#the thought of something making them release their wings whether on purpose or not has been rolling around in my head

[laurzvahll]

while i was still playing around with the concepts of devimega sol and the options i had for what i wanted them to be, i entertained the idea of making them some sort of angel for a while..

i thought itd be interesting if they were some sort of angel sent down to earth to experience a human life, with no knowledge of their actual identity. I thought about giving them traits of mine and turning them into something that hinted to it. Like back / shoulder pain that would be a result of their wings being stuck inside their body. And insomnia because their body is still not used to human sleep cycles…

i decided on just keeping them a regular human, but sometimes i think about bringing it back just bc i like giving my characters wings, or find some way to make them an angel without killing them off. even as a non believer, theyre fascinated by angels. Sol had always wished as a young child and teen that they could grow wings and escape their living situation, go wherever and be free…. so i could imagine as an adult, they’re still holding on to that hope that maybe one day theyd wake up to see that they’ve randomly sprouted wings

[fictionplumis]

Okay okay okay I got another one for Sorcery!

Flanker ends up with the Crown of Kings.

Bear with me. We all know he would dash that thing on the ground and destroy it after it was used on him to make him nearly kill the person he loves, but here's the thing.

The Analander hands it to him with such a trusting, earnest look and tells him, "You won't take away power from the people and you can fix this world. I know you can." And even though almost every part of him balks at the idea of ruling, Flanker has experienced how broken the world is, how none that are currently in power will do anything to fix it with or without the crown, and it makes a weird kind of sense for someone so reluctant for power to be the one holding it, the one wielding it.

And it's so hard to say no to the Analanader when they look at him like he personally hung the stars that sorcerers draw their power from.

So he takes it.

He tries not to use it. It's a cursed thing, and Flanker doesn't wish to control the people around him, least of all the Analander, but it's not an easy thing to do. It's not the temptation of it, it's not that he feels he needs to, it's that in his memories of the Archmage using it on him, the crown had been nowhere in the room. The Analander swears it had been on the Archmage's head, they just couldn't see it because the Archmage hadn't wanted them to, but it's hard for him not to question it.

Especially when he wears it and doesn't need to consciously give an order. Those that don't know about the crown well enough to fight the influence, or who trust him the most, seem to react to his subconscious will even before he says anything. Those things unsettle him the most, especially when it happens with the Analander. One stray thought of desire or pang of want while he has the crown on and the Analander is in the room, and they're at his side, arms around him, pressing a kiss to his temple or what have you. Afterwards, with the crown well away from the both of them, they swear they don't mind, that they want those things too, but it still doesn't sit right with him.

As far as actually being a ruler goes, Flanker hates attention, so you know he's not going to be going out there and greeting the people and announcing himself as the new monarch of Mampang or whatever. He's a shadowy ruler, and there's just as many rumors about him being dead as there were about the Archmage. But--

Things start changing. Slowly, at first.

Despite his discomfort with magic and his lack of knowledge, the changes start with the College of Sorcerers. The Analander suggests that he release Valiquesh from the book she was trapped in and together with Aliizi (who was wary of him at first but started coming around, either unconsciously because of the crown or because she genuinely realized he wasn't going to purposely control her, it's impossible to say), they reestablish the College.

And the second Flanker finds out an acquaintance of the Analander's is locked up, he goes and frees Jann. The minimite, despite being an irritating headache, is something of a relief. The crown's power doesn't work while he's around and Flanker can always trust that the little pest will say exactly what he wants whether Flanker likes it or not.

It's even more reassuring that Jann first spent most of his time riding around on the Analander's shoulder since his wings were clipped, but the Analander eventually got frustrated at having their magic cut off and resolved to solve the problem, which came one day they were at the market and found a man selling a caged crow. They used their magic to speak to the bird, offering it job to be paid in food, safety, and some of its freedom back.

Flanker was sure the damn bird was going to eventually get irritated with the annoying minimite and eat it, but couldn't have been more wrong. More often than not, Jann ended up sleeping nested with the bird. The Analander, amused beyond belief at Flanker's annoyance, explained that the bird liked being talked to, but crucially, couldn't actually understand a word Jann said. Plus, Jann liked to give the bird scritches. The minimite treated the crow like one would a prized and beloved family horse.

It took a few months for the real work to actually start. The College was operating again, but without students, it was useless. And in order for there to be students, the gates of Mampang needed to be open to travelers. And in order for that to happen, people needed to be able to cross the Baklands safely. Flanker kept trying to put off actually exerting his influence on the people but Valiquesh was impatient and once the Analander and Jann pointed out how often he was using the crown to silence Valiquesh and keep her from calling him a coward, he finally decided to actually act.

Flanker's not a monarch, though. He knows nothing about actually ruling, so his first order was to establish a council and gather the other rulers of the land to talk to them.

He did not fret about the meeting in the weeks leading up to it.

He did not.

(He paced a lot. The Analander laughed kindly at his nervousness and assured him it would be fine. That didn't stop his pacing.)

They met in the study, which had been cleared of all the Archmage's things and was mostly used by Valiquesh and the Analander, because Flanker himself preferred their private quarters, which had been Jann's old jail cell, cleared and reconstructed with a fireplace, a cozy sleeping area, and a small sitting arrangement right in front of the fire. But for this, Flanker met them in the study, all but Jann in attendance, Aliizi watching the proceedings in invisibility, and Flanker dressed in his assassin's garb as usual, resolutely showing no signs of his nervousness.

That grew easier the more he asked each ruler how they made their kingdom prosperous and how they would have used the crown to benefit their people. With each answer, he grew increasingly irritated, finally understanding just why the Analander gave the crown to him instead of destroying it or giving it back to his king.

The only one of them that had wanted to implement any real change was Vik, who was distasteful at best, but at least had been put into power by the people of Khare and who was (somewhat) giving that power back to the people. But his change was only for Khare, while the other rulers just wanted their kingdoms to stay the same while abandoning Khakabad and the Baklands to suffer in poverty, ruin, and curses.

That was the moment Flanker started using the crown seriously.

The king of Analand was ordered to open his gates to Khakabad and send out sorcerers, farmers, and supplies to the neighboring towns. Khakabad would be part of his kingdom now, and he was to share Analand's prosperity and teach the people of Khakabad how to prosper themselves. They were now his responsibility.

Vik was ordered to stop enslaving people and forcing them into being his own private army of werewolves. Most of the damage was already done, but he was told to take the armor off the werewolves he did have, explain to them that they were now werewolves, and instead ask them to become part of his guard. It was now a job, like anything else was, and those that wanted to work for him would be paid well and for the rest of their lives, even after they could no longer work, considering they would forever live with the consequences of lycantropy. They were to have shifts with overseers to remove their armor at the end of the shifts so they could go home and have lives. Barracks were to be built for those that weren't on shift or those that no longer worked so they had somewhere safe to go during a full moon where they couldn't hurt anyone.

The other rulers were ordered to send contractors and sorcerers into the Baklands to dismantle the Archmage's beacons. This was something that Flanker put a lot of thought into outside the meetings, talking with the Analander, Aliizi, Valiquesh, and Jann about it. After lengthy, heavy discussions, they all agreed that it wasn't fair to keep those ghost towns alive, the people in them never knowing that they had died ages ago, never able to leave, their lives forever looping. It was best to leave the past in the past, and instead look towards what the Baklands could become in the future.

One night, years later, once all of Flanker's plans were well on their way to being completed and the gates to Mampang were open again, the College of Sorcerers seeing their first year of recruits under Valiquesh's teachings, Flanker sat on the distastefully extravagant chaise with the Analander's head in his lap while they dozed, turning the crown in his hand over and over again while staring at the fire.

Truly, for such a powerful item, it was a poorly made thing. Threadbare, the jewels chipped, the metal thin and bones crooked.

The Analander roused, half-asleep, meeting Flanker's gaze sleepily and it was as if he knew. A subtle nod of understanding was all Flanker needed to throw the cursed crown into the fire, the skullcap catching immediately and the fire warping the metal. By morning, all that would be left would be a puddle of metal and blacked gems.

"You always destroy it," the Analander murmurs, turning their face back into Flanker's stomach with a yawn, their eyes closing. "Sometimes right away, sometimes later, when you feel like the work is done. The land always fairs better when it's later."

"You are not awake," Flanker replies, because the words don't make sense. He ignores the twist of discomfort, resolves himself to ask the Analander about it later, and instead bullies them up so he could take them to bed, shedding clothes along the way.

It would be days later when he manages to corner the Analander in the library that he asks about it and gets the full story.

I'm cursed.

When I die, I return to Mampang on the day we defeated the Archmage. I can show you the very alley I return to.

I do it all over again. I've done it hundreds of times. I've gotten good at it, too. Once I figured out how to break you out of the Archmage's control, I've never once had to fight you again.

No, you didn't kill me that first time. But killing you killed me. I couldn't do it without you, and I was relieved when I died to the Archmage and had another chance to save you. I have every time since, and even though things change in the strangest ways, every time I tell you that I love you, your blade finds its home in the Archmage instead of my throat. You're strong enough to break out of the compulsion every single time.

You don't need to worry, Flanker. I know how to lift the curse. There's a tower in the College of Sorcery where I can undo it. I choose not to, not yet. At first I just wanted to see what decisions would be best for us and people of this land.

I've given the crown to my king, and things weren't bad. He kept it for two more years and passed it on to the next kingdom. Analand prospered and everyone knew who I was, who we were. But you hated the attention and I grew tired of it. We started a life for ourselves in the Shamutanti hills, an hour outside of Khare. You continued work for your guild after growing restless, I studied my magic, and we were happy. But in the quiet moments both of us agreed that it felt like something was missing. It was disquieting to both of us that nothing had really changed. It was the same every time I gave my king the crown, the only thing that differed was how I died. Sometimes one of us would get sick, or you wouldn't come back from Khare and I would have to track down someone from your guild to find out you had died, or I would go into town for supplies and get caught off guard by bandits...

I thought if I destroyed the crown, something different would happen, so I tried that a handful of times, but it was almost exactly the same. Analand would be in turmoil for a year or so before settling down, and we would live happily if unsettled over how little change our sacrifices and hardship actually made.

Then I thought to release Valiquesh. She made significant process back when she was the archmage. Every time she would destroy the crown, we would go on to live our lives in peace. She would establish the College again and work on revitalizing the land that the other monarchs left to ruin. It was better.

Once, I thought to stay in Mampang with her to study under her. But when I did that, you left, feeling you had no place in that world, and I lasted a couple years before I fell on my sword to see you again. Valiquesh was an unrelenting teacher and I learned a lot, but the progress I could have continued making wasn't worth being without joy. Being without you.

I thought to keep the crown for awhile, thinking I could make more change if I took matters into my own hand. You were always there with me, my general. But every time I did that, Aliizi would leave and Jann would want nothing to do with me. But you were there, and I made progress.

Sort of.

I never handled it with as much grace as you, Flanker. No, don't give me that look, I'm serious! After living so many lives and dying so many times, I was frustrated, and angry, and I always let it get the best of me. More and more each time. I never managed to make as much progress as I wanted, so each time I would take more and more control, until I realized I was becoming no better than the Archmage.

Thank you for saying that, but you never thought so in those lives, if I put the crown away. You were the one that told me I was like him, and you were right to say so in those lives. They still haunt me.

Whenever I gave you the crown and you kept it, everyone was better for it. You never relish the power, you never cling to it, and you push for the other monarchs to make the changes that they never would have made on their own. And once you feel you've done enough, you destroy the crown.

Now I don't bother to try other options. I've found the best one, and I repeat this life because I'm never ready to leave you. I want to keep doing this over and over, with you.

Flanker has no perception of these other lives that the Analander lived with him, has no idea how many the Analander went through, whether it was still that same life for them as it was for Flanker when, years later as they're sitting on the roof of the garret, watching the sun set, the Analander takes his hand and kisses the back of it, murmuring, "I think I'm ready for this to be our last time."

Even though it was always Flanker's "last time" he can't help but feel his heart squeeze with sorrow but he tightens his hand on the Analander's and nods in understanding.

"We both deserve to rest, my dear Analander."

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Hmmmmmmmmm

Irza definitely has a temper but he also has the "I really don't care" behavior. If he caught Vara he probably wouldn't hurt the cat, he'd be more confused bc fairies exist in that world but fairies are actually treated horribly and used in potions.....he'd wonder why a wingless fairy (which isn't too strange since some will just have wings taken and then be tossed aside...) has cat features and is even in his house. But that's it the borrower was actually living in his house.—There's also the chance he finds the borrower outside, which would mainly end with him staring and walking away unless an accident got Vara into a pocket or bag...

And if he was caught? Irza wouldn't touch it, he'd use his shadows and just trap their legs in place. Then you'd have to get through his questioning bc there's no way he wouldn't be suspicious of a tiny person in his house

Some thoughts I had for aus would mainly be Irza as the giant bc yes...and I'd make several different ones, I love first meetings and I can't decide which one is better so I'll use em all. Vara would be the gentlest giant but he'd get his hands really chewed on by Irza, that guy won't change at all! The ideas go from doing crossovers to my fairy story, borrower, and even just someone shrinking them. There's so many powers in their world, who's to say someone can't change the sizes of things?

And I didn't even realize the nom compatible thing with Irza until recently

Vara finding tiny little villain Voidshire instead of a fight and having to argue with himself over whether to turn him in or help him...btw tho bc of Vara's mixed races he has huge cat instincts so that would be possible for like mouthplay but probably not anything more, you just gotta be careful bc he reacts to everyone like that...but he's so nice he catches bugs and mice and releases every one outside. Irzayn hates mice bc of them eating his homework the one time (which was just a really funny canon thing), but this also means if he doesn't see that the borrower is humanoid he could very well kill them by impulse

Song that fits Vara: Luke Bryan—Most people are good

We all love the sweet Varazae cat

And if that's what you think~~ Ezephr would say thank for mwahahaha (there is such a deep reason that mixes all of the above into that answer bc he'd be smiling while being killed and thanking his killer)

okay okay you got me to read it and of course now i have to answer

whaa fairies exist?? elaborate?? what purpose do they serve??? also in and case i love that they do bc i can imagine vara being pretty lost if irza ever addresses his confusion- (as a borrower, would vara know about fairies?)

OOO tinies falling into bags is the BESTTTTT (btw becky if you see this, you somehow always manage to stroll right down my alley every single time with your fics!!! how do you do that?? it's so cool >:DDD or. new theory. you writing the fics makes the trope automatically top tier because you wrote it :00)

AHHHH i loveeeeee the shadow thing oh my GOD that would be so confusing for vara and AJJFSAJSDJ ksdkasdasdasdsads multiple hands in g/t is rarely touched but i think it's pretty cool- i mean i know it's not directly irza's hands but STILL that concept is just /pos to me :D

ah yes the good ol' interrogating a terrified borrower :D <3

yesss g!irza >:3c

AHHH these ideas are all so lovely and LMAO for irza eating vara's fingers AJVDS i bet he'd try and get vara's claws to use for personal use like a new and improved hook JDSJ (the only thing on my mind when i type that is the line from 30 rock "gimmie your fingernails!" "no!" LMAOAOO)

i like the lane of someone having sizeshifting powers. maybe some person is tired of their hero/villain bickering and just shrink one of them to force them to stop and focus on something else FDLDSJAJA

aw everyone just finds all the right g/t buttons for me- fucking tinies helping their human? FUCK YEAH!!!

LMAO they ate his homework??? 😭😭 that is genuinely the best thing i have heard about this au ever- it's the useless bit of canon that makes my brain go brrrrrr like that thing with curiositybur will never fail to make me happy. the fact that serenityinnit just walks around staring at the world like he's never seen it before (which he hasn't) is FUNNY and USELESS but the BEST

ooooooo vara's gotta run off of reflexes then, let's hope he survives!

OO that's a cool song! usually country isn't my jam (is that considered country?) but that is an exception fs!

yesyesyeys beloved catboy

and hmhmhhmhmmhmhmmhhmmhm love him smiling, i strive to be ezephr when i'm being killed :D

[metalwings]

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙽𝙴 ...⠀⠀the outside 

name: elizabeth m. anderson

eye color: chestnut brown

hair style / color: dark brown, mid-long, has a natural wave

height: 5'2 / 157cm

clothing style: anything that fits. nothing fancy, usually second-hand and cheap. typically doesn't match too well. when it comes to tops, old t-shirts that have been torn open in the back for the wings are a staple. often sighted in oversized overcoats when in public.

best physical feature: lips / figure

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝚆𝙾 ...⠀⠀the inside 

fears: medical settings (ex. doctor's office); ingesting drugs of any kind; lacking purpose

guilty pleasure: the scent of blood and fresh death. her enhanced senses have made her keenly aware of their specific smell and she's developed a craving for the sweet-smelling mixture of iron and all the hormones and pheromones the body releases in its final moments. 

biggest pet peeve: people touching her wings; things not going according to plan thanks to another's stupidity; high pitched noises (they really bother her over-sensitive ears)

ambitions for the future: ... not dying?

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 ...⠀⠀thoughts 

first thought waking up: usually a continuation of whatever dream/ memory she was seeing in her sleep. once she's fully conscious though, it's typically about how tired she still is. 

what you think about the most: how to accommodate others. whether it be changing the way she acts to please those around her or appearing as small and insignificant as possible to disappear into the background for others' benefit. she's always thinking steps ahead to predict others' actions so she can be prepared to shift for them. only when she's completely alone do these thoughts not dominate her mind.

what you think about before bed: typically runs through tomorrow's tasks if she knows what they are. if not, she thinks about the day and all that was or was not accomplished. particular sounds or sights might play in her head repeatedly until she finally falls asleep.

best quality: her adaptability. she can keep a level and cool head in the most stressful of situations no matter how bad things have gone awry. quick thinking and experience in such situations almost guarantees she'll have a new plan to fit the new situation in a matter of moments. 

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝚁 ...⠀⠀what's better 

single vs group dates: single dates. she doesn't go on many at all, but in theory, she prefers fewer people, as many would likely overwhelm her. it allows her to not only focus on the person she is with, but also have a better awareness of the environment. 

beauty OR brains: she admires beauty more frequently than she admires brains, but if it were to come down to choosing a partner based on either quality, she'd likely choose brains.

dogs OR cats: cats, which is odd given how skittish they can make her feel. but she enjoys watching them, and a dog can be a bit too much for her. regardless, she doesn't plan on having either as a pet any time soon.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙸𝚅𝙴 ...⠀⠀do you 

lie: frequently. though she's not exactly good at it. while an expert at hiding the truth, she finds that she has a very hard time pretending it's something it's not. not for lack of trying though. 

believe in yourself: no.

believe in love: for others, yes. for herself, no. 

want someone: she craves intimacy, validation, and love, but doesn't feel she deserves it and rarely receives it. so she tells herself that she never wanted it.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙸𝚇 ...⠀⠀ever been 

on stage: no.

done drugs: willingly, no.

changed who you were to fit in: she changed who she was for survival rather than fitting in.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽 ...⠀⠀favorites

color: deep forest green; dandelion yellow

animal: ... birds. it's a love / hate relationship.

movie: she doesn't watch movies often enough to have a favorite. but she loves non-fiction documentaries. they inform her of a lot of information she otherwise missed in her nonexistent education. 

game flower: a combination of wild prairie roses and forget-me-nots. these grew together near her childhood home.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 ...⠀⠀age

day your next birthday with be: sunday, november 12, 2023

how old you will be: twenty-five

age you lost your virginity: 21

does age matter: she'll likely never date anyone much younger than her. and as far as those much older than her, she's grown to see them as figures of authority. it wouldn't be a healthy relationship if it were to happen. 

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙴 ...⠀⠀in a person

best personality: someone who will be gentle with her, willing to look past all the flaws and imperfections. understanding, and kind. she also needs someone willing to be in control and independent, as she can't offer much in that department. 

best eye color: amber; dark brown

best hair color: dark brown; black; she enjoys a good fun color too

best thing to do with a partner: exist in each other's space. small, personal things. to love and feel loved.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙴𝙽 ...⠀⠀finish the sentence

’ i love: — to fly. ’

’ i feel: — alone. ’

’ i hide: — my past. ’

’ i miss: — simplicity. ’

’ i wish: — i had a choice. ’

⠀

TAGGED BY: @arkhampsych ( thanks !! )

TAGGING: you :D

[todoshotoki]

𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂: sub! takami keigo/hawks x dom! reader

MENTIONS: choking, slight bondage, thigh riding, overstimulation, degrading, praising

𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉���𝙏𝙀: thank u olivia for being the kinky bastard u are and sparking my voyage on writing this for 4 hours straight during online classes

...

there was no doubt that keigo always had heads turning his way. the proud wings flaring and flashing their rich red colors. several awards had hung around his neck, he was only twenty one and he had his own agency.

he seemed hard to drag down. such a figure as him, had managed to boldly interrupt the hero billboard chart event in front of hundreds of thousands and yet here he was kneeling in front of your feet.

whenever he gave you face he always looked up at you with such dolled up gaze. there were hickeys littered all up his neck and his collarbone, some of them redder than others. he had taken the pleasure to dress up all pretty for you in the raunchy black skirt that he had bought from what seemed like ages ago.

the skirt had barely covered his rear. when he was waiting for you in the bedroom, it was like an invitation just written out for you with silver lining. keigo never joked around with this thing. you two barely got to hang out anymore and the day he had off, you had unfortunately had a in person college class.

he looked so incredibly upset when you had told him. he was ready to be slow fucking all day whether or not you were on top or bottom.

keigo knew you worked hard and so he wanted to reward you with a treat. he even had shaved his legs for the occasion. you would have been crazy to decline his offer so you accepted it.

here he was with his pointed tongue flicking around, settling to sucking your clit. you had your hand on the back of his head as your lips parted.

the blonde has always been good at oral, he would be on his knees and worship your pussy like god had descended from heaven just to grace him with his presence. keigo's humming sent vibrations throughout the lower half of your body, all while getting a little rougher with you stimulating more pleasure than before. your mouth hung open, breathy moans weren’t afraid to call out his name. he seemed to be enjoying it as much as you, muffled gasps of what you made out to be your name, left his lips like a hushed prayer.

he rocked his his hips trying to comfort his own arousal, clenching at times as your moans picked up.

"more, keigo, baby- so good for me!" you groaned as his pace picked up and his doe eyes had widened at the praise. shit, his beautiful dolled up his face was so endearing. "oh- fuck!" you came without warning, grabbing onto his hair and forcing him into your core, shuddering as he you could hear him choking. he wasn't protesting but rather gulping up whatever he could as if it was holy.

not a single drop had fell to the floor as you expected from him. once you released your grip on your lover's head, he pulled back to take in a hefty breath of air. you almost cooed at the sight, your juices had stuck to his lips and his cheeks.

he looked dazed as if he was the one who just experienced the leg shaking climax you had just climbed down from. keigo made sure to lap up the excess cum from his face as he watched you layed on the edge of your shared bed. “what a pretty boy,” you peck him on his cheek.

"come here keigo," you patted your thigh. he obeyed wordlessly, sitting on your thigh. "you're going to ride my thigh, m'kay baby?" you grabbed onto his hips and he looked with you a soft curious gaze, "i've never done that before..." you could feel his throbbing cock through his panties, a slight wetness as you felt the precum seeping through the cotton. his wings were twitching slightly as you moved your hands slightly.

"i'll help you," you helped him snap up his hips with the aid of your thigh rubbing against his heat. he choked slightly with the sudden pleasure, sending hot shivers from his legs to his wings.

you guide his hips for a little more after before he finally gets the hang of it. soon enough you were both huffing from the friction. the pink twinge from being out of breath started to arise on keigo's cheeks. "mommy..." he mewls, keeping himself steady with one hand while biting the other to keep him from crying out.

"there you go, baby, keep going," you say watching him throw his head back and pick up his pace. he hums as the bed begins to rock from him moving up and down your thigh. "fuck, mommy- help!" he cries, clearly unsatisfied with the work he was getting accomplished. "patience, keigo," you hum, cupping his chin, stroking it with your thumb and watching his flushed cheeks flare up even more as his frustration grew.

his wings flapped in disarray as he cried once more about not being able to feel enough. it was a slow climb but he began to finally feel it in his stomach. he groans and grunts as he winces at the friction.

"ah!" he shifts the hindering fabric of the skirt out of his way as he starts to rub up against your thigh harder. "oh shit, oh god!" his wings were beating now, his breathing becoming shallow and ragged. he continued to scale in pitch as his high had built up. he was clearly trying to hold onto it but he was not doing too hot.

he let out a loud cry as he came, his legs shuddering as he gripped onto your thigh to support him. his wings had spread out briefly before he had been left panting. the cum had leaked from the fabric seeping onto your thigh.

he wasn't as ruined as you wanted him to be. you were ready for him to only swear by the four walls where all this had taken place. you decided you didn't want to watch keigo come down from his high so you grabbed hold of his thighs once again.

"mistress what are you—" he tenses as your rubbed his sensitive cock against your thighs again. his lips form into an "o" before he was quick to follow up, whining as he complying to get himself off.

keigo's lips trembled as whimpers were caught up in his throat, purposely trying to muffle them. you were sure the he would so much louder than he was letting on. "look at you," you purr, watching him struggle, "so obedient... you really are my little bitch boy, huh, kei?"

you sent a smack to his ass making him squeak softly in return. you could feel his legs tensing as he grinds against you, pushing through the pleasure which vibrates through his lower half.

“ugh!” keigo groans, feeling the knot build up in his stomach. his breathing became caught in his throat as he craved more and more friction. “please- oh- please!” he gasped out as the high came once again and this time he came harder with a strangled moan tearing from his throat.

the blonde hums as he rides it out and you feel the cum dribble from your leg down to your sheets. you motion to take off his panties, discarding the ruined material. “hmm, are you going to fuck me, now,” he asks, the slight shifting of his member rubbing against your thigh making him shudder.

he was sweaty, covered in the mixture of his own juices. keigo looked so ready to sprawl out in front of you and take you in. “so desperate are we?” you sat up and gripped his hips once again. “a-again? it’s too sensitive...” he mewls, “it’s way too sensitive- ah!” he couldn’t do anything else but to comply, gripping onto your back as his ragged moans fell out of his mouth subconsciously.

tears started to prick at the corner of his eyes, resting his chin on your collarbone. he moved his hips unsteadily, every movement followed by his moaning. “i can’t do this!” he cries, feeling the skin rub against skin. he shook his head as his whole body started to twitch and his wings flapped vigorously.

you rubbed the sensitive areas of his wings, you knew how he twisted up and writhed under your touch. he was even louder than before. “mistress! mistress! i��m going to burst- fuck!” his whole body was racking up with moans as he came on you once again.

he felt like liquid in your hands, warping to every touch. little murmurs of him reciting, “so good,” filed your ears as you kissed his already abused neck.

you almost felt bad for what he was going to have to endure. “grind on my thigh again,” keigo’s eyes widened at your request, “my little bitch boy,” he seemed to love that nickname because he began to get at it.

endless whimpers seemed to come out of his mouth, he sounded so ruined and overwhelmed. keigo’s eyeliner was starting to run and smear, his hair was a mess, and drool was dripping from his lips. he barely could move on his own, his movement hitching as he failed to keep rhythm.

he seemed to pause at times to catch his breath, huffing and looking up at you with desperation. you gave in, taking charge of his hips and creating friction between you two once again at a steadier pace. his hands now abandoned your thigh, not being able to keep up with it. “god, you’re such a whore for me aren’t you!”

keigo could only moan in response, nodding frantically squeezing his eyes shut. he desperately tried to find something grab onto, leaning back to grab onto the sheets. “it’s too much! too much!” the blonde cries. you grin and take a hold of his jaw, “quit your crying,” he whimpers and obeys continuing to ride out with no complaint, “i’m coming!” he yelps, his voice hoarse and dry from the amount of vocalizing he had done.

“oh, god, look at him,” you thought. you held him as he shuddered. you had never pushed him this far to where every part of his body was responding to your loving touch.

you helped him stand up, his knees buckling from the instability. “this is not over, kei,” you say, grabbing a piece of cloth and tying it securely around his wrists in from of him. the way he looked at you so submissively and timidly sometimes, jesus....

“am i going to get the strap?” he voice cracking a little bit from how worn it got. his question was soon answered when he felt it brushing up against him.

you moved him down to lay on his chest. his flushed cock laying against his stomach. you picked up the back of his skirt and had his legs spread out for you as you prepped his hole. you ignored his whorish remark to just put it in raw, lubing up his hole. he gasps at the feeling of your fingers stretching him out, squirming under your touch.

“put it in already, kid, i—“ a slap came towards his ass, he shut himself up with a whimper. “listen, keigo, i’m in charge here. it’s mistress to you.” you growled and you peaked at his starry eyed look, feeling him clench a bit in response. “what a brat,” you slap his ass one more time before helping him back up to his feet.

you readied at his hole, leaning into him with your breath hitting his ear. “oh, shit,” he whines as he feels the tip start to enter him slowly. you made sure he felt every inch of the strap, “you like that, huh?” you started hum in you ear, switching the vibrating side that you had inside on.

keigo just nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out curses. his tied up hands were clawing at the cloth in attempt to relieve the pressure from the pleasure. you bottomed out inside of him, feeling the vibrating end graze over your g-spot making you moan softly with him.

you started to drag yourself in his walls which made hum. once you got the hang of things, you started thrusting faster, bringing your hands up under his shirt, tease his aroused nipples. his face twisted up in satisfaction with your actions. you kissed his atop collarbone, praising his body all the while, “you’re so incredibly pretty when you take the strap like this,” he eats up the compliment, an expression filled with euphoria.

you didn’t keep this up for long, soon enough, he was shaking at your thrusting. “hmm- fuck!” he whines, drawling out his moaning, “let me feel all of you, mommy! punish me for being the dirty little slut, i am!”

he collapses onto the sheets below him, not being able to keep upright any longer. you smack his ass, thrusting in deeper as he screams in pleasure. he manages to break the cloth binding from around his wrists and his hands immediately groped onto the sheets as you continued to fuck him over the side of the bed.

he was gone all that came out were moans and cries afterward as he came once again on the sheets.

you pulled out of him and flipped him over to his back, changing course and fucking him into the sheets. you were rough with it, his hips would definitely show bruising as you dug your nails into his sides. his the black skirt that was hugging around his waist was going to be stained with him all over it.

“it hurts so much but it feels so good, please, just choke me!” his request had shocked you, but you complied and wrapped your dominant hand around his neck, squeezing at the sides. he let out choked gasps and moans as his tongue lolls out of his mouth and his eyes roll back in his head at the overwhelming sense of bliss.

“oh fuck, baby! you’re my little bottom bitch, fuck!” you felt yourself coming at his blissed our expression, slowing down and pulling out and bottoming in him, hitting his prostate each time causing him to letting out a strangled cry through your choking.

“please, mommy, make me cum!” his breathing didn’t slow down as you tortured his prostate. he promptly came not being able to take the amount of rounds he had gone through and such intense love toward his body.

he looked up at you as you took your hand off his neck. “you treat me so well,” he panted as he received kisses to the jaw and around his face. his body was tiring out and he looked ready to settle and sleep. “you’re so precious, kei,” you say while helping him clean himself up, “i don’t know what i’d do without you,”

[givemeyourcrunchbars]

Sequestered

Fern x f!reader

If there are any warnings I need to add, please let me know :)

The weight of the crown on your head was too much to bear today. You gently set it down onto the grass, next to you in the shade of the giant oak trees above you.

If someone were to ask you what it's like to be a princess, you would say it's a curse. For the past 15 years you've been raised, your father was stern and barely paid any attention to you. Suffering from neglect, you slowly watched him become more and more corrupt with power, forcing the entire kingdom to stay within its walls. As far as the common people knew, the outside was a mysterious place not to be messed with.

That's what power does to people. To have all these abilities at your hands, is a great responsibility. But most rulers toss those away, like a bag of trash being disposed into the garbage can.

You sighed, gazing across to the opposite side of the clearing you were sitting in. You raised your head to look up at the sky. Oh, what I would do to have a different life...

The rustling of leaves caught your attention. You gasped, quickly backing away into the shelter of the trees. Dad can't catch me being here!

"Hey."

You froze as relief washed over you. It wasn't your father.

You weren't allowed to leave the kingdom. Finding loopholes wasn't easy, so you didn't know what you'd do if he found out.

Carefully, you stood up, squinting at the figure standing at the opposite end of the meadow. Slowly, they- or it- stepped into the sunlight. You recognized him from your past adventures. Fern the Human.

"Hi," you replied warily. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know," he said. "Just exploring." Fern wore the same expression he did normally, a blank set of eyes and his mouth set in a straight line.

You nodded, your eyes darting around the clearing, at anything but him. You rarely interacted with outsiders, especially since you weren't allowed outside of your kingdom. So you didn't know how to act. All your social skills started chipping away because you were forced to stay inside all the time. "Princess duties".

"I haven't seen you around here before," the grass boy remarked. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" I repeated. That was a good question. Every single decision I've had to make and every emotion I've had was decided for me. So much so, that I wasn't sure there was any "me" left.

"I'm Y/N," you replied. Fern tilted his head.

"Where are you from?"

"Um." You struggled to find the words. He couldn't know about the kingdom, or else you would find yourself kicked out. What was even the purpose of telling him? It could only end badly. His curiosity would get the better of him, driving him him to see the kingdom for himself. Would Fern even try to save us?

Even though you wanted to rescue your people badly, the thought of them roaming around aimlessly in the Land of Ooo scared you. They barely knew anything about the outside, and the only information they did know altered their perspective to think of it in a bad light. Besides, what could Fern do to help? He's just one person.

"It's none of your business," you ended up blurting out. "I have to go." Your father wanted you home for the evening anyway. For what, he didn't say.

You turned away before you could hear Fern's reply, dashing off into the dense forest.

Taking a deep breath, you began to form an image of a raven inside your mind. Shapeshifting was still something you weren't good at. You were supposed to follow a certain set of rules as a princess, one of which being that you couldn't shapeshift into your raven form in the presence of other people. It was seen as impolite.

Focus on shapeshifting! You commanded yourself. Finally, you were able to fly, ruffling your wings a bit. You missed being able to soar.

"Wait!" Fern's voice yelled from behind you, his footsteps trodding through the layers of leaves on the forest floor. You sighed, flapping up to the tree tops and taking off. A feeling of dread gradually grew in your chest, facing the reality that you had to go back to your secluded life, with people that ignored and misunderstood you.

As the dark green leaves of the forest zoomed by beneath your feet, you began to wonder whether you should've listened to what Fern had to say. Eh, it probably wasn't important.

Directing your thoughts back to your destination, you vowed to come back to your happy place as soon as possible. It helped clear your head. Hopefully, Fern won't be there next time. The idea of talking to people made you uncomfortable. The people that you've trusted in the past have all either broken your trust, or just didn't care about you at all.

There's a crown here in the bushes, Fern observed, lifting the heavy piece of gold. It was a big ring, with an arm extending upwards, holding a small, rugged black crystal. Interesting.

Turning it over in his hands, something strange caught his eye. A carving on the back of the crown. It was barely illegible, but Fern could make out one name. Y/N.

"Where is your crown?" The Raven King hissed angrily. "The suitors are already here!"

"I don't know, Dad!" You frantically racked your mind, trying to remember where you had left it. A princess' crown was a part of her, as a role model and a symbol. But this time, it represented worth.

"Why are you making me marry someone I don't even know anyway?" You hurriedly glanced at your father, brows furrowed. Your father had invited a group of suitors to compete for your hand in marriage. They desired only the princess' heart, but it wasn't true love, like what you dreamed of as a child. They just wanted land, wealth, and power. Marrying you was their key to a happy life. Without your label as a princess, they would have no opportunity at all.

"You know very well why!" Your father growled. "This is going to be beneficial for the kingdom! Don't you want me to prosper?"

You started walking down the spiraling staircase that lead to the main hallways, unable to stay calm any longer. "I want the people to prosper," you replied, sending a spine-chilling glare to your father behind you. Before he could respond, you stomped away, into the main hallway where a line of antsy suitors stood waiting.

You definitely have a thing for walking out on people.

"Heya, Fern!" A boy wearing a worn, dual-toned green backpack greeted Fern, holding open the door that had separated the two just moments before. "Jake just made some meatloaf! Want some? It has your favorite- I mean our favorite garnishes." Finn grinned.

"No thanks," Fern replied, distracted. His eyes wandered all around the giant treehouse that stood over him, almost menacingly. Despite what Fern wanted to think, there was something about it that made him uneasy. When he thought of the treehouse, he thought of Finn, which in turn caused him to obsess over the fact that he wasn't Finn. Then who was he?

"No probs." Finn sounded a little disappointed, but cheered up when Jake called out that the meatloaf was ready from somewhere inside the house.

"By the way, can I ask you something?" Fern asked, taking something out of his backpack, which tumbled to the ground, causing him to groan in frustration. Finn turned back to his grassy friend while taking a plate of food from the unseen Jake. "What's up?"

He gasped when he saw the golden crown gleaming in the sunlight. "That belongs to one of the princesses!" He picked it up and handed it back to Fern.

Fern nodded, stowing it in his backpack. "I found it in the forest near Tree Trunks' house. I think this girl dropped it," he said.

"Whahf girl?" Finn said, trying to chew meatloaf at the same time. "PB? Fire Princess? Slime P?"

"No." Fern shook his head. "I've never seen her before, and honestly," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "She was scared of me." He sounded frustrated, his voice trailing off.

"Dude-"

"Why doesn't anything ever work out?!" Fern said in anguish. He curled his fingers in and out of his palm, trying to release the tension trapped in his mind.

"Calm down, dude," Finn exclaimed. "I can help you find her, don't worry! I've never seen this crown before either, so we can go together." He placed a hand on Fern's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"No!" Fern protested. "I wanna do it myself," he said, softer. "Can you just tell me how to find her?"

Finn looked taken aback for a second at his grassy friend's outburst, but nodded regardless. "You can ask the Candy People and the other kingdoms, they probably know who owns that crown." He handed Fern a map of the Land of Ooo, sketched out on a yellowed piece of paper.

Saying their goodbyes, Finn left Fern on his solo quest to find the mysterious princess.

The long and chaotic day was finally over. You sank down to the floor, your back against the door to your room. You stared at the king-sized bed. I hate this. I hate everything.

After you left your father standing on the stairs, you had awkwardly walked into the main hall. But that must have been the last straw for your father, because he still didn't join you, even after five minutes. He ended up sending a replacement to accompany you after a long time of waiting. You wished that the suitors didn't keep glancing at the spot where your crown was supposed to sit while you stood with your hands clasped in front of you, staring at the doorway your father was going to follow you through.

I still have to get the crown back, you thought. Where did I leave it? The only place I would've lost it would be... Then you realized. The clearing! Of course! Oh no, I have to go there right now!

You raced over to the small window in your bedroom, peeking your head out. Seeing practically no one outside, you transformed into your raven form and hopped on the windowsill. Suddenly, an object was hurled at you from below. Looking down, you saw a small child chucking pieces of corn at you.

"Get out of there, you stupid crow!" He yelled. Close enough.

You carefully flapped your wings, flying high above the kingdom. As soon as you were out of reach, the child gave up trying to knock you out of the sky and returned to his home, resuming the quiet atmosphere the kingdom always held during evenings.

Night had almost fallen over Ooo when you finally arrived at your meadow. Landing in the spot where you had sat earlier that day, you turned back into a human and rummaged through the bushes for your long lost crown. As the minutes ticked by, you began to grow more frustrated. Where is it?! If I lose it forever, I'm done for.

"Huh?" You said out loud. Prying apart the branches of a blueberry bush, you found a few grass blades attached to the rough leaves, reminding you of Fern. You stood up. Why not just see if Fern had it? He wasn't the scavenger type, but something as mysterious as an unknown princess' crown was sure to fascinate him.

Ugh, the sun is setting. You sighed in defeat, vowing to visit Fern the next day to take back the circlet. Another day that's ending, another gloomy morning to look forward to. But this time, you had a mission to accomplish.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 12

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Let's bring this thing home! It's time for the conclusion of the essay series!

Conclusion With a stupidly long essay series behind us, it's time to look at what we've learned! Let's go back to Part 1 and review what we needed from Van Zieks's character development for a fully rounded redemption arc, shall we?

1) Present an antagonistic (possibly immoral) force who personifies Ryunosuke’s biggest personal obstacle/weakness, in this case racial prejudice. 2) Humanizing traits begin to show. OPTIONAL: A backstory to justify any immorality he has. 3) Over time, Barok has his realization and sees the error of his ways. 4) Barok atones for his immorality, not simply through apology but by taking decisive steps. 5) The cast around him acknowledges his efforts and forgives him.

And looking at the main game (plus additional dialogue), we have...

1) Antagonistic force:

Etc. etc. I have many of these. We can all agree that as an antagonistic force, he does his job quite well. CEO of Racism and White Privilege in the flesh. It works, since we as the audience get very frustrated and want to see him defeated.

2) Humanization:

Giving him an old friend to be a defendant was a brilliant move, really. Albert's reflection on the friendship and the person Van Zieks used to be really helped flesh him out and make him appear more like a human being with, y'know, emotions and weaknesses. The little snippets of dialogue in his office really help too. Presenting evidence can also lead to fun tidbits. All in all, considering how gruff and distant Van Zieks is, they really did their very best to humanize him. The writers were given very little to work with but they exploited every opportunity to come their way.

OPTIONAL backstory:

Again, I don't think we needed a tragic backstory to have a well-rounded, redeemable character. Still, it ties in very expertly to the game's plot and the motivations of quite a few other characters. The story of Klint van Zieks and his death isn't necessarily Barok van Zieks's backstory, it's the center of an intricate web which also holds Kazuma, Stronghart, Gregson, Jigoku, (S)Holmes, Mikotoba, Sithe, Drebber- I could go on. A LOT. So because of how very integrated it is into the main narrative's recurring themes and characters, I'll give it props for being relevant and well thought out. The bigger question is: Does it justify his immorality? Not entirely. I think the game could have gotten more out of this if they'd involved the other two exchange students in this tale just a bit more. They could have given more attention to how Jigoku's aggressive behavior in the trial impacted Van Zieks, and explained whether he might've suspected Mikotoba of sabotaging (S)Holmes's investigation. If the narrative had done that, all three Japanese people to come to London would have been ‘the bad guy’ in Van Zieks's eyes and it would have given more credence to his racial generalization. They could have also given more attention to how the people around him reacted to Genshin being the Professor, because I'm sure Stronghart and Gregson stoked the fire in terms of xenophobia. As it stands, there isn't really enough there to justify hatred of an entire race as opposed to just one person.

3) Realization/Redemption

We see him already start to realize the error of his ways around the end of 1-5, which is technically only about halfway into the full narrative. Unfortunately, thanks to 2-2 being played afterwards (but chronologically set before 1-5), any progress made in 1-5 can become invalidated in the player's eyes. Growth works best when it's done linear. Don't get me wrong, flashbacking to earlier times when a character is still more morally tainted can work well, but it needs to be executed properly. Barok's behavior in 2-2 is downright insulting towards the audience itself and therefore, it causes emotional friction when relaying the narrative endgoal of redemption. It also makes it extra jarring when we hit 2-3, and suddenly Van Zieks is meant to be relying on the protagonist's desire to expose the truth. How on earth can we as the audience trust that Van Zieks believes in Ryu's abilities when we just came fresh out of a case where this man actively sabotages Ryu's efforts?

Still, the line of redemption continues from 2-3 into 2-4 well enough. He admits that he was wrong- that his hatred was illogical and that he needs to change. This is the very definition of redemption. I need to stress once more this is not to be confused with atonement, which comes next.

4) Atonement

Here it is. It's not enough to simply acknowledge mistakes; one needs to work hard to fix them. Since Van Zieks is the defendant for two whole episodes, equaling roughly 20% of the full narrative and 67% of the time following his first true realization (chronologically), there isn't much that he can actively do to atone. Because remember, not only do these actions need to fit the situation he's currently in, they need to fit his personality. These two limitations ensure the atonement mostly takes the form of dialogue. Of apologies.

One might want to point out that he never apologizes specifically for his racism, but there's a reason for that. If you pay close attention, you'll notice that there isn't a single character who ever uses a word like “racism”, “xenophobia” or even “racial prejudice” in this game. It's for the same reason you'll never see an Ace Attorney character utter words like “alcoholism”, “drug abuse” or “depression”. These things may be implied very strongly, to the point where you'll know for certain a character is suffering from it, but it's never given these exact labels. It has to do with the tone of the game. In Great Ace Attorney's dialogue, Barok van Zieks is only ever described as holding “a deep hatred for Japanese”, which is then the only thing he could apologize for. And he does, so long as you aren't looking for a literal phrasing of “I apologize for my deep hatred of your people”.

Regardless, he can't take more active, decisive action until he's freed from prison and two scenes with Van Zieks later, the game has ended. He still manages to take two actions, though! The first is to publicize the truth of the Professor, taking the blame of the mass murders off Genshin's shoulders (and losing his own privilege in the process). The second is to take Kazuma under his wing as his disciple. I'm not certain there's anything else the narrative could have had him do. What is decisively missing, however, is the following:

5) Acknowledgment

The above aren't good examples of cast acknowledgment that Van Zieks is taking part in a redemption arc, rather, they're the best I could find. Characters are acknowledging that he's changing- that he's being kinder to them and they can get along with him now, but they're not acknowledging that he caused hurt in the first place. This, in my opinion, is the Great Ace Attorney's biggest narrative flaw. I've talked before about how Ryu's reaction to Van Zieks's racism is 'indirect communication', a typically Japanese manner of dealing with negativity. I've also talked about how Ryu is not in a position to speak up, as he's a literal minority who is there to represent his country in an official capacity and can’t afford to make enemies. However, characters like Susato and Kazuma are far more outspoken in their opinions, as is Soseki. The only one who ever calls Van Zieks out on his racism is the British judge, and even that is done very meekly. When an old crusty white guy is the one who condemns white privilege in a cast full of minorities, you've got a problem. The Japanese cast's refusal to acknowledge that Van Zieks's words were harmful is like Team Avatar telling Zuko that sure, he can join since he's a good guy now, but never once acknowledging that he burned down villages or betrayed everyone's trust in Ba Sing Se. There's something very vital missing, see? If indeed the cast had called Van Zieks out more actively on his harmful ways and how necessary it was for him to change, he in turn could have taken more atonement steps in response.

So, for the conclusion: Does Barok van Zieks tick all the necessary boxes for a complete redemption arc? Yes. In a very technical sense, all the requirements are there. But does that mean it's a successful arc? Not necessarily. The game has a few slip-ups, a few things not executed as well as they could have been. For that reason, whether the audience is satisfied with the arc is entirely up to them. Taking into consideration that they had to cram a whole lot of story into just two games- the second game in particular, I can acknowledge they did their very best with the limitations that were there.

And there we have it! That’s all I could think to say on the matter. I hope everyone who read this till the very end enjoyed it, maybe even learned a thing or two. I’m always open to questions, input and constructive criticism!

[pa-panda-heroes]

blue hour.

demon!au!dabi x reader nsfw; find the sequel here

Inspired (sorta) by this post. This was initially a 400 followers celebration fic but took so long I got to 500, plus it’s Halloween!! 🎃🎃🎃

i listened to Mothica’s song Blue Hour while i wrote this and honestly fell in love with it. hence the name! please go give her a listen!

Minors, go away. This content is not for you.

Warnings: brief description of kidnapping, tiny mentions of religion (nonspecified tho!) and human sacrifice, injury + blood mention, foul language, brief cremation, Dabi being horny (hehe), Dabi absolutely 100% not using magic on you nope, thigh fucking, orgasm denial, biting, dirty talk, degradation?, spanking, overstimulation, dumbification if you squint?

Words: 14k+

Summary: Kidnapped and held as an offering to an ominous demon, you thought your death was near. Soon enough you find your captor dead and the demon you were offered to becomes your savior. Dabi clearly has plans for you, but what are they? Or was everything just a dream?

Your heartbeat thrummed within your ears, sweat sweltering and becoming a thick layer on your skin all over, making the fabric of your clothes cling to it ever-so-uncomfortably. It felt like you were being smothered from head to toe in fabric. The cooled blood that began just above your temple and trickled all the way down your face and neck had dried by now, acting as a crusty reminder of the reason behind the throbbing in your head. Trees swayed in the chilly winds that passed, making the cool air even colder - yet here you were, sweating like there was no tomorrow. You were bound by the wrists and ankles to a musty wooden pole in a forest you’d never seen before, the sky dark yet bright for the blue moon. The stars looked so free, so beautiful, so serene tonight. Yet you didn’t feel it.

Your breathing was quick, panicked, and hurried to the extent that you’d take in more oxygen by breathing less. Your poor, puffy lip was numb from having been chewed on so much, to the point where you couldn’t remember whether you were a chronic lip biter or not; but you sure were, now. That is, until he gagged you by tying an old handkerchief around your face. You struggled against your scratchy, dry restraints so much, they began to dig into your skin and bleed, sending a trail of blood down your arms and a jolt of burning, throbbing, stinging pain through your nerves.

You were far from alone.  

The only other human body you knew of was the one who put you in the position you currently find yourself in after a night of dancing, booze, and sweat. The inebriation from the alcohol made you an easy target, you guessed. God damn it all.

The night began with your celebrating a friend’s birthday at a club, drinking, dancing, and making merry. You had regretted agreeing to go at first after having a long, agonizingly tiring day at work, which gave you the burning desire to wrap up after a bath and lay in bed until the next day when you’d have to get up again. But as the night progressed, you were glad you tagged along; after all, it was an unexpectedly nice release after a bad day.  

Now you were regretting it again.

If only you hadn’t gone to the club.  

If only hadn’t agreed even if begrudgingly to go.

If only you hadn’t left your apartment.  

You made the mistake of trying to find a bathroom on your own and ended up in an alleyway. The last thing you saw was a filthy dumpster before it all went black, and upon waking you found yourself bound in this horrifying forest.

Around you was a circular dirt clearing bordered with a solid line and filled with various marks made upon it, ones that you’d never seen before. They looked to be of a lost, long-dead language - the language your masked captor was evidently speaking as he sat on his knees with his hands in the air before a makeshift altar of a sort. There was some distance between him and the altar, probably about two meters, that being the same distance he sat from you as you watched in horror.  

He was going to kill you, but not before torturing you - or other things. For some hideous purposes that looked a lot to do with a demon or something. All because you were a virgin that just so happened to cross his path.

You tried making noises, tried screaming, but it made no difference. He wouldn’t stop his hideous chanting and no one could hear you anyway. The thick forest swallowed your every scream and the gag held back your every cry. More tears run down your cheeks at your predicament, your struggling against your binds only digging into and stinging your skin as piping hot blood continued to trail down your tender wrists and ankles. It felt like frostbite was setting in. Was it actually, or was it your nerves? 

A pillar of black smoke began to rise from the ground in front of your masked captor, who then bowed with his forehead to the ground. Your own heart was beating in your ears so quickly you thought it would explode any minute. If only it would - you wouldn’t have to endure this any longer. 

“What... the hell do you want?” you hear a voice boom, distorted in such a way that made it sound like it echoed a thousand times. “Filthy human.” 

“Your favor, my lord. I offer you this virgin.”

You try screaming again, your throat beginning to feel scratchy and dry. It almost felt like it was bleeding. Could it be bleeding? Your mind was almost a haze, now. 

You can see a form emerge from the ground where the black smoke stands, and you’re stunned and scared into total silence as you see the silhouette of two large wings and a pointed tail. Other than that, the silhouette appears mostly human. But it’s not.

“My favor, eh?” you hear the voice again. The silhouette swings his arm and with it vanishes the smoke, and the reality that this... thing isn’t human finally settles in your heart. His hair is black and spiky, there are pieces of what look to be burnt flesh under his minty eyes and the lower half of his face, bound to the unblemished skin by silvery staples that seemed to spit steam. Three dotted piercings adorned his nose, and plenty more his ears. His wings reminded you of a bird’s with feathers and all, and they were a flat charcoal in colour, albeit they seemed a little worse for wear and severely burnt. The demon’s horns poked out from each side of his forehead and curled around like that of a ram’s. He wore a dark, simple cloak.  

You almost wondered if he had goat hooves for feet.

He looks down on the human who summoned him, literally and figuratively, it seemed. His eyes narrow viciously at the man, before jolting to you - and you, honest to all that exists, feel what you can only think of as a bolt of lightning course through every nerve - no, cell - of your body before it feels like your heart stops beating. You can feel the blood coursing in your veins, and it’s ice-cold, all of this forcing you to tense every muscle you’re able. He looks away and you’re instantly back to normal, slouching in your restraints.  

“Is this asshole bothering you, little one?” the voice of what’s clearly a demon rings.

“I-I beg your pardon, m’lord Dabi?” 

“Shut your trap, moron.” Clusters of the brightest, bluest flames you’d ever seen erupt above each of the demon’s eyes and he leans downward to grab the man by his neck, before easily lifting him in the air as the human choked. “Y’know, back in the day, sacrifices in some cultures were an honor. It was seen as a gift, a way to serve ancient -  nonexistent, mind you -  gods. People vied to become a sacrificial lamb. I’m ancient, too, you know that.”

The human man stammers and stutters, trying to say something coherent but failing out of fear.  

Dabi lets the man rest his feet on the ground as he jerks your captor to look at you, and you want to just shrink into yourself. “What the fuck is that, huh? Do you see the fear in her eyes? The bruises covering her body? The blood seeping down her arms as she fights against that rope? Does that look like a willing sacrifice to you? Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think she is willing at all.”

You blink. What? How? Why?

“You piss me off.”

Dabi throws the masked man to the ground away from him, then raising his palm into the air and summoning flames to filter out of the ground. They swallow him hole, and whilst he’s screaming in agony and burning alive, the demon turns on his heel and saunters your way. “Well, this is quite a mess, eh, dear?” His eyebrows are pointed upward, almost as if the gentle tone behind his words is sincere, yet almost as if there is deviance behind them.

You can’t help but gulp at the look in his eyes. Smile and arch his brows as he might, he was still clearly a demon unfitting of your trust. Right? He was going to hurt you. Surely.

His hands reach up for your face and you shut your eyes tight and turn away.

Much to your surprise, fingers work away at the handkerchief splitting open your poor, stretched, and saliva-coated lips, and you nearly gasp at the relief of pressure on them, the ache in your cheeks quite apparent and downright agonizing. Not only that, but the corners of your mouth were rubbed raw, and you weren’t sure if there was saliva mixing with more saliva, or blood mixing with saliva at the site. Dabi drags a finger from the corner of your mouth up to your cheek to wipe away the tears staining your skin, and you have no strength to fight the shiver that runs up your spine as your eyes fall half-lidded.

“Fuck me, you’re lookin’ a bit worse for wear, little one,” you hear him coo. “Easy, babe. You’re alright. That ugly, scary man’s all gone.” He seems to chuckle at the irony, before a toothy smirk splits his lips. His teeth are sharp, certainly enough to puncture skin without much effort, and you shiver again.

You’re quickly relieved of your bounds, but with the little strength you have left, you’re not able to stand on your own and collapse into his chest, spent and sore. He’s warm. It’s... nice. Fuzzy. Cloudy. Soft. Where are you, again? What’s going on? Why is everything spinning?

Everything fades to black.

:·•·:

You groan and turn over in your bed, pulling the fluffy covers up closer to your head as your body ached. You were warm and settled in, nothing could make you leave the comforts of your bed, yet you knew you needed to. To explain the achy joints, you tried reminiscing the night before. You remembered that night. Parts of it, anyway. When you tried to remember the feeling of being bound or the blood trickling down your wrists, nothing came up. When you tried remembering the chanting of your captor - nothing. It seemed that any parts which could be deemed... unsavory were gone from your memory. You brought your wrists up and felt around them and-

Also gone were any wounds.

It was odd. You could remember it all happening, but at the same time, you couldn’t. Must’ve been some whacked out dream induced by the alcohol.

You had no want to, but you sat up in bed and reached over to your nightstand to switch he clock around so you could see it. It read about half an hour after midday, and you sighed. How long were you asleep? You picked up your phone from the nightstand and switched it on, your heart leaping into your throat at the amount of notifications. Texts, emails, calls, there were dozens upon dozens of them.

“How long was I asleep?!” you shriek.

“Enough to nearly get evicted.”

Your head jolts up so quickly you hear your neck crack, and you see the demon leaning against the wall in front of your bed. You can’t help but gasp and scoot away, your back banging against the headboard of your bed. It wasn’t a dream.

He waves his hand lazily. “But don’t worry, I got it covered. Congrats, you have free rent for life, now.” His wings, horns, and tail are all gone, and he almost looks human, save for the staples and scars. You guess he can’t change his appearance much. Perhaps he doesn’t want to.

The teeth showing off from his smirk look just as sharp as before, however.

Your eyes are drawn to the huggies piercing the cartilage of his ears. They’re as shiny and plentiful as you remember. Your heart rate spikes, and you begin to breathe heavily.

“That soreness is probably from you bein’ out so long, sweets,” he comments, arms crossed in front of his chest, his right ankle also crossed over his left. His voice is smooth and a clear attempt at comforting you - yet there’s something behind it.

“Th-thank you. For saving me, and... the rent... I guess.” You hoped he would leave if you thanked him. Why else would he stick around?

He only shrugs, though. “Sorry, little one, but you’re not special. That sacrifice wasn’t done right in the first place.”

‘Ouch!’

Ah, you remembered that, now. But you couldn’t remember his name.

“What’s your name?” you ask hesitantly. He’s obviously not going to kill you by now. Why would he stick around?

“Dabi.”

“That’s it?” You tilt your head. You were surprised at how... nonchalant you were beginning to feel about this. The longer he stood there, the more it felt normal.

“That’s it, dollface.”

:·•·:

He ended up not having goat hooves for feet.

You knew there was a catch to being saved by that demonic bastard.

Aside from the fact that he wouldn’t leave you alone, keeping a demon cooped up in your apartment wasn’t easy. It especially wasn’t easy when said demon was constantly on your heels, pressed right up against your back. Personal space was not in his vocabulary. Dabi was constantly up to something, and he loved to harass or scare your neighbors with his devilish form; it was just too easy. “What else have I got to do while you’re gone all day?” he’d say. “Gotta entertain myself, somehow, doll.”

Apparently, it had been a long time since someone had summoned him at all, let alone with an offering of some kind. He hadn’t seen the mortal realm in hundreds of years, and because you were offered to him, he decided to stick around you. You only agreed to it as long as he never left your apartment.

Well, technically. He wasn’t actually giving you a choice, he was going to stick around anyway. Dabi so loved giving innocent mortals the impression that they were in control when they never truly were. The demon practically got off on the idea of giving a helpless little thing like you a false sense of security.

Having him essentially stuck to your hip, you couldn’t let him cause any trouble with the human world, be it harmless pranks or downright murder; hence why you left a line of salt in front of every opening to your place one day, to keep him home. He was a curious demon, a sketchy one.

And a bit of a horny one, at that.

If the groping or peeking in on your showers wasn’t enough of a clue, the fact that he did everything else in his power to seduce you certainly was.

Demons don’t sleep. They’re immortal, they don’t need to. Yet, as you lay snuggled up in your bed at night, he always snuck in with you to poke and prod at you, the exchange usually ending with you kicking him out of bed - sometimes literally. Other times, he’d randomly lean into your ear and say the filthiest things you’d ever heard - and then some, obviously - to get a rise out of you, giving him the opportunity to tease you about unconsciously clenching your thighs, whether it was for friction or out of denial.

You were starting to think he was a damn incubus.

But no, he denied that. He looked almost insulted when you made the insinuation before explaining that incubi and succubi are one and the same, changing back and forth between male and female. First as a succubus, the demon collects... “seed,” and then transforms into an incubus to “plant” it. He could change his physical appearance if he so wished, but he never had much want or need to, save for hiding away or using his devilish form; nor could he procreate, he was so proud to tell you.

It seemed the fact that you were a virgin only spurred him on to seduce you. With Dabi being the vile and damned being that he is, you thought he wouldn’t give a damn (ha) if you consented or not at first. The thought was honestly horrifying. Yet not once had he forced you or went too far. It was “poor taste,” he once said, there being no fun in it. You wondered if his rule of consenting sacrifices played a part in his discipline.

And of course, Dabi would go on about how badly he, a demon, an unsavory being to say the least, wanted to be the one to take your virginity and “defile” you, “the pure, innocent treat that you are.”

Defile? Really?

And treat?

‘Pick better wording next time you sex-starved, pointy-tail-having, staple-wearing, horned son of a bitch,’ you thought sarcastically, shoving dishes into their proper places after having dried them. He’d left you alone for most of the day, talking to you and treating you like he was a normal human being. ‘Then, maybe I’d consider letting you get your dick wet.’

Would you, though?

Nah...

Right.

One of the plates was a little wet still, and managed to slip out of your hand and shatter on the counter in front of you. You yelped when a shard cut into your palm after you’d instinctively reached to catch the plate, failing miserably. “Dammit,” you mutter, holding your left hand up to inspect the cut. From the looks of it, no stitches were needed, but it still stung like hell.

You should’ve known better than to think he cooled his jets for the day, because in an instant he’s standing next to your left side and reaching for your wrist.

“It’s fine, just a tiny cut,” you mutter, quirking a brow as he seemingly glares at the wound. “I think I’ve got a first-aid kit somewhere... Have to keep it clean, at least.”

“Nah, don’t need it,” he mutters, before pulling your hand toward his mouth. His tongue slithers out from between his lips and drags along the cut in your palm, the wet appendage searing against your skin.

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation, and yet another soars when you see the hungry, predatory look in his eyes, which are fixed on your wound. You can’t help the gulp that sounds from your tight throat, or the yelp that fights out of your lips when his whole mouth latches onto the fatty part of your thumb where the cut is. Your knees begin to feel weak and your eyes fall half-lidded.

Dabi sucks on the flesh there, licking the wound occasionally as well. His eyes then flicker to yours, and they burn into you like no other ever has. You feel the heat of a blush trail up your neck and to your cheeks and ears, your heart thrumming in your chest and lips slowly falling open just a tad as he licks away at the opening in your skin.

“Ah-“

The demon pulls away with a pop from one final suck of your flesh, whilst a trail of his saliva - do demons have saliva?! - hung between your hand and his mouth. “See? Take a look.” He pushes your hand towards your view, and amidst the clear wetness on your skin, you see no wound at all.

Your mind flips back to the wounds you should have had from that night.

“Back then... did you... y’know...”

“Naah. There’s spells and the like for bigger stuff like that,” he explains nonchalantly with a shrug. He almost seems proud of himself with his next line. “Tiny paper cuts like this can be taken care of with good ol’ fashioned demon spit. It’s nice, huh?”

You deadpan at him. “No, it’s totally gross.”

Dabi chuckles at you, waving a hand as if to wave you off. “Admit it. Your virgin ass enjoyed it.” His words are crass, but you know he’s only teasing and they’re not meant to insult.

Yet it still riles you up.

That heat crawls up your neck again, and you huff at him. “Shut up!” you gripe, then turning away from him to at least try to clean up the dish shards. There was nothing wrong with being a virgin! A lot of people wait for the right person, or they just aren’t ready. People have their reasons, and there’s no shame in it! Just like there’s no shame in being the opposite. As long as it’s healthy, that’s all that matters!

“Jerk! You seem to forget whose apartment you’re squatting in!” you grumble, scooting the pieces of the plate you broke together - ever so gently - with a washcloth from the sink. “I could kick you out, y’know.” You forgot for a short moment that he managed to achieve free rent for life for you, but you told yourself it wouldn’t matter anyway. It was still your apartment, after all.

“Really, now?” The demon scoffs, then leaning against the counter and crossing his arms - clearly at you. “How would you go about that, little mouse?” His tone is unconvinced and sultry, the look on his face painted with doubt.

You avoided eye contact with him and perused the kitchen for a plastic bag before marching back to the mess of plate shards and trying to sweep them off the counter and into the bag. “I’d exorcise you,” you mutter. Finding a priest in this area would prove difficult, but you could manage to find one willing to travel. You could do it if needed.

Dabi only laughs you off, though. The sound is smooth and velvety, yet you’re left to describe it as littered with smoke and ecstasy. “C’mon, doll! That wouldn’t work,” he says finally. “Besides, we both know you don’t wanna do that. You like havin’ my sorry ass around too much, eh?”

“Ha! You’re right about you being a sorry ass,” you sass with a huff before tossing the bag into the waste-bin.

Oddly enough, while you’d never tell Dabi this and end up stroking his already massive ego, you felt safer with him around. It was hard to pinpoint why. Nothing had happened for him to be called to protect you; however, you lived in a less than savory part of town, which wasn’t entirely unbearable, but shit still happens. And you’ve already been abducted once, leading to your acquaintance with this horny (I’m more ways than one) asshole. Maybe it was because you knew part of what he can do, all that aside. Push comes to shove, he’d protect you, right?

That was a nice thought to have, if a bit naive, you thought.

He was a demon, not a guardian angel of some sort. He had no obligations to you.

Yet here he was, still living with you over a month after that awful night.

Your thoughts are completely swept away when you’re pushed by the hips against the counter with your back to it, your hands instinctively bracing the edge on each side of your hips for support. The demon’s face is immediately in front of yours, his breath easily filling your nostrils with an ashen smell. You see those horns of his again and have to fight the urge to reach up and grab one, maybe even give it a tug. He’d probably cremate you for it.

Could he hear your thoughts? Previous instances somewhat insinuated that he could, but he never admitted to it - or denied it.

Dabi was right. You don’t want to get rid of him. Especially not when he’s looking at you like that. There is an intensity in those half-lidded, fiery eyes of his that has never before been directed at you by anyone, and it leaves you wishing you could read his thoughts. Are his eyes merely looking at your own, or are they bearing into your soul, calculating and appraising it?

What you can tell is that it’s full of impatience and want. Greed. Lust. And so much of it all.

You tilt your chin down a bit and look up at him with a gulp quietly. You can’t think of anything to say, and tension builds within your chest as you search; you feel as if that silence ought to be filled, yet here you are, at a loss for words as you stare at your own reflection in his glossy eyes. On the other hand, he seems totally content letting you lie in it, letting you squirm for him as he smirks.

And so you look away, bringing your hands to your chest and holding them there bashfully. The sleeves of your sweater are soft and warm and plush - just how Dabi would describe you right now.

This maneuver of yours not being what he wanted, Dabi scowls a bit and grabs your chin to essentially force you to look at him, his thumb ghosting over the softness of your lower lip. He tilts his head at you almost curiously, perhaps evaluating your reaction as it’s been so long since he has seen or felt the mortal world. Those eyes narrow at you, though not out of ire. Dabi’s thumb pokes at the crevice between your lips, and the rest of his fingers on your jaw tug downward.

Confused, you comply anyway and part your lips for him, only for his thumb to invade your mouth and press hard on your tongue, coaxing you to gag and instinctively grasp both hands on his wrist. You attempt to pull it away, to relieve the pressure in your mouth, but he doesn’t want that.

Hell, in reality, neither do you. You just don’t feel like gagging and clouding your vision with tears.

Aw, you poor dear.

With a contemplative hum he pulls his appendage out of your mouth and holds it not far from your mouth, as if planning another venture into your wet cavern. You can’t help but stare at the string of saliva still connecting your lips and his hand as it glistens in the low lighting of your kitchenette.

“Open back up for me,” he huskily demands, but it’s not cruel and dictating, so you comply, entranced as if under a spell. But you know you’re not. This time, it’s his forefinger and middle finger that roam between your teeth, and as if he had told you to do so telepathically, you close your lips around them. With an innocent, doll-eyed look, you suck his fingers and lick at them with your tongue, earning yourself hushed praises and a searing trail of touches up your ribcage and back down. You continue to lick away, occasionally wrapping your tongue around his digits or cradling them as you suck on them, coating them in your saliva as some of it trails out one of the corners of your mouth. They feel cold, as if there was a lack of circulation, and it only spurs you on to warm them with the toasty cavern of your mouth and soft plushness of your tongue.

You’re sure you’re less than apt at this, but the praise and touch you’re receiving helps you feel less... off.

Dabi leans in for your ear, his hot breath against your cartilage sending a chill down your spine before his wet tongue laps at it, and you jump in your skin at the burning, completely unknown sensation. It’s so hot it almost stings, but it’s not painful; tingly, maybe. In the process you lean away to your left a bit, at which he seems to pause. But then you lean back as if to tell him to go on, and you can nearly hear the simper he gives just before he latches onto your ear, licking and nibbling away as you tremble and whimper around his fingers. The heat at your core throbs in tandem with your racing heartbeat, creating a melody of your arousal that you hoped only you could witness.

But you knew better than to doubt the senses of a demon.

“You’re doin’ good, doll,” he breathes into your ear, aggravating the sound of blood flushing through your ears and the thump of your heartbeat. “Such a good girl for me...”

The digits in your mouth get a little adventurous and explore your wet cavern a bit, but they’re quick to push down on your tongue again and you gag around them. Tears start to pool within your eyelids and your whimper is stuck in your throat.

The demon then unceremoniously pulls his fingers from your mouth to reach down at the hem of your sweater and yank it up over the swell of your chest, leaving your torso and bra-covered breasts bare. Dabi seems to drink up the sight of you as if it were a sweet wine he hadn’t indulged in for centuries. Both his hands then trail ghostly fingers - really, they felt like spiders - up your belly and to your sternum. You shiver and a mewl fights out of your throat unexpectedly, your back arching unintentionally toward him as you clutch onto his forearms. Dabi lets out a hot breath, just thereafter his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your bra as he grinds his pelvis against yours, the outline of his hardened cock clear as day against you. You don’t even try to fight back the moan it elicits as your head droops back at the stimulation.

Why bother, right?

The inhuman entity before you takes the opportunity to use your open mouth, his own latching into yours and tongue exploring your mouth in a battle for dominance you have absolutely no hope to win as he makes a mushy mess of you. You accidentally lacerate your tongue on the sharp point of one of Dabi’s teeth and flinch a bit, the sting on your tongue nearly coaxing you to pull away while the taste of iron floods your mouths. That tase you could certainly live without only encourages him, as Dabi growls and grips the base of your neck to hold your head in place as he quite metaphorically devours your tongue with his own, before his teeth latch onto your lower lip and you squeak in surprise as he pulls away.

“Aw, what’s’a matter, little mouse?” Dabi taunts, left palm dropping to rub against your clothed sex.

“Ah, Dabi-!” You jolt at the sudden stimulation on your clit and breathe in hard. Even if there are a couple layers keeping his bare hand from touching you, if feels damn good to have someone else touch you like this. Ripples of warmth flood through you and you feel your body temperature rocketing. Your own breath feels as though it’s on fire as it leaves your heavily salivated mouth and bloody lips in rabid succession, alongside your increasingly rapid heartbeat. Your grip on his firm arms tightens and you resist the urge to grind against him as he continues his ministrations. “Fuck...”  Your lips throbbed, yet you weren’t sure if it was from the tiny wounds he created or your blood pressure spiking.

“Hm?” The demon hums, inquisitive and high in pitch - yet maybe condescending. “‘Fuck,’ huh?” His grip on the back of your neck relaxes only slightly before his tongue pokes out of his mouth and drags along your lower lip, lapping away at the blood pooling there and drawing a slight whine from you. “What about it? You sayin’ you want me to fuck you, doll? Tell me.”

Blood rushes to your face like there was a race and your eyes wander from his bashfully, instead choosing to look at the horns cutting through his spiky black hair. He’s right, you do, you have to admit it. But admitting it out loud was embarrassing! With a gulp you elect to simply nod, but his brows furrow and he’s clearly unimpressed considering the animalistic growl that claws out of his throat.

“Hey, I’ve been locked away from you humans for so long, y’know,” he breathes, his voice dark and low. “I’m a bit behind on gestures. You have to tell me.” This time, you can tell by the almost playful tone of his voice that he’s really lying and just trying to make you admit it aloud. Dabi’s palm leaves you before moving up to the waistband of your jeans while his other hand snakes up your neck and latches onto a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, say it. Where’s all that spunk from earlier? You’re all bark and no bite, little one.”

“Y-yes, Dabi. I... I want you to fuck me.” You finally meet his eyes again, and the hunger in them from before hasn’t faded at all; it’s only deepened. What else has changed was the hunger and arousal in your own eyes.

That smirk appears again and Dabi leans into your ear. “You want me to fuck you,” he parrots, “do you? You want my demon cock to take your virginity and fill you up? You want me to fuck you against this counter until your voice gives out? You’re a slut after all, little one. Beg like one, then.”

Your thighs clench together and you gulp. This was... not how you fantasized your first time to carry out. “Demon cock” was not something you’d ever thought you would hear someone say.

But who cares? Not you.

“Yes, please. Please!” You tug at his jacket in an attempt to coax him toward you, your knuckles turning white from your grip. “Please, fuck me with your demon cock...” Your this time voice is less loud and demanding, albeit it’s more desperate and pleading. “Please.” Your voice breaks this time.

Nor was it something you thought you would ever say.

A groan rumbles from Dabi’s chest. “Good little human. Keep it up, yeah?”

You squeak as he roughly yanks your sweater over your head before working to unbutton your jeans, his lips and teeth savoring your neck all the while. Your head cranes back again, a mute gasp leaving you at the sensation of his searing tongue on your recently sweat-slicked neck as his fingers work to remove your bra before they move onto yanking your panties down. At least, you thought he yanked them down, but a quick glance to the floor revealed he ripped them off, rendering them unusable.

“I liked those!” you whine, still panting.

“Tough luck. I didn’t.” It’s not like you need to wear panties around him anyway. He’d burn every pair you owned to mere ashes if it meant getting you to waltz around your apartment with no panties. They just got in the way.

“Daabi! Why would you-

“Oh god!”

You jump and thrust against Dabi’s hand when his fingers run through the slick of your soaked cunt, your breathing ragged, while he gathers the slick abundant there and edges toward your clit. His tactic coaxes ripples of pleasure that lull a low moan out of you.

“Ha,” he scoffs in your ear, “no gods have anything to do with it, babydoll.”

Dabi’s fingers finally work their way to your clit and circle around it a few times before rubbing in a steady rhythm around it. You moan at the combination of the bliss he gives you and the pet name, and your legs instinctively open wider for him as you mewl.

“I’m really not sure you are a virgin, doll,” he starts with a chuckle, “You’re fuckin’ soaked, you know that? Like a slut begging for my dick.”

“D-Dabi!” You flinch at the sinful words he’s spitting at you, embarrassed.

The demon’s digits leave your clit and trail back through your folds, and the wet, lewd sounds that result almost surprise you more than the fact that you want to fuck a demon. You buck your hips in hopes of encouraging his fingers back to your clit, albeit his other hand distracts you with a flick to your nipple, before it rubs circles over the sensitive nub as the rest of his hand palms at your tit.

“Ah, feels so good,” you find yourself muttering.

In response his ear seems to twitch. “Speak up.” His lips are sucking and nipping at your neck, either ignoring or enjoying the layer of sweat built up on your skin as the heat coming from his body begins to overwhelm you. Not that you mind either way. He’s definitely leaving a mark here and there as he works around your neck. Not that you mind either way.

“Your fingers... ah, feel so good!” Your head cranes backward, your hands dropping to the counter against your ass for support as your legs begin to feel weak. The shockwaves of pleasure his hands send through your nerves leaves you feeling weak and mushy.

“Good. Now hold still.”

You give a confused look, eyebrows pointed upward before you feel the tip of his digit poke at your weeping hole, eliciting a loud gasp from you when his finger plunges into your pussy with no reserve. You hiss at the sudden intrusion, you walls stretching pleasurably yet painfully as he slowly moves his finger around, letting you adjust. His other hand merely plays with your breast.

Biting your lip, you lean forward and plant your sweaty, flushed forehead on his shoulder. “Hey, it kinda hurts,” you whine.

“Just relax, doll.” Dabi’s voice isn’t as crass as it was before, nor is it entirely soothing. You figure he just doesn’t have it in him to coddle you, being a demon and all that.

You whimper as Dabi ever so slowly thrusts his finger in and out, the mixture of pleasure and pain not at all what you’d expected. When his finger hits a spongy spot, you jolt and moan for him, and he takes the opportunity to take over your mouth again in a wet, hurried kiss with a groan. Dabi swallows any and all sounds that you make, and in the process you feel the hand on your tit move downward to your hip before it swings around and wraps under your thigh to lift your knee up to his hip level. The muscles of your legs tensing and the choked moan in your throat tell him the pain is starting to very slowly fade away. At the realization, he carefully dips another finger into you and you moan, higher in pitch, into his mouth before he pulls away to stare at the sight of his fingers fucking into you for only a short moment. Dabi is then quick to shove his tongue back into your salivating mouth.

The lithe digits within your wet walls pick up pace gradually, giving you time to adjust and not barreling into you. By now there is still a barely-there stretch, and all the pain has essentially faded as the assault on your nerves takes place and you near an orgasm. Your eyes lull shut and your head cranes back, your hips almost thrusting involuntarily on his fingers as his pace keeps increasing and pushing you over the edge.

“I’m- ah, I think I’m...”

Dabi hums as if requesting you repeat yourself or perhaps simply acknowledging your sputtering, but you’re too busy moaning louder and and thrusting into the palm of his hand, to do so, as the coil between your legs tightens. His fingers graze over that same spot as before and you cry out for him, for which his fingers increase their pace even more rapidly and slam into that spot over and over and over again as he groans at the lewd, wet squelching resulting.

“Shit! I’m gonna cum, Dabi, I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it. Cum for me, babydoll.” His voice is much more authoritative and huskier, and as per Dabi’s demand you cry out almost loud enough for your neighbors to hear as your orgasm slams into you like a tsunami of pleasure crashing into your nerves. Your soft, hot walls convulse around his fingers in your release as he uses them to fuck you through your first orgasm of the night, with your hips still thrusting toward him uncontrollably as you go through your high and begin to climb down, panting.

Your head feels light in the best way possible and your legs are weak, so you whine lowly as he pulls his fingers from your heat with a pleased sigh. The second your legs give out, he catches you by the ribs before grabbing your trembling hips and lifting you onto the counter, with you latching onto him and holding tight all the while, your forehead on his shoulder and arms around his neck while your legs wrap around his hips.

Dabi drags the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, sending a jolt of calming, electric waves up your spinal cord as he repeatedly kisses your hair and ear on the side accessible to him.

“Atta girl,” he mutters into your hair.

Do you... thank him? He’s giving you a compliment, after all, right? Do you nod? Do you hum? You have the energy to do all three, but what response does he expect of you?

“I didn’t... do anything,” you mutter quietly, chest rising and falling in quick succession.

“Technically. Doesn’t matter because you will, soon.” He leans into your ear like he’s so fond of doing, his lips grazing your earlobe. “We’re not done, doll.”

Your legs twitch around him unconsciously, eliciting a deep, amused chuckle from the demon.

You see pointed pearly whites bear at you before he lifts you off the countertop and plops you down in front of him. Dabi’s hand squeezes your ass cheek, said hand then spinning you around to put your back to his chest. Searing breath on the back of your ear makes it twitch. “You’re wet and all, doll, but I’m not sure you’re wet enough,” he taunts, his hands splaying out on your abdomen and gently roaming around, fingers spread wide as they adore your body.

“For what?” Dabi’s chest against your back prevents you from turning around and giving him a confused look.

“My cock. What else?” he jabs.

Your curt reply is totally cut off and forgotten when you feel a wet tongue singe the side of your neck toward the back, and you gasp shakily.

“What to do, what to do...?” you hear Dabi whisper into your now-pebbled skin, his hands ghosting down toward your thighs.

“Oh.”

Remaining silent yourself, you could feel the damn lightbulb light up in the bastard’s horned head, but you didn’t know what exactly would entail.

Before you can ask what the hell he was on about, his fingers drove between your glistening  folds and prod around, as if measuring the lewd slick settling there. They quickly pull away after a quick hum from Dabi.

“Be a good little human and bend over, yeah?”

Without a word or thought against it you comply, bending over your countertop and leaning on your elbows a little. You gulp at the thought of your leaking cunt bearing for Dabi. You weren’t sure what he could see from this position, but you were a little embarrassed, nonetheless. With a gulp you shift your weight back and forth on your feet nervously.

Hands rub and palm at your ass cheeks as thumbs rub deeply into your flesh in a symphony of soothing touch. You sigh blissfully and spread your legs for the demon without realizing, but it’s over all too quickly when he instead moves your legs back together. You crane your neck to look at him. “Wha...?”

Wasn’t he going to fuck you from behind?

Suddenly the weeping tip of his cock slips between your thighs, gliding against your dripping cunt and through your folds. There’s no piercing despite his many others, though perhaps that was why he asked you to take him to a parlor not long ago.

Dabi’s cock manages to grace your clit and your body unwillingly jolts a little, still having been sensitive from your previous orgasm. A soft gasp leaves your swollen lips and you hear Dabi growl behind you while he pulls back from your ass end only to jut forward again. Legs beginning to tire out, you unconsciously spread them, only for his hands to push them together roughly.

“Don’t fuckin’ spread ‘em,” he hissed, hips holding still. The fingers on your thighs push deep with force sure to leave bruises while you hiss quietly at the stinging pain they bring to your nerves. But that sensation is quick to fade into something warm and euphoric yet electric and sensitive, causing your head to spin even though he’s not fucking your desperate pussy. He pistons his hips into your ass, and you mewl.

“That’s your last warning, fuck!” he grunts.

You nod vigorously, content with letting him fuck your thighs so long as he keeps grazing your puffy clit like this. His pace quickens and soon enough you hear loud skin slapping against skin, his hips jutting into your ass and balls pattering against the crevice between the soft flesh of your thighs. The quick pace and silkiness of his cock against your clit is euphoric, leaving you to wonder if it would be better than this if he were inside of you. Are you drooling? Your head droops lazily as you revel in pleasure.

The wetness and heat between your legs has increased several-fold, but it’s apparently not enough for Dabi. Your poor body rocks against the counter and your eyes are clenched shut, head fixated on the sensation of his cock grinding against your cunt and between your soft, drenched thighs. You weren’t sure if it was the position or your nerves going haywire, but your legs ached with a dreadful burn.

“D-Daaabi,” you whine pitifully, “my legs... aah, hurt...!”

A hand jumps to your navel and brings you back toward him to allow room for his fingers slithering to your cunt. Before they graze over your clit, they stop. “Cum for me, then,” you hear him command, voice deep and breathy and sending a chill up your spine. “Maybe when you’re done, I’ll take you to the bed and fuck you into the mattress. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, doll?”

“Yes, b-but,” you suck in a breath when his hand envelops your tit, “‘maybe?’” You parrot the word desperately, your head going blank as you near orgasm.

“Mhm.” You can hear the smirk in it, and the sound of the hum rumbling in his chest is oddly euphoric for you to hear.

You hated having him behind you like this. All you wanted in the moment was to latch onto him and relish in his heat no matter how intense it would be for a mortal like you. You wanted to touch him, to be able to see him, and he was depriving you of it all - very likely on purpose.

Your moans and squeals get higher in pitch and Dabi evidently picks up on your cues, thrusting against your cunt faster and faster until your entire body tenses.

You cry out his name ever so quietly, yet before you can climax he pulls away and leaves you panting and weeping, a whine escaping your throat. “But you told me...!”

“Changed my mind.”

“You’re a jerk!” you half-gripe and half-whine, standing up to glare at him. “I was so... so close, you know! You better make it up to me!” You huff and puff from the intensity of almost cumming.

“You’re awful feisty when I’m not touching you,” he remarks cockily.

You’re going to regret saying what you said. At least, that’s what the look in his eyes tells you when he spins you around. It’s dark and already you shrink in front of him. The next thing you know, Dabi’s pushing you against the counter and mumbling something into you ear, that something being an incantation that sends a trickle of electricity though every nerve of your body. Suddenly you’re cumming hard as heavy waves of pleasure wrack your cunt clenching around nothing rapidly as whatever the demon used on you pushes you through your orgasm, your toes curling and lips shrieking, head falling back so fast it almost slammed into the cabinet if he hadn’t caught it. You don’t register that you had wrapped your arms around his waist until his hands grasp them as if holding you there.

“How’s that for makin’ it up to you, eh?”

With his voice pulling a moan out of you, your poor brain goes foggy and full and it spins within your skull as you pant away, your body feeling heavy. Dabi grabs hold of you and lifts you onto the countertop when it seems like your legs are going to give out. “Hey,” he mutters into your sweaty neck, “don’t tire out on me. I wanna fill that pussy up with my cum ‘til it’s dripping out.”

You feel heat rush from your heaving chest up your neck to your cheeks. “Stop... that! You pervert.”

Dabi chuckles at you. You weren’t prudish, you were inexperienced. “What? Stop what, hm?”

“Talking like... that.”

He only hums, though, and he’s not to comply with your request. “Ya know, if you weren’t a virgin, I’d take your ass, too. Or put you on your knees and shove my cock down your throat until you’re chokin’ on it. Fuck, you’d sound like an angel.” Dabi chuckles at his ironic comparison, seemingly proud of himself for it.

You shrink in front of him and shiver, the room feeling so cold. You glance at your bedroom door and he notices promptly.

“I’ll carry you, for a price.”

Your eyes flicker back to him and the simper he flashes you would’ve had you weak in the knees had you been standing.

“Like what, my soul?” It’s a slightly genuine, slightly snarky question.

“Your mouth.” Dabi waves a hand at your widened eyes. “Not tonight. Maybe next time. You won’t know up from down and I don’t feel like playing teacher more than I already am.”

The demon doesn’t wait for your snarky remark before he picks you up and lugs you to your bed. You let out a noise when he literally drops you onto the mattress, your form bouncing atop it before he pins you to the bed roughly, so quickly you get dizzy. He dips his hips between your legs and spreads them wide while his mouth delves into the crook of your sweat-coated neck to let him begin suckling and leaving stinging marks with sweet, little kisses peppered in between.

It seems he’s suddenly gone soft on you, but it won’t last, even if you don’t know it.

Your back arches against him, ready to finally feel his torrid body against yours so that you can relish in his warmth despite the fact that your body was soaked in sweat; you wanted so much more, you needed it. Your next moan is dealt without a care who can hear, and thereafter with you wrap your arms around his neck tightly. Dabi grabs your hips and squeezes the plump flesh before his hands roam down your thighs to your knees as he hikes your legs around his hips, with you far too eager not to comply.

“Dabi,” you breathe, and he hums with one of his hands still on your hip as the other supports his weight by your shoulder. “Kiss me. Please.” Your voice is desperate and needy, and you’re starting to think this is more than lust pushing you on.

Had he used another demonic spell on you?

When Dabi complies, his hips grind against you to allow his hardened cock to nudge the folds of your glistening pussy.

This time around, with his tongue prodding in your mouth at a slower, more passionate pace, you catch on and realize he has a tongue piercing. Your walls clench at the thought of what it would feel like licking stripes up and down your soaked cunt, wondering whether it would be cool to the touch or searing hot due to his body temperature.

Searing hot would be the answer, though you don’t know that as of now.

The demon grinds against you as he devours your mouth with his own, his weeping cock sliding through your your wet folds. On the other hand you’re careful not to cut your tongue on his teeth again, albeit he wouldn’t complain if you did; if anything he’d encourage it. Your hands splay on his hot back, and you wonder that if leaving them on his searing skin for too long will burn you. If it gave you the opportunity to roam your fingers over his muscles and caress the staples, goddamn would it be worth the burns. With a sigh into his mouth your hands move from his back to grab onto those horns you’d thought about, your grip gentle yet exploring as you try to focus on feeling the rough texture of them.

Dabi pulls away from you to pepper open-mouthed kisses among your jawline, growling all the while. “What’re you doing?” he brusquely asks between the wet gestures, and you croon. His voice was so rough and gravelly while the gestures were soft and... sweet. You almost dare to say it was heavenly.

“Just feelin’ ‘em, babydoll.”

You throw his pet name back at him purposefully, and the mockery elicits a dark chuckle from him. Ever so slowly, you were beginning to learn how to be more brazen. You were getting comfortable with him on this intimate level. You’d already been comfortable in some way with him living forcibly in your apartment for over a month, but not on this level, not like this.

The stapled hand on your leg disappears before it reappears in your hair and gives a pull - not a yank - to tilt your head back and further expose your neck. You expect him to ravage it with his mouth like earlier, but he stopped to admire his apparent handiwork. You can’t see the marks he’s left, albeit he’s apparently satisfied as he smirks.

“What’re you doing?” you mimic him playfully.

“Thinkin’ about how I want you, of course.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

In response, you huff at him.

“Let’s see,” he begins, moving closer to you, his breath fanning the lower half of your face as his eyes bore into your soul, “chest up against the wall, or on your hands and knees... hell, maybe just your knees...” He moves down so that his breath reaches just under your jaw, his eyes still staring intensely up at you while his hand slithers to your tit, rolling the hardened bud under his finger and you mewl. “...could always put you in a mating press and fuck you like a bitch in heat... I might even let you get on top, if you’re a good girl. Decisions, decisions, eh?”

“What,” you huff, “you mean, with all that whoring and harassing you did, you never thought this through?” You mirror his smirk with your own quirked brow while you rub the horns on his head, thoroughly enjoying their soft yet rippled texture.

“Oho, that’s the problem, doll. I’ve thought about it too much.” Dabi’s teeth put on a show for you to see from his widening smirk. Next thing you know, his fingers are pinching and tugging your nipple roughly for the first time and you keen under him from the shock before his wet mouth matches onto your other tit, tongue lulling over the bud. You mewl and flick your head back, chest heaving in your panting as you feel him suction onto your plump skin and suck away with a sopping, hot mouth, his low sigh into your skin blissful.

Your hands drop to his shoulders as a result of the distraction his mouth brings. Demonic saliva coats your tit and glistens in what little silvery moonlight filters through your blinds, all while you feel the pull of your leg over his right shoulder and prodding at your weeping heat with the tip of his cock.

“Ya know what?” he murmurs into your skin, “I wanna see these lovely tits of yours bounce.” With his other hand he guides the tip in and gives a moan at how warm and slick the entrance of your cunt is around him. And tight as hell, too. Of all the summons he could’ve answered, he answered the one that, unbeknownst to Dabi, lead to you, just on a whim. And fuck, if it wasn’t worth it.

You whine and writhe underneath him, needy as can be, as your entrance clenches around the head of his cock.

“Use your words, babydoll.”

You groan at him. “Just please hurry up and fuck me!”

“Your wish is my command...” Dabi’s voice is full of tease and mockery, which makes you want to bite his tongue.

Without any warning he sheaths his cock all the way into you as a groan escapes his throat, and you jolt at the sensation of suddenly being so goddamned full, your lustful gasp resonating off the walls of your bedroom. That one hard pump of his hips sends a wave up pleasure through your nervous system and the stretch of your tight walls leaves you wanting more. He’s much longer and thicker than his fingers, and you can’t help your cunt clenching around him like it does. The subconscious movement has Dabi groaning and panting out as you clench on his cock, and he still can’t help but relish in how fucking worth the wait you are.

That stretch of your cunt is back again, sweet and sinful as before. His cock brushes against all the right places, filling you up perfectly and having you drool for more.

Dabi holds still at least, though you can tell it won’t be for long.

“So goddamned tight,” he spits through his teeth against your neck, fighting the demanding of every cell in his body to fuck you like a rabid animal. Dabi’s hot breath fans over your neck, his teeth clenching as a result of your tightness around him.

His hips slowly start pushing and pulling to gently thrust his throbbing cock in and out of you, slowly letting you adjust before he can pick a normal pace.

...is what you thought he would do.

But nay, he begins with slow and agonizingly yet blissfully hard thrusts into your wet core, his grunts being drowned out by your wails and mewls as he slams into your sopping cunt. The lewd sounds of wet skin slapping slowly against skin and hot squelching mixes into it all, creating a melody of sin only you and Dabi share, that only the two of you can hear.

You were definitely going to hell, by now. But hey, good dick seemed worth the eternal damnation. Right?

With one particularly hard thrust, Dabi bites into the crook between your neck and shoulder, unexpectedly not breaking the skin, eliciting a cry from your parched throat and your eyes shut tight. The teeth latching onto your skin feel less sharp and more human, as he’s morphed them not to tear into your flesh and draw blood. He’d never hear the end of it for getting blood on your sheets, he knew that. Besides, if he wasn’t careful it would kill you.

He doesn’t want that happening again. Ugh. That was a godsforsaken mess - literally.

With every pounce of his hips, your tits bounce on your chest like he set out to do and he was sure to take in the sight of it all very well, having waited over a month for it. The smarting pang you felt earlier when his fingers fucked you is completely gone by now, leaving you to writhe and thrust your own hips from the overwhelming fucking of your senses.

“Dabi, Dabi!” you sob, your thoughts blending together until nothing but the demon inside of you remains in your consciousness. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders, drawing a thick, black liquid in the deep crescents, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Words, babydoll,” he breathes out, emphasizing the first word with a thrust. “C’mon, you know better.” He groans above you.

A yelp and another, higher in pitch slap of skin resonates within the room amidst the wet, sloppy ones and his grunts, but it doesn’t register that he’s slapped the underside of the thigh perched on his shoulder until you feel the pulsating sting that scatters through your leg. The yelp was apparently yours.

“Faster!” Your voice is devoured by a whiny tone and squeals that fight out of you, but it’s drowned out by the rhythm of his hips against yours.

Another slap hits your senses, and you cry out, tears flooding your eyelids. All you need is a little push.

“So fuckin’ demanding... Where are your manners, little mouse?” His lips are on your ear again, almost as if threateningly. “I’d be a little more... ngh...  polite if I were you.” The covers bunch and roll under your body when it’s slid back against them from the hardest thrust he’s graced you with yet, the process bringing a shriek out of you and shock as a result of his hitting that special spot after angling his hips just right and causing your poor head to spin. With Dabi then yanking you back to where you were with the hand on your thigh above the reddening cloud of flesh, you croon underneath him as he stops fucking your dripping wet heat altogether. You’re left to stare into his fiery blue eyes directly while hot breaths flood out of you in rapid succession. His nose almost touched yours, and the look in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Hate to break it to ya, but you’re at my mercy, doll. If I don’t want you to cum, you won’t.”

“Nonono, I’m sorry! Please! Please! I’m sorry!”

A cross between a hum and growl leaves his throat, and you shrink underneath him.

“‘Please,’ what?”

“Go faster, please!”

Dabi’s teeth are on your neck again when he picks up his thrusting into you, increasing in speed and fucking your sopping pussy like you had requested. With his hands on your hips, the demon mutters praises and moans into your neck and you sputter incoherent gibberish when you’re not gasping for air and squealing and bawling out from his almost inhuman, blissful pace. The leg wrapped around his waist clenches as hard as you’re physically able as he slams into you, and while your senses are being ravaged and brutalized, you hear faintly those wet squelching noises and the sounds of metal and wood creaking. You weren’t sure if the thrumming in your eardrums was your heartbeat or your headboard hitting the wall, but the thought of the latter rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Dabi angles his hips just right and smacks his cock into that oh-so-special spot within your soft cunt, and the jolt of pleasure and utter bliss that results brings you back to reality momentarily - yet still somehow throwing you out of your mind.

“Right there! Dabi! Oh, fuck!” You sob with a slur, your hands grasping and clawing at his back desperately. Incoherent garbling follows thereafter, and Dabi doesn’t even try to decipher it even if it is silk against his ears.

The fingers gripping onto your hips are so tightly embedded into your skin, Dabi’s sure they will leave round little bruises in their wake and he relishes in the idea, but the sting they bring you feels so damned good, you welcome it, too. The tension that builds within your cunt keeps building and building, your hot walls clenching around Dabi as you near carnal release. You’re close, so fucking close to the height of true bliss, your moans getting higher and higher in pitch as your back lifts off the mattress without you willing it. You feel that familiar tingle before-

It stops.

You sob at the utter emptiness and lack of release, your head spinning.

The ancient bastard denied you of your orgasm.

Chest heaving up and down in your panting, your wordless whine and protest at the emptiness you can feel is seemingly ignored by Dabi. The lack of warmth at your pulsating core is almost... cold. So cold.

“Wh-why...?” you whine.

The demon lets out a breathy groan. You can feel him dip his lips to your collarbone and smirk. “Just ‘cause.”

Quickly the demon sits back on his haunches and your arms droop off his shoulders. Dabi blinks at you with his hand holding your ankle to his shoulder, all the while staring you down with an intensity that has you feeling small, like an ant before an elephant. You’re so vulnerable and naked under his unwavering gaze, it’s nearly frightening. There’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. It’s soft but it’s predatory. He drinks in the sight of you leisurely.

You know damn good and well blood is rushing to your face, your hot breaths leaving you in weak puffs.

“Aren’t you precious?” you hear him remark with a toothy smirk. “Just for me. Right?”

You nod.

Demonically slitted eyes narrow at you darkly. “Say it, then,” he demands.

“Just...” you pant, “for you.”

Dabi’s hand pulls your ankle off him and puts your foot flat against the bedding next to his knee as he looks down at you. The moonlight striking the vibrant color of Dabi’s eyes is breathtaking, if your breath could be knocked out of your lungs further. It almost forced you to liken the sight with tinted ice, with icy waters off Iceland or perhaps glacier-dwelling seas of the Antarctic. And yet, you knew better.

The sight before Dabi was more than he’d expected, albeit just as sinful. Seeing you splashed out in bed, sweating and panting and dripping in your own essence just for him drove him wild. You were so adamant against fucking him, about retaining your innocence and saving it for the “right” person, in the beginning. And yet now, you let him do as he pleases and he didn’t doubt it would be the first time. He knew better.

“Get on your hands and knees, love.”

That was a first. “Love?” You like it more than the several others. It was smoky and gravelly and breathy all once.

Without your knowing your eyes soften and you grin the tiniest grin at the demon, knowing he won’t return the favor and be as gentle and sweet with you. He’s quick to quirk a brow at you, but you turn on your side to maneuver your body around and comply with Dabi’s command. Your breath has evened out by now, as you prop yourself on your elbows with your ass pointing out to Dabi, weeping cunt ready to be filled. It was embarrassing being on display like this again. You glance back at him with curious eyes, only to be met with silence and what felt like a dark presence. He’d gone cold on you.

You feel a hot hand on the nape of your neck and swear on whatever god you used to believe that your skin sizzled for a bit, while another lands on your left hip as his cock presses up against your folds and slithers through between your legs a couple times, gathering the slick of your essence - as if it needed to! - before he delves into your pussy once again. You croon in front of him, and the moan that comes out of Dabi has you clenching around his cock for the countless time. He mutters something untranslatable to you and pushes down on your nape, easing you face-first into the mattress. Your bedding was so soft and warm from your own body heat. Maybe it was leakage from the demon’s body temperature, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was a mix of both, intermingling like perfectly-cut pieces of a puzzle.

With a sharp moan, Dabi bottoms out in you, your mewls being swallowed by the bedding pressing against your cheek. You sigh into plush warmth, but the soft and gooeyness you feel is quickly torn away by a harsh snap of Dabi’s hips. Your gasp is cut through by a squeak from your throat, only urging him further as you already feel that coil tightening and readying to snap. You feel him shift a little against you, and you try to glance at him as much as you can before he begins thrusting into you again. That hard but slow pace makes its appearance for a short while, and hot damn is it heavenly. You moan and whine completely unabashedly. The walls of your apartment were thin and cheap, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

It was just an effect he had on you.

So what if your neighbors knew your were getting railed by a demonic being from ages past?

He certainly wanted them to know.

Dabi’s pace picks up again and you already feel the ripples of pleasure soaring through your body from your clenching cunt, your grip on the fabric underneath you tightening as you fight back the urge to bite into it. Even the lewd slaps of his hips against your ass are louder and quicker, and fuck aren’t they wetter. Dabi himself seems proud of this.

Your breathing quickens and your lungs almost burn like the hand on the back of your neck, your keening and sobbing getting higher in pitch and filled with rushed air. His thrusts only seem to get deeper and harder, if it were possible, and your eyes close shut tightly as your body trembles. Dabi adjusts his hips and continuously hits that oh-so-sweet spot that makes your head cloud over totally, his head falling back at the way your pussy hugs him tight.

“Dabi!” you sob. “Don’t stop, please!” Your wording is heavily slurred and slightly hushed from the impact of his fucking your nerves and your cheek being pushed into the bed, but you manage, nonetheless. You can’t fight back the drool that droops out the corner of your mouth.

The demon chuckles. Dabi could hear you say his name like that for a thousand years straight and it wouldn’t be enough. “S’pose you’ve been a good girl, babydoll. Go on, I’ll let you cum.”

The hand on your neck moves to your shoulder and soon enough, your chest and face are removed from the sheets, albeit you’re still on all fours as he fucks into you. Thereafter you feel the piping heat of his chest against your back, a crude reminder of the seven layers of arson Dabi’s capable. His hand holds you still while he continues to wrack your body with thrusts into your wet heat. You feel his fingers rub and circle your clit after a torrid hand snakes around your ribs and down your navel, and the pace of Dabi’s fingers is almost in beautiful tandem with his fucking as he hits that special spot over and over and over again. You can feel your essence flowing down the insides of your thighs like you thought wasn’t even possible, pussy dripping onto your bedding.

Ah, fuck.

With a lustful shriek, your spongy walls convulse around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, your vision going white as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body rocks back and forth, legs twitching and torso shuddering. It takes almost everything Dabi has not to cum then and there, his hiss and loud growl being evidence of that. You just feel so good, why wouldn’t he want to cum now? But no, that would be a treat for you later.

Your clutch on the bedding underneath is as tight as you’re fully capable, and your knuckles turn white while you revel in your own personal bliss, courtesy of whatever the hell Dabi is. The intensity of it all has your head spinning and body pulsating. Poor body beginning to come down from the fierce high, you wondered if Dabi would stop and let you bliss out - but nay; he continues to fuck you like an animal and abuse your clit while you cry it all out. You were drenched in sweat, your cheeks flooded with tears you didn’t know were there until now.

“Too much, too much,” you squeak quietly, so quiet you’re not even sure he could hear you. But maybe it was incoherent. Maybe you were babbling and drooling like a fucked out hole at this point. Was it getting overwhelming? Yes. Did it feel ungodly good? Fuck yes.

“You’re so fuckin’... wet, though,” he pants, before slowing down slightly. “I think you’re playing innocent. You like this, ah, don’t you?” Dabi groans as you continue to flutter, sensitively, around him. “You want me to fuck you stupid, to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, right?”

Dabi chuckles at your lack of response and continues to ram into your soaking heat with your cries and squeaks only urging him further. An attempt to glance at Dabi is mostly thwarted by the pace he’s taken on, or maybe it’s because everything’s spinning - or is it the tears flooding from your eyelids - you manage to meet his icy, slitted eyes once, which prompts him to poke kisses at your nape and behind your ear. You feel that familiar warmth in your entire pelvis, you cunt clenching down on his cock as the waves of pleasure intensify.

“Dabi, I- nnn, it’s too mu-much,” you whine. “Please.”

“Nah, you’re okay, babydoll,” he drawls cockily, voice gravelly and breathy enough to make you cum on command. “I think you’ve got a few more for me, don’t you? C’mon.” He makes a point to hit your g-spot harder than before after he’s done talking, and goddamn does it take the air out of your lungs. You choke on your own spit when you feel that piping hot hand patted against your asscheek repeatedly.

Your shriek and wet slopping fills the room as you cum yet again, albeit this time the pressure on your nerves feels different - smoother, warmer - and the tingle in your belly is intense as your scream feels like it claws at your throat until it bleeds. Your thighs are drenched in your juices, cunt twitching and clenching in the aftermath of your mind-splitting pleasure. You mumble and whimper as he finally slows down and gives you a sliver of mercy, both of his hands now holding you up by your hips when your torso slowly droops down like it was before. Dabi chuckles behind you quietly as he comes to a halt.

“You good, doll?”

He’s definitely not sincere.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you heave and pant, the fabric in your fingers wrinkling in their grasp.

“Oi, you can’t quit on me now,” he demands. “I haven’t cum yet and I gotta make you squirt again.”

Trying to get a whole, solid word out was a struggle as a result of your heavy breathing and the overstimulation. Your head was fuzzy and the room was spinning like a damn typhoon, and for a split moment you thought you’d fallen unconscious. What spills out is garbled nonsense.

The demon hums that inquisitive hum again, urging you to speak.

You lift your cheek off the bed slightly, as you’re able. “Will...”

You’re not sure why, but the thought of Dabi skipping off after taking your virginity so unceremoniously rang into your thoughts, giving you a sense of loneliness and anxiety. Why, though? Why now?

“Huh?” He leans in so close, his horn bobs off the side of your head when he arches over you to put an ear to your lips. “Try again, love. Go on.” He sounds quite intrigued, probably the most you’ve heard him.

“Will you... hah, leave... me?”

The grin against your neck is dark.

“Whaddya mean, little mouse?”

His voice was downright excited. You were worth the wait. How long had it been since he’d had a human so obedient, so innocent yet so easily corrupted? You were his, now - whether you liked it or not was irrelevant. But he knew you would. Dabi had grown on you far more than you’d ever admit, he knew that for a fact. You were clearly enjoying yourself now, anyway. And it didn’t take magic to do all of this, save for one here and there to coax you to enjoy yourself and to bring out subconscious feelings. Like right now. You felt these things, he just amplified them to an unbearable extent. Whoops. You poor thing.

“Don’t go.”

Eyes half-lidded and droopy, you turn your head to look back at the demon, only to be met with sharp teeth shown off in a naughty grin. You blink once and you could’ve sworn you saw an image of a black, smoky aura surrounding him.

“If you can handle me, dear.”

You nod against the bed slowly before trying to push your ass against him with what little stability you have. Even if his cock was still buried in you, without any movement you felt empty and... alone.

“I thought it was too much?” he quips, hand rubbing at your reddened ass cheek in a way you have to describe as soothing. It felt so silky and mellow. Yet you knew he was far from that. “Well? I thought you were bitchin’ out on me like the virgin you are.”

“In... insi... inside,” you sputter shyly, mental clarity not quite returning, albeit you manage enough to think of that at least. You want him to cum inside, to know what it feels like to be stuffed full of his cum, to feel his cock twitching inside after his release. “C-um.”

You never would’ve thought about that before you met him. Why would you feel this way?

“Aw, what is it?” The hum that results from his scarred throat is dark. “You want me to cum inside right now? I’m not sure you’ve earned that yet.” His voice is bastardly and maybe even a little teasing, and he sighs almost happily at your squirming. “Asking me to cum inside like that the first time you get fucked - such a whore. Have I fucked you stupid already, doll? Shame, I thought you’d hold out better than that.” Dabi clicked his tongue and shook his head, though you can’t see. “Broken so early. Guess there’s no point in me stickin’ around after all, huh?”

A noise sounds from the back of your throat in protest and nearly unbeknownst to you, drool slithers out the corner of your mouth. Dabi seems to ignore your noises as his hands adjust your hips, giving you enough friction to elicit a whine from your lips. You can’t register this at the moment, but Dabi was a victim to his own whims and could be a mix of soft and downright mean in the bedroom, and there’s no telling which will arise. Sometimes he’ll want skin against skin, tongue lashing against yours, fiery pleasure; sometimes he wants to insult you and lash his hand across your ass cheek, leaving bruises or drawing blood wherever he can.

“I was gonna make you convince me,” he breathes, slowly thrusting. “But considering you’re still conscious, I think that’s enough.” Dabi chuckles behind you. Well, you were only conscious as per his meddling. He was the one keeping your consciousness pulled to the surface, preventing you from letting go of reality and passing out. “You’re most welcome to cry and beg, though, babydoll.”

Hell, that list was half-checked off. Tears stained your cheeks and blurred your vision already, and the more he fucked into you, the more they fluttered out. Your lungs burned at this point, a searing heat cutting through your chest. Anything you try to say comes out incoherently, a sputtered and garbled mess, when it’s not a pitiful sob.

You push your hips back against him in an attempt to fuck yourself on his cock while Dabi fucks your puffy cunt, drawing a condescending chuckle from him. The jolt of overstimulation beckoned you to crawl away and relieve yourself of him, but the need to have him thrusting and cumming inside you overcame it. His release and what it would feel like to have his cum mixing with your juices and dripping out of you was all you could think about, as if entranced in a spell that bound your consciousness to that one thing. The rest of your thoughts were jumbled and incoherent even to you, the drool trickling out your mouth and the rolling of your eyes into the back of your head representative of that.

As Dabi watched your pussy envelop him, he couldn’t help but envision his name carved into your asscheeks with a sharpened claw of his. Ah, the squeals and squeaks that crawl out of you would be divine in the most sinful way possible, and the threads of blood that would trickle down your skin would taste head-spinningly beautiful. Maybe next time. Dabi’s jaw clenched at the throb of his cock within your sputtering, velvety walls, the tightness in his abdomen building. Just one more...

“Fuck, little one...!”

As the demon drags sharp claws up your thigh and asscheek, it leaves red ribbons in its wake and the squeeze of your cunt and pitiful squeal tells him well that you’re enjoying it far more than you ever thought you would.

“Such a good fucking human... good fuckin’ hole,” he grunts, voice strained. His hand plants on the middle of your back and pushes hard, bowing your poor back as his other hand keeps your hips up, his cock ramming into you at a faster pace. Dabi lets out a loud groan when he sees the blissed out, tear-stained, drool-covered face of yours before his thrusting loses rhythm and he suddenly feels your pussy flutter around him hard in orgasm again, soaking him in your slick again. Finally he allows himself to find the release you’d internally begged for, fucking into you at a less than rhythmic pace as his own mind begins to become overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Ah, shit. Fuck, fuck, motherfucking-!”

Dabi soon finds his teeth embedded into your flesh and gripping it hard enough to leave a bruise or even cut into the skin as his hips move entirely on their own against you. With a strained moan he cums, thick, warm ropes of cum painting your fluttering, sensitive, and overstimulated walls as you literally cry and sob underneath him, his hips still involuntarily thrusting into you as your cunt milks him for all he’s worth.

“Fucking hell,” he bites out, body relaxing against yours as he comes down from the high, yet he doesn’t pull out. “I missed this.” His voice is breathy and littered with pants against your neck. Dabi leaves a few wet kisses to it before leaning back and slowly pulling out with a groan, leaving you empty and dripping before him. He watches as his cum begins to trickle out but is quick to gather it with his fingers and push it roughly back into your pulsating cunt.

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

Your poor head spins and you don’t know up from down, so Dabi ushers you to lay down and before he knows it, you’re passed out asleep. Eh, he’ll consider aftercare next time maybe. With a yawn that’s more out of sudden boredom than it is exhaustion, Dabi lays down next to you and props his head up with his hand, leaning against his elbow as he watches you sleep peacefully, a complete contrast to a few mere minutes ago. With a smirk he wipes the tears off your cheeks. Those cheeks...

“I oughta answer sacrifices more often.”

[caught-in-the-filter]

Coming to Class

Summary: As soon as the semester ends, some mutual feelings are revealed, and mutual feeling ensues.

A/N: This started as a few messages written directly in the CSMM Discord chat and was only supposed to be a minific there to encourage other people to write Professor Killian fics.

I should've known better than to copy and paste them into a doc "just to save what I'd written," because I have as little restraint with writing these two doing each other as Killian usually has in my fics.

Anyway, shout-out to all the lovely people on said Discord, without whom I'd never write any of this, and thank you to @kmomof4​ for betaing this for me.

Rated: E; Words: 2432; AO3

——

The only thing hotter than the sweltering classroom with a long-broken air conditioner was the man handing out the last grades of the semester. An A graced the top right corner of Emma’s paper, “Very Good” written in his handwriting beneath it, and all she wanted was a nice F after class with the same praise spilling from his lips.

Emma took her time putting her books back into her bag for the last time as the other students hurriedly filed out of the room before she slowly approached him, not at all intimidated by the way he casually leaned back against his desk, his arms indecisive as to whether they wanted to cross in front of him or help support his weight.

“Professor Jones, I—” she started, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, an action which she knew he always watched.

“Have been waiting for this, for the semester to end?” He rocked forward onto his feet, and she became suddenly very aware of their proximity and privacy.

“I’d never want your class to end, professor,” she said quickly, hoping he knew she was anything but bored during his lectures, always captivated for a number of reasons.

“Oh?” He stepped forward, guiding her back toward the table behind her and smiling when she gasped as her legs bumped the edge. He lifted the end of the strand of hair she’d moved and twirled it around his finger. “But there’s so much I could teach you now that it’s over.” His face was impossibly close to hers, his breath searing her lips as they opened and hesitated. “Other, more enjoyable things. If you’d like.”

Desire flooded her, swirling through her mind and rushing right to her core.

“Yes, please,” she said weakly with a slight shift in her stance at the sudden dampness between her legs. “I’m always eager to learn new things.” Emma draped her arms over his shoulders and smirked with feigned confidence as she added, “Though I think you’ll find I’m already pretty well educated in this particular subject.”

“Then we’ll just have to put your knowledge to the test, love.”

Emma yelped as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto the table. He shushed her with his finger on her lips, advising her that the neighboring classrooms may not be so empty, but groaned himself as she sucked the tip into her mouth.

“Hush yourself, professor,” she teased, threading her fingers in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. Oh so innocently swinging her legs, she coaxed his apart and nudged the stiff, sensitive flesh between them with each outward stretch.

“Gods,” he gritted. Stilling her with his hands firmly gripping her waist, he pulled her forward, balancing her on the edge of the table with his knee between her legs. “Bloody minx, you’ll be the death of me,” he said as he eased down the zipper of her jeans. “These fucking tight things have teased me for far too long.” He slipped his hand beneath the denim, half expecting to find her bare beneath them, rubbing his fingers along the already wet strip of material covering his goal as she bucked into his hand. “You know exactly what you’re doing every time you bend further than necessary to reach for your bag, or you make a point to swagger past my desk and sway your fucking perfect ass as you walk out the door.”

“I th—fuck,” Emma panted as he moved her panties aside and sank two fingers inside her, “I think about that desk a lot, professor.” She clenched her fists in his hair and tugged as she threw her own head back on a poorly stifled moan before leaning forward and resting her forehead on his chest while she struggled to catch her breath as he continued to take it away. Her hands eventually released their hold on his dark locks and slipped lower, and she unbuttoned his shirt to expose more of his skin as she confessed, “I think about hiding beneath it and sucking you off while you teach.” Shoving the material off his shoulders, she caught a bead of his sweat with her tongue and licked a stripe up his neck before whispering into his ear as she cupped his erection through his trousers, “I think about you fucking me on top of it while everyone watches.”

“Fuck, Swan,” he growled, removing his hand from her despite her protesting whine and pressing it to her back as he tucked his other arm beneath her and carried her to the desk in question, her ankles locking behind his back until he lay her down on the wooden surface. “We’ve no audience, darling, but I can certainly make the other portion of your thought come to fruition.”

His thumbs hooked under the hem of her top and slid it up her body. His teeth dragged against her skin as he closely followed the material with his mouth until it lay atop the swell of her breasts. Emma’s eyes fluttered closed as he unclasped her bra and lifted it out of his way. He sealed his lips around her nipple as his hands passed over the expanse of her stomach and tugged her jeans down to her knees. As he coaxed her legs apart with his own, he lowered the zipper on his trousers and freed his stiff cock from its confines, giving it a few short strokes to sooth his own ache before his fingers returned to her dripping core.

“These,” he muttered against her soft flesh as he kneaded her breast and worked a mark into the side of the other, his other hand steadily pumping between her legs, “are perfect. You,” he said as his mouth wandered, expanding its area of exploration down to her navel and back up to her collarbone, “are perfect.”

Emma’s brow furrowed as she chased his hand with her hips, her jaw falling open loosely as she focused on the pleasure his fingers alone were giving her. If she’d opened her eyes, she would have seen his smile, soft and satisfied despite the burning desire flickering behind his gaze as he watched her react to his skilled touch.

“Every inch of you is delicious, Emma,” he mumbled into her skin, sending an eager shiver up her spine.

Another, stronger tremble coursed through her whole body as he curled his fingers inside her and found the spot that left her shaking in front of him, hitting it relentlessly as his tongue teased every other sensitive place he could find. He muffled her gasp with a kiss as his thumb rubbed her clit with gentle passes, pressing his smile to her lips as she squirmed beneath him, the peaks of her breasts brushing against his chest with every movement.

“I think you’re ready for me, love.”

His words barely registered with her, but when she arched into his hand, he slipped his fingers out of her and spread her entrance with them as he slowly replaced them with his cock, allowing her to adjust to his size as he filled her so completely and took her breath away.

“Gods, Emma,” he sighed, resting his forehead on hers for a moment as he began to move with gentle, languid thrusts. “So fucking tight.” As her arousal coated his cock, it became easier to move within her. He gripped her sides to steady her as she writhed and whimpered with every smooth slide. “I’ve wanted to feel you since the very first day of the semester,” he confessed, gradually increasing the pace as he snapped his hips with purpose. “Now that I finally can, I don’t know how I managed to restrain myself.” He licked a stripe up the side of her neck and pulled her earlobe between his teeth. 

“Why didn’t you?” Emma asked, panting through the question as she rocked to meet his thrusts, “Feel me then?” She scrambled for something to hold, trailing her fingertips along his arms before digging half moons into his flesh with her nails like the way his zipper bit into her skin each time he filled her. “I wanted it, too.”

“Bad form,” he sighed before kissing his way back to her breasts. “But as of today, you’re no longer my student.” He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t decide where he wanted his mouth to be. Dragging his teeth up the column of her throat, he continued, “Your grades have been submitted. You’re no longer under my care. There’s no line to cross now.” Tugging her bottom lip with a bite, he growled, “And I must say, I much prefer you under my body than under my wing.” Slanting his mouth against hers, his tongue plunged inside, making her dizzy as it thrust in time with his cock.

His mouth soon became too preoccupied to speak as the taste of her skin consumed him. Emma’s tongue swept across her bottom lip and retreated on a moan as her professor hungrily nipped and sucked at her pulse point. Her hand shot up to encourage him as his scruff teased the hollow of her throat, but the overwhelming combination of sensations as he fucked her had her head spinning, and the growing tension low in her belly as she arched her back made it difficult to take any sort of hold of him. Her thumb grazed his jaw as her nails gently scraped against the side of his neck before she reached down instead to grip the edge of the desk.

Emma brought one hand between them, needing just a little more and determined to have it, but his fingers met hers there to tend to her clit himself. He let her guide his hand, circling and rubbing and soothing with the pressure and rhythm she liked, and soon she let him take over alone as she leaned forward just enough to reach around him and slip her hands beneath his trousers to clutch at his ass.

“Please, professor,” she moaned and pulled him ever closer, locking her ankles behind his knees as she desperately clung to him, her jeans pulling taut around his legs.

“Tell me what you need, love,” he said softly, the echoing slap of his skin against hers louder than his voice.

“I need you to come, professor,” Emma panted, writhing in his arms. “I need you to come inside me and make me come with you.”

“Fuck,” he growled, slamming into her with purpose as his thumb continued its endless assault of her clit. “Emma, are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” she breathed, rocking faster. “I promise, please.”

“Gods, you’re amazing,” he sighed against her cheek. As her hands slid up his spine to dig her fingers into his shoulders, he lifted her off the desk and bounced her on his cock as he thrust upward to meet her. “Let go, darling,” he guided, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth before muffling her moans with a passionate kiss as she shuddered in his arms.

Emma held on tightly around his neck as her legs kicked out with a mind of their own and she suddenly lost their support, relying on him to keep her from falling as her orgasm overcame her. She couldn’t care less if any passersby in the hall got a show, should they decide to peek through the slats of the mostly-closed blinds in the interior windows. If she were being honest, the risk only made everything hotter.

“Come with me, professor,” she whispered pleadingly as she quaked in his embrace.

With a groan, he lay her back onto the desk again and squeezed her hips as her muscles squeezed his length, pounding into her with abandon. Emma was sure he’d bite a hole through his lip with the way his jaw clenched on it as he stopped himself from crying out. After one, two, three more deep thrusts, his hips stuttered to a halt and his cock pulsed inside her as he filled her with his warm release, her walls fluttering around him as she came down from her own high.

“That was—”

“Fucking hot?” Emma finished his sentence as they both breathed heavily. As her professor reluctantly stepped backward, Emma teasingly gripped his cock in her hand as it slipped from her core, drawing forth a hiss as she worked it and thumbed at the sensitive tip, feeling it already hardening again beneath her touch. “Though that was hardly a test of my knowledge. But I’m more than happy that you provided the answers for me this time.”

“This time?” He questioned, hesitating a moment before he caught her wrist and stilled her hand. He smirked in soft amusement as she practically pouted at him.

“What,” she asked, “are we really done after only one class?” Getting to her feet, Emma pulled up her panties followed by her jeans, catching their combined releases as it dripped onto the material. “Is this not a full course?” She guided his hand to her breast. “I was hoping for a whole new semester with you.”

He wrapped his other arm around her and lowered his hand to the curve of her ass, pulling her tightly against himself as he challenged, “Only that long, love?” His scruff brushed her cheek as he growled in her ear, “We’re far from finished with your lessons, darling, but my next class should be filing in soon. And as tempting as your other fantasy may be, I’d also like to keep my job.” After he helped her right her bra and smooth down her top, he tucked his fingers under her chin and brushed his thumb back and forth over her bottom lip as he continued, “But I will certainly enjoy assessing this pretty mouth of yours very soon.”

“Mmmm,” Emma smiled, cupping the back of his head and pulling him into a kiss, only parting from him when the sounds of footsteps and idle chatter echoed through the halls as they began to fill with students and faculty alike.

“Meet me in my office tonight,” he instructed quietly, quickly righting himself in his own trousers and buttoning his shirt before anyone could realize what they’d just done. “Special hours, just for you, and we’ll review for that oral exam, yeah?”

“I’ll be there,” Emma assured him, retrieving her backpack and stepping backward toward the door. “Thank you, Professor Jones.”

He gave her a nod as he returned to his place behind his desk, resting his palms on the surface.

“Miss Swan.”

——

A/N: Yes, I know what I've done by ending it there.

Yes, K has already told me I need to write more chapters of it.

No, I don't make any promises, but yes, I left it open on purpose just in case inspiration strikes again.

——

Tag list ❤️:

@anothersworld​ @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s @klynn-stormz @kmomof4  @laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert

[kuuderekweenfics]

Only Temporary

I really wanted to make Keigo nasty. Like, a real debaucherous fiend who could hardly give a hoot about you (pun intended). Instead he came out of my head ever the gentlemen and oh, so soft. 

Like a roll of double-ply toilet paper. (Kidding!)

 But I’m not mad about it.

Also, reader, in this fic, you’re a bit cold at the beginning. So if you can’t imagine yourself being stand-offish, this mayyyy not be for you. For those of you who read my first piece, I added a lil Easter egg in there. 

Hawks x Female Reader

Explicit Warning: Next stop, Orgasmville (18+)

1...

   2...

1...

   2...

1...

   2...

1...

   2...

1...

1...

1...

“baby, oh fuck...I’m gonna cum...”

An eye roll begins to form and you close your eyes to avoid confrontation. Not that he’s paying attention to anything other than his current orgasm anyway. Eyes clutched and nostrils flared. He looks constipated, you think. You choke down the impending laughter but can’t help the jerk your body makes, so you blanket it with a gaudy, dramatic moan to disguise your exposed apathy. 

He’s busy peeling off the condom as you turn over and reach for your phone, dragging a finger under your eye to wipe away any mascara that may flaked during the two minutes of intercourse. 

“Did I blow your mind?” He beckons for encouragement like a puppy beckons for attention. 

You decide to throw him a bone. A lazy smile flickers in place. “Extraordinary.”

Puppy wags his tail.

You leave his apartment 20 minutes later, after a quick rinse off and against his wishes, feigning a prior engagement that requires the upmost promptness. As you walk along the bustling city sidewalk, neon lights and advertisements flashing cinematic beauty queens, you remind yourself that this, that he, is only temporary. 

You met him at an overpriced cafe. You didn’t even remember his damn name. He was flustered, you could immediately tell by his stumbling speech. But you hadn’t been laid in over a year and needed to feel something other than your fingers or the purple silicone vibrator you kept tucked away in your nightstand drawer. Even if he was staler than the cup of coffee you purposely left behind. 

But all you ended up doing was counting the seconds between thrusts until it was finally over.

“At least the cobwebs have been swept,” you settle. You thought someone who had a hardening quirk would have more gusto. Apparently the hardness of his boner does very little for the duration of intercourse. Good to know. 

The chilled air nipped at you skin, leaving your cheeks and nose red with its kiss. In its wake was a residual sweetness, weak but more exigent the farther you walked. You made use of your quirk, a keen sense of smell, to locate where the comforting aroma came from. You face the bright patisserie, welcoming and quaint and almost entirely unoccupied. 

As you walk inside, you’re greeted by a young woman, her swollen belly covered by an apron. She’s attempting to grab a tart from the middle shelf of the display case, squatted with her hand pressed into her lower back as if it were the only thing keeping her from toppling over. 

“Do you need help?” You watch with pity.

She blinks at you and sighs, contemplating whether it was a good idea, or if it was even allowed, to ask for a customer’s assistance. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, she nods and lets out a breathy laugh. “Please. This baby makes it impossible for me to do much nowadays.”

She hands you a glove and the box that had three cakes sitting neatly atop parchment. “How far along are you?”

It’s a weak attempt of small talk. And you don’t really care to know. But it would be awkward carry on in silence. So you manage to sound curious all the same.

“33 weeks.”

You hand her the box, tart acquired, and mumble out a congratulations. She thanks you kindly, although her smile doesn’t entirely reach her eyes. She gives you a slice of strawberry shortcake, perched on the top shelf, as reward for your task, as well as a coin. 

“It’s for the gacha,” she points at the machine near the entrance. “I check each capsule to make sure there are no duds.”

You can’t possibly know what she means by that. You hold up the coin to her in thanks and grab your capsule before setting off. 

It’s an All Might charm. Throwing it in your pocket, you work on your slice of cake, grabbing it with your hand and taking a bite like it was a slice of pizza. You never understood the logic behind idolizing heroes. While they did save the world from certain demise, and you were very thankful you were not a slave to a demon lord, heroes are simply doing their job. Were you to idolize the teen who whips up your order at McDonaz for feeding you as well? Mouthful of strawberry and cream, you chuckle at the mental image.

Your vision blurs as you’re abruptly yanked out of your reverie. 

“What in the actual fuck?” You question angrily.

You turn to see a man, blue face partially covered for anonymity, holding the purse that is still slung to your shoulder.  You stare through mirthless eyes as he growls in frustration, obviously intending to make an easier escape. Cake in hand, you slap him hard enough to leave a stinging pain in your palm. He struggles to get the cream from out of his eyes as he dashes away.

You hear a laugh behind you. “I had all intentions of rescuing you, although it doesn’t look like you need much help.”

His arms are crossed and his yellow visor does little to hide his obvious amusement. 

“There are bigger evils to be thwarted. I can manage a failed pickpocket,” you respond, shifting your purse strap to sling across your body. “Shouldn’t you be, like, going after that guy?”

He blinks. “I already have.” 

Your hair is pushed forward as the crimson feather zips past you and nestles neatly back into his plush wings. The weight of his stare is immobilizing. You’ve been gawked at by men countless times. But his slitted pupils gleams with lascivious intent. 

You should look away. 

You should tell Hawks goodnight. 

You just let some rando fuck you only an hour ago.

Could you count that as a fuck?

That’s beside the point.

Only, you’re not sure what happened in the last ten minutes because now he’s pressed against you in your apartment hall, his lips latched onto yours as his stubble scrapes your chin. You want to put your hands on him anywhere and everywhere, feel the wiry muscles of his arm or test just how soft his wings are. But before you can so much as place a finger on him he seizes your wrists and holds them against the wall above your head, only to immediately trade them for your ass, hauling you up off the floor so that you can straddle him as your kiss deepens like the sea, your tongue sliding across his in waves. 

You give him directions to the bedroom through the sloppy, firm kisses, shrugging off your top and hearing it hit the floor behind you. You jerk your hips forward to feel his hard-on, your jeans adding a touch of friction that makes you moan softly into his mouth. 

He plops you on the bed, immediately tugging on the button of your pants.

But wait...

Perplexed, you ask, “When did you undress?” 

Hawks grins at you and, instead of a response, answers by flapping his wings. The cold air it pushes towards you elicits a shiver. He rips off your jeans and panties in one go, staring at your pussy as if it were his last, god-damned meal. He winds his arms around your thighs and pulls you forward, his hot breath making your cunt twitch. He licks you with fervor, pressing his tongue against your soft, wet flesh. The moan he releases covers you in goosebumps. As he narrows in on your clit, circling it with his tongue before sucking down, your breasts jerks up. The pleasure is palpable as he eats away at your needy pussy vehemently. He releases one leg and inserts a finger into you to test the waters, followed by a second to fill you a bit more, curling his fingers upward in search of the spot that is sure to drive you wild. And it doesn’t take long, because in record timing you’re feeling hot, so very fucking hot, and the pressure that has been building in your head begs for release. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck...me,” you drag out, snapping the rubber band that was holding your sanity in place. 

You come hard and loud. He chuckles as he lets you drift back down from your high, lapping away at your juices and then wiping what remains on his chin with his thumb. As he sits up he rubs his dick, hard and thick and begging for entry as precum drips from the tip. He strokes his cock against your lips, thick veins greeting your clit to reinvigorate your arousal. 

“Please,” you breathe out. It’s so unlike you to beg. You’re stubborn and proud, but in this instant, you would give anything for him to fuck you into oblivion, destroying your soppy cunt like he might destroy a menace. 

He grabs your waist and pulls you up, kissing you roughly before falling back, leaving you straddled on top of him. He runs his hands down your body, rubbing you clit haphazardly.

“Show me how much you want it,” he smirks.

You rub his arousal against your lips a few times to continue coating him with your overflowing juices. Then you lean forward, one hand behind you takes hold of his cock and guides him in. 

He’s big. Like “bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut while you tremble” big. You’re wetness did little for this intrusion, his cock scraping your walls as it inches in deep. But imagining his dick impaling you in quick succession leaves you breathless and wanting. You begin to move. Bobbing up and down, slowly at first, to get used to his girth. Adding the occasional swirl of your hips to get your pussy to cooperate and suck him up entirely. His eyes are on your cute face, red and focused, before he slides them down to watch where your bodies are conjoined. After a few minutes of pumping, your legs are beginning to tire, and try your best to keep the pace but hope for some intervention or a small reprieve. He must notice this, because he places his hands on your hips and pulls down, sheathing himself completely in one hard thrust. You cry out in ecstasy, throwing your head back as his fat cock punches into your cervix. 

You hear him grunt under you. “Shit. F-fuck. You’re clamping around me.”

He thrusts, grinding into your throbbing cunt mercilessly. You cant think, you can breathe, all you can focus is the swift piston that seem to send an electric shock into the pit of your chest. You rub your the bundle of nerves at the apex of your heat with abandon, sending another bolt through your body. He catches your eyes roll to the back of your head. Shit, shit, shit, right there, right there, right...

A scream that had been building up in your stomach explodes from your mouth as your entire body quakes above him, hands gripping onto the anchor that is his hard, muscular abdomen.

He gently places his arm on your lower back, maneuvering the both of you without pulling out. You’re not sure if it’s the residual effect of your last orgasm, but you feel almost weightless.

You wouldn’t find out until later that he had used his wings to reposition.

He lays you on the mattress, kissing your neck and trailing down until his mouth meets your breast. He begins moving again, sucking on your nipple and softly biting just enough to make you moan. His thrusts are calculated: deep and triggering, each one leaving you a drooling mess. 

He places his forearms on either side of your head, pressing a kiss to your ear.

“I need to fuck you hard,” he whispers.

All you can do is frantically nod before he starts speeding up, skin slapping skin. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, quick grunts echoing the creak of the springs in the bed beneath you. His dick pushes your organs up, up, up, as your body takes him in obediently, craving the taste. You mewl out quietly, biting your bottom lip and furrowing your brows.

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty.” 

You cant respond, you just focus on each relentless thrust driving you closer to the breaking point. He sits up, raising your hips to find a better angle. He rams into you, quick and powerful. His cock reduces your mind to mush each time he bottoms out. He is close, you know. Not because his fingers are now digging into the skin of your hips, or the sweat that gleams on his brow. But because you feel his dick twitch repeatedly in your gewy cunt. 

He plows into you erratically, filling you up so, very thoroughly. He grits his teeth with one final plunge, shooting his hot, sticky load into you. The feeling of his cum stuffing you to the brim feels almost comforting. You try, desperately, to hold in the sob threatening to escape you. You refuse to get emotional. 

Oh lord. Get a grip. You just met the man. You need to keep your cool. Because, just like the one before, regardless of your small, nagging desire, you know the cold truth of the matter. 

He’s only temporary.

Even if he has given you the best sex of your life.

Even as his shaky fingers detach from your hips as he releases a whistle. 

Even as he asks, “you doing okay?” with an open tenderness that surprises you. 

Even as he brings his hand to your face and wipes away the tear that manages to free itself despite your earnest resolve.

Even as you give him the most genuine smile you can offer.

“Extraordinary.”

[rpg-elf-girl]

Shadows House

I have a lot of thoughts surrounding this particular show, both good & bad.

Allow me to give a quick summary for anyone who hasn't seen/read it!

Shadows House is about 'a faceless family of nobles who all live within this giant manor, the Shadows House.

When a Shadow comes of age they receive a 'Living Doll' to both serve as their face and to clean the soot they emit from their bodies.

The most important rule of the living dolls is "don't fret over trivial matters"

A task which is difficult for the ever curious doll Emiliko.

Watch this tale unfold as Emiliko & her mistress Kate navigate this ever mysterious Manor together.'

For a fan of slow burn thrillers, horror, slice of life, supernatural & mystery series' this has been an absolute blast!

It's not quite the combination of genres you'd expect from a show, but it works really well here!

In fact I was so into the anime that this is actually the first show where I broke down and read the manga!

Unfortunately there's no official English release, but at least there are some people translating the series!

As much as I'd like to go on about the manga, this post is meant to be more so about the anime so I'll (try to) leave it at that.

Though i feel obligated to warn anime onlys I'll likely refer the manga a lot in a spoiler section latter in this post I'll try to be vague but I can't guarantee anything. For anyone worried about that I'll lable it do you can read on until then.

Everything from the animation to the music was amazing & completely fit the mood of the story! I remember a couple scenes where I actually teared up because of this!

The Ending theme is an absolute banger! I've listened to that on repeat ever since I first heard it! And the Opening is also great! It's cool for it to be an instrumental, stuff like that is pretty rare! I also heard the song in the op as a motif in the music throughout the show! It really sets the right mood in each scene it's in! It's amazing for getting into each episode!

In terms of adaptation almost everything from the beginning to the end of the Debut arc was done amazingly well!

Even with the stuff they cut it still holds true to the spirit of its source.

The main important part that was cut is something that could easily be introduced latter if they decide to go for a second season, so I'm not too mad about that.

However! Everything after the debut is a bit of a different story.

There was a lot I liked about the last couple episodes but there were some parts that were immersion breaking for me.

I've been being vague up until this point l, but I'm planning on going into spoiler territory for both the anime and manga after this. So I'll make a quick spoiler free summary of my thoughts before moving onto that.

I really really loved this show but in my opinion the last 3 episodes were the weakest of them all. They went anime only for the ending. I don't mind that on it's own, but it was rushed and the writing was sloppy at times.

Now I'm not telling you to not watch the show! Most of It's really really good, and I can still see people enjoying the parts I'm talking about if they want to give the anime a try. Overall I've fallen in love with this series and I could never recommend it enough.

If what I'm saying is giving you bad vibes the manga is available and doesn't have the issues I've mentioned. You can look for a translation online, it didn't take me long to find one so don't worry too much about that.

Also! if you're an anime only who's finished the series and want to know where to pick up the Manga I'd recommend at least skiming through the beginning. I know it might not be what you're looking for but there were a bunch of small scenes that either got cut or were merged for adaptation purposes that I think are super cute & give more context to different aspects of the setting. However! Pay close attention during the "night watchers part" something important got cut .

~~~Now for spoilers!!!!~~~

I don't want to make it sound like I'm some manga purist who hates the very thought of the slightest change from the source. I'm anime only for a lot of different shows and I've always despised it when that type of manga reader reared it's ugly head.

While I'll admit some changes did bother me I won't make a fuss about the smaller stuff.

With that said!

I hinted earlier in this post that I didn't have a big problem with Robe-same being cut. That was because without them there it does make for a more complete story if they only get one season to work with.

If there is another season they can easily be introduced latter on. Like maybe Emiliko & Shaun can meet them when the Debutant class reunion is going on before they talk on the roof (or right after that) I actually think that would be the perfect time to introduce them (other than the time they were supposed to appear, but I digress)

Louise teaming up & being friendly with Kate can be explained with some dialogue changes at the first Debutant Class Reunion. Louise can say she was just trying to show off or that she just wanted to get back at Edward and that she isn't interested in helping Kate with her problems. Things can then go on as they did in the manga.

Kates being reckless & telling everything to John can be explained by her being extremely panicked when Emiliko went missing, as long as there are some lines of dialogue adressing this it's fine. Though I do wish she tried to keep some stuff a secret but couldn't because Shaun tries to interfer because he's still brainwashed, or something along those lines. It felt a bit weird after she just told Emiliko to keep that stuff between them. Still that could be explained by how panicked she was.

There are other things, but I don't want to drag the post on too long. Most of the issues can be fixed with little changes here & there.

I never had a problem with the idea of them going in an anime only direction. I just want to have a good time with the show.

Unfortunately I can't 100% vouche for the direction the show went in. There were elements that I can't excuse, even viewing it as it's own entity instead of an adaptation.

My main complaint with it is how they handled the brainwashing of Ricky & Lou. They didn't say a word when the Debutants were talking badly about Edward & even went along with a plan to go against him. It makes absolutely no sense!

Shaun freaked out when John only suggested that he didn't have to be loyal to the house. These guys were flat out rebelling against an adult! It felt like Ricky & Lou didn't have a purpose & were just there to be there.

The whole point of the coffee is to influence shadows against doing stuff like this. It makes the coffee seem pointless and the adults seem dumb for relying on it to control the kids.

I haven't even brought up the fact that both of their brainwashings were broken by something as simple as a few kind words. It straight up contradicts the rules established by both the Anime and Manga.

This becomes very apparent when you consider all the trouble John & Kate went through to free Shaun & Emiliko.

This was my biggest complaint, but I have some other issues as well.

The next big one is how they handled Edward.

1. Why on earth would he even consider kidnapping Emiliko when he had complete control of the childrens wing? Before this point he was depicted as being a lot more crafty than this. He could easily have Kate monitored or something.

2. Why didn't he use his powers to stop them like what he did to Maryrose & Rosemary when they fought back being taken to the adults wing? He's already shown off his power at this point, why not?

3. Why did he reveal his soot powers at all!? Especially while using his face in front of the kids! The whole unification thing is one of the biggest secrets of the house for good reason! There's no way he wouldn't get in huge trouble for exposing it to children!

Here are some other related questions.

Why didn't Kate, Emiliko, & John react to Edward using soot powers? They shouldn't know about unification yet so why didn't they act shocked, or say anything about it?

Is Edward being banished even an option in the Shadows House? Wouldn't the third floor lords just dispose of him rather than risk letting him leave?

How did John even get a veiled dolls outfit? Louise had to use her powers to get Kate one & she left a long time ago.

I can't think of much else at the moment, but I think you get my point.

Please don't take this as me saying that I hate the show because of these episodes. Even if I consider them the weakest of the series I still found a lot of parts to be very enjoyable!

Like I thought it was adorable When Edward was attempting to interrogate Emiliko & she kept being her sunshine self pretending to eat & falling asleep.

Barbara getting to tell off Edward for breaking the rules was great!

I loved seeing Shaun hatch the plan to get Kate into the adults wing to save Emiliko.

Seeing John (attempt to) sneak around the adults wing had me rolling!

The ending scene of Shaun, Ricky, & Lou singing gave me the chills.

(Though I wonder how they'd handle Shaun & Emiliko being brainwashed again since they already used the scenes where they're freed)

Kate & Emilico being propelled by John back to the children's wing was absolutely amazing! I found Shaun & Ricky running over to catch them to be super sweet! (Not to mention the way that scene was animated was absolutely gorgeous!)

Getting hints to what was supposed to come after the debut was nice, at least the groundwork is there in case this gets a season 2!

To (try to) wrap this all up while there were a lot of things I loved and disliked about this show I still had a really fun time watching it!

I kinda hope there's a season two just to see if they can tidy up the mess that the last few episodes created.

Regardless of whether that happens or not I came out of this with a series I absolutely adore.

Heck I could make a whole other post about the manga. (Hopefully one that's less ranty)

Anyway! I won't take any more of your time.

I hope you all have a wonderful day/night! And I hope to see you in my next post!

(Sorry if this one was a bit of a mess!)

[alouispo]

nondescript

“Phil‌ ‌this‌ ‌really‌ ‌doesn’t‌ ‌seem‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌a‌ ‌good‌ ‌idea.”‌ ‌ ‌

“It’ll‌ ‌be‌ ‌fine,‌ ‌mate,‌ ‌just‌ ‌gotta‌ ‌not‌ ‌get‌ ‌caught‌ ‌and‌ ‌we’ll‌ ‌be‌ ‌good.”‌ ‌ ‌

Techno‌ ‌rolled‌ ‌his‌ ‌eyes,‌ ‌biting‌ ‌into‌ ‌an‌ ‌apple‌ ‌and‌ ‌leaning‌ ‌against‌ ‌the‌ ‌stone‌ ‌wall‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌Syndicate.‌ ‌He‌ ‌had‌ ‌warned‌ ‌Philza‌ ‌of‌ ‌what‌ ‌was‌ ‌going‌ ‌to‌ ‌happen‌ ‌if‌ ‌he‌ ‌attempted‌ ‌to‌ ‌experiment‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌table‌ ‌pieces,‌ ‌but‌ ‌for‌ ‌once‌, the elder man ‌wouldn’t‌ ‌listen‌ ‌to‌ ‌him.‌ ‌ ‌

Phil‌ ‌had‌ ‌always‌ ‌been‌ ‌someone ‌of‌ ‌knowledge,‌ ‌and‌ ‌the‌ ‌opportunity‌ ‌to‌ ‌find‌ ‌out‌ ‌more‌ ‌about‌ ‌the‌ ‌ancients‌ ‌was‌ ‌too‌ ‌good‌ ‌to‌ ‌pass‌ ‌up.‌ ‌The‌ ‌piglin‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌was‌ ‌sure‌ ‌that‌ ‌they‌ ‌were‌ ‌going‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌into‌ ‌some‌ ‌deep‌ ‌trouble‌ ‌with‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌XD.‌ ‌He‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌sure‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌foretold‌ ‌God‌ ‌of‌ ‌this‌ ‌server‌ ‌was‌ ‌actually‌ ‌real,‌ ‌but‌ ‌the‌ ‌stuff‌ ‌he‌ ‌learned‌ ‌from‌ ‌meeting‌ ‌Drista‌ ‌and‌ ‌her‌ ‌hold‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌members‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌SMP‌ ‌was‌ ‌enough‌ ‌to‌ ‌convince‌ ‌him‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌did‌ ‌exist.‌ ‌ ‌

Now‌ ‌that‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌thought‌ ‌about‌ ‌it,‌ ‌how‌ ‌did‌ ‌Drista‌ ‌manage‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌onto‌ ‌the‌ ‌server?‌ ‌He‌ ‌was‌ ‌sure‌ ‌that‌ ‌Tommy‌ ‌hadn’t‌ ‌summoned‌ ‌her‌ ‌or‌ ‌anything.‌ ‌The‌ ‌kid‌ ‌wasn’t‌ ‌smart‌ ‌enough‌ ‌for‌ ‌that.‌ ‌Had‌ ‌she‌ ‌just‌ ‌magically‌ ‌appeared‌ ‌at‌ ‌one‌ ‌point‌ ‌out‌ ‌of‌ ‌nowhere?‌ ‌ 

He‌ ‌frowned‌ ‌and‌ ‌shook‌ ‌his‌ ‌head.‌ ‌Not‌ ‌important‌ ‌to‌ ‌think‌ ‌about‌ ‌right‌ ‌now.‌

‌Technoblade‌ ‌watched‌ ‌as‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌examined‌ ‌the‌ ‌table,‌ ‌putting‌ ‌a‌ ‌bunch‌ ‌of‌ ‌items‌ ‌into‌ ‌the‌ ‌holes‌ ‌of‌ ‌what‌ ‌looked‌ ‌like‌ ‌sandstone‌ ‌blocks‌ ‌with‌ ‌green‌ ‌on‌ ‌it.‌ ‌He‌ ‌blinked‌ ‌as‌ ‌the‌ ‌blaze‌ ‌dust‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌placed‌ ‌into‌ ‌the‌ ‌whole‌ ‌evaporated‌ ‌the‌ ‌moment‌ ‌it‌ ‌touched‌ ‌the‌ ‌center.‌ ‌ ‌

“It’s‌ ‌so‌ ‌strange‌ ‌isn’t‌ ‌it‌ ‌Tech?‌ ‌I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌think‌ ‌in‌ ‌any‌ ‌of‌ ‌my‌ ‌long‌ ‌years‌ ‌of‌ ‌living‌ ‌have‌ ‌I‌ ‌ever‌ ‌seen‌ ‌anything‌ ‌like‌ ‌this,”‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌said,‌ ‌crossing‌ ‌his‌ ‌arms‌ ‌and‌ ‌slouching‌ ‌backward.‌ ‌

“I‌ ‌would‌ ‌say‌ ‌so.‌ ‌I’ve‌ ‌never‌ ‌seen‌ ‌anything‌ ‌like‌ ‌this‌ ‌either,”‌ ‌he‌ ‌replied,‌ ‌finishing‌ ‌his‌ ‌apple‌ ‌and‌ ‌going‌ ‌over‌ ‌to‌ ‌his‌ ‌oldest‌ ‌friend.‌ ‌“Cshat‌ ‌keeps‌ ‌saying‌ ‌that‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌some‌ ‌sort‌ ‌of‌ ‌portal,‌ ‌although‌ ‌I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌know‌ ‌what‌ ‌they‌ ‌mean‌ ‌by‌ ‌that.”‌ ‌

“It‌ ‌could‌ ‌be‌ ‌a‌ ‌portal,‌ ‌but‌ ‌we‌ ‌would‌ ‌need‌ ‌something‌ ‌to‌ ‌activate‌ ‌it‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌don’t‌ ‌think‌ ‌that‌ ‌we‌ ‌have‌ ‌anything.‌ ‌For‌ ‌all‌ ‌we‌ ‌know‌ ‌all‌ ‌the‌ ‌materials‌ ‌to‌ ‌activate‌ ‌it‌ ‌has‌ ‌disappeared‌ ‌along‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌ancients,”‌ ‌the‌ ‌formerly‌ ‌winged‌ ‌man‌ ‌paused,‌ ‌tapping‌ ‌his‌ ‌cheek‌ ‌lightly‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌thought.‌ ‌ ‌

“What‌ ‌are‌ ‌you‌ ‌thinking?”‌ ‌ ‌

“What‌ ‌if‌ ‌we‌ ‌tried‌ ‌something‌ ‌like‌ ‌pearls?”‌ ‌As‌ ‌if‌ ‌on‌ ‌cue,‌ ‌a‌ ‌rumble‌ ‌emanated‌ ‌from‌ ‌under‌ ‌the‌ ‌Syndicate‌ ‌room,‌ ‌making‌ ‌both‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌and‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌jump.‌ ‌They‌ ‌pulled‌ ‌out‌ ‌their‌ ‌weapons‌ ‌in‌ ‌sync,‌ ‌looking‌ ‌around‌ ‌frantically‌ ‌to‌ ‌find‌ ‌the‌ ‌source.‌ ‌ ‌

“I‌ ‌think‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌an‌ ‌earthquake!”‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌called,‌ ‌pointing‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌stone‌ ‌door.‌ ‌They‌ ‌were‌ ‌underground‌ ‌so‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌potentially‌ ‌more‌ ‌dangerous‌ ‌for‌ ‌them‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌caught‌ ‌by‌ ‌rubble.‌ ‌ ‌

Both‌ ‌hybrids‌ ‌ran‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌door,‌ ‌only‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌flung‌ ‌back‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌other‌ ‌edge‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌meeting‌ ‌room.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌groaned‌ ‌and‌ ‌grabbed‌ ‌his‌ ‌head,‌ ‌the‌ ‌voices‌ ‌starting‌ ‌to‌ ‌scream‌ ‌too‌ ‌many‌ ‌things‌ ‌at‌ ‌once.‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“Danger!‌ ‌Danger!‌ ‌Danger!”‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“Run!‌ ‌Get‌ ‌out‌ ‌of‌ ‌there!”‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“Blood‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌Blood‌ ‌God!”‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“It’s‌ ‌him!‌ ‌We’re‌ ‌screwed!”‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌

“Phil,‌ ‌what’s‌ ‌going‌ ‌on?”‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌questioned‌ ‌as‌ ‌the‌ ‌shaking‌ ‌stopped,‌ ‌giving‌ ‌the‌ ‌piglin‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌leisure‌ ‌way‌ ‌to‌ ‌stand‌ ‌and‌ ‌eye‌ ‌the‌ ‌culprit.‌ ‌He‌ ‌blinked‌ ‌at‌ ‌a‌ ‌similarly-looking‌ ‌mask‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌one‌ ‌that‌ ‌an‌ ‌old‌ ‌partner‌ ‌would‌ ‌wear,‌ ‌except‌ ‌it‌ ‌was‌ ‌sideways‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌symbol‌ ‌of‌ ‌“XD.”‌ ‌ ‌

‘There‌ ‌is‌ ‌no‌ ‌way‌ ‌that’s‌ ‌him,’‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌thought,‌ ‌trying‌ ‌subconsciously‌ ‌to‌ ‌drown‌ ‌out‌ ‌the‌ ‌voices‌ ‌in‌ ‌order‌ ‌to‌ ‌think‌ ‌straight.‌ ‌ ‌

“‌You‌ ‌aren’t‌ ‌supposed‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌doing‌ ‌that‌,”‌ ‌a‌ ‌voice‌ ‌he‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌recognize‌ ‌said,‌ ‌making‌ ‌him‌ ‌wince‌ ‌as‌ ‌Cshat‌ ‌started‌ ‌shouting‌ ‌at‌ ‌him‌ ‌incoherent‌ ‌phrases.‌ ‌The‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌glared‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌new‌ ‌being‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌widening‌ ‌when‌ ‌he‌ ‌realized‌ ‌the‌ ‌guy‌ ‌was‌ ‌floating.‌ ‌ ‌

“Heh?”‌ ‌he‌ ‌replied,‌ ‌tilting‌ ‌his‌ ‌head‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌side‌ ‌in‌ ‌confusion.‌ ‌ ‌

“Tech-‌ ‌Uh-‌ ‌A‌ ‌little‌ ‌help‌ ‌here‌ ‌mate?”‌ ‌he‌ ‌heard‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌call,‌ ‌making‌ ‌him‌ ‌realized‌ ‌that‌ ‌in‌ ‌fact,‌ ‌the‌ ‌new‌ ‌guy‌ ‌was‌ ‌holding‌ ‌Philza‌ ‌in‌ ‌his‌ ‌hand‌ ‌above‌ ‌the‌ ‌floor.‌ ‌

“‌THere‌ ‌are‌ ‌few‌ ‌rules‌ ‌that‌ ‌I‌ ‌enforce‌ ‌on‌ ‌this‌ ‌server‌,”‌ ‌The‌ ‌floating‌ ‌man‌ ‌said,‌ ‌going‌ ‌towards‌ ‌Technoblade‌ ‌while‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌struggled‌ ‌in‌ ‌his‌ ‌hands.‌ ‌ ‌

“‌No‌ ‌breeding‌ ‌the‌ ‌natural‌ ‌residents,‌ ‌No‌ ‌creating‌ ‌farms‌ ‌that‌ ‌can‌ ‌give‌ ‌you‌ ‌items‌ ‌without‌ ‌manual‌ ‌labor,‌ ‌and‌ ‌No‌ ‌messing‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌things‌ ‌that‌ ‌are‌ ‌from‌ ‌places‌ ‌like‌ ‌this.‌ ‌You‌ ‌have‌ ‌both‌ ‌broken‌ ‌one‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌rules‌ ‌that‌ ‌I‌ ‌have‌ ‌in‌ ‌place‌ ‌to‌ ‌keep‌ ‌the‌ ‌functionality‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌SMP‌,”‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌gripped‌ ‌his‌ ‌pickaxe‌ ‌and‌ ‌prepared‌ ‌to‌ ‌fight,‌ ‌trying‌ ‌to‌ ‌think‌ ‌of‌ ‌what‌ ‌to‌ ‌do‌ ‌in‌ ‌order‌ ‌to‌ ‌save‌ ‌his‌ ‌friend.‌ ‌ ‌

“Let‌ ‌me‌ ‌go‌ ‌you‌ ‌oversized,‌ ‌blanket-wearing‌ ‌piece‌ ‌of‌ ‌shit!”‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌shouted,‌ ‌kicking‌ ‌the‌ ‌man‌ ‌-if‌ ‌you‌ ‌could‌ ‌even‌ ‌say‌ ‌that-‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌side.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌winced;‌ ‌he‌ ‌knew‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌Angel‌ ‌packed‌ ‌a‌ ‌huge‌ ‌punch‌ ‌when‌ ‌it‌ ‌came‌ ‌to‌ ‌kicking.‌ ‌You‌ ‌could‌ ‌say‌ ‌it‌ ‌was‌ ‌from‌ ‌his‌ ‌bird‌ ‌genetics‌ ‌but‌ ‌still.‌ ‌ 

The‌ ‌God‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌even‌ ‌seem‌ ‌phased.‌ ‌Just‌ ‌annoyed.‌ ‌He‌ ‌scoffed‌ ‌and‌ ‌half-heartedly‌ ‌tossed‌ ‌the‌ ‌bird‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌piglin,‌ ‌both‌ ‌of‌ ‌them‌ ‌crashing‌ ‌into‌ ‌each‌ ‌other‌ ‌harsher‌ ‌than‌ ‌expected‌ ‌before‌ ‌falling.‌ ‌ ‌

Wait,‌ ‌falling?‌ ‌

Techno‌ ‌made‌ ‌a‌ ‌shout‌ ‌of‌ ‌confusion‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌suddenly‌ ‌enveloped‌ ‌in‌ ‌black,‌ ‌accidentally‌ ‌letting‌ ‌go‌ ‌of‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌as‌ ‌they‌ ‌fell‌ ‌at‌ ‌a‌ ‌faster‌ ‌than‌ ‌normal‌ ‌speed in the dark abyss.‌ ‌How‌ ‌were‌ ‌they‌ ‌even‌ ‌falling‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌first‌ ‌place?‌ ‌Wait,‌ ‌of‌ ‌course.‌ ‌They‌ ‌were‌ ‌facing‌ ‌what‌ ‌appeared‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌XD.‌ ‌Practically‌ ‌the‌ ‌God‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌SMP.‌ ‌It‌ ‌was‌ ‌called‌ ‌the‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌SMP‌ ‌for‌ ‌a‌ ‌reason.‌ ‌ ‌

He‌ ‌whipped‌ ‌his‌ ‌head‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌right‌ ‌of‌ ‌him,‌ ‌sensing‌ ‌the‌ ‌God’s‌ ‌presence‌ ‌once‌ ‌again.‌ ‌Instinctually,‌ ‌he‌ ‌reached‌ ‌out‌ ‌to‌ ‌Phil,‌ ‌grabbing‌ ‌the‌ ‌man’s‌ ‌sleeve‌ ‌in‌ ‌case‌ ‌he‌ ‌got‌ ‌grabbed‌ ‌again.‌ ‌ ‌

“‌You‌ ‌are‌ ‌now‌ ‌banished‌ ‌from‌ ‌the‌ ‌SMP‌ ‌temporarily,‌ ‌as‌ ‌punishment‌ ‌for‌ ‌breaking‌ ‌the‌ ‌rules‌ ‌that‌ ‌you‌ ‌are‌ ‌very‌ ‌aware‌ ‌of‌,”‌ ‌the‌ ‌God‌ ‌floated‌ ‌next‌ ‌to‌ ‌them‌ ‌leisurely,‌ ‌not‌ ‌affected‌ ‌at‌ ‌all‌ ‌by‌ ‌the‌ ‌massive‌ ‌wind‌ ‌pushing‌ ‌past‌ ‌them.‌ ‌ ‌

“‌You’re‌ ‌welcome‌ ‌to‌ ‌come‌ ‌back‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌SMP,‌ ‌that‌ ‌is,‌ ‌if‌ ‌you‌ ‌find‌ ‌a‌ ‌way‌ ‌to‌ ‌get‌ ‌back‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌first‌ ‌place‌,”‌ ‌Before‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌could‌ ‌even‌ ‌comprehend‌ ‌what‌ ‌that‌ ‌meant,‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌suddenly‌ ‌flashed‌ ‌with‌ ‌a‌ ‌bright‌ ‌light‌ ‌and‌ ‌a‌ ‌blue‌ ‌sky.‌ ‌ 

“Shit,‌ ‌shit,‌ ‌shit,‌ ‌shit,‌ ‌shit!”‌ ‌he‌ ‌heard‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌shout,‌ ‌although‌ ‌just‌ ‌barely‌ ‌since‌ ‌the‌ ‌wind‌ ‌was‌ ‌whistling‌ ‌past‌ ‌his‌ ‌ears‌ ‌too‌ ‌loudly‌ ‌to‌ ‌understand‌ ‌anything‌ ‌else‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌said.‌ ‌ ‌

Red‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌looked‌ ‌behind‌ ‌him,‌ ‌towards‌ ‌the‌ ‌rapidly‌ ‌approaching‌ ‌floor.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌winced‌ ‌as‌ ‌they‌ ‌burst‌ ‌through‌ ‌the‌ ‌clouds,‌ ‌grabbing‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌and‌ ‌pulling‌ ‌him‌ ‌closer‌ ‌as‌ ‌to‌ ‌shield‌ ‌him‌ ‌from‌ ‌the‌ ‌impending‌ ‌crash‌ ‌they‌ ‌were‌ ‌about‌ ‌to‌ ‌endure.‌ ‌He‌ ‌watched‌ ‌as‌ ‌Philza‌ ‌searched‌ ‌through‌ ‌his‌ ‌inventory,‌ ‌looking‌ ‌to‌ ‌find‌ ‌a‌ ‌water‌ ‌bucket‌ ‌or‌ ‌a‌ ‌boat‌ ‌that‌ ‌they‌ ‌could‌ ‌use‌ ‌to‌ ‌ease‌ ‌the‌ ‌fall.‌ ‌ ‌

They‌ ‌would‌ ‌surely‌ ‌die‌ ‌if‌ ‌they‌ ‌hit‌ ‌the‌ ‌ground‌ ‌from‌ ‌that‌ ‌height‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌air.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌would‌ ‌be‌ ‌fine‌ ‌since‌ ‌he‌ ‌had‌ ‌extra‌ ‌lives‌ ‌to‌ ‌spare,‌ ‌but‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌wouldn’t.‌ ‌He‌ ‌was‌ ‌certain‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌older‌ ‌man‌ ‌had‌ ‌something‌ ‌called‌ ‌Hardcore,‌ ‌which‌ ‌meant‌ ‌that‌ ‌he‌ ‌was‌ ‌only‌ ‌born‌ ‌with‌ ‌one‌ ‌life‌ ‌and‌ ‌after‌ ‌he‌ ‌lost‌ ‌it,‌ ‌that‌ ‌was‌ ‌the‌ ‌end.‌ ‌ ‌

“I‌ ‌can’t‌ ‌find‌ ‌a‌ ‌water‌ ‌bucket!”‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌shouted,‌ ‌closing‌ ‌his‌ ‌inventory‌ ‌and‌ ‌involuntarily‌ ‌flaring‌ ‌out‌ ‌his‌ ‌wings.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌couldn’t‌ ‌help‌ ‌but‌ ‌feel‌ ‌bad‌ ‌every‌ ‌time‌ ‌he‌ ‌looked‌ ‌at‌ ‌them,‌ ‌remembering‌ ‌how‌ ‌nice‌ ‌they‌ ‌used‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌before‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌joined‌ ‌the‌ ‌Dream‌ ‌SMP.‌ ‌

“Techno‌ ‌you‌ ‌have‌ ‌to‌ ‌check‌ ‌your‌ ‌stuff‌ ‌for‌ ‌it!”‌ ‌He‌ ‌shouted,‌ ‌gripping‌ ‌onto‌ ‌the‌ ‌piglins‌ ‌cape.‌ ‌ ‌

 ‌Muttering‌ ‌swears‌ ‌under‌ ‌his‌ ‌breath,‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌released‌ ‌one‌ ‌hand‌ ‌off‌ ‌of‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌and‌ ‌looked‌ ‌through‌ ‌his‌ ‌inventory,‌ ‌immediately‌ ‌finding‌ ‌a‌ ‌water‌ ‌bucket‌ ‌and‌ ‌tossing‌ ‌it‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌bird‌ ‌hybrid.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌was‌ ‌admittedly‌ ‌not‌ ‌as‌ ‌good‌ ‌at‌ ‌clutches‌ ‌as‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌was,‌ ‌mainly‌ ‌because‌ ‌of‌ ‌his‌ ‌lack‌ ‌of‌ ‌needing‌ ‌to‌ ‌do‌ ‌any.‌ ‌He‌ ‌could‌ ‌only‌ ‌hope‌ ‌that‌ ‌Phil‌ ‌was‌ ‌able‌ ‌to‌ ‌make‌ ‌it.‌ ‌Techno‌ ‌stared‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌ground‌ ‌that‌ ‌was‌ ‌getting‌ ‌ever‌ ‌so‌ ‌closer,‌ ‌feeling‌ ‌his‌ ‌old‌ ‌friend‌ ‌tense‌ ‌up‌ ‌as‌ ‌he‌ ‌waited‌ ‌to‌ ‌place‌ ‌the‌ ‌water.‌ ‌ ‌ 

The‌ ‌piglin‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌closed‌ ‌his‌ ‌eyes‌ ‌and‌ ‌gripped‌ ‌tightly‌ ‌onto‌ ‌Phil,‌ ‌trusting‌ ‌that‌ ‌the‌ ‌winged‌ ‌hybrid‌ ‌would‌ ‌be‌ ‌able‌ ‌to‌ ‌save the both of them from the fall. 

    When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the grass of a forest floor, drenched in water with Phil shaking him awake. 

“Techno! Techno wake up!” he shouted, shaking him a lot harder than necessary. 

“I’m up, I’m up,” he groaned groggily, sitting up and shaking his head to get the water out of his hair and adjust his crown. 

Red eyes scanned the area, not recognizing where they were. It was strange not recognizing the terrain of where you were, Techno was exceptional at memorizing the entire area of where he was, even if it wasn’t for battle purposes. He wasn’t exactly sure when he started doing it, but it was useful so he really didn’t mind. 

“Do you have any idea of where we are? I don’t recognize this place at all,” Phil said, holding out his hand to help the taller hybrid up on his feet. 

“No clue. And you know it’s not good when I don’t recognize where I am,” Techno replied. 

“Yeah, yeah, you and your whole human compass shabiz,” Phil said, looking up to the sky. 

“That’s not a word Phil.” 

“Whatever mate,” he laughed, giving the piglin back the water bucket. 

They both went silent, listening to the sounds of the wildlife and examining the trees. 

“We must be really far from the SMP for this place to be completely untouched,” Techno noted, pulling out his communicator and opening coordinates. 

“You’re right about that. I wonder if we could come back here to live one day,” Phil muttered to himself, crossing his arms and hiding his damaged wings back under his cloak. Techno paused as his head filled up with multiple ‘Aww’s’ making him unsure whether or not to reply back or cringe indefinitely. 

“Uh, Phil?” Techno said, electing to ignore what Phil said and focus on getting back. “Let’s go, the comms say that spawn is over this way,” the bird hybrid nodded, both of them going towards the spawn area. 

   As they continued walking, Techno couldn’t help but feel that something is off. He glanced back at the coords, realizing that they were only two thousand blocks away from spawn. 

“Phil?” Techno asked, pausing as his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Yeah mate?” his friend replied, pausing at the same time. “What’s wrong?” 

“The communicator says that we are only two-thousand blocks away from spawn,” he said, looking around at the still very unfamiliar terrain. 

“There’s no way. This looks nothing like the area around spawn. It’s not even the same biome!” Phil exclaimed, gesturing around the area wildly, making the obvious even more obvious.

“Come on, lets get to zero, zero quickly, I think some things really off Phil,” Techno decided, pushing through the trees with Phil trailing right behind him. 

“What do you think is happening?” the shorter male called, catching up so they were running side by side. 

“I don’t know,” he called back, frowning and checking to make sure they were still going in the right direction. “I think it has something to do with Dream XD and us falling through that weird black abyss thing,” he added. 

“Do you think we could be in a completely different server?” Phil huffed, holding his hat on the top of his head as it threatened to fall off. 

��It’s unlikely, but still possible. I don’t think Dream XD would have the power to send people to other servers. Especially if they need a whitelist to be able to get into it,” Techno replied, taking out his axe and breaking off a branch that got in his way. 

Techno watched as the biome changed into a flower forest, making him slow down a bit as the gap between them and spawn closed exceptionally. 

“What if there are people here mate? What do we do then?” Phil asked, adjusting his tunic under his cloak. 

“Since when did I have to answer all of the questions?” the piglin joked, switching his axe for his battle pickaxe. 

The older man laughed,” That’s a good point Techno, you know, maybe I should start-”

He trailed off, confusing Techno as he tried to see what Phil was looking at. When he looked up he noticed something in the sky. 

“Is that a flying island?”

part one :D

[totally-not-an-awkward-okapi]

Ok, so I’m not sure if this is going to be a controversial opinion, but I’ve got to say it:

I don’t think Moira stole Mercy’s tech, and I don’t think it was even stolen.

Ok. Big claim. After all, their technology is widely similar. Same yellow healing, similar beams, even similar suits between their Valkyrie and Blackwatch skins. But, I don’t think this is the case. Not only do I not believe the technology was actually stolen, but I would argue that the situation is actually reversed. I don’t think Moira’s tech is a corruption of Valkyrie tech. It’s an earlier version.

Visually speaking, Moira’s blackwatch outfit was clearly developed and being used on missions before Mercy even started wearing her Combat Medic skin, let alone the valkyrie suit. The Retribution event, which Blackwatch released with, takes place 8 years before overwatch’s present day. Uprising, which Combat Medic comes from, takes place 7 years before the current day. Additionally, it makes more sense that Mercy’s wings would be an addition to the Valkyrie suit- why would they be removed?

It’s technically only a theory that Moira’s teleportation ability is a physical augmentation rather than a piece of tech, but the former does make more sense in her case. Reaper has a similar teleportation ability which is canonically part of his body and a feature designed by Dr O’Deorain. Plus, she’s a geneticist, not an engineer. I bring this up because it could explain why wings needed to be added to later versions of the Valkyrie suit- not all medics likely could or would subject themselves to the therapy needed to develop teleportation- especially not for the inconsistent and painful results.

But, moving away from the visible, let’s explore some more hard evidence. The ages of the two scientists. Sure, Mercy is prodigious in medical science. But she is still nearly a decade younger. From a purely mathematical standpoint, Moira has more time to develop the tech.It’s also highly likely that, based on her age, she had more time as a member of overwatch. Though it’s unfortunately never confirmed that Moira worked for Overwatch, given her statements about them restricting her research and shuttering her work, it makes the most sense (it’s never implied they had the power to shut down random outside scientists). It’s also more than likely that she joined Overwatch during the war. It would explain how she got accepted in the first place.

Moira is a very classical mad scientist, so it makes the most sense that she would be hired during some sort of desperate situation. A world wide robotic uprising makes sense. Especially since some gene therapies were used during the war- both Reaper and Soldier 76 were subjects in the Soldier Enhancement Program. There’s no hint that she took an active role in the crisis however, so she likely only acted as a scientist and emergency medic.

But for now let’s accept that Moira was an earlier member or at least developed her theories earlier.

Mercy and Moira have several interactions in-game, but one of the more well known and oldest ones is this:

The standard interpretation seems to be that this is just skin deep. But with how little lore we get outside of interactions, this could be read as a clue. Mercy usually has quite a bit of wit in her interactions, so it feels almost like it is missing something if all it takes to shut her down is to point out that it does technically work. But there is a whole lot more weight, even enough to end the interaction, behind Moira’s point if Mercy’s tech was inspired by hers. Because though the interpretation that Moira’s biotics are a broken version of Mercy has some weight, I think it makes more sense that it is reversed. Mercy’s weaponry is an “improved” version of Moira’s.

Firstly, Moira refers to her own work like this. Now, whether this is an abject statement that she’s happy that, though flawed, it works or an inside joke against everyone who said her work was flawed, can be debated. But either way, it works well for this theory. Either way her work is old and, obviously, not perfect.

We can pretty safely say that though her work has become more streamlined and elegant, it hasn’t evolved much beyond what it was when she first started testing on herself. Between the scientist skin and her basic skin, she only seems to have gotten more professional looking equipment. Seeing as how her primary roles are as a leader within Talon and Oasis, it makes sense she is still just using what already works. She’s presumably still working and experimenting outside of her leadership roles, but she doesn’t need to work on improving her tech (yet).

In game, though Moira’s healing is stronger in bursts, it is also very limited. It’s range is short, has poor long term healing, can’t differentiate targets, and has little sustainability. Though there's a certain amount of in-system reproduction, it isn't infinite like Mercy’s. To refill it faster and heal herself it needs a source to take energy from. All of which makes sense for an earlier, less refined version, made in a rush to be used in a hectic fight.

Mercy is more refined and focused, even being entirely self sustainable. Her self healing is, though possibly slower, without any clear need for eternal "battery." However, it's also more watered down. She sacrificed it’s strengths to be more effective long term. Which would work excellently for a medical doctor and for a medic with a team that is far more suited to protecting her while she gets healing over time.

To address the accusations of theft, I dislike the idea that either stole from each other. Especially since they are both not above pettiness or revenge. Neither miss an opportunity to make a snide comment, and Moira is one of few characters with a voice line triggered on a revenge kill (killing a player who previously killed you). Both would definitely point out if her tech was stolen but none of their interactions come out and say that. Which makes it seem like they didn’t actually steal anything.

Mercy’s also just not the sort to steal research. Why would she need to- she’s a genius and there’s no implication that Moira was ever private about her research endeavors. Fake it, change numbers, obscure facts? Sure. But the research that ended her career was almost certainly released by her- if someone else had done it (especially another player character) it’s unlikely there would be no reference to them. Moira also goes on to become one of the ministers of Oasis, a city founded on the idea of funding and sharing all sorts of scientific endeavors. By the same logic, she might not actually hold it against someone if they improved her tech for their purposes (which would make the “kindness” interaction even more hypocritical).

(Though if it was stolen it could be an allusion to Watson and Crick stealing the notes of Rosalind Elsie Franklin on her discovery of the double helix. Yes I did just bring that up because people need to still be angry about that.)

Then again, I’ve probably just thought about this a whole lot more than anyone on the Blizzard team did. So who knows.

[kiarcheo]

Pirate AU

Almost 3000 words of a half-developed AU idea vaguely inspired by Pirates of Caribbean.

You know when you have some scenes clear in your mind and then the inspiration/motivation to write the overall connecting story fizzles out? Yeah. That is what happened with this one. But I didn't want to leave it languishing forever in my drafts folder so you can also read it in the miscellaneous collection of random stuff that I have on Ao3  (if lately you had the same problem with links on Tumblr as me, try removing the https://href.li/? part from the URL)

                                              _______________

Catalina is the de facto governor of a small island. In theory her husband, Henry, is the governor, but he’s never there, preferring the mainland and doing his own things. Leaving Catalina in charge gets her out of his way while keeping up the façade of him being a respectable married man (if you ignore all the mistresses he has, but that’s another matter).

Catalina doesn’t particularly mind. She has no lost feelings for him and plenty of stuff to keep her busy. Governor’s businesses. Raising her goddaughter. Pirates infesting the surrounding waters.

Catherine ‘Cathy’ Parr is Catalina’s goddaughter. After her mother died, Catalina took her in and she has been with her since she was a child. When Catalina is sent to her ‘glorified’ exile on the island, she goes with her.

During the trip, Cathy sees something, or better someone, in the sea and convinces the crew to rescue them. It’s a young girl, some years younger than Cathy, Catalina reckons. She is a weak, thin, frail slip of a girl. Whether from the physical trauma (she has a deep gash on her head, blood caking her hairline) or from the psychological one of barely surviving a shipwreck, the girl can’t remember how long she has been lost at sea or pretty much anything else, except that her name is Katherine.

Catalina takes her under her wing too, albeit not officially. Not like she can adopt her without her husband’s agreement. And he was already not happy about her taking in Cathy. But what she can do is keep an eye on her and make sure she does not lack for anything.

Whether because of the long trip to their new home, being the only children on board, or just them clicking with each other, Cathy and Katherine, who most call Kat, quickly become inseparable. And as they grow up, things don’t change, making Catalina’s promise to herself to keep an eye on Kat quite easy.

Kat apprentices as a carpenter. Any problem at the residence, Kat is called, and she always brings with her small trinkets she made herself to gift them to Cathy. Kat’s services are not necessarily cost-time effective. Mostly not time-effective, since she always ends up spending way more time than needed there. And Catalina insists on paying for the time rather than for the work, another manner of taking care of Kat in her own way. Also, along with books, Kat’s presence seems to be the only thing that makes Cathy happy and Catalina won’t deny her that. Life on the island is not exactly the pinnacle of excitement or social engagement or entertainment. Not that Cathy complains. If asked, she would say that she has all she needs.

Of course, Henry has to ruin everything. A letter arrives announcing that he has arranged Cathy’s marriage with one Thomas Seymour. The captain bringing the letter is in charge of taking Cathy back to the mainland.

There is nothing anyone can do. Not Catalina – if she wants to avoid diplomatic incident...and raising her husband’s ire – not Cathy, and certainly not Kat. They have to say their goodbyes. Cathy makes Catalina and Katherine promise that they will take care of each other. Then Catalina leaves them so they can have some few last precious moments alone.

Fast forwards to days later, the ship that is taking Cathy to her doom, I mean, wedding, is attacked by pirates. Everyone is killed except Cathy, who is taken hostage.

Realising the ship that attacked them is the Greensleeves, Cathy thinks it’s on purpose. The captain has a beef with her godmother. But then she realises it’s just that a young woman, the only woman on board of a government’s ship, would make a good hostage regardless because it’s clearly someone important and probably worth quite a bit if a ransom is demanded.

‘And who do we have here?’ A woman circles around her.

‘You might want to read this, captain.’ Another, taller, woman hands her a letter.

While she reads it, Cathy has time to look at her. Had to admit, not how she imagined the famed pirate Anne Boleyn, scourge of the seven seas, and pain in Catalina’s backside as well as pretty much any navy.

‘Catherine Parr, uh?’ The pirate looks her up and down. ‘Let’s see how much old Lina is willing to pay for you.’

Cathy scowls at her.

‘Or would you prefer your future husband?’

‘No!’ She can’t stop herself.

‘Thought so.’ Anne nods to herself. ‘Not that I blame you. Seymour is a scumbag.’

‘Ehi!’

‘Not you, Jane. Not most of the time, at least.’ She sends a grin towards a woman standing one step behind her.

When everything is said and done, Cathy considers herself lucky. She might go back home. Delaying her marriage, at least. See Kat and Catalina again. Despite them being pirates, she feels more comfortable on their ship than the one sent by Henry, surrounded by guards.

All is nice and well, until a wave has the ship rolling quite violently. Cathy loses her balance and stumbles forward, a golden A on a necklace slipping out from under her dress and now dangling. Before she knows it, Boleyn has the pendant tight in her grip, pulling Cathy along towards her, almost choking her.

‘Where did you get this?’ she demands with a growl.

Cathy stands corrected. She can now see why Anne inspires such a terror.

‘Take it off.’

‘No!’ Not the smartest thing, but Cathy is not going to give it up without a fight.

‘You either take it off yourself or I do it for you, and I’ll take your head off with it too.’

‘Anne.’ The woman who had been called Jane tries to put a hand on her shoulder, but it’s shrugged off.

Cathy feels someone grabbing her from behind. She tries to wriggle away, but she can’t, the hold too strong. Then she feels a hand on the back of her neck, and suddenly the comforting, familiar, weight of the pendant is gone.

Anne lunges to catch the necklace before it hits the deck. Cathy instinctively takes a step back. Well, she tries, only manages to stumble back into the pirate behind her, still holding her.

‘I’m going to ask you again.’ Anne seems to struggle to pull her eyes off the necklace clutched in her hand. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘You better answer her.’ The voice behind her sounds honest, no malice or threat. Almost sound worried about what Anne would do if denied.

‘She gave it to me!’ Cathy blurts out before biting her lip. She might be terrified, but she doesn’t want to say more. Like how Kat had given it to her, asking her to put it on and never take it off to remind her by. How Cathy had argued that she wouldn’t need a physical object, she would be thinking about her every day of her life until she dies regardless. How Cathy had tried to give it back, saying that she didn’t want to take away the most precious thing she had. And how Kat had replied that it was the second most precious…and both of them would leave that day. She would be missing the necklace just like she would miss her heart, that Cathy was taking with her on the ship.

‘Take me to her.’

‘No.’ Cathy doesn’t know where she is getting the courage to stand up to the pirate captain.

‘Take me to her and I promise I’ll let you go. I won’t even ask a ransom. I swear.’

‘As if I’d trust a pirate’s word.’ Cathy spits out.

‘Fine.’ Anne growls with a scowl. ‘Then I will just go back there myself.’

‘But don’t you want to see her again?’ The person behind Cathy speaks up again, acting as the voice of reason of the situation. ‘She’ll find her anyway. She won’t rest until she does. Or she’ll die trying.’

Cathy tenses up. Just the thought of the pirates around Kat makes her terrified and furious at the same time.

‘Anna, get her out of my sight.’

‘She won’t hurt her. If that’s what you’re worried about.’ Said pirate makes one last attempt.

Cathy relents. Not that she has much choice. Or well, she does. But when the options are 1) going back with them 2) she is killed and they go back without her 3) she is delivered to Seymour and they go back without her...is that really a choice?

So they sail back to the island, but then it’s just a small boat rowed to the shore by Jane and Anna, with only Cathy and Anne, as passengers on board.

‘If this is a trap…’ Anne trails off, the threat clear even if not spelled out, as she looks around the workshop.

‘How would she even-’Anna tries to reason with her captain, as usual.

‘Let her go and I’ll consider not blowing your head up.’

Not the first words Cathy expected to hear from Kat if she ever saw her again, to be honest. The pirates seem taken by surprise too. Jane is only loosely holding her arm, and nobody has their weapons out.

‘Do it.’ Anne orders.

As soon as she is released, Cathy hurries to Kat’s side and Kat immediately wraps an arm around her, holding her close. She leans her head against hers, trying to get as much physical contact as possible, but she keeps her eyes and her pistol trained on the pirates.

‘Did they hurt you?’

Cathy shakes her head. She just had some bruises around her neck from Anne’s grabbing the necklace and pulling her along with it, but they faded away and there is no trace of them now. And they actually treated her quite well. She might have even enjoyed the trip if she had not been terrified and worried.

‘What do you want from her?’ Kat speaks again.

‘She had something that didn’t belong to her.’ Anne opens her hand, the necklace falling and dangling down.

‘Give it back!’ Kat growls, lunging.

Anne takes a step back, before calmly wrapping the chain of the necklace around her wrist and tucking the pendant into her sleeve. ‘And why should I?’ She asks, impish smirk making it clear she doesn’t feel threatened.

‘Because it’s mine, and I gave it to her!’

‘Yours?’ Anne’s attitude immediately changes. But before she can say anything- ‘What’s going on?’

This time the pirates aren’t taken by surprise. They all aim their weapons toward the new arrival.

‘Boleyn?’

‘Catalina.’

‘Cathy??’

‘Madrina.’

‘Katherine?’

‘Are you just listing all the presents? Because this is Jane and this is Anna.’ Anne chimes in, drawing back to herself Catalina’s attention…and pistol.

‘Give me one good reason why I should not shoot you on the spot.’

‘Because you’re outnumbered?’

‘She is not.’ Cathy now has a small pistol too, given by Kat, the pirates can only assume, since they are sure she had none before.

‘Parley?’ Anne breaks the silent standoff.

The other two pirates start quickly and softly talking to Anne.

‘What’s that?’ Cathy asks.

‘Pirate code.’

‘Temporary truce.’ Kat answers without hesitation at the same time as Catalina.

Cathy turns to her, surprised. ‘You know pirate code?’

‘I...don’t?’ Kat is clearly second-guessing herself. ‘I don’t think so? I just…knew it? Don't ask me why.’

‘Parley granted?’ Anne’s question reminds them of the situation.

Catalina looks at the pirates. Then at her girls. Then at Anne again. ‘Pull one of your usual dirty tricks and-’

‘Where is the trust?’ Anne brings the hand not holding the weapon to her chest. ‘I’m a pirate of my word.’

‘As if I’d ever trust a pirate’s word.’

The pirate captain looks between Catalina and Cathy. ‘That’s where you learned it?’

‘Guns away at 3?’ Anna tries to get them back on track.

They all nod warily before slowly and reluctantly lowering their weapons.

‘To what we owe the displeasure of your visit?’

‘Hurting my feelings, Lina.’ Anne quips.

‘Don’t call me that.’ Catalina snarls. ‘And answer the question.”

Anne gets serious. ‘This is what brings me here.’ She once again shows the necklace.

‘Why do you have it?’ Catalina looks between it, Anne and Katherine.

‘She took it from me.’ Cathy spits out, still upset about it.

‘You gave it to her?’ Catalina turns surprised towards Katherine. She knows how important it is to her. ‘But that’s the only thing-’ she stops. It suddenly makes sense. Kat giving Cathy the most precious and important thing she owned…the girl would give her goddaughter the world if she could.

‘Where did you get it?’ Anne turns to Kat.

‘I always had it.’ The younger girl answers reluctantly. There is no hurting doing that, right? ‘And I would appreciate having it back.’ She holds her hand out.

‘Spunky.’ Anne nods, appreciative. ‘But not yet.’

Kat huffs. ‘What?’ She grinds out.

‘Do you know what this is?’ Anne fishes out from her shirt another similar necklace, but with a K instead of an A.

The girl shakes her head.

‘I had it made because you loved mine. So I commissioned one for you. But you still insisted on wearing mine so I kept yours.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’

‘The K is for Kitty.’ Anne carries on.

‘Nobody called me Kitty since-’ Kat stops in her tracks as her brain catches up with what her mouth is saying. She had honestly forgot about anyone ever using that nickname.

‘Since you used to throw tantrums about losing at cards.’

‘Jane always cheats!’ Again, Kat surprises herself as she replies without thinking.

‘I do not!’

Anne, Anna and even Cathy, look at Jane in disbelief. She had seen her playing at the tavern at the only stop they had on shore while on their way back to the island, cleaning out the locals because they needed funds...

‘Okay, maybe I do now, but not at the time!’ Jane amends.

‘I don’t understand.’ Kat repeats, her voice wobbling.

Anne explains how they grew up together, inseparable cousins until the moment their family’s ship they had been on had been attacked. In the chaos they had lost sight of the younger cousin and when they got rescued, all except Kat, they all thought that she had died in the shipwreck.

Anne, consumed by desire of vengeance, had joined a crew hoping to find out which pirate was responsible for the attack. Only to find out that it had not been pirates but government masquerading as pirates, hoping to get their families’ riches in a quicker and easier way. So Anne had decided to harass, rob and destroy government ships as revenge. Jane had joined her soon after, a life on the sea better than the prospect of a lifetime serving men at home. Anne had met Anna in her first crew and when Anne left to form her own, some of them, including Anna, Maggie and Joan, had joined her. They are the only ones, besides Jane, to know why Anne had chosen the pirate life.  

‘And then we met your girl and I saw the necklace and here we are.’ Anne concludes her tale.

‘Met.’ Cathy snorts.

‘Not mine.’ Kat comments dolefully at the same time.

‘Engaged to Seymour, right?’ Anne turns to Catalina. ‘I expected better.’

‘Not my choice. Henry arranged it. Can’t refuse without a diplomatic incident. And enraging him. The Seymour family is a powerful one and I know that he will say he found the best for Cathy, and who knows what he’d do, whom he’d choose, just to spite me, if I were to refuse.’

‘What if you could do better?’

‘What do you mean?’ Catalina looks at the pirate captain, who appears deep in thought.

‘It would be reasonable to break off the engagement if a better opportunity arises, right? Even for… Henry?’ she spats out the name.

‘In theory. But in practice? Hard to find better.’ Catalina sighs. She had thought about it, of course. ‘I mean, better name. I’m sure there are lots of better people than Thomas Seymour.’

‘Definitely.’ Jane confirms.

‘What about marrying into the Howard family?’

‘Howard? Like those Howards?’ Catalina asks in confirmation. They are even more powerful and rich than the Seymour.

‘As a captain I can marry you off tomorrow.’

‘What?’ The girls had been silently resigned. Cathy knew she had no voice or choice in her marriage, and Kat knew she could not stop it. All they could do was enjoying their time together before the inevitable separation.

‘You’re a Howard, Katherine.’ Anne tells her. ‘We,’ she gestures to herself and Jane, ‘might have been disowned by the Boleyn and Seymour families, but not you.’ She adds after a bit. ‘Mostly because we thought you were dead, but you know, not important right now.’

‘Seymour?’

Jane waves at Cathy. ‘Trust me, dodging a bullet with my brother.’

Kat and Cathy get married, and once Catalina’s retire as governor, they take over albeit always unofficially. Central government can’t be bothered with that little island almost lost in the sea as long as it doesn’t cause problems.

Anne and Jane are torn because on one side they want to be with Kat after finding her again, but they also took a liking to life on the sea, so Catalina pardons Anne and her crew in exchange for them working for her, patrolling the waters around the island and keeping the ships carrying and trading goods safe from pirates...and anyone else.

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Yes, I was going full fantasy with gay marriage being accepted and recognized, pirates getting pardoned, women governing islands and ship captains marrying people (looked it up, they mostly can’t unless already invested/ordained with power to do so).

[kkeidawrites]

Gone (Filler)

Part 2

Flashback continued~~~~

Esmé walked with a pout on her face as she stubbornly, pushed through the bushes and low trees while Sypha followed behind her, trying to stop her.

“Esmé, please wait. Alucard didn’t mean it, he’s just being childish.” Sypha tried and Esmé stopped turning to her.

“Whether he meant it or not Sypha, it’s the fact that he said it.” Esmé said and rubbed her tired eyes.

“I don’t...” Esmé frowned, taking a deep breath as she looked at Sypha sadly.

“I don’t like when people make fun of my looks, I’ve already been through it when I was younger.” Esmé told her. Turning around with a sigh, Esmé hugged herself suddenly, feeling self conscious.

“You’ve been through it?” Sypha questioned.

“When you are raised by a single father who himself has never had a mother or any female contact, it shows little to what he knew about raising a girl.” Esmé smiled at the bitter feeling.

“I acted more like a man than a woman and it made the other villagers begin to tell me that I was beginning to look like a man.”

“My hair was cut short like a man’s, my body was slow to develop than other girls in the village and I fought all the boys, young and older.” Esmé said remembering one time when a boy asked her why she acted like a boy than a girl. Then making fun of her still flat chest and boyish hair cut.

Her mother had died giving birth to her. Her mother Ihan was actually carrying twins but, it was a difficult pregnancy, when she went into labor she was in a great deal of pain, perhaps more painful than any other woman has ever been when giving birth.

“She was only able to push out me while she and my younger brother died, and ever since I was always outcasted. They pretty much blamed me for killing both my mother and brother.” She laughed bitterly.

Fuck those people in Jova, they thought they were so smart.

“Things became worse when I grew older and I began looking more like my mother. And you know what’s funny,” Sypha frowned, she knew that Esmé was in a lot of emotional pain.

“They said I was cursed, because I was able to gain her face and that every time I would look in a mirror it would be a reminder of who I killed.” Esmé said clenching her fists.

“You can’t let those people get to you.” Sypha touched her arm in comfort and the two sat down on a fallen tree.

“They had no right to treat you that way and say those things to you.” Sypha said.

“You can’t control the way of life...I’m sure your mother was the strongest woman ever, she even had the opportunity to have twins!” Esmé still didn’t feel convinced and Sypha frowned sadly.

“At least you had the chance to have a father and mother,” she said.

“My parents died when I was very young and my grandfather took me in and raised me. I don’t know much about them and my grandfather would be very brief when talking about them.” Sypha told her fixing her cloak.

“He just tells me that they were speakers as well but, that is all I know of them. Now, my grandfather is traveling the countryside...I should be with him.” Sypha says.

“But, I have a purpose in this world...to stop Dracula and be able to return to him and the other speakers without the fear of night creatures attacking me.” She continues and Esmé nodded in understanding.

“So, the things that both Trevor and Alucard say don’t faze me in the least. If anything, ignoring them is what has kept my sanity.” Sypha laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Just ignore Alucard if he says something childish like that, he’s harmless really. And I’m sure he’s hurting too.” Sypha says and Esmé sighs.

“I know...it’s just...when someone says something like that it brings back a lot of unwanted memories.” Esmé stood to her feet and smiled down at Sypha.

“Thanks for the pep talk, Sypha. I’ll try and ignore him but, I won’t promise to hit him when he says something out of line.” Esmé mused and Sypha laughs, standing as well.

“I won’t stop you.” She giggles as the two women return to the wagon finding Trevor and Alucard arguing as usual.

End of Flashback

Unfortunately, Alucard had yet to apologize to Esmé and the brownskinned woman had yet to say a thing to him.

Stirring the contents in the pot, the two remained silent, and Esmé wondered where Sypha and Trevor went. They were just supposed to get more firewood.

Then it clicked, they set them up. Sypha must have made Alucard come and sit by her to try and talk with her and Esmé rolled her eyes with a sigh.

‘Damn you, Sypha.’ She thought annoyed.

“Listen,” she heard the dhampir say and Esmé continued her stirring. Alucard knew she was ignoring him and after getting a earful from Sypha he agreed to apologize. Or at least attempt to.

He had heard their conversation and felt for Esmé. Losing his mother to people who did not understand her methods of helping them, to being considered an outcast to others were all familiar to Alucard.

“I wanted to apologize-”

“You’re forgiven.” Esmé interrupted and Alucard rolled his eyes.

“I’m trying to apologize here-”

“And I said you’re forgiven.” Esmé stopped her magic and moved the pot from the campfire.

“That’s hardly a decision to make so easily. I can’t properly apologize to you if you don’t listen.” Alucard said growing frustrated.

“I don’t need to receive an apology from you as long as you keep your mouth shut and stay away from me we’ll both get through this safely.” Esmé snapped and Alucard growled in annoyance standing to his feet beginning to leave when he stopped.

Taking a deep breath, Alucard turned back and stood beside her, Esmé raised an eyebrow at him.

“No, I’m not going to take that.” Alucard said and Esmé frowned.

“I’m going to apologize and you are going to listen.” He told her.

“Oh, am I now?”

“You are! I want to apologize for what I had said earlier. It was unnecessary and very rude, I had became annoyed and the words that left my lips were all...adrenaline rushed words. And for that I am sorry.” He placed a hand over his torso and bowed to the woman. His golden hair curtained his entire face, blocking her way of seeing if he was telling the truth or not.

Esmé watched him closely and sighed dejectedly, she supposed that staying mad at him wouldn’t solve anything.

“I forgive you, Alucard. Now, stop with that bowing shit, I’m not a noble or anything.” Esmé waved her hand at him and the man returned to his straightened pose.

“I was taught mannerisms when I was young, it’s a habit.” He says and Esmé chuckled.

“Yeah well, you don’t have to do that with me. Just be polite with me and I’ll do the same.” Esmé gave him a small smile and Alucard returned one.

“So, friends?” She asked holding out her hand to shake.

Alucard moved to grasp it gently in his gloved ones and shook it.

“I suppose so. You’re not as bad as Belmont, I guess I can deal with you too.” Alucard joked and Esmé flicked him off when their hands let go, with a laugh.

“Fuck you, asshole.” Esmé said earning a grin from the dhampir.

“Hey, we’re back!” Sypha announced as she and Trevor had armfuls of wood with them.

Placing the wood beside the fire, both Sypha and Trevor took a seat and Sypha looked at Esmé with a knowing look.

“So, anything happen while we were gone?” She asked.

“Nope. Nothing at all.” Esmé said with glancing at Alucard then returning to the pot of rabbit stew.

“Anyway, let’s eat shall we?” Esmé changed the subject quickly before Sypha had the chance to tease her some more.

During dinner, Alucard told them about how his parents met and what the next agenda will be for everyone after Dracula was defeated.

The sound of a stick snapping alerted the foursome and they all turned to the sound of the source.

“Did you hear that?” Trevor asked.

“Animals humping in the undergrowth.” Alucard jokes. The sound was heard again.

“Wait, no.” Esmé put a hand over her face in annoyance.

“Which town is closest, is it still Gresit?” Trevor asked as he used his foot to shovel snow on to the fire, quickly extinguishing it.

“Arges is closer to us.” Sypha informs crouching as Esmé readied her hands. They glowed a light blue color and she raised them up to fight anything.

The sound of hissing and growls were heard as the night creatures made their appearance from the forest.

Trevor ran to the right to climb a tree while Alucard went left leaving only Esmé and Sypha. Sypha sighs and pulls on her hood while Esmé shrugged and moved to the left as well.

The night creatures began their attack and the first two were quickly killed by Alucard.

A griffin like monster came charging at Esmé and she dodged to her right to watch as it ran past her. The monster turned quickly and charged once again, Esmé used this time to ready her stance.

It lunged at her with a roar and Esmé grabbed it by its neck to body slam it.

Raising her left leg, she brought it down on the monster’s neck and twisted it, cracking its neck. Hearing a hiss to her right, Esmé dodged the flying night creature with a sythe and raised her hands to fire, fire balls at the wings of the monster. One hit one wing and it screeched in pain, flying towards her with the one wing it still had.

Esmé dodged its sword that landed on the snow next to her and got on her hands to land a spin kick to its head.

Discombobulated, Esmé returned to her feet and quickly grabbed its head smashing it against her knee than kicking it away. Conjuring up her magic to make a knife, Esmé ran to it and stabbed the side of its head.

Removing her knife, she turned to see the last few demons were killed by the others and sighed, then falling to her knees holding her side, as she felt the pain from her previous wound.

“Esmé!” Sypha called as she and the men rushed over.

Esmé looked up with one eye and saw that a demon was still alive. It was flying towards them and Esmé noticed that it’s flapping was too quiet to not be detected.

“Watch out!” She yelled out weakly to them.

She raised her hand and released a fire ball at it and the demon screeched as it landed with a heavy heap. Feeling a bit faint, Esmé felt her body grow heavy as she tilted to the side.

Her body was caught by Alucard as he let one leg rest on the snow while the other was holding her up and Sypha knelt by her to lift up her shirt to look at her wound. Alucard rested her body on him and he looked down at her worriedly.

“Fuck, that hurts like hell!” Esmé hissed as she felt the bandages of where her scratch mark from that demon was when they first met.

“She’s reopened her wound. I can stop the bleeding, but, she mustn’t fight again until she is healed.” Sypha instructs as she took some bandages out of her cloak.

Once she was rebandaged, Esmé winched from the pain and held it. Alucard gently removed her hand.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll only make it worst.” He scolded gently.

“Yes, mother.” Esmé joked. Alucard gave her a small smile.

Alucard helped her up and walked her to the wagon. Helping her inside, Esmé laid back against the wagon and Alucard sat next to her. He pulled a blanket over her and Esmé smiled in gratitude.

The next couple of hours went by and Sypha looked behind her to watch the two sleeping figures in the wagon.

“We’re almost to the next town, think we should wake them?” Trevor asked popping his stiff shoulders.

Sypha looked at him a second and shook her head.

“Let them sleep until we reach town.” Sypha said with a smile as she saw the position her two allies were in.

Esmé was curled up on Alucard’s shoulder, snoring softly as the dhampir’s head was lying on top of hers with one leg pulled up to his chest.

“I guess, even assholes like him, can have a heart.” Trevor mused as Sypha giggled softly.

“Are you speaking from experience?” She asks and Trevor raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not an asshole to everybody.” Trevor defends.

“Then why is most of your stories always start off with you getting into a fight in a bar. It’s like the start of a bad joke.”

“I’ve already told you it’s because, the people there are assholes. I’m telling you it’s a Belmont curse.”

“Sure it is Belmont. Sure it is.” Sypha laughs.

Esmé snuggles a bit closer to Alucard and the dhampir rubbed his cheek in her soft hair. He peeks open an eye to look down at her and smiled, snuggling into her hair more.

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I don’t own any gifs or Castlevania related things just my oc Esmé and that’s it.

End of Part 2

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