run for malms.

She ran up a tilted piece of machinery, a giant wall that had fallen from the not-a-moon and flapping her wings took off, flying toward the boggy saltmarsh to the north.

Her person wasn’t there, but neither were the soldiers, or the Seedseer and her painful words.

Snowlight would rest. She would eat. She would recover. Then she would keep looking for wherever her person had gotten to.

She had to. Snowlight was a good girl.

—-

Snowlight was so tired.

Her plumage was not as bright as it had once been; she had not had a proper grooming in a long time, and injuries and life in the wild had left her more ragged than she had ever been. Her person had often called her the prettiest chocobo in Eorzea, though she looked nothing like that now.

He still had not called. She still could not sense him. She still searched, though; the Seedseer was wrong, and he was just lost. He had lost the whistle in that Horror. He was waiting for Snowlight to find him.

Sometimes, curled up under a tree or in an abandoned building or an old cave, she would sleep and dream of the days they had rode together. Of their adventures, their games, his laughter, his scritches. His warmth as he leaned back against her side while the campfire crackled, his voice as he talked about so many things. She almost never understood, but he had such a nice voice. She missed hearing it.

The dreams were happy, but waking from them was sad. Snowlight stood, ruffled her feathers, and kept looking.

She had sought him out in the ruined reaches of the western marsh and the terrible place, through the gloomy place and its unsettling waiting feeling. Through the Wood, the Elementals barely whispering anymore, rarely waking from their slumber. She crossed the scrublands and burning sands, even risking the golden plains and the lizardmen who rode across them. She picked her way among the rocky mountains, and into the frozen land in the north, the wind and ice aether unrelenting even in the height of summer.

Snowlight was not yet certain how she could cross the strait to the island; it was just about the only place in the realm she had not looked over the last five summers and winters. The Seedseer’s words echoed in her memory again but Snowlight shook them away.

Her person was somewhere. She just had to find him.

She was back in the Wood. She would have to head west past the gloomy place and the salt marsh. If she didn’t want to be caught, anyway; she would have to find a way across the sea that did not involve people.

Sometimes she found people in trouble; beset by fiends or bandits, lost children crying alone, hurt people needing a cure. Snowlight had once been a good girl, and her person had helped people. So she scared off the fiends, fought the bandits, cast a cure on hurts, and guided the lost to safety. She sometimes, warily, took food and rest from those she helped. But then they would try to keep her—or worse, turn out to be mean themselves, and so she left as quickly as possible. Some wanted her for her plumage, some for riding or working, some for food. She wanted nothing to do with them as they were not her person.

So simply best to avoid people now.

Snowlight was tired, and so missed the snare that entangled her feet, triggering a second that caught her wings.

She flailed and shrieked. There was a prickle on her neck and she felt very woozy. It was getting dark again, but that couldn’t be right as the sun had just come up.

“Finally got ‘er,” a man’s voice said from...above her? When had she fallen to the ground? She warked and tried to struggle as careful hands gripped her. “She’s a tough ol’ bird for sure, but once she’s broken in…”

The world went black, and Snowlight dreamed of running across an open windy plain, her person laughing and whooping on her back.

—-

“Gods take you, you miserable bitch!” the stablehand yelled, clutching his bitten hand.

Snowlight just chirred a warning low in her chest, her feathers ruffled up as she glowered at him, beak clacking another warning.

No one here called her a good girl. Snowlight did not feel like being good, when they kept her hobbled and more often than not in the stable. The most experienced hands would put a lead on her halter and let her run alongside them for too brief a time in too small a pen each day. Most of them were kind, and she usually felt bad after snapping at them with her beak, or scratching them with her talons.

But none of them would let her go to find her person, and her person had not come for her here, so she didn’t want to stay.

A quiet presence stepped up behind the stablehand. He turned to the slim young woman. “Nevermind this one; she mighta been some adventurer’s bird once, but she’s gone wild. Don’t like anybody, this ‘bo.”

The woman simply took the lead and approached the stall.

Snowlight turned her eyes to the woman, and her rumbling ceased. There was something oddly familiar here, but Snowlight wasn’t sure what. Tall for the kind of person she was, midnight hair, and…

Snowlight tossed her head and kweh’d, confused but excited. She had caught a scent, a scent she had only ever smelled on her person before! This woman had the same underlying tone; a warm spice that left Snowlight trembling. She barely noticed when the woman snapped the lead onto her halter.

“Good girl,” the woman said quietly, pitched in a way only Snowlight could hear—just like her person used to do, and though this woman’s voice was higher and gentler, there was something in the way the words were shaped, something in the timbre of her voice, that felt right and familiar.

It had been so long since someone had called Snowlight a good girl.

The stablehand was boggled as the woman opened the stall and led a quiet, nearly docile Snowlight out and to the exercise pen. Snowlight paid him no mind; she was trying to figure this out.

The woman led Snowlight to the pen and let her jog on the long lead. She didn’t get fussy or scared when Snowlight stretched and beat her wings. It would be easy to escape any other handler who allowed that.

But Snowlight knew the woman was an adventurer, and adventurers were strong and tricksy. And there was a quiet strength and unrealized power in this woman.

She felt like Snowlight’s person did.

The woman offered her some gysahl greens and scratched her neck just the way her person used to, finding exactly the Right Spot. Snowlight sighed.

She was so tired.

“Been awhile since you trusted someone,” the woman said. Her accent was definitely the same as Snowlight’s person, and the same tone if higher. Her scent was the same too; not just soaps and the smells people put on themselves, but deeper, in blood and bone. When Snowlight peered at the woman, here in the daylight, there were ways she moved, the way she smiled, the color of her eyes, that were the same as his.

The woman let Snowlight run a little longer, putting her through paces using the same foreign words her person used to, the ones meaning “slow down” or “speed up” or “stop” and “go.” She gave Snowlight more greens and pets and then led her back to the stable.

The other handlers were confused, whispering, uncertain. One came close and Snowlight snapped at him out of habit. “Shh,” the woman said. She didn’t scold or jerk the halter, just laid her hand on Snowlight’s neck. “We need to brush you down.”

Snowlight did feel itchy after exercise. Still, she didn’t want the others muddling things up, not when she was trying to figure out this woman and why she felt as right and familiar as Snowlight’s person had.

The woman took her time, giving Snowlight a thorough bath and brushing. She did not let the woman trim her talons though, or check in her beak; not yet. There were limits.

Snowlight’s stall was clean and there was fresh feed and cool water. The handler she had bitten earlier shook his head, hand now bandaged. “Dunno what you did, but thank you. Poor old girl was running wild for years, near as we can tell. One of many who lost their riders in the Calamity, is my guess. She’s had it rough and won’t let folks near—until you.”

The woman shrugged and smiled.

“Well thank you. You’re welcome to return and help anytime.” He was only partly joking.

The woman simply nodded, retrieving her bow and quiver from the hooks where she had left them, before she turned to go.

Snowlight lifted her head from the feed bin to kweh a goodbye to the woman. The woman turned and smiled, waving to Snowlight.

When Snowlight fell asleep that night, she dreamed of her person, as usual. But the woman was also there, her laugh joining his.

A couple days later, Snowlight was kicking a ball toy in her stall, bored until it was time for the handlers to come take her to exercises again. She stopped kicking the ball and perked up at hearing a certain step, catching a certain scent. She kweh’d toward the quiet presence entering the stable.

“Hello,” the woman said to Snowlight. “Did you want to train again?”

Snowlight kweh’d and ruffled her feathers happily. She liked this quiet woman who reminded her of her person. She thought perhaps they were from the same clutch. After all, Showlight could tell when two chocobos were related, and while people were different they had their own families too.

The woman hung up her weapons and picked up the lead rope. Snowlight allowed the woman to guide her out into the exercise pens and they played for well over a bell. Then the woman bathed and brushed Snowlight again, before bringing her back to the stall, freshly cleaned by the other handlers.

The woman stroked Snowlight’s beak. “Good girl,” she said.

Snowlight preened.

The stablemaster was nearby and shook his head. “No one’s been able to get near that bird for moons. You come along and she’s docile as anything.”

The woman shrugged. “I didn’t do anything special; just treated her nice.”

“All any of us tried,” the stable master sighed. He peered at Snowlight. “She ain’t changed her attitude to the rest of us, neither.”

“I should be back in a few days,” the woman said. “I can help again then.”

“We appreciate it,” he said. “Maybe she’ll calm down with repeat visits from someone she trusts.”

The woman nodded, and gave Snowlight one last scritch before heading out once more. She turned and waved again when Snowlight called to her. That was nice.

—-

It had been nearly a moon since the woman’s last visit.

Snowlight had gotten used to the woman coming by every few days, looking and smelling and sounding so much like her person had; it was like having a part of him back as they trained and played and cleaned up together.

But now, after those handful of visits, the woman had not returned, just like her person had not, and Snowlight was so tired.

She no longer snapped and scratched at the handlers, but now they could not coax her to eat more than the bare minimum, or play, or train.

They were good people, really; they just weren’t hers, and she wasn’t theirs. The people Snowlight wanted simply hadn’t come back.

Snowlight dozed in her stall, ignoring the sunny day and the other chocobos and handlers. Then a certain sound caught her attention, a familiar step. She blinked awake, catching a familiar scent, and kweh’d.

The woman rounded the corner and smiled as Snowlight bounced and trilled excitedly. The stable master followed, smiling too.

“Can’t say you don’t deserve it, though you sure this is the bird you want?”

The woman nodded, a giddiness to her usual calm presence that made Snowlight even more excited, too, though she did not know why. “I think she and I get along just fine,” the woman said to the stable master, turning finally to Snowlight. She scritched Snowlight’s neck. “I even have a name picked out. My brother and I used to come up with them as children, when dreaming of having our own chocobos.”

“Well much luck to you both,” he said, holding out his hand.

Snowlight trembled with excitement when she saw what he held; a whistle, just like the one her person used to have. The whistle that had tied them together, made her always able to find him--until she couldn’t.

The woman took the whistle, then looked back up at Snowlight. “Do you want to be my chocobo?” She asked, almost sounding nervous.

Snowlight thought about it. She had a person--once upon a time. He was gone now, but this woman was so much like him, possibly from the same clutch...So maybe it was all right. Maybe this person wouldn’t leave Snowlight behind--and if she did, Snowlight would do her best to find her.

After all, Snowlight was a good girl.

“Kweh-Kweh!” Snowlight agreed, bouncing excitedly. She would be an adventuring bird with a person of her own again!

The woman grinned, and after a few moments, the spell was complete and the aetheric bond formed.

Snowlight’s new person led her out of the stable, accepting the fine reins and saddle the stable master offered. “After all you’ve done for Gridania, not to mention taking on Ifrit himself, it’s the very least we can do,” he insisted. “And I’m just happy to see this girl get a fresh start and a good home.” He patted Snowlight’s shoulder. “What are you gonna name her? For our own records.”

Her person smiled. “For a white bird my brother and I could never decide between our favorites, so we combined them,” she answered. “I’m going to call her Snowlight.”

“A fine name,” the stable master said.

“Kweh-Kweh-Kweh!” Snowlight cheered, the last shadow of doubt faded; her new person even knew her name! This was the best day since…

Well, since her first person had chosen and named her.

Her person swung onto the saddle, thanking the stable master again. Then she leaned forward. “All right, girl; let’s go!”

Snowlight dashed out of Bentbranch, her person laughing on her back, to begin their adventures together.

[all-about-seggs]

Taming of the Lion-

Pairing: Timeskip! (Model) Lev Haiba x femme! Reader

Warnings- CBT, dom Reader, a bit of power play, handjob.

A/n- This is my delayed contribution to the Hard at work Collab that I was really looking forward to until college say no😞. I'm sorry for the disappointing work.

"Miss y/n is ready to see you now", the sharp looking secretary politely gestured towards the classy mahogany door that opened to show the office of the current CEO of a high end fashion brand that was ruling all the gigantic billboards of Russia these days.

Today was the first interview, the first meeting infact that you allowed to get an over-all idea how this investment would go should you decide to work with him. The post as its brand ambassador was not yet given to Lev but his puffed chest and confident smirk would suggest otherwise.

He entered with the same unreasonable confidence that he carried since highschool, bright green eyes that seemed to sparkle when catching light and a haughty smirk.

Lev didn't missed a beat when he saw your table stacked with the magazines he was doing the front cover for.

" Amazing aren't they?!", His bubbly excitement surface in a second and it took a few moments for you to register his child like response.

Even though you didn't judged him based on how he looked on the photos you still didn't expected him to be a himbo with no sense of self restraint. But he appeared to be oblivious to your shock and went on.

" This one was just a gig my sister got me when I was just starting out but I bet you can't tell me apart from a professional huh, oh and this one is-," he giddly pointed to one picture after another telling you all of their history and after a few minutes your patience ran out.

Shoving those magazines aside you got to the point.

" How far are you willing to go for this job?", A little suggestive based on the interpretation but you tested him anyway, eyebrows raising as if to urge him to respond.

" I'm not sure I understand.....", Seeing him genuinely perplexed you put your elbows on the huge glass table and rested you chin in your palms before speaking.

" One thing is clear to me and it's that you, Mr. Lev, are still an ameture who lacks experience. So how much are you willing to give to this job?"

" Well it should go without saying that I'm always ready to learn new things and tricks! And just because I'm young doesn't mean I'll do a sloppy job", his pout and way of speaking was crude but it had a certain charm. The kind of pureness that doesn't come by all that often and a sudden need to whip him into a shape you saw fit was already making its way into your head.

" Then let's start you lessons right away, shall we?", Leaning back on your chair you pointed at his clothes before speaking.

"Strip.", You thought he'd atleast argue a little first but at soon as you lifted your eyes he was already halfway naked. Your lips quirked in a natural smile, watching his sculpted body in the bright top floor of the office buliding. Not a shy boy atleast, you thought.

Living in the glamorous world of fashion you encounter more than a few people wanting to please you to get in your good side but this was one of the few instances where you felt like indulging in for yourself. And you had the power to get what you wanted and the person in front of you was just waiting for you to devour him at any given moment.

"You have pretty knees, all unblemished and unrealistically perfect. I'll try not to ruin them too much", with that you casually stood up from your leather chair and walked towards the last shelf of your office's mini library.

Without looking back you continued, " You see, Lev, if you want to really understand the inspiration behind my brand then you have to experience first hand submission. Afterall, it's made for women of the highest class and positions. The kind of women", Turning around you see him awkwardly covering his thick member,

" that doesn't bend for anyone". Lev atleast got the gist of your innuendo by now, but his habit of diving headfirst into an unknown situation was proving to be rather scary as soon as he saw you pull out a few metal and plastic items that appeared to be sex toys from the middle of the shelf lined with magazines and books.

"Hmmmmm, not bad", words of appraisal fell from your lips as Lev's toned body was displayed out in front of you to admire from an even more closer space, shamelessly so. From his pretty pink nipples to his equally pretty cock you drank in all his details before whipping out your gear.

"Well now, it's bigger than I thought..... This Ball stretcher might not fit afterall," eyeing his cock you quickly look over to the toy in your hand before deciding to givi it a try after all. As Lev saw you approach him with a frighteningly slow pace he backed up a little.

"Do- Do I really have to do this? I doesn't look like it'll fit!", His hesitant voice now contrasted with the self assured tone that he carried before and the helpless look in his emerald green eyes only made you want to play with him further, afterall, it wasn't everyday a mere model piqued your interest like he did and you didn't mind having a pet for entertainment purposes.

"Ofcourse. If you can't even handle this much then how do you intend to please the millions of women out there who like and endorse my brand?", Finally cornering him in a place you nonchalantly grab his balls to fit the toy in hand and soon his soft balls were under the metallic ring that stretched them nicely. He kept jolting at the slightest brush of your hands against his bare skin and you lightly slap his hardened shaft.

His moans were like little squeeks and it was starting to arouse you, the submissive nature of which encouraged your sadistic streak. Caressing his balls a little more you lead him towards the low coffee table.

"On your knees", on the plush carpet underneath, you asked Lev to show his cute ass.

Down on the floor, Lev bend forward until his face and chest touched the ground. His ass up in the air, like a piece of art his every muscle glistened in the morning light, illuminating his porcelain skin. You kneel down behind him to give his ass cheek a firm slap, making him jolt a little from the stinging pleasure, the metal rings wrapped around his balls adding to the impact.

It was adorable, how someone of his gigantic size and stature was now below you mewling like a kitten. You gently touch the sensitive tip of his cock, already hard and ready to be used as you wished. Grazing a thumb over his leaking precum you lubed your fingers enough to strok him without causing friction burns.

"How would you like it if I took a photo of you right now. Face down and ass up like a slut who just wants to cum?" Your authorative voice bommed in his ears and he was blushing all the way to his neck by now.

You disregarded the few incoherent sounds he made and grabbed his shaft and started stroking him roughly. In circular motion, your hands that barely wrapped around his thick cock moved up and down in a vigorous speed. You could feel him tremble beneath your hands, his member throbbing in your hand and the constant pleas to let him cum was a brilliant sight to behold.

His balls felt heavy due to the toy and Lev's orgasm equally intense left his entire body shaking violently. If the office walls weren't as expensively thick as they were his high pitched screams would've probably knocked out a few unsuspecting workers off of their seats.

The place below his softening cock was wet with his cum, the thick white fluid soaking through the fabric of the carpet and you could already imagine ordering him to lick it clean while you watched. The things you wanted to do to him. The things you wanted him to do to you but the train of you fantasies was soon cut short when you suddenly hear a knock on your door.

Your assistant called to remind you of your next appointment and a frown quickly made its way onto your face and you begrudgingly lift head, only to see his eyes still dazed from your previous session. He seemed like he was still alert enough to process the situation so you tried to push his limits a bit more.

Tugging him by his hair, you tilt his head back to look at his spent face, "Now let's get you dolled up for round two shall we?", His beautiful swollen lips formed a soft smile before speaking

" So I got the job right?".

[fettsvette]

Under the Crimson Moon

You have your period and feel gross. Boba Fett wants to fuck. A little blood never stopped the greatest bounty hunter in the galaxy from doing his job, and doing it damn well.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 7.2k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Menstruation/blood kink, penetrative sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology:

   cyar’ika - Mando’a term of affection meaning sweetheart, darling, beloved

  -

  “If I want you to do something, girl

We both know that you will

I’m a dirty old man with a dirty set of dreams

Take off that dress if you wanna keep it clean...”

  ‘Up in Them Guts,’ Brendan Kelly and the Wandering Birds

   -

You hadn’t known he was coming until he’d actually arrived.

 One minute, you had been in a deep sleep, wrapped in the warm blankets that shrouded the king-sized bed, and then suddenly, you were wide awake. Because you’d heard it, and you knew in your heart of hearts that it hadn’t been the lasting echo of a dream.

 The sound of heavy bootsteps and the unmistakable jangle of spurs echoed in the crisp night air, emanating down the hall towards your bedroom doorway.

 You sat up quickly, blood roaring in your ears and your heart pounding wildly in your chest, and your head snapped towards the entryway, illuminated only by the moonlight flooding in through the bay window. 

 And there he was, stepping out of the deep midnight shadows with that slow, methodical walk that seemed to encompass his very being: Boba Fett, the greatest and most feared bounty hunter to ever live.

 And your lover.  

 If you didn’t know better, you would’ve sworn he was a statue of some ancient warrior, carved from marble and brought to life by a warlock’s spell. The way he stood unmoving and ramrod straight, just staring at you, always sent a thrill down your spine, his expression unreadable behind the darkened, T-shaped visor of his helmet.

 But still you groaned - not out of arousal, the expected reaction to the presence of the imposing yet entirely irresistible man who was currently gazing at you - but out of annoyance. You squeezed your eyes shut, almost willing him to disappear, to take the hint, by the time you opened them again.

 His timing couldn’t have been worse.

 “Boba, please go away ... ” You grumbled pathetically under your breath, cracking an eye open to look up at the silent figure clad in dark green armor, looking at you expectantly. You heard him let out a sharp hiss under the helmet, and he gave a start, his head snapping downwards, and you just knew he was glaring at you murderously. You had no idea how he’d heard you from all the way across the room, but he had.

 “ Oh ? What’s that , girly? You don’t like me anymore?” He stalked forward slowly, and the question came not with a teasing edge nor with an air of apprehension, but with an icy lilt to it. It chilled your blood, and it occurred to you that you may have just made a huge mistake in telling Boba Fett himself to fuck off. As much as you enjoyed the sexual satisfaction you got from these illicit romps with one of the most dangerous men in the known universe, the confident realization that he could potentially grow angry or bored enough to dispose of you at any time without even batting an eye absolutely terrified you. He was a bounty hunter, after all. At the same time, though, that same fear excited you beyond the wildest depths of your imagination. He’d shown you time and time again just how deadly he could be, and yet you had never turned away when you’d had the chance. And there had been plenty of those times. 

 “ No ! Boba, no. I - I s-still like you. Of c-course I still like you. But…” You began, stuttering and stammering like a nervous child, but stopped abruptly when Fett took another step forward, spurs clanking again. He either didn’t notice the effect his brief intimidation had on you, or he didn’t care. You assumed it was most likely the second one.

 “ There’s a problem. ” Fett wasn’t asking you. It was a statement. Maybe another time you would have attempted to lie your way out of it just to save yourself the embarrassment that you knew was coming, but tonight you couldn’t even find the energy to attempt it. 

 “I can’t tonight. I just... can’t .” You murmured, almost tearfully defeated, gingerly sitting up in the bed to take a better look at your nighttime visitor. You could see yourself reflected in the viewscreen of his helmet, disheveled from sleep and sickly-looking, although you didn’t know if that was a trick of the moonlight or a sign of your current condition. Despite the intense cramping in your belly that was overtaking most other sensations, you still felt a flutter of longing travel to your loins upon seeing Boba Fett. How badly you wanted to grab him by that clunky belt and drag him down onto the bed next to you, free him from his trousers, and ride him until you found your release, but your body wasn’t in agreement with your wishes in the least bit. You took a deep breath, and steadily looked him in the eye.

 “ I got my period this morning. ”

 Silence. Not even a tilt of the dented helmet, a gesture you sometimes received after making references that he didn’t understand.

 Feeling your cheeks aflame and slightly embarrassed by the lack of response, you tried again.

 “...I’m menstruating, Boba. You know… moon blood? The curse? I don’t know if that’s a thing that happens to people where you come from, but I’m bleeding out of my vagina and I feel fucking miserable and -”

 Fett cut off your babbling with a sharp gesture through the air with one hand, the other settled nonchalantly on his hip as he shifted his weight. He let out a gruff sigh that lifted and dropped his shoulders in an almost comical display of exasperation. 

 “I know what it is. I’ve been with enough humanoid females in my lifetime. Is that supposed to change our plans tonight, little one?”

 It was your turn to go silent. You should have known something venomous and snarky like that would’ve been his answer. And of course he had more experience than you, he was older - by just how much, you weren’t exactly sure. He’d never shared his age, and you didn’t ask. He barely spoke as it was. And you still had yet to see his face. He’d never offered to show you, however, as if it were some closely guarded secret only he was the keeper of. And you didn’t dare try removing that strange, heavy helmet of his yourself. Boba Fett had never hurt you, but you felt if you were to reach underneath the sharp edges of his armor, peel it away from the complicated, mysterious creature underneath, there was no telling what he would do. 

 Hell, you had never even seen this man’s face and yet you had let him fuck you within an inch of your life . You’d never been ‘that kind of girl’ before you’d met him, upsetting everything you thought you’d known about yourself and the universe around you, but here you were. And here he was. 

 But his comment about being with other women in his past still spun ‘round your head like some mad arachnid’s twisted web, and made you wonder if he was presently doing this very same dance elsewhere - in other cities, on other worlds. 

 ‘ If this is just a physical thing, no strings attached… ’ You found yourself brooding as you watched him languidly stalk over to the window next to your bed, tilting the green and red helmet upwards and search the night sky for things you could only vaguely guess at if you tried, ‘ Then why am I jealous of something I don’t even know is really happening? ’

 “I just thought...you wouldn’t be… into that ...” You finally replied, meek as a mouse, and instantly trailed off once you realized you had no idea what else to say to him on this matter, your face burning. You should have been overwhelmed with desire at Boba wanting to fuck you this badly, but you found yourself apprehensive and shy - over a little bit of blood . It was times like this that you couldn’t fathom why a man from outer space, an intergalactic cowboy like something out of a comic book, had fallen from the sky and had chosen you.

 His head turning slowly in your direction, Fett marched back towards the end of your bed, his hands gripping the leather belt at his waist.

 “Your condition doesn’t matter to me. It’s a basic bodily function. Have you forgotten, foolish girl? I take what I want, when I want it .” He intoned brusquely, and your eyes widened, a delicious chill crawling up your spine, and you felt your cunt clench at nothing. The crimson tide had come in, and he still wanted to claim you.

 Usually, you talked enough for the both of you. Now you found yourself utterly speechless. 

 There was silence while he stood at the end of the bed, and you goggled blankly at him. Fett was challenging you. He showed no signs of leaving, or of heeding your apprehension in the least bit. He just continued to stand there and stare mutely, stubbornly standing his ground. Damn it.

 He had played this strange game several times before after one of your numerous meetings, lingering after it had become clear that you were way too fucked out to stay awake any longer. He’d never forced you into a situation that you hadn’t been game for, but he always seemed to want to make sure you knew who exactly owned you - or your cunt , at least.

 So he hung around. You’d mostly hear him pacing the room, sometimes quietly rummaging through your bookshelves as if in a library, but more often than not, he would sit himself in the chair across the room, large gloved hands gripping the armrests and well-muscled legs spread mockingly wide, reclining back and holding a silent vigil over you as you fell asleep. He was always long gone when you awoke, although once there had been some sort of dried flower left behind on your nightstand, dark red petals with a metallic tint to them - quite obviously nothing that had grown on this planet. You had asked him about it the next time he had shown up, after an excruciating three month absence that he re-emerged from with several more dents in and copious chips of paint missing from his armor. He had gruffly feigned any knowledge of the gift, his focus only on the flower between your legs. The dried one, however - the little token of his appreciation or whatever you wanted to call it - stayed pressed inside one of your favorite books. 

 As a reminder.

 Boba hadn’t moved in a while, still penetrating you with his eyes through that damned visor, when you finally decided to give in to him. You wanted him. Badly. Your reproductive system was in full rebellion against the idea and you felt fucking gross, but you weren’t sure you cared any longer. You needed him, couldn’t resist him. Hadn’t you read somewhere that orgasms were supposed to help relieve menstrual cramps, anyway?

 You bit your lip and let him have his way. 

 “In that case, Boba… I think I might feel a little bit better if you fucked me.”

 The self-satisfied, smug chuckle came like a rumble of thunder.

 “Well, well… that’s my good girl. ”

 He was across the room in the time it took you to blink. 

 Boba was extraordinarily light on his feet for a big man, and he was on top of you in the span of a breath. Rough leather gloves formed a vice around the muscle and bone of your wrists, pinning your arms above your head. You let out a shriek of surprise rather than pain - while his grip was firm, it didn’t necessarily hurt - and he answered with a low growl, kneeling on either side of your hips. He used one huge hand to continue pinning both of your wrists down, the other masterfully unclipping the heavy armor of his codpiece. You let out a near-hysterical giggle as Boba tossed it to the side and it unceremoniously hit the carpeted floor with a harsh thunk , smiling even broader as he brought the same hand up to rest against your cheek, stroking the flushed skin there.

 “I told you, girl. I always get what I want, when I want it . Tonight isn’t going to be an exception just because you’re cycling and feeling sorry for yourself. If you’re not going to cooperate with me, nice and easy... too bad .”

 Gooseflesh broke out all over your body at his words. You were absolutely fucking drenched for him already, and you wished he would just hurry up and take you already, tear off your panties and fuck into you until you were screaming yourself hoarse. You still weren’t sure of where exactly the man who called himself Boba Fett had come from, or why he was here , or why he’d chosen to mark you for his territory on this shitty little backwater world. Fucking hell, you didn’t even really know this man at all, did you? All you did know is that you were addicted to his touch, and despite your initial hesitations, you were practically begging for it now. 

 Boba used his free hand to slightly peel back the blankets concealing your thin nightie and period panties. With a contented hum, he lazily reached out to trace a thick gloved finger right along the line of your slit, and you let out a high-pitched, keening whimper, your hips twitching up involuntarily towards his touch. Boba clucked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head at you, sighing and looking up towards the ceiling.

 “How pathetic … is that really all it takes to make you fall apart for me, sweet girl?” Boba teased, releasing his grip on your wrists momentarily in order to fully pull the covers off the bed and toss them onto the floor. It only took those few seconds for you to take him unawares, weaseling out from underneath his looming form and using both hands to forcefully shove him backwards. Caught off guard by your unexpected show of strength, Boba fell on his back with a startled grunt, which was immediately followed by a groan as he watched you crawl on top of him. With shaking legs, you straddled his waist and positioned your heat right over his generous crotch, planting your sweaty palms against the reassuring coldness of his armor, and began to sloppily grind into him, dropping down to lie flat against his abdomen as you continued.

 Trying to conceal his own quiet moans underneath his helmet, Boba allowed you to frantically grind your hips against the growing hardness in his trousers for a few more moments, one large hand cupping your ass and the other on your undulating back, holding you steady as you hectically rocked back and forth, up and down. You whined pitiably and grasped at the grooves of his breastplate like a drowning woman before his tolerance towards your juvenile ministrations finally ran thin. As you went to roll your hips against the outline of his length yet again, Boba grunted bestially and grasped you by the waist, pushing you off of him roughly so that you went tumbling onto your back next to him. Your chest heaving, you looked sideways at him with heavy-lidded eyes, your cheeks burning with desire. The dark helmet slowly tilted to the side as Boba stared at you, and you heard a disgusted scoff echo from within.

 “That’s enough, you. Kriff, you’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Rutting in my lap like a loth-cat in heat and I’ve barely even touched you. Is that what you want, princess? Do you want me to touch you?” He purred mockingly, reaching down to lightly stroke your outer thigh with a gloved hand, briefly squeezing the soft flesh there and leaving fingermarks in his wake. You let out a throaty groan and thrust your hips towards his retreating hand, needing to feel his touch on your body, on your core.

 “I need you to touch me, Boba, plea-” He reached out and grabbed you by the face, squeezing your cheeks together hard enough for it to almost be painful, and you let out a squeak as he tightened his grip, turning your face towards his.

 “Oh no, little one. It’s not going to be that easy to get what you want from me, not after the way you carried on earlier.”  He lowered his helmet until the forehead of it was touching your own damp one, and as you stared into the blackness of his visor, you found yourself wondering what color Boba’s eyes were, and what he would do if you were to reach up and pull that big green bucket away from his face. Before you could even truly consider it, though, he loosened his grip and released your cheeks. You exhaled sharply, a rush of cool air gradually taking the place of the rough leather on your skin. 

 Boba sat back on his knees, and grabbed you under your arms, hoisting you up and pivoting your body so you were now hanging off the bed, your feet dangling several inches above the floor. He lowered you slowly, making sure your feet were flat on the ground before he let his hands leave your sides, fingers purposefully trailing and pressing into the supple, pliant flesh of your still-covered, swollen breasts as he withdrew. The sensation of his trace along the tender tissues set your nerves on fire, and your nipples hardened to an almost excruciatingly painful degree. You considered reaching out to snatch one of those gauntleted wrists and plant his hand right on your tit, willing him to knead and squeeze and flick at the oversensitive bud at its tip, but were brought back to reality by a sharp smack to your ass. 

 You yelped, grabbing at your backside and whirling around to see Boba sitting on the bed, staring at you. He had taken his gloves off, and had swatted you with them, both forming a makeshift crop in his calloused hand. He let out an amused snort at your look of shock, and patted the palm of his other hand with the fisted leather.

 “Go to the ‘fresher and clean yourself up.” You sensed by the edge to Boba’s voice that his patience was running low, and he gestured vaguely to the doorway with a jerk of his head. His rugged timbre crackled through the vocoder of the helmet, adding an even more ominous tone to his speech. He reclined on your bed, his ankles crossed nonchalantly, armored form looking massive and mind-bogglingly out of place as he lounged back against the pillows. It would have almost been a comical sight if it hadn’t been for the heady arousal you could sense in his gaze. 

 “And take that kriffing absorbent out while you’re in there. I want you nice and wet and open for me.”

 You felt your heart sink right to your cunt at his last words. Stars, you were fucking dripping for him. A wave of liquid heat that had nothing to do with your cycle had pooled between your legs, and you felt your knees buckle as visions of what intense pleasures this man might put you through tonight swam in your mind. You shambled to the bathroom on legs that seemed to be made of gelatin, breathing heavily through your nose, trying to keep calm as you wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on your body in an attempt to make yourself somewhat presentable. You splashed your face with cold water to keep yourself from falling faint at the knowledge of what was to come, glancing at yourself in the mirror briefly. Your eyes were glassy, your pupils blown wide, almost completely black in the harsh light. A fresh round of cramps erupted in a band around your groin, and you were starting to think you’d die if Boba didn’t fuck you soon. Resting one leg on the toilet seat, you shoved your panties to the side and slowly removed the offending menstrual cup that you had inserted before you’d retired for the night, hastily discarding it in the bin. You didn’t care if it had tipped over and made a mess, you’d clean it up in the morning. All you cared about right now was getting back to Boba and feeling him twitch and throb inside of you.

 He was waiting for you when you re-emerged, immediately rising to stand on the side of the bed. Beckoning you with the crook of a finger, he held out his hand to you as you practically ran towards him. As soon as the pads of your fingers had made contact with his, he spun you around to lie flat on the bed, head propped up behind the pillows, feet planted on the mattress and your legs spread so that he had a perfect view of your damp panties. Whether it was blood or arousal or a mixture of both, you weren’t sure - free-bleeding had never been your ‘thing’ and you weren’t sure if you liked the feeling - but as Boba climbed back onto the bed, openly admiring the wetness between your legs, you began to think that maybe it was something you could get used to. 

 He yanked down your underwear in one deft movement, grabbing hold of your calves one by one to remove your panties from around your legs, and tossed them to the side, where they landed in a crumple. He immediately leaned forward to spread your wet lips apart with his rough fingers, and you heard a sharp intake of breath come from underneath the helmet. It was barely audible, and you could tell that it had been involuntary from the way he had attempted to cut it off before it had even truly escaped. You flung one arm across your eyes, blushing furiously as you felt two thick fingers shallowly dip into your folds, swiping upwards briefly to gather some of the slick gathered there, then retreating just as quickly, before you could buck your hips into the welcome presence.

 “ Such a dirty girl …” He cooed darkly, and you opened your eyes cautiously just to see what exactly he was talking about. He perched above you on his knees, gazing at his own hand, the one he had just been briefly exploring your wetness with. 

 His fingers were coated in blood - your blood, your menstrual blood - and he was smearing the red between his thumb, index, and middle fingers, as if utterly fascinated by it. His helmet briefly dipped down to his fingers as he greedily inhaled your most secret scent, and the low groan he released made you throw your own head back in an echo, fire traveling from your slick cunt throughout your body. Your cry came out much louder than anticipated, and his head immediately snapped up, his hidden eyes boring into you. You embarrassedly tore your eyes away from the darkened visor and noticed the impressive bulge straining at the crotch of his flight suit, along with the telltale damp patch that could only mean his cock was already weeping precum - fuck, this was turning him on. 

 He moved forward once more, brushing your legs further apart with a swat of the backside of his other hand and, resting his palm atop your shaking knee, almost calculatingly smeared the blood from his fingers along your inner thigh, back and forth, until the digits were nearly clean. You noticed a bit of dried redness still staining his skin, and the sight made you dizzy with arousal. 

 You threw your head back against the pillows once more and whined morosely at the mark your essence had left on him, offering no resistance when Boba grabbed you by your elbows, easing you onto your feet in front of his own kneeling form. 

 “Up you get, girl. Come on.” 

 You looked down at him, slightly puzzled as to exactly what he was doing, until he sharply prodded the backs of your knees with his arm, causing you to stumble forward. He caught your fall by positioning one thick thigh to rest between your legs, and you landed with your sopping core pressed directly against the grey fabric of his flight suit. Upon realizing your situation, you clutched at his biceps and buried your face in his neck with a muffled groan, every fiber of your being going into restraining yourself from fucking against the expanse of hard muscle. Boba Fett had remembered what you liked best, and he’d weaponized it. 

 “Go on. Ride my thigh, little one. Make yourself nice and slick so you’re ready to take my cock inside of you. You’ll probably have to cum at least once before you can handle it - I'm too big for you, aren’t I? ...But that’s what you want, isn’t it? My cock in your pretty little pussy?” Boba asked sweetly, his tone oozing with sarcasm. He jiggled his leg ever so slightly, and a shockwave of pure pleasure coursed through your veins, and you couldn’t help but let out a strangled squeal. Your calves shook in a futile attempt to hold yourself still despite it, to not give in to what he expected of you.

 Boba had another idea though. He growled and clutched at your hips and began forcefully dragging you back and forth across the coarse material of his pants, causing you to emit a wail that echoed throughout the room. Boba hummed, satisfied with the effect his domination of your movements had on you, and lowered his head so that he was whispering in your ear, the sound delightfully harsh and metallic through his helmet’s vocoder.

 “What was that, precious thing? You love fucking yourself against my leg like the needy little brat that you are, I know you do… now say it . Answer me, girl.” Boba punctuated his order with a slap to your ass, aggressively driving the muscle of his thigh up into your quim.

 “Y-yes, Boba…” You weakly murmured, hiding your face against his shoulder, thighs clenching around his upper leg like a vise, your hips finally - almost involuntarily - thrusting into the meat of Boba’s thigh in time with the rhythm he jerked them back and forth with. “I… I l-love fucking m-myself on your thigh…”

 “ Very good …” Boba chuckled darkly to himself as he continued to bounce his leg up and down while guiding your hips with his firm, strong hands, reveling in the soft grunts you let out as he controlled your riding of his thigh. He began flexing his quadricep to usher your impending orgasm along, occasionally pressing the tops of your thighs down to create more friction against your clit, friction you desperately needed as you chased your first release.

 Your hips started to stutter much sooner than you had anticipated and you locked your arms around Boba’s neck in a death grip, lifting your face away from its place pressed against his breastplate to look into his eyes through the blackness of the T-shaped visor. Boba pinched the tip of your chin with his index finger and thumb, keeping your head in place so you were forced to meet his gaze as you came, his other hand planted firmly on your waist as he continued to shove your body back and forth.

 “Come on, sweet thing. Cum on my thigh for me,” Boba encouraged as your grunting turned into high-pitched whines, spaced out with every push of your hips into his leg. Wriggling yourself in small circles and grinding your clit into the rough flak of his flight suit, you tipped your head back as you were finally pushed over the edge. Your inner walls clenched around nothing, devastating waves of pleasure rolling through your cunt and up through your clit as you rode out your orgasm. Boba didn’t slow his ministrations in the least bit, continuing to pump his leg up and down, holding you tightly in place as the spasms finally began to slow down and your clit became horribly oversensitive, until he finally allowed you to push yourself away from him, falling back onto the bed, panting loudly.

 Trembling and shivering from the orgasm that had ripped cataclysmically through your body, you laid back on the bed, chest heaving violently, legs splayed and arms thrown limply above your head. You opened your watering eyes briefly to look at Boba, and they widened considerably when you saw that he was curiously running his fingers over several incredibly noticeable stains on the thigh of his flight suit.

 Incredibly noticeable dark red stains. More like streaks, actually, following the line your pussy had made rutting against his thigh as you had sought your climax on the thick canvas.

 You felt the warmth drain from your face, slightly horrified and ready to sink into the floor out of embarrassment. You’d been bleeding like a stuck pig all over his leg as he’d forced your orgasm out of you, and you hadn’t even realized it.

 “Oh, Boba … I…” You began, rising up on your elbows, trying to think of what to say to placate him so he wouldn’t reprimand you for ruining a part of the armor that he cherished more than most other things. He was staring at you, unmoving, and that’s when you noticed his hands were actually shaking . The heat immediately rushed back to your face tenfold, and your cunt grew even warmer, your own arousal coating your inner thighs anew at how much of a mess you’d made of this man, in more ways than one.

 “ Filthy girl. I’m going to fuck you hard for that.” The words came out in a feral snarl, and suddenly his hands were around your throat. You let out a gasping whoop as the air was forced from your lungs, although he wasn’t choking you hard enough to cause damage. The moderate pressure on your windpipe sent black spots to your vision, your own hands coming up to scrabble at the backs of his, more out of longing for his touch than a desire for him to stop, and Boba knew your limits by now. It ended soon enough, his iron grip relaxing almost as quickly as it had begun, and you gulped in fresh air. He ghosted the backs of his fingers over your exposed neck for a moment, wordlessly making sure that you were okay, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his knuckles as he dragged the digits over your mouth for a brief moment. Another growl left his lips as you did so, and your hammering heart flipped in your chest as you felt him still quaking from just how horny he was, how eager to finally take you.

 Boba hurriedly unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, his normally deft fingers stumbling in his aroused rush to free himself. You couldn’t imagine just how turned on he must be to completely lose his cool like this, and it dazed you to comprehend that he was like this because of you . He finally shoved aside the rough material and pulled his cock free. You’d seen him too many times to count, but that first glimpse still sent your mind reeling. He was fucking huge. A perfect eight inches, ever-so-slightly curved to the right, veiny and deliciously wide, the glans plump and dusky pink and already slick with precum. He’d gone commando under his flight suit, and you found yourself wondering if he did all the time. You hoped so - it was fucking hot .

 “Boba, wait - are you absolutely sure you want to do this? It’s… going to... make a mess…” You said weakly, grasping at his bracer with your trembling fingers and feeling as if you might faint as he lined up his considerable girth against your entrance. You felt the fat head of his cock against your lips, and it was like every nerve-ending in your body was fucking screaming at the tease.

 He paused for a moment, sitting back and studying you intently, slowly pumping his engorged member and spreading glistening precum over the velvety, blunt head with a still-bloodstained thumb. A taunting rumble emanated from under his helmet, and his length twitched in his hand. Leaning down to cup your face with one hand, the other on the root of his erection, hot and hard and throbbing against you, you could hear the smirk in Boba’s voice.

 “Oh, princess… I’m a bounty hunter. A little blood has never scared me.”

 He entered you without any further warning, one deep, agonizingly slow thrust, and it felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside in the best way. No matter how many times you’d taken him, no matter how drenched and ready you were for him, Boba Fett’s cock was massive , the biggest you’d ever had. Tears sprang to your eyes and you wrapped your arms around his neck, knees involuntarily drawing up so that you could wrap your legs around his still-clothed waist, wanting him closer and deeper despite the initial burn. He bottomed out just as he was starting to hurt beyond your threshold, just as you were considering asking him to stop, letting out a deep, low groan as his balls and the dark patch of curls surrounding them made contact with your skin. You could feel the seam of his trousers against your ass as well, the knowledge that he hadn’t even bothered to take off his pants in order to fuck you sending a thrill up your spine.

 And then he started to move.

 Boba pistoned his hips back and forth at a near-frantic pace right from the start, already grunting with the exertion, and you knew that he was trying his hardest to keep some semblance of rhythm, to not mindlessly fuck into you like a wild animal, solely focused on chasing his own orgasm. Your whole body moving with every thrust, your cloth-covered tits bouncing as he slammed into you, you looked down between your bodies and watched his thick cock slide in and out of you. Your walls squeezed and fluttered urgently as you noticed the wet sheen of your blood coating his member as he plunged deeper and deeper into you. He dragged his cock out of you until only the head was still sitting inside, then rammed back home - once, twice; you began to lose count as your mind became hazy with the pleasure.

 “Take the helmet off.” You found yourself gasping out, and Boba stopped as if he’d been frozen in time. He pulled his head back slightly to stare directly into your eyes, holding his body still above you.

 “Please,” you continued, “I want to see you, I need you to kiss me, I need to see your face, pleaseplease please, Boba-“ You chanted as if in prayer, stopping mid-sentence as you realized just how still he had become. 

 Boba gave no discernible reply, either audibly or physically, but you could still feel his surprise through your hands, the taut muscles under your touch having suddenly turned to stone. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Panic rising in your gut, you expected him to pull himself from inside of you and push you away, to disappear into the night never to be seen again, you began to utter a quiet “I’m sorry, Bo-“ when he shushed you with a hiss, and reached down between your bodies to press his index and middle fingers to your clit, rubbing slow, lackadaisical circles over the swollen nub. He chuckled from somewhere low in his chest, both at your pleading to see his face, and your renewed mewls of ecstasy at his teasing fingers.

 “Hush, little princess. Some other time.”

 With that, he pressed his fingers into your waist and lifted you off your back with ease, scooting himself to the edge of the bed so that his legs were hanging over the side, your own positioned on either side of his waist so that you were sitting flush in his lap, your thighs pressed firmly to his, his pulsating member buried deep inside of you. Boba gave you a moment to settle in his lap and adjust to the new position, then wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you from tumbling backwards and began slamming into you with an almost murderous intensity, his other arm reaching between you and covering your pussy with his hand, using his thumb to rub frenzied circles into your engorged clit, periodically pinching and flicking. You bit back a scream and your walls clenched painfully around his cock, and buried your face in the scratchy material protecting his throat. Your head tucked underneath the lip of his helmet, you could hear Boba panting and letting out throaty little moans, the sound unaltered by his vocoder at this angle, and the rasp of his true voice made you squirm with delight, grinding back against the sharp, shallow juts up into your core.

 You felt a dampness forming on the material beneath your slack-jawed mouth as he fucked up into you; knowing that you were drooling right onto his clothing, completely cock-dumb and at the mercy of the man jackhammering into you, seemed to set off fireworks within your core. You heard a whining noise, steadily growing louder and higher-pitched as it went on, and it took a moment for you to realize that you were making that sound. Your second orgasm was building faster and faster, your own movements becoming hectic and sloppy against his rhythmic thrusting, and you persisted crying out wordlessly, rocking wildly on Boba’s lap. He continued to pound into you, growling and grunting like a beast, and that’s when you began to scream in earnest, the blunt tip of his cock finally scraping against that sweet spot deep inside your core, again and again and again. 

 Boba brought one hand up to stroke your cheek as his aggressive thrusts bounced you up and down in his lap, a soft shushing noise emanating from underneath the helmet. When that didn’t work to stifle your cries, he clamped one hand over your mouth, squeezing your face with the force of it.

 “There you go, little one. That’s it, come on… cum on my cock. Let me make you feel good…” He murmured, thrusting up into you one final time and grinding his hips in a semi-circle as he did, his glans catching against the spongy patch deep inside you again, finally setting off a volley of apocalyptic spasms throughout your cunt. You clenched painfully around Boba, your pussy fluttering, your entire body shuddering and heaving with the waves of pleasure rolling through your system. The orgasm dragged on and on as Boba continued to grind into you and you shrieked into his hand, tears rolling down your cheeks from the intensity of it. His thrusts were too overstimulating, bordering on painful, as the spasms finally began to ebb, but Boba’s movements had become increasingly erratic, his own grunts louder, and finally - with a muttered curse in a guttural language you didn’t recognize - he harshly yanked himself out of your still-spasming cunt and pressed his cock against your belly. Streaks of Boba’s cum spurted up, leaving his mark all over the front of your nightie. When he was sure his cock had been milked for all it was worth, just before he began to go soft, Boba quickly lifted your ass up with one hand and sank you back down onto him, causing you to gasp and rut against him several times in your overstimulated state. He stilled you by wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his chin atop the crown of your hair, both of you completely exhausted and unable to even consider a second round anytime soon.

 For a few minutes afterwards, you were pliant and vulnerable in his arms, your cheek pressed against the cool armor of his breastplate, shivering both with delight and the aftershocks of your climax. Boba’s own chest heaved as he attempted to catch his breath, his fingers running up and down your back, occasionally wiping the sweat and tears away from your face. You found yourself clinging desperately to his shoulder pauldrons, silently willing him not to move, to finally stay the night by your side. Neither one of you spoke, but you didn’t need to. You could have fallen asleep in his lap like this, legs dangling on both sides of his hips, his cock still inside of you, a strangely comforting sense of fullness. 

 It was too good to last, of course. With a relaxed sigh, Boba shifted, slowly lifting you off his cock. He left your opening with a wet pop , a mixture of pinkish menstrual blood and both of your arousals dribbling down the inside of your thigh as he flopped you down on the bed, stretching lazily as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out. He stalked off to the bathroom without a word, probably to wash your blood off of himself. You closed your eyes for a moment, almost on the cusp of sleep and still sniffling from the tears your powerful orgasm had brought on, when you heard soft bootsteps returning from the other room, followed by the feeling of a damp cloth between your legs, gently cleaning your wrecked sex. You sighed softly at the unexpected sensation, and hummed contentedly when the cloth was removed and a warm hand settled itself over your lower belly, kneading the sore flesh there. 

 “Feeling better, cyar’ika?” Boba asked, and his tone made your heart ache. This affection was something fairly new, and you gave an affirmative, sleepy murmur in response. He had never called you that name before - he’d never even called you your actual name before - and you wondered what it meant, but knew you would only receive a brooding stare if you deigned to ask. You were too tired to consider it, anyway. You doubted you could stay awake for much longer.

 The hand withdrew from your tummy, and as your eyes fluttered closed, you saw Boba standing over you, looking every bit the fearsome warrior. He reached out and tapped his fingers under your chin delicately, and you heard the sound of spurs moving across the room, away from your bed.

 “ Good. ”

 He was gone in the morning, of course. 

 It had been silly to think maybe you’d open your eyes and see him sitting in the chair across the room, waiting for you to wake up.

 The only sign that someone else had been there at all was the delicious ache between your legs that always lasted for several days after one of Boba’s visits and the lingering scent of post-coital musk in the air, as well as a few bloodstains on the sheets and dried cum on your nightshirt that you hoped would come out in the wash. 

 And last night’s underwear had mysteriously vanished.

 You thought you had a vague idea of where it might’ve ended up.