#3.1k!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

[sincerelyhecate]

have you seen my glasses? (they're on your head, dummy)

Title: have you seen my glasses? (they're on your head, dummy)

Pairing: Jason Grace/Percy Jackson

Length: 3.1k words

You can also read this on AO3.

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"Bro, have you seen my glasses?"

A shadow casts itself over the red glow that Percy sees underneath his closed eyelids, and he flutters his eyes open in a squint to find Jason looming over him, his broad frame blocking the sunlight he's been bathing in. Jason’s eyebrows are knitted together in a frown as he stares Percy down; a telltale sign of his annoyance with the fact that he ‘lost’ his glasses again. 

The object in question, unsurprisingly, is nestled on his blond hair, the afternoon light glinting off the frames' metallic sheen as if screaming at everyone who cares that they're right there—just like they normally would, whenever he throws the question at Percy.

Percy sighs, all too used to this modus operandi. It’s happened so many times—often enough that he's already memorized the script of Jason's ploy by heart—that he can only arrive at this conclusion: Jason Grace is a terrible flirt.

Nothing's wrong with that, of course. Jason can remain as bad in the flirting department as he wants, since he'd unfailingly and unwittingly charm his victims all the same. Percy is just unfortunate enough to be one of them.

"Dude, this is the third time this week, and it's only Wednesday!" he replies, as per their usual script.

Jason rolls his eyes in faux exasperation. "Sorry, mom. I swear I never do it on purpose. I think someone's trying to bully me."

“Pfft.” He can't help laughing a little at the ridiculous notion. "Nobody in their right mind would ever dare to bully a fully grown son of Zeus, my good man."

"Well, I can think of a few names off the top of my head," Jason solemnly replies, giving him a meaningful side-eye. 

He brushes off the implied accusation by giving Jason an eye-roll of his own. While he may have been a repeat offender in concocting harmless shenanigans with the others to tease Jason, those can hardly be called 'bullying'. He prefers the term 'tough love' instead, since he's always done it with the purest intention of making Jason laugh, and it worked—every single time!

Not to mention he'd never steal Jason's glasses while his bro isn’t looking; he'd just grab it off his face like a real man.

He props himself up to sit upright just as Jason makes himself comfortable by sitting down cross-legged next to him, their movements choreographed to perfection by this same old dance. Like the mom friend he is, Jason wastes no time patting off the stray blades of grass clinging onto Percy's head and back, and Percy’s heart squeezes at the palpable gentleness behind his casual fussiness. It prompts the muscles on his face to form a helpless grin, even though he’s trying hard to keep his face straight to match the dire, serious look on Jason’s own.

"Bedside table?"

"First place I checked."

"On top of the head of your dad's statue?"

Jason doesn't even pause at the incredulous suggestion, because it's actually happened once—courtesy of Leo. "Nope. I still can't believe Leo wasn't zapped from that."

"Did you ask anyone else before coming to me? Because I'd be truly offended if I'm being singled out as the prime suspect again."

Jason narrows his eyes at him. "That's already suspicious of you, but okay,” he comments with pursed lips, before throwing his head back and sighing in exhaustion, like he’s already gone round the entire camp to ask everyone else before seeing Percy.

“You won't believe this, but I think the others are already sick of me asking for their help—”

“Truly believable, and wholly understandable.”

“—as if I’m doing it on purpose! I’ve asked a grand total of three people before coming here—”

“Wow, I guess that really makes up the whole camp.”

“—first was Nico, who told me to stop being stupid." Jason starts counting the people in question with his fingers like they’re worth counting at all; always so animated with his hand gestures when talking to Percy.

“I guess he has a point,” Percy sing-songs. Jason ignores him.

"Next was Leo, who suggested I do a cartwheel in case they'd appear out of thin air," he continues, shaking his head as if their impish friend was out of his mind for suggesting that, as he extends two fingers out from his balled fist.

“Ooh, he’s onto something, I think.” Jason ignores him still, and Percy can no longer try to hide his grin.

"And lastly Piper, who told me I should go look for you instead,” Jason finishes, showing Percy his three fingers pointedly. 

Percy gestures to himself in faux confusion as if to say me?, mustering up a surprised face he can only hope to be convincing. The quirk in his lips is definitely not helping.

Unimpressed, Jason clears his throat and inquires, like he’s conducting an interrogation, “So, basing off all the clues I’ve gathered and one strong insinuation from Miss McLean, I will ask you once again: have you seen my glasses, Percy?"

Oh, Percy is so intimately familiar with the finer details of Jason's flirting scheme at this point. The guy would conveniently ask other people first, sure, but one way or another, he'd always end up finding Percy as the last resort, which is enough indication on its own. Piper was insinuating nothing; knowing her, she’s probably just playing along.

Jason has all but invaded Percy's personal space then, the tips of their noses almost touching each other as he leans in a little too close due to his poor eyesight. The way his face pleads with Percy is not unlike that of a golden retriever, and Percy feels a strong urge to pat his head to appease him. Undeterred by those puppy eyes that would've worked on anyone else, he remains steadfast in their close proximity—only staring back in amusement in an impromptu staring contest.

And boy, is Jason one heck of a looker.

Recent years have certainly been kinder to his friend, Percy quietly notes, from the way he glows with contentment. His (stupid, kind, pretty) big blue eyes—widened imploringly at Percy—betray no lingering air of sadness like they did in the past. There’s an almost permanent quirk at one corner of his lips, like everything he sees these days is worth smiling about, and more often than not, Percy finds himself wanting to kiss it.

"I…" he deliberately stretches the vowel for needless suspense, "…really don't have them, sir! I think she’s just trying to get you out of her hair. As with the rest of them.”

"Goshdarnit,” Jason whines, flopping down onto the grass like the drama queen he is. He grumbles, “I hate wearing glasses."

Percy chuckled at the sulk in Jason’s voice. He lies down on his side to face Jason, admiring the gentle curves of his side-profile. How is a man this gorgeous has the disposition of a silly old man sometimes? It’s unbelievably charming. "Never mind that. Has anyone ever told you how cute you are?"

Jason turns to face him and raises an eyebrow at the sudden question, glasses still miraculously fixed in place. His scar is a pale line adorning his unfairly pink mouth as he chews on it in thought; probably deliberating what to make of Percy’s attempt at a compliment. It almost disappears when a benign smile then slowly graces his lips, and Percy resists the urge to trace his finger on it. It probably feels soft to the touch. 

A familiar feeling of protectiveness surges through his body whenever Jason smiles at him like this. He would do anything; give anything; fight anything to prevent that smile from ever waning. Sure, they each have Titans included in their body counts, and had even toppled giants together, but there's just something inherently precious to Jason that Percy believes is worth protecting. Partly because of the not-so-platonic feeling he harbors for the guy, mostly because Jason is one of his dearest friends.

But of course, his friend doesn't need to know that just yet.

"I will mind that, thank you very much. I need my glasses to see, you see?" Jason deadpans, breaking his train of thought.

"...I guess I kinda do?"

“Exactly. And to answer your question," Jason informs him with a smug grin, "I hear that at least ten times a week. Twenty if Sis is coming over. Coming from you though, I feel like you're only saying it to make fun of me."

"Hey, I'm just being honest! You're adorable as heck," he coos, pinching one soft cheek and enjoying Jason’s surprised wince.

"'Heck'," Jason teases, like Percy didn't get that from the guy who prefers to say 'dummy' instead of 'dumbass' or 'frick' instead of 'fuck'. "I'd prefer you call me handsome instead. Or gorgeous. Dashing works too. At least it won't sound like you're looking down on me."

"Gods, I'd never look down on you. You know that," Percy protests, only half-heartedly because he knows Jason is just pulling his leg. "But fine, you gorgeous stud."

"Thanks. I guess you're not so shabby yourself."

Percy scoffs and nudges Jason’s shoulder playfully with his hand, relishing the way his friend laughs sweetly in return. Jason's laughter is a lovely breathy sound, like the hilarity has punched the wind out of him. It's one of Percy's most favorite sounds ever; something he’s discovered as they got closer and closer over the years. He wants to hear it all the time if he can.

They've already gone off the tangent of the initial topic—a usual occurrence when they start complimenting each other like it's a competitive sport. Percy thinks it’s fine, since it’s pretty much coming from his own heart, and he’s not above using flattery to make his friend feel good about himself. After all, while Jason might be the terrible flirt, Percy can’t deny that he’s already down bad for the guy.

Perhaps today will be the day he gives in. They've been playing this push-and-pull game long enough, he thinks. Danced around this ambiguous thing between them—only for it to amount to nothing—a little too many times for his liking. In all honesty, it's reaching a point where he's starting to feel bad for ignoring Jason’s advances, so he might as well give in this time. Especially when he knows he wants it as much as Jason does.

Realizing that it's his cue to resume their script, he offers, "I can tell you where they are, though."

"Ha! Solid attempt to divert my attention there, you flatterer. Piper was right: you do have them!"

He ignores Jason's accusation—that was way too ecstatic to be convincing—and instructs, "Pat your head and say, 'Thank you, Percy.'"

"Ha-ha. I already patted my head at least three times and found noth—Oh!" Even as Jason grumbles at his suggestion, he still does as Percy has asked. Ever the indulgent friend, so willing to humor Percy even if he thinks it’s all for naught. Though in this case, it is his intention to get Percy to point that out in the first place, so Percy's the one indulging here, really.

Percy watches on as a familiar scene unfolds before him like the hundred times it did before: Jason's face gradually turning sheepish as he feels the offending object lying innocently on his head, puppy eyes intensifying and red coloring his cheeks. 

He arches an eyebrow in an unamused look. “Tsk, tsk. Classic Jason.”

"...I swear on Juno's name, Percy, I patted my head several times before looking for them elsewhere!"

He pulls a tuft of grass off the ground, making sure the disdain in his voice is audible. "And you were so quick to accuse me too."

"I told you I asked three other people before you! Sorry if I sound accusatory, but I'd almost always find them when I'm with you."

He throws the tuft on Jason’s face. "Yeah, like it's my fault you'd find them on your head every time."

Jason pouts as he stubbornly counters, "I mean, you could be secretly putting them on me when I wasn't looking."

"Dude, you had your eyes on me the entire time." In such a lovesick gaze too, you unsubtle dork.

"…Right." Jason looks appropriately sorry after he takes the time to ponder on that. His petulant pout turns remorseful before he mumbles, "Sorry, man."

Like clockwork. He’s lucky Percy likes him.

"I'll forgive you…" Percy says, pushing himself up to sit. He smirks as he drops the bomb Jason has been waiting for after all this time; the new plot twist to their old script, "…if you pick a good place to eat for our date."

He throws a side glance Jason's way to find him gaping like a fish, as if he's genuinely surprised. Jason scrambles to sit up as well, shaking his head in confusion. He's pretty good at acting, Percy will give him that. "Sorry, did you just say…for our date?"

"Yep! And I'm expecting you to pay for our meal."

His friend is now blinking rapidly at him, like he’s not at all prepared for this sudden development. “Our meal…for our date?”

“Yes, Jason Grace. For our date,” Percy confirms, wondering if the guy’s poor brain has short-circuited from knowing his efforts have finally paid off. That’s actually pretty cute if true. “Dress code is anything blue, white or black. No formal wear or I’ll dump water on you so you’d go change.”

“Oh. I—Um.” Wow, that’s a really impressive act of flabbergasting if Percy ever sees one. He looks on expectantly as Jason makes a show of putting himself together, recovering quickly enough to say with a little shrug, “I…am a little confused, but alright. I’m down!”

Even underneath all his pretense of having no idea what’s going on, his elation at Percy’s invitation (that should’ve been his in the first place) is very much genuine. Percy’s heart curiously flipped at the sight of Jason beaming at him in earnest now; as if he’s only been expecting to find his glasses out of this, and is pleasantly surprised he's ended up with something better.

“Sure, man,” he humors him with a shit-eating grin of his own. It’s fine if Jason refuses to let up; Percy has already decided to play along for as long as he wants anyway. He’ll even pretend he hasn’t seen right through him after everything, if his buddy needs his dignity intact later on. He’s a gentleman like that.

"Uh, just to confirm, is this a friendship kinda date where we just grab a meal together or a—"

Gods help me. Percy shuts him up with a kiss on his cheek, feeling giddy at the way Jason's smile grows dopier and his cheeks flush redder.

"Nah, it's the boyfriends kinda date," he assures Jason, hooking an index finger into the thin wire between the lenses of his glasses and deftly slides them down to properly settle on the bridge of his nose. The contrast from when Jason transforms from hot supermodel to precious super-nerd is oddly endearing. “I’ll pick you up at 6. Stay in your cabin until I come; we don’t want you to go losing your glasses again.”

The chuckle rumbling deep in Jason’s chest is like music to Percy’s ears as he regards him with a quizzical smile, head tilting like Percy's the most extraordinary thing he's ever seen. “Yessir.”

It turns out Jason has actually been bullied. Or pranked, whichever term fits the situation better.

Some children of Hermes, in an unlikely collaboration with some children of Hecate and a certain son of Hephaestus, had thought it was funny to see Jason, head counselor of Cabin One and a 6’2” adult man, bumbling his way around camp without his glasses—by making the thing visible to anyone but him. Heeding the advice of a certain daughter of Aphrodite, they made sure to materialize the glasses on his head again once he reached Percy for help. Whether Jason is mad at being made into a joke—or whether Percy is, at being tricked into thinking it’s his poor bro’s attempt at wooing him—is a story for another day.

Right now, and more importantly, they have a date to enjoy. One they're both looking forward to, after everything that went down between them.

Percy is still trying to fix his hair to go for an artfully messy do when someone knocks on the door to Cabin Three, approximately ten minutes before their agreed time. 

Someone’s awfully excited, he muses as he opens the door to find Jason looking his most charming yet—his blond hair slicked back like a movie star's, his attire consisting of a baby blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up around his veiny forearms; white slim-fit chinos that showcase his sexy thighs; and a pair of loafers—teetering on the fine line between formal and smart casual. His glasses, thankfully, are perched safely on his face. He wears a shy smile as Percy appraises his look, blissfully unaware of how hot Percy has gotten all over his own skin.

“I’m not losing to you,” Percy says before slamming the door back in his date’s face.

“Hey!”

“Come in, you infuriatingly hot and annoyingly hunky absolute dork.”

“Bro, I don’t really get the things you say sometimes,” Jason quips as he steps inside the cabin, voice shaky with mirth, “but right now, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Whatever, man,” Percy says as he finishes throwing on his outfit of the evening: a tight-fitting shirt that shows off his lean figure nicely; a leather jacket to put on Jason when the night gets colder later on; jeans that snugly wraps around his butt for his date’s viewing pleasure; and his best pair of boots. He wagers they'd make quite the sight standing next to each other—not as friends but as each other’s dates for a change—and the thought warms him all over.

Jason whistles appreciatively as Percy twirls around for him. "Shall we?" he asks as they step outside, extending his arm out—the one with the SPQR tattoo seared onto his skin as a child, matching Percy's own—for Percy to cling onto, ever the gentleman. Percy pushes him playfully at the (admittedly sweet) gesture before taking his clammy hand instead, leading the way and unable to stop the slight skip in his own steps as they head towards the borders of the camp where Blackjack is waiting.

Whether they kiss sweetly underneath the faint moonlight just outside the fancy-schmancy gelato shop, tummies satiated with dessert and hearts full of mutual affection, followed by Percy stealing Jason’s glasses before taking off in a run, is also a story for another day.

#jercy #jasercy #jason grace #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #key writes #3.1k

[collectivecloseness]

Steve and reader having sweet, soft sex and tells him "love you so much, you're so perfect stevie. you'll be such a great dad, yeah, gonna make you a daddy one day baby." You immediately worry you might've gone too far, but then you hear him gasp so loud and feel him twitch deep inside you and then you know you've found something he likes.

And you know it might not take the first time, you'd have to do it over and over and over again just to make sure. Overstimulating him and making him give you all the cum he has, until he's drooling all over himself, not a thought in his head except being your personal breeder, your dumb, horny little puppy.

Puppy stevie naked and wearing his cute little collar as you tell him to roll over and beg and he does exactly that, now lying on the floor with his hands out in front of him legs bent and raised in the air slightly, cock hard and his tongue hanging out while he pants loudly. Even though he's not allowed to speak normally, he doesn't need to for you to know exactly what he wants. So you reward him by pushing his legs further apart and fucking him raw right there and then, and he probably breaks your rule near the end to beg "gonna cum, please can I cum in you master?" (idc if you replace "master" woth something else if you don't wanna use it) but it's too hot for you to care.

Shaking biting crying (s)creaming rn

Cw: 18+, Petplay, breeding kink (so if it’s not your thing, just skip)

As soon as you mention Steve giving you some little Harrington’s, or better yet, filling you up with them, as a joke at first, you feel that twitch inside you. And after a large gasp of air and a shaky but loud “Oh God” you can feel him throbbing inside you. Shit... Your mind would almost be blurry from how hard and hot he’s throbbing inside your walls, if it wasn’t for seeing his face the second you said that. But then Steve’s filling you with his cum, pushing himself as deep inside as possible, and you’re riding out your own intense orgasm.

You’re not sure if just one thing caused this difference, but whenever Steve cums now when he’s with you, he seems to cum a lot. Like, the amount of his cum is so much. He always shoots deep inside your pussy too, trying to fuck harder and deeper towards the end, and he never backs out once he’s cum. He’s basically cockwarming you after every fuck, laying on top of you, although avoiding pressing his stomach down on yours. Even though afterwards, he always seems to be staring at your tummy too. Lightly stroking it, although he is fondly petting you all over.

There’s so much cum that drips out of you, when Steve eventually can’t beg for you to just lay in bed with him a bit more. Steve will fuck you in the shower the next morning and cum from last night that was way deep in you, is still dripping out, because he came so much, all while he’s fucking you full again. Steve likes to lie back once he’s too over sensitive to stay in you, and just see your pussy stuffed full of his cum. Pearly white smothered all over your entrance, barely even able to see any of it dripping out, because there’s just so much all over your cunt, that it’s all just sticking there.

And when you tell him you’re proud of him, or good job, or that he did so well for you, for seeing how much he gave you, his head gets just that much emptier. Especially when you tell him “Good boy”...

You notice he mainly only wants to fuck your pussy now too. And even if he does want to have sex in a different way, he always wants his first orgasm to be inside you there. He wants to make sure he’s giving you the best of his baby making seed. You don’t realise Steve’s not even been touching himself, to save up for you.

“Making him give you all the cum he has, until he’s drooling all over himself, not a thought in his head except being your personal breeder, your dumb, horny little puppy.” Anon did you know my stomach dropped. This!!!!!! This exactly!!!!

All Steve can think about is breeding you, breeding you, breeding you! He thinks about cum, and you cumming around him, and holding you, and making you so full because he did such a good job of breeding you so full and well.

He’s got to breed you! He has to! He wants to be a good boy. Fill his mistress up so well! He wants you to be full of his cum, and then full of his babies, and he wants to be so happy with you forever, make you happy.

Steve will stuff his face, not just his tongue, his face, inside your pussy, then come back with his tongue out, panting and smiling, and try and fill it up with his seed next.

Steve loves when you call him “puppy” and “good boy” (he also likes “naughty boy” too sssh), but the one time you let slip calling him ‘your breeder’, as he was making you cum on his cock? Steve actually thought he might pass out. He collapsed on top of you then. His sticky chest right on top of yours, as he licked all over your face, still pumping you full of his hard cock.

Steve’s a very good boy for you when you give him commands. Not only does he love hearing your praise, and being such a good boy for you, but he also gets treats.

He’ll start off begging by being cute. Nosing at your hand, or your leg. Nuzzling into you, or even just booping you with his nose. Sometimes he puts your hand on his hair, sometimes he’ll even lick you for your attention. But he’ll sit at your feet, and beg properly most of the time. Whining a little for you, an immediate big smile on his face whenever you look over at him, and his butt waggling, happy in preparation.

He’s usually so good you can’t deny him, unless it’s for teasing purposes. But puppy Stevie is too needy and isn’t thinking enough to always know this, or be patient. He’ll whine more, paw at you a little. If you tell him he can wait with you a little, he’ll curl up into your side. Big puppy eyes up at you, and if you don’t look at him, sighing loudly, occasionally papping you again.

But as soon as you’re crooning over your baby, your puppy, Stevie is melting. He rolls over for you, figuratively and literally, immediately. Steve will be sooo good once he realises you’re playing along. And not just because he’s trying, but he’s in that head space and all he wants is to do as you say, being your good puppy, and getting what he wants too.

Just lays there with his tongue out smiling up at you, already rock hard from having ‘tussled’ with you earlier. But also from when he brought his collar over with his mouth, and you immediately placed it around his neck.

He got so excited as you didn’t even order him to strip, you just helped your poor boy out those clothes because “How did you get in there, huh! Puppy’s don’t wear clothes!” All while you’re petting his hair with one hand, before finally undressing him fully, and letting him lap excitedly at your wrist as he did so. And then you clipped him to his leash, “just so I can keep my good boy close. And in case you have any ideas about being naughty.” You winked only beaming at him, and Steve followed you to the bedroom very happily on all fours, trailing behind you and just watching you with worshipping eyes.

So when you finally start touching him down there, his whines and howls begin. No longer is he smiling as he pants, instead his chest is heaving as his eyes fluttered closed, and he focuses on the feeling of your hand finally around his hard cock.

Steve whines and groans and makes all these little noises as you fuck him. He’s already pretty sensitive when he’s playing with this kink, but feeling you actually finally fuck him makes his brain turn to mush. He just wants to look up at you in all your glory as you bounce on his cock, one hand on his chest, the other lightly on his collar, as you moan about what a good boy he is, and how he’s making you feel so good. He wants to be so good for mistress.

Other times Steve gets to fuck you. Sometimes he wants to pin you down, happily rut on top of you, his tongue hanging happily above your head as he fucks up into you over and over, drool falling onto your tits from this position. But also able to hold you so close, as he cums inside you. Wrap his arms around you and shadow your body with his own, as he completely surrounds you on top, thighs always slapping against your own.

And he keeps cumming inside you, barely even pulling out. Cockwarming for the most part, only able to stand a small break, before he needs to be back in you filling you again.

Other times you’ll get on all fours for him to fuck you that way, and Steve takes his breeder role very seriously then. Even if you’re pulling on his leash bringing him forwards and back, in that position, Steve really feels like it’s his job to just breed you so good. Lays his entire warm chest on your back, wraps his arms lovingly around your tummy, as he humps up into you, feeling like he’s mating with you. Of course sometimes Steve is pinning you in less like a puppy way, and more of an alpha one, but more on that later.

Whenever Steve has to break his “Pets don’t speak” rule when he’s being a good boy with you, he always follows up with a pet name, either something sweet and loving, or mistress, or something like that. So you know he’s still being a good boy, he just couldn’t help himself!! He’s really needy.

This normally doesn’t get him a chiding, not when he’s actually just being his overexcited self, and you’d never be mean to him for that, or he’s close. You’ll get time where you and Steve haven’t even begun to have sex, he’s just being wild, but free. You can see in his eyes, he’s finally relaxed, in a happy state, and you’ll play with him and let him be silly, if that’s what Steve needs. You love your boyfriend for who he is anyway.

Steve just breaks when he is close. He’s begging for you, slipping from groans and sighs to words, pleading. “Pl-Please. Can I cum?” Looking at you with eyes so desperate, collar banging against his neck as both your thrusts get sloppier. “Need to cum. Wanna... wanna cum in you mistress. Please...” He’ll beg you with all his puppy tricks in the book, clawing at you. “Need to breed you. Need... need to fill. Make you mine. Gonna- wanna breed you. Please. Make you so full, please mistress. Wanna be your good boy.” These are the most words he can get out, he’s too fucked to form more coherent sentences. But he lathers you with thanks and affection and even more worship if you let him then.

If you tell him he has to wait, and especially if it’s because he spoke and “Puppies don’t talk, do they baby?” Then he’ll try and hold off. Slowing down his thrusts, or sticking his face in your body to try and control himself. Because he doesn’t want to be bad. But he needs to know when he’s finally allowed to cum, because, even if you’ve been doing all the work up until this point, he has to fuck you so he can jam his cock up your cunt, and explode as deeply stuffed inside of you as possible.

All the while, as he drains his cum into you, fucking his load further and sticklily deep into your walls, hoping it sticks. He’s thanking you, and begging for it to work.

You’ll hold him and stroke his hair. Promising he did such a good job. He bred you so well. Even if it’s just for practice. He’s gonna be a good daddy some day. But right now, Steve’s your good puppy. And has he done so good! You’re so proud of him. He’s bred you so well, just like you wanted. You’ll even get him to see your cum splattered thighs, from your own juices, again to remind him.

Sometimes Steve is overeager, and just so happy to be playing, so overtaken by your pleasure, that he’ll forget his main goal in the moment. It’s happened once or twice, where Steve’s been on his back, and as you were giving him a handjob or blowjob, he suddenly starts thrusting very enthusiastically, until he’s spilling all into your hand, and all over himself. You’ll of course help him finish, but after he’s come down with a very satisfied expression on his face, you’ve crooned “Look at you. You’ve made a mess, all over yourself!” Only when Steve gets a good look at his cum, splattered all over his tummy and down his thighs, do you soothe him with gentle strokes, and tummy rubs, spreading the mixture deeper. “Puppy was too overexcited huh?” You didn’t blame him. You knew he might feel bad about wasting ‘prime’ cum, so you just let him focus on and enjoy the pleasure he just had. And at least he gets to feel more like your dumb overeager puppy.

And there’s no escape from his tongue when he’s licking your face. It’s all over you, you have to scrunch your eyes, it’ll go over your nose, your ears, your chin, your eyebrows, and it will try to jam its way inside your mouth. Just licking over your mouth, over, and over again, so consumingly, so surrounded by just Steve’s tongue, until you have to open your mouth to breathe. Then Steve will be whining happily, because he gets to stick his tongue in there, and lap up the inside of your mouth. No thoughts, just happy with the feeling, and taste there. Just smiling as he licks up your mouth, and over your pink tongue. Swaying his hips, maybe with his little tail attached.

Steve also gets more of an oral fixation during pet play. Obviously aside from the licking, which there is a lot of. He is obsssed with your pussy. Slobbers all over it. He practically actually tries to eat it, not with teeth, but just swallowing, and licking as deep inside as his wiggling and needy tongue can get, then whining pressed against your mound because he can’t get deeper.

Just loves licking all over it. Especially because it makes it more slick so he can just slip right in! But also, it makes him feel quite feral. And Steve loves pleasing you like this anyway. Head empty, heart full of breeding you, cumming, and pleasing his mistress.

He doesn’t want to be Steve. He wants to be “puppy” and that’s it. It’s a time where he can relax, and not be someone with so many responsibilities. Especially knowing not only are you accepting of his kink, but you also like taking part? Steve just can wait to melt and have some puppy time with you.

So when you buy him a pretty little collar, and a leash, (maybe some ears and a tail depending on how far you wanna go), Steve just about cries. He’s already at your feet, nuzzling into your ankle as he softly thanks you. But when you ask if he wants you to put them on, he’s buzzing straight into sitting up. Waggling his butt, and sitting still like a good boy. Big shining eyes up at you, as you attach the collar. You’re trying to place your fingers down his neck, ask if it’s too loose, or to tight, but Steve is already jumping you. And he’s pretty tall! He has his hands on your shoulders and he’s lapping all over your face in thanks, and you can only giggle as you let him give you kissies like he wants, before readjusting the collar for him.

Steve likes when you tug on his leash. But one time he wrapped you up in it on purpose, when he was being a very bad boy.

Got you all tied up in his leash by tricking you. Then when you were tied, he gave one tug with his teeth, and you were stuck, on the floor with no way up. No way out, without help from Steve. He definitely made a bit of a show, teasing, about looking at you, instead of helping out.

Sometimes Steve can be a naughty puppy... You’ll be bending over, to grab something, and suddenly your horny boy is right behind you, grabbing you tightly, and humping up into you so well you can’t escape. Pushing you to the floor, on all fours, so he can hump into you even more, needy little sounds coming through him.

Steve sometimes gives you lots of licks on your cheeks, to say hello, and he was just too excited to ‘greet’ you! He’s just your silly pup, who doesn’t really realise he’s breaking the rules, he’s just so excited your home! You’re back, and you smell so good, and he’s all tingly down there, so he can playfully roughhouse you to the ground, then begin to greet you with his thrusting hips, watching you sink into submitting to his not so according to the rules greeting. All the while he’s smiling so happily because you’re back! Loving on you so much.

Other times, Steve will growl. And he’ll hold onto your waist tighter. Digging his hard clothed cock into you as he keeps humping. Maybe even pushing your head down to the ground, for dominance, but keeping your hips up for the babymaking angle.

Sometimes like that, he’ll call you his bitch, since he’s the alpha. Or his personal breeding bag, his cum dump, where he’s gonna deposit all his seed, by fucking you silly, until you’re full and swollen by Steve, of Steve.

Sometimes he’ll hump your leg. This doesn’t always mean he’s being naughty. Sometimes he’s just mindless and horny and wants to get your attention so bad and this is easy. He’s not even always thinking about it, he just starts doing it on instinct, and cause it feels so good.

It makes him feel really good, and he’ll jump up on you, as he drools over your leg, just slobbering down it as his blissed out face is smushed into your warm leg, mindlessly humping away, without a care in the world. Just what feels good, with you close.

Sometimes his head is closer to your cunt as well, and as he drools all over your thigh while he rests against it, he’ll pull his head up to be able to place his head closer there. He’ll lick over your clothes down there as he’s humping your leg, trying to lick you out through your pants. And if you let him, he’ll eat you out as he humps your leg. He loves that.

Sometimes when Steve’s in that headspace, and he knows you’ll be home soon, and he’s feeling naughty and needy, he’ll grab some clothes of yours, make them into a nest, and start grinding into them. Letting his pre smear all over your clothes, although saving his cum for you. You get jumped before you can even close the door. And Steve really wants you fuck you in his little nest he’s made. To show you just how much he needed you, how he missed you, showing his love for you.

Steve just loves being able to let his mind rest, and loll his tongue out as he smiles happily, being able to breed you, and being called your good boy, all cause of it.

#anon I am biting you so affectionately and so normally rn #citrussy #Steve Harrington/reader #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington #stranger things #ask #anon #Steve Harrington thoughts #Steve Harrington blurb #3.1k

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Dust and debris spread like a fine mist through the air.

Visibility was unsurprisingly low, given how thick the smoke clouds were. Rushing bodies, wicked spellfire, and large chunks of rubble were the only things that disrupted it. And the chunks, Harry realised, weren’t coming from nearby buildings like he had first blindly thought. He watched, brows raised, at the sight of cracking stone tearing straight from the ground, shooting out and away at harrowing speeds, their mass used as projectiles.

Impressive, Harry thought. The magical strength required to do that must have been great, but it lacked any refinement or skill. The wavering, rotating masses that flung wildly and in any direction they could reach spoke of desperation and fear. Well, Harry couldn’t blame them.

He was feeling pretty desperate and… maybe not fearful… but definitely confused, too.

Waking up in the middle of an ongoing fight was what Harry had been expecting; what he hadn’t been expecting was waking up in the middle of what looked like Diagon Alley if he squinted a bit and turned his head to the left.

He dusted himself off rather pointlessly and gave his Auror robes a quick pat down. He was working with no wand and just his wits. He supposed things could have been worse. Thankfully, he wasn’t very out of practice with his wandless spell work. It did, however, vastly limit what he could do to lend a hand.

And he’d have to lend a hand and get out of here as quickly as possible. He and Ron were still taking care of some rogue wizards reaping havoc on a small wizarding community in Alfriston, and Harry was definitely a long way from there. What had happened, anyway? What did that wizard throw at him?

Maybe he should be paying more attention to what wizards are currently throwing at him. One of those large pieces of rubble abruptly interrupted Harry’s train of thought and sightline. He gathered whatever magic he could and prepared to apparate away from its path but startled at the grating sensation of anti-apparition wards. His breath caught as it fully dawned on him that something was very wrong.

His eyes widened, and he ducked and rolled out of the way further into the street. Vertigo hit him all too suddenly, forcing him to catch his breath. Whatever means of travel he’d taken to get here did not agree with him at all. In fact, Harry had just realised he couldn’t hear anything. Only a low, high-pitched noise that echoed around in his head. He felt nearly delirious.

Mindlessly stepping back and out of the way of a nasty-looking violet spell, he took a moment to assess his body more carefully. He had all his fingers and toes, all his limbs, his head was on straight, his joints were bending the right way—he seemed perfectly fine. And even though he felt no injuries, he forced a despairingly weak healing charm from within - out. Unfortunately, Harry didn’t have too much wandless practice with those, so it didn’t quite ease the onslaught of nausea, but it did fix his hearing.

And the world was much louder than Harry had prepared for. Screams shouted out like banshee cries, and the sound of whizzing spells and explosions echoed all throughout. He cringed against the relentless noises, hands coming up to cover his ears until he could adjust. It took some time and a few more close calls with ugly spellfire, but when Harry finally got his bearings, he jumped into the fray.

He magicked away most of the debris in the air, and his head whipped back and forth, taking stock of the newly visible surroundings. Harry was unsure where to begin and whom to ask for an explanation of what was even happening. He couldn’t spot any familiar Aurors, but there were definitely people dressed in uniforms…

Harry nearly paused at that. Yes, there were definitely people dressed in uniforms. Ones that were dark and black and flowing like ink and looked eerily familiar, and others that looked strikingly like Sirius’s old Auror robes from—

“HELP!”

Harry’s eyes caught sight of a young woman clutching a child for dear life. Their backs were pinned up against the broken remains of a shop, and her body hid the kid to the best of her ability while a wizard in dark robes stood before them, wand raised and ready to cast. Harry caught the unmistakable glimmer of silver reflecting off the sunlight in the Alley from the side of the wizard’s face, but he refused to linger on the stomach-swooping horror of recognition its shine caused.

It’s a good thing Harry had always been fast on his feet, quick on the draw. It’s also a good thing his wandless stupefy was still in top form.

The body crumpled to the ground, and Harry’s assist went unnoticed in all the chaos. But the woman had seen him and quickly found Harry’s eyes. She peered up at him, relieved and overwhelmingly grateful, but stared for a beat too long, and Harry, being used to it, gave her no mind. He quickly came over to help escort her and the child somewhere safer. She muttered something as he lifted the kid in a secure grip, one arm by the bend of their knee and the other firmly on their back.

“What was that?” Harry asked, releasing his hold on the kid’s back after they had adjusted to the position, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Harry tried to take a gentle but resolute hold on the clearly in shock woman to help guide her out of the direct fire. And when she repeated herself, it was with more confidence, even though she was shaking violently.

“I didn’t know you had become an Auror, James. Didn’t you only graduate this summer?”

For a moment, all of Harry’s battle-hardened instincts fell away. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She didn’t look anywhere close to his parents’ age had they still been alive. Really, she looked much closer to Harry’s age, maybe a few years older. They had probably gone to Hogwarts together for a short while. So then, why—

Why did she think he was his father? His father, who had apparently only graduated this year?

Shock, Harry could excuse this as, and he sorely wanted to, but that feeling of wrongness was rearing its ugly head once again.

So Harry stayed quiet and focused. He stunned anyone suspicious they came across and brought them both to a mostly unharmed shop out of the way with a blessedly working floo connection. He watched them leave and exited the building, confident that from here, just around this corner, should be Twilit and Tattings. But when he arrived at the distinct shop front, still standing on what Harry could only guess was pure rich-pureblood spite, the store looked nothing like a clothing shop.

Unsettled but willing to take a gamble, Harry stuck to the edges of the alley and made his way further up Diagon, closer to Horizont. He avoided bouncing spells and crumpled bodies and cast when he could all the way until he saw the familiar sign of Ollivanders.

With all his hesitance and the churning in his stomach, Harry tried something with no small amount of hysteria. He held his hand up, right before the shattered glass of Ollivanders’ main window and said:

“Accio Harry Potter’s wand.”

For a breathtaking moment, nothing happened, and Harry was so viciously relieved that he couldn’t help the short laughter that fell out of him. Shock, he reminded himself, she was just in shock.

Shaking his head clear of whatever madness had temporarily held him, he readied to shoulder open the door and commandeer a temporary wand. Even something poorly matched would be better than nothing if he were to continue lending assistance to the Aurors on the scene.

But before he could even take a step, something was flying straight at his head.

“Whoa!” Harry ducked and turned to watch as a wand took an arching turn and bound straight towards him again. But this time, Harry was ready; he caught it with a smart thwack to the flat of his palm.

The warmth and pure magic from this wand that flooded his veins were unlike any other— but that was a lie. It was exactly like one other. One other wand from when he was eleven. His very first wand.

Looking at the fine holly wood in his hand, feeling the blazing heat of what was no doubt a phoenix feather core, and the familiar curves and juts of its crafted exterior, Harry felt no happiness at seeing an old friend. He felt dread take hold of his very being, leaving him cold and wrung dry.

“Tempus,” Harry muttered, and like delicate clockwork, the spell cast flawlessly and more naturally than any spell Harry had cast in ages. The time of day and month was troubling enough, but the year really caused its own upending.

1978.

Harry took a deep, steady breath in. He locked all the terrible and awful and horrible things he was feeling away in a small corner of his mind, shoving it all into a cupboard under the stairs. And released his breath. He nodded once to himself and held his wand in a proper grip. Logic and Auror instinct, but more prevalent, war instinct, sunk their familiar claws into the still-healing scars of his mind.

He left Ollivanders and made his way carefully up Diagon Alley once more, distantly acknowledging that he may not have done as good a job as he was hoping at concealing his anxieties. His casting was accurate and decidedly not as innocent as it had been. Stupefies traded for spells that might have leant a little darker than an Auror should really be using.

He couldn’t say he had the element of surprise on his side. Still, the terrorists attacking the alley weren’t exactly looking out for an Auror dressed like Harry was, so he had the first few moments of them treating him like a civilian before realising their grave error.

But by then, they were blasted halfway across the alley, laid face down on the cobblestones, or missing a limb or two. The ah-ha moment of ‘civilians don’t normally fight like that’ only echoed in the quiet of their unconscious minds.

And the closer Harry got to the heart of the battle, picking off black-robed wizards one by one and gathering appreciative and perplexed looks from Aurors, he should have realised that faces may start gaining an awful familiarity. He should have realised that he knew of an unfortunate amount of wizards and witches who fought in the First War. He had heard numerous stories of their bravery and seen photographs of their faces, after all, and Harry really should have realised that seeing them would be inevitable, even now— even when he wasn’t ready.

But he had never travelled this far back in time, so could anyone blame him for being caught by surprise?

Because there she was. Fresh out of Hogwarts. Classes must’ve only ended a month or so ago. And she was standing at the heart of the battle. The August sun lent an unfairly clear day to the gruesome attack and shinned on the brilliant auburn of her hair tied back and away from her face like a flaming whip.

Harry was shocked still at the sight of Lily Potter.

And he paid for it with a gnarly gash to the side of his ribs.

Quickly breaking from his trance and cursing his inability to stay focused, Harry fired back with his own cutting spell. Of course, the much nastier sectumsempra wouldn’t be nearly as easy to bounce back from, but Harry couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck at the moment.

He created jagged spikes of transfigured rock from the ruined pathways all around them until the war zone that was once Diagon Alley had become impractical and claustrophobic. Startled cries came from every direction; no one was spared from his sudden attack and aggression. No one except for Lily Potter, who stood in a small circle of safety, the spikes around her lending shelter. Her arms were comically raised like Harry was a muggle robber, and this was all just a hold-up. And he felt the urge to laugh die as quickly as it came.

Not a soul moved, but Harry wasn’t one for inaction. He cast a sonorus and spoke, “If you are a follower of,” Harry mindfully avoided His name, unaware of when exactly the taboo had been enacted, “the Dark Lord, I believe you’ve caused well enough damage today. Leave.”

There was silence; then there was the sharp break of the anti-apparition wards shattering, and with it, the sounds of loud pop-pop-pops from Death Eaters tucking tails and running away. Harry was a little shocked that simply demanding they leave worked. Then again, turning all of Diagon Alley’s streets into some giant’s version of an Iron Maiden in the heat of his anger was probably something to be wary of. When all was quiet once more, Harry transfigured the cobblestone back, again marvelling at the easy control with his holly wand.

It dawned on Harry then that, now that the battle was cleared up as best he could manage, he had no way of returning to his time and nothing to immediately keep that thought from taking hold and consuming him whole. He stood paralysed and in deep thought through the multiple hesitant thanks, thank you so much, you saved us directed his way. And he could really do without the reminder of how irreparably fucked he’d just made the timeline, but, you’re welcome, he supposed.

Then two gentle hands on his arm pulled him out of the dark.

“Excuse me?” Harry looked up at green, sage and fresh like a vegetable garden, like summer’s grass on a quidditch field, like sprigs of thyme on holiday roasts with family; he looked up at the eyes of Lily Potter and startled at the sound of her voice.

“So young…” Harry had mindlessly replied. Lily Potter’s answering frown was enough to leave him sorry for the rest of his miserable life.

She turned her careful attention to Harry’s bleeding shoulder, and he realised she was trying to heal him, “Speak for yourself, firecracker. You look about my age and handled yourself better than any of these Aurors.”

Firecracker? Harry muttered soundlessly. Bewildered at the idea of his mother giving him a nickname like that. Something screaming and rotting and twisting in his soul mourned the loss of it until now.

“This doesn’t look as bad as I’d thought. Do you feel any extreme pain?” She asked.

Harry shook his head slowly and in a daze. She hummed, doubtful, “Well, even if it doesn’t hurt too badly, let’s get you to St Mungo’s and patch you up—“

Before she could finish, Harry stepped back out of her gentle hands, shaking his head with much more clarity. “No. No doctors. I can heal it myself well enough.”

Her eyes widened, and something about him must’ve given away that he was planning on making his great escape because she suddenly grabbed his wrist tight enough to bruise, “Wait! I’ll listen! I won’t force you to see a healer; but please,” she held on even tighter, “we haven’t had a- a victory like this- in a long, long time. Don’t go.”

And Harry could only stare, horrified, at his own mother standing before him, young and alive and begging him not to go.

They are interrupted by a loud shout, “LILS,” and a man full-on tackling Lily Potter with force strong enough to pull Harry with them. But, madly, all Harry could think was that his mother had quite the grip.

And with Harry’s much closer proximity, he quickly deduced who the new link to their growing chain was. James Potter.

Harry’s eyes blinked slowly; a bone-weary exhaustion took staunch hold of him as he listened to his father ask after his mother’s wellbeing. Finally, Lily spoke over him, firm and unyielding, “James. I am fine. Where on earth have you been?”

“I was dealing with some Death Eaters towards the mouth of Knockturn—but that doesn’t matter! What matters is that you promised to stay by me, and in less than two shakes of a fairy’s wings, you were nowhere to be seen.”

Lily scoffed, “I cannot believe you are blaming me right now when you are clearly the one who wandered off first! We agreed to stay near the centre, and, would you look at that—that’s exactly where you found me, isn’t it?”

Harry could not believe he was watching his parents have their first domestic argument, and he wasn’t even technically born yet. This seemed cruel and unusual.

“Okay, agree to disagree. We are both at fault,” James’ eyes strayed towards Harry. He looked long and hard at Harry’s face and landed on the tight grip of Lily’s hand. “Who’s tall, pale, and ready to be sick standing beside you here?”

“What?” Lily asked, and her eyes fell on Harry too. Her mouth fell open in a horror Harry felt immensely, “Oh my god! I’m so sorry; I promise I didn’t forget about you—it’s just James is so distracting—and oh my god, I haven’t even introduced myself—“

“Lily, take a deep breath, and maybe let the man go?”

“James, you have no idea what happened, but you would if you’d have been here.”

Harry cleared his throat, “Um,” James and Lily both turned and gave him their full attention. It was awful. “Um… I’m Harry.”

“Harry,” James and Lily said together. Lily’s eyes were wide, but her smile was wider, and James looked extremely confused and put out. His brows furrowed until they were almost touching, and he commented, “My grandfather’s name was Harry,” he frowned and corrected himself, “well, his name was Henry. But we all called him Harry.”

Maybe Harry should have given them a fake name.

“James…” Lily murmured. She wasn’t quiet enough for Harry not to catch her following words, “He looks a bit like he could be your brother, doesn’t he?” James just silently and slowly nodded his head.

“What did you say your surname was again, Harry?” James asked like he was trying to be slick.

And Harry, no stranger to risky bets, replied, “I didn’t. But it’s Potter. Harry Potter.”

The silence that followed was very loud.

Until, “Lily. You’ve got a good grip on him, yeah?”

“Of course,” she nodded like it was obvious.

James grinned, “Hold on tighter, then.”

And the sudden gathering of magic in the air had Harry’s hair standing on end. When he caught sight of James’ wand out, he knew it was too late.

They apparated out of Diagon Alley.

#eventual #harrymort #tomarrymort #tomarry #pov: harry #my fic #3.1k words #unnamed fic #surprise #it's time travel and the first wizarding war two of my favourite vices #this may change drastically before i post it to ao3 but i kind of like it so maybe it won't

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Finally got them out of the locker room, jfc!

#took me only 3.1k to do it #this will be longer than i anticipated #i can safely say that much already #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #a/b/o #omegaverse #omega eddie munson

[aesolerin]

bro what

#insane that i started seriously writing under a year ago and here i am #in my defense i have 26 works and 3.1k of those views are from a big smut fic lmao

[floworence]

Fic writers I need y'all to step up your game for those sweet sweet Nimona fics.

It's me. I'm fics writers.

#nimona #currenly have 3.1k draft that is very far from being finished #and 13 point list with fic ideas #plus some new trickling in as we speak #content is about to come if someone cares about my writing #also read all the fics #im empty #nimona 2023 #nimona fanfic

[baeshijima]

once again coming on to say how unwell this fic is making me

#sophie talks : as fate would have it #WE ARE. AT 3.1K WORDS. WITH LIKE... 8-9 UNFINISHED SECTIONS. #head in hands im not ready but im the one writing it 🐥 #anyway blade the man that u are <33 #asks will probably be answered later when im not crying over words !!

[enigmatic-mystery-777]

Enchanted

As you and Daniel start your mini vacation together, the two of you end up discussing what made you realize you first liked each other.

Taglist: @stargaterevival @frostysfrenzy @geekygumiho @riverageleis @cuillere @daydreampending @jgem87

#terr's fics #daniel jackson #stargate sg1 #daniel jackson x reader #gn!reader #romance #fluff #sweet #mild smut at the end (sorta) #october writing challenge #day 10: enchant #one-shot #3.1k word count

[echotunes]

i love using placeholders when writing. like go king give us nothing!

#these are the kind of things where i'm like. ok this syntax would be good but i have no actual content for it. oh well. i'll fix it later #(and then two weeks pass as i procrastinate that section and work on other parts instead) #i do recommend the placeholder strat though. it's so freeing. first drafts babyyy #echo.txt #we are at. checks wordcount. 3.1k. full doc 8.3k. yippee

[dove-da-birb]

oh my gosh, Potato Grim can see now? That's great!!

but what mischief will he get into now that he has vision...? 😈

Potato Grim can see now! I need to reposition the eyes though, so he's losing eyesight privileges when I get around to altering him.

He looks like he has no brain cells, and/or he's cursed with thoughts; most likely both.

The mischief he'll get in; arson.

Things I watched as I made both his ears and eyes today (six pieces)

Spirit; Stallion of the Cimarron

Dungeons & Dragons; Honour Among Thieves

#krenenbaker! #potato son update #he's got that dead/walleyed look; i need to make adjustments but that can wait until I attach the head at the end #he will be soon losing his eyesight privledges #he's kinda cursed but i knew he was gonna come out looking a bit funky #brain; choose either knitting or writing | me; b o t h #got 3 ocs done and current wip is at 3.1K

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

3 chapters out of 4 done!!! This fic has gotten so long lmaooo how did I think this would be done before the movie

#this is an approximate word count of all 3 chapters so far #but chapter 3 is about 4.7k! #i should (hopefully) be able to finish the second draft of chapter 4 by the end of the month #then it'll just be editing! #the outline for ch4 is about 3.1k #itll probs balloon by a couple hundred words or so when i actually sit down to write it #soon i'll be able to put this fic away... #mlv.txt #bowuigi egg fic project

[blnk338]

No context spoilers

(Last image is me writing this goddamn thang)

#rwys no context spoilers #no context rwys spoilers #rwys updates #about 3.1k words #there’s so much soft shit smacked into here guys #it’s really gross like my teeth are rotting

[beesinspades]

sorry for not giving updates on creechur fic!! I was on a small trip and then entered full big bang editing mode as soon as I got home 🙈 I'm trying to finish it entirely before chapter 1 posting day (nov 9) so after that I'm probably taking a couple of days to chill and then I'll get back into creechur fic!!

#i have an MRI on nov 12 though and i'll probably go to the protest on nov 11 and then on nov 15 and 16 i have appointments 💀 #i hope i wont get any bad news i would hate to be too anxious to write :((( #but i'll try my best!!! #i have 3.1k of it already so it's well underway #thank you for your patience!! #and i'll reply to comments as soon as I can!! #creechur fic

[c6jpg]

shenhe..... soon...............

#almost done prefarming i just need some more gold talent books #i'm only planning to 6/9/9 her though so that saves a lot #i also feel like my build for her is pretty good?? 3.1k atk with favonius so she has 200% er #cr with cryo resonance will be 50% which is probably fine with that er #i'm using 2pc/2pc atk bc chongyun is gonna be my noblesse holder for the most part #GOD I'M SO EXCITED FOR HER AHHHHHHHHHHH #0.txt

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

So I think what I’m gonna do is M-F I’m gonna write in the morning for maybe 2-3 hours and if I feel like I wanna write more I will. But if not I’ll spend my afternoons/evenings here or maybe writing fics for my ships

#i have a valentines one for Bernard and the proposal one for Sam #but 3.1k words! that’s a lot! wrote that today! #blah blah blah

[cloudbattrolls]

Skyfall

Various Parties | Hanhai Cavern

Tuuya hung up on Platar, breathing a sigh of relief that he had agreed to destroy the Ozryel swarms’ eggshells.

It was the only chance they had of destroying them for good - and if anyone could do it, it was him.

They’d miss him, strangely enough. Even if he was a product of all the empire’s wretched discrimination, they still felt he was not entirely a bad man.

They closed their eyes for a moment. They couldn’t afford to delay long. They just wanted to take Kaningard in, one last time.

The distant sounds of scrabbling animals in the cavern. Their daughters, talking and arguing in the room over. The soft fabric on their skin, clothes they had made themself.

Ozryel had to die. Leave. Whichever.

By extension, so did they.

They opened their eyes again.

They began walking to their daughters.

If only they could say goodbye to their other children…but there was no time. Almost two hundred sweeps, so suddenly cut short.

But wasn’t it that way for everyone, in the end?

They’d brought enough death. They ought to face theirs with dignity.

They poked their head into the dining room.

“Hello, my dears…I hate to interrupt, but Uunive, I need you. Something urgent’s come up.”

Their tone and expression must have made it clear how urgent it really was, despite their attempt to sound calm, because their older daughter got up and went with them, no hesitation whatsoever.

Quickly, they took her to another room and explained the situation.

“It will be very dangerous, and I may not return - ” (they internally winced at the half truth) “ - and…”

They trailed off as they noticed the limeblood wordlessly reach out to touch the cave wall, grab a chunk of it with only the strength of her hand, and then crumble it.

“I’m coming with.” Uunive said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

Despite everything, Tuuya couldn’t help a proud but nervous smile from stealing over their face. Their darling girl. So strong and grown-up now.

Grown-up, and about to be alone again.

No. No time for pain. They had to keep moving.

“All right.” They said with a nod. “If you could call Kamala for me, while I gather our weapons…someone has to watch Ailene.”

Their human daughter was still recovering from the loss of her arm. Fortunately, one of their moirails was a docterrorist.

Uunive nodded, and the worm swarm bustled away to review their stock and pack as quickly as possible.

Smoke bombs? Check.

Their laser pistols? Check.

Uunive’s knives? Check.

Superheated blades and a few other emergency items? Check.

They looked at their work outfit, slung on a hanger in their closet, the one they often wore when going on jobs for Chimer.

They’d already altered it once, to accommodate their current body type…and they would alter it one last time, because damn if they would go down without a fight.

As they rolled back their sleeves, white worm tendrils sprung from their arms to work in tandem with their hands, scissors, needles and thread.

A few minutes later, they nodded at the result, satisfied, and changed into it.

Normally they would decry this skimpier style as ridiculous and impractical. For them it was ideal to have more skin to let out tendrils from, and it still covered much of their skeleton and what few organs they had.

With a few swift scissor chops, they cut their hair. Less to get tangled by the other swarms or for them to grab onto.

They’d take along their fireproof armor too. It had certainly saved their skin enough times…and  they’d ask Uunive to use her luck psiionics to enhance their weapons too, just in case.

They could only hope they’d stay intact long enough to find and subdue Ozryel.

Hope, mused Tuuya as they went back to fetch Uunive and go, activating their small spaceship for the first time in ages.

Strange that they should have to give up hope that wasn’t even theirs.

That when they should despair, they instead felt calm.

What was there to worry about anymore?

—

Rivali pursed their lips as they saw a missed call from their old friend. Not an uncommon expression for the jade, but one currently laced with worry along with disapproval.

They tried to call Daudre, hanging up when it went directly to voicemail. Then they tried to call Vannyn.

“Rivali?” Said the worm swarm, surprised. “Ah - I’m a little busy right now, what’s -“

“Daudre called me, but left no message. Do you know anything?” They said curtly, cutting in.

Tuuya sucked in a hesitant breath. “Ozryel, Inshii, and Rhyssa invaded Hanhai cavern. Uunive and I are on our way.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“I’m coming too.” Declared the komondor troll.

“Rivali! I know you’re skilled, but you could di -“

The jade hung up on the undead’s panicked plea.

No one invaded their old home without them doing something about it.

Despite the miseries they had suffered under those narrow-minded old wretches, they were far from the only trolls there.

Daudre, the only friend they’d ever had at home. Ashwat, their lineage-mate, kept away from them for fear they’d be a bad influence on her.

Even the stuffy, rigid matrons who disdained their identity did not deserve to die in such a way.

They had fought Ozryel when she’d been in Tuuya’s body, and they had won.

As they checked their weapons and sent a message to Temasek cavern’s matron superior excusing their sudden absence, Rivali found themself eager for a rematch.

—

A short time later, the ship hovered some distance above the desert cavern’s entrance. Tuuya’s dark gray fingers adjusting and focusing the ship’s sensors to see if the other swarms had been bright enough to leave constructs to guard the entrance.

The answer seemed to be no, the pale sand below undisturbed by anything but the wind.

Still, Tuuya took them down slowly, laser cannons primed to fire. They weren’t keen on doing more collateral damage than they had to, but they also weren’t going to give the other swarms even the smallest chance to get in close.

They were glad of it when a massive wasp construct shot out of the sand, buzzing angrily as it got riddled with melted gaps from a round of white beams. The rest of it dodged and reformed before streaming further upwards.

Tuuya pulled the ship back up, g-forces pressing on the worm swarm and their daughter. They cooled the cannons; now it was time to use nature to their advantage.

They slowed a little, a tactic that would make most opponents suspicious, but Rhyssa hadn’t the brains the mother grub gave an ant. It only made her bear down harder as the small ship drifted into a cloud.

The lingering heat from the cannons caused gentle steam to waft around the vessel, cloaking it even further.

As the construct barreled within range on vast wasp wings, multiple wicked pincers extending from it, Tuuya released a little something they’d had Thrixe make for them.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have much of it. This would use up their whole stock.

The construct began to skitter and scratch against the ship’s windows, causing small cracks to splinter across the glass…and then went limp, helpless, rendered impotent by the fungus specifically engineered to feed on undead biological matter spreading through its tissue.

Tuuya smirked as they slowly took the ship down again, watching the massive white insectoid thing fall to the sand and scatter into pieces, going still as it died.

They landed, and satisfied nothing else would jump out at them, strode past the wreckage and the corpse riddled with gray fungus; fortunately, the substance became inert after it did its work, so neither they or Uunive were at risk.

“I cannot wait for the rest of you to perish.” They said lovingly to the splotched, broken body as they went by, stepping over a large segmented leg.

“I do so hope I’m there to see it.”

—

Hirudo panted as she faced down a room full of white butterflies, even though she didn’t technically need to breathe. If she got out of this, she was swatting every single one she ever saw again.

The fuchsia was covered in cuts, her already ratty lolita dress now basically in shreds, and Joey and Neffie were faring even worse as they stood behind her. One of the rustblood’s pedipalps had partially broken off, and Neffie was limping heavily.

Klirro had never arrived. Who the fuck knew why.

She felt their eyes on her as she hefted her heat gun defensively (it was nearly out of charge), but the swirling swarm didn’t attack.

Instead, it spoke to her.

“It would be a waste to kill you.” said some butterflies, pressed together with rapid constructs to make a faceless voice, but it still didn’t quite sound like a troll speaking. It was rustling and oddly-toned, vibrating at random moments and making some vowels in drawn out or overly clipped ways.

“You proved yourself useful to Rhyssa. She would have you dead for your treachery, but I think otherwise.”

Hirudo laughed sharply and without humor, the sound echoing against the stony cavern walls.

“You think I believe that?” She snarled. “You might be elders, but you turned even on Tuuya when they didn’t do what you wanted. I know what our lives would be like under you; I won’t do that to my coven.”

As she spoke, the leech rainbowdrinker swapped her heat gun for a grenade she pulled the pin from and flung at the ceiling in seconds, then grabbed her coven members and made a break for it.

She knew, as the butterflies dove for her in a massive fluttering of wings, she probably wouldn’t make it.

Either the rocks would get her, or the bugs would.

Maybe she could at least throw the others clear of -

A giant rope - no - a white worm tendril - snaked around her and yanked her to safety with sickening speed, pulling her out of the room in barely more than a second.

Barely conscious from the debris that had pelted her body, the razor proboscises that had freshly cut her skin, Hirudo wiped her face clear of blood and dirt with a shaking head.

She gazed up blearily at her rescuer as she was gently set down, Neffie and Joey tumbling out of her arms onto the rocky floor. They groaned as they slid down, Neffie hissing in pain from her bad leg.

Crashing and crumbling noises came from behind them, and while she felt the breeze of a few butterflies escaping, she could tell many had been crushed. The very floor of the cavern shook from the impact, and she knew it would be felt throughout the whole place.

Tuuya smiled down at her with that needle-filled mouth of theirs, and gave her an ironic salute. Uunive stood next to them wearing a hardened expression, prongs on her horns now, and the seadweller could hardly believe it was the same girl she’d kidnapped mere perigees ago.

Beetles hovered around her, for some reason. What…?

“There are matrons’ bodies in a room not far from here, ones we found already dead.” Said Tuuya with sadness. “Make use of them. Heal. Find Rhyssa and kill her, Inshii too if you can manage it. If my contact has succeeded in rendering the other swarms able to die…we will soon know.”

“What about you?” managed the highblood, coughing between words.

“I?” They said, amused, looking back as they already began to walk away, ragged crimson coat waving as they strode side by side with their daughter.

“I’m here for Ozryel.”

—

After the cacophony of the explosion, it was almost eerily quiet in the cavern. Inshii had fled elsewhere, not hanging around to attack the worm swarm and the lime drinker.

Jade blood lay messily spattered across the ancient sandstone passages Tuuya and Uunive descended quickly, heading for the mother grub - and something of equal value.

“The matriorb…” Tuuya said, picking up a conversation they’d had on the ship. Uunive had mentioned feeling certain that the mother of swarms would try to use it for some terrible purpose.

“I can’t imagine why Ozryel would want it, but who knows? I remember when I got ahold of it…it seems so long ago. At first I worried I might be getting tricked, but no, it was a real one. Real enough to earn you a place here…”

They sighed, looking around at the ravaged cavern.

“I hope there are still jades to save. I hope it dearly.”

“There will be.” Uunive said firmly, her beetles fluttering around her.

“Tutu, think. She invaded this place to do something. Maybe it had to do with me, but that can’t be the only reason. She has to want at least some of them alive.”

Tuuya nodded. They had no idea if that was true, but there was no point in arguing, and all they could do was try.

A dying groan and wail came from the cavern ahead, and both undeads’ eyes widened as they sprinted toward it -

- in time to see Ozryel finish slitting the mother grub’s throat by dragging her claws across the exposed paleness, jade blood gushing out of the vast grayish white carapace. It pooled across the floor, flooding over toward the other two undead.

Tuuya wailed, a wretched noise more beastlike than troll, and Uunive yelled in rage.

Ozryel laughed as her strange wings lifted, bird-shaped yet diaphanous in nature. Of course the wretch had white hair as a troll, and pincers at the edges of her mouth. What a lovely family resemblance to her children.

Green eyes. Solid green, the same color as their own irises.

Tuuya’s hatred suffused their every worm as their insides writhed, the swarm eager to kill.

Not eager to die. Resigned nonetheless.

They lifted their laser pistols and began shooting at the ancient creature as she soared up and away, laughing mockingly as she dodged the daggers and laser fire.

–

Rivali had taken a juvenile roc lusus as transport, quickly rigging it with a saddle and throwing on a helmet paired with goggles.

Not strictly with cavern permission, but Hanhai desert was a suitable enough environment for one to spend some time in. It wasn’t big enough to do any major damage, and the local towns were scattered apart some distance from the cavern.

Besides, this was an emergency. They could apologize, do paperwork, and pay the fines later.

The real challenge had been getting the thing to put them down (mostly) safely, but a few bruises were an incredibly minor price to pay for the speed of travel; though at least Temasek wasn’t too far away.

They primly dusted themself off, the roc promptly ignoring them as it looked about for food.

Much as they longed to rush down into their old home, the komondor troll was wary as they entered the tunnels, ears pricked and eyes open for any wretched bloodsucking insects. At the slightest flash of white, they’d have their heat gun trained on it.

They hoped the creatures weren’t disguising themselves as trolls. They would be more difficult to identify quickly…but why would they bother? Much as Rivali hated to admit it, the lack of guards and no sight or sound of anyone so far probably meant the place was already in their grip.

They heard whimpering, and froze.

They peered around the stone corner.

A few jade wrigglers in gray and black uniforms huddled in a hall, and the oldest couldn’t be more than five sweeps, with the youngest perhaps three.

Above them hovered a small cloud of white wasps, making a low buzz.

Rivali waited, wondering why they hadn’t been attacked, then realized: insect eyes weren’t very good, and the light was low. The only illumination underground from the wasps’ own mild glow and the glass-encased torches on the walls, one of which had been smashed and damaged. They were already clad in their sleek white armor, lightweight to allow freedom of movement, but still offering some protection.

They couldn’t shoot at the swarm fragment right now, not with it so close to the girls.

So they picked up and threw a rock over it, the movement making the wrigglers jump and the wasps rise up in a small, angry funnel, zipping toward them.

Rivali fired.

The heat spread in a burst, melting most of the wasps into white drops dotting the tunnel floor. The few that escaped were dispatched by the flash of their blades, swiping the creatures apart and smearing the last one against the wall with a ringing clang.

The wrigglers huddled together, still scared, though the oldest held a knife in a shaky hand. She stood in front of the others to shield them.

“Wh-who are you?” She said.

“Rivali Tescin.” Said the older jade, not looking at her, already moving on. “Hide somewhere. This will take a bit.”

–

Outside the cavern entrance, one last being had come. Only to witness the curling strands of conflict, not to fight.

Still, she had promised her coven aid. This was not the time when they died.

There would only be two deaths today. She was fairly certain of it.

With red spiral eyes Klirro watched the solitary white butterfly that watched her in turn, and smiled with a mouth full of jagged teeth.

“Inshii.”

Others came to join it, making a throat and voice.

“Klirro.”

“You are not really in this with your whole feeling, are you?” She said gently, lovingly. “You spiral inwards and inwards, not even guarding your sister, letting my coven escape.”

“I assist my mother as she asks.” Said the butterflies in their flat, rustling voice.

“Only as she asks.” Murmured the horrorterror.

Spirals had already started to weave themselves through the tan grains, filling the sand with patterns between the tall, thin undead’s feet. Hot winds blew around and around her, stirring her short hair.

“I ask you, Inshii the butterfly: retreat.”

The butterflies stared at her with their myriad compound eyes, antennae twitching as their wings endlessly beat.

“If I refuse?”

Spirals of twisted, dried organs lashed out at the butterflies, holding them in the air, warping the air so it was solid, angled, like glass, then like liquid, pouring in on each other, physical laws breaking down with spirals of crimson energy.

Klirro laughed. A light, normal laugh, as she held out her open palms under the blaring light of the sun.

“Then you can never refuse a single soul again.”

Inshii, for the first time in millennia, felt fear.

The last of the DeVilles smiled wide, stretching the muscles and bones of the corpse she inhabited.

Yes, Ozryel might be an incarnation of death.

But the second worm had come, and death was due a reckoning.

END

#cloud writes #children of ozryel #etuuya vannyn #uunive semreh #klirro #rivali tescin #inshii #god this thing is a monster. 3.1k #but it had to be