#large wing span

[fromtraveldiaries]

Brahminy kite, Goa, December 2022

#kite #Brahminy kite #birds of prey #flying #flying high #blue #sky #birds #large birds #wing span #wings #bird's eye view #Goa #fly #fauna #aves #sunny day

[tadpolesonalgae]

Dark!Azriel x reader: Stockholm Syndrome[***]

A/N: This is for the Eat You Up girlies <3

Warnings: dubcon themes, dark!Azriel, CNC kink, bdsm undertones, leashes + collars, heavy Dom/Sub dynamics, sex toys, knife play, pussy-spanking, impact play, degradation, foot-humping, biting, slight choking, shadows, sadomasochism, somnophilia, nipple play…?, spitting, mention of non-con

Word Count: 9,960

Visual Prompt here!

You pad quietly along the corridor, searching.

Shadows flick at your ankles, around your bare calves, herding you gently toward the stairs. Teeth bite softly into your lower lip as you ascend the case, feet tiptoeing along the carpeted hallway as you’re guided to his office. The door is ajar, and you spot him at his desk, walking in silently.

Not silent enough, apparently.

Hazel eyes flick over his shoulder, pinning you to the floor, and you still, breath catching in your throat. He turns a little in his chair, darkness thrumming around him, wreathing the great, powerful wings at his back. His eyes catch on your bare thighs, gaze darkening as he drinks you in, frozen in his room.

Azriel’s lips quirk, and that’s all it takes to have your limbs unsticking.

You eagerly pad forward, walking up to him, hands moving to your hips then wrapping round the base of your spine. Your own hands land on his broad shoulders as you slide into his lap, legs parting either side of his thighs. You press into his warmth, nestling deeper into the firm strength of him, nosing at his throat.

Azriel’s large hand strokes your hair, soothingly possessive, tucking you away.

A hum sounds in your chest, almost a purr, and your hips wind gently over his own, rocking your centre against him. He can feel the softness of your sex through the seam of his leathers. “Been a long day, huh?” He asks, large hand spanning your throat as he eases you back—so he can look at you. Remind himself how obedient you are. How docile you’ve become.

You blink quietly up at him, satisfaction gleaming in his sharp, hazel eyes.

White canines flash as his lips lift into a grin, “want something, pet?” Your hips roll onto his needfully, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. A low chuckle sounds deep in his chest, “want my cock, hm?” Your head dips, and he laughs again. “I’d’ve thought all the maidenly blushing would have been fucked out of you by now,” he drawls, the rich timbre of his voice stirring something hot and liquid in the pit of your belly.

Papers rustle behind you, but you’re too busy staring up at him to care.

“Get on the desk. Legs spread,” he orders, and you practically fizzle with excitement. Sliding out of his lap, and raising yourself up carefully, so your ass is perched near the edge. Thighs part shyly, and you’re thankful for the fabric covering your heat. No matter how many times he’s already seen you, from all sorts of obscene angles.

You squirm when he remains quiet, simply leaning back in his chair, eyes slowly raking over you, leisurely taking you in, as if you aren’t burning with need. His gaze fixates on a spot between your legs, the teal silk darkened and damp. Heat bubbles as his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips. Showing his growing appetite.

“Remove your top for me, pet,” he says softly, eyes so full of starving hunger it sends goosebumps raising across your skin, nipples peaking as your fingers catch the hem of the cotton. Pulling it up over your head, you shiver in the cool air of his office, toes curling at the intensity of his gaze.

Silence stretches as he watches with predatory intent, allowing your anxiety to build, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin.

“Do you remember when you used to protest to all this?” He asks softly, sharp hazel piercing into you, pinning you to his desk. “How you used to scream, and beg for me not to touch you?” A shiver thrills down your spine, and he marks it eagerly. “Answer me, pet.”

You dip your head. “I do.”

His mouth parts in a grin, canines peeking from below his upper lip. “Want to recreate that for me?”

Breath catches in your lungs, muscles stiffening as you stare at him, heat washing your cheeks. “What…?” His eyes seem to almost glow with anticipation, and he pushes up from his chair. The space between you is gobbled up in a single stride, then his hands are resting heavily around your hips, pressing close between your thighs. “Want to make it fun, don’t you?” He drawls, watching you intently.

You dip your head again, cheeks heating, but he lightly grips your jaw, raising your chin. “Go on,” he murmurs, eyes scanning your features hungrily. “Make the hunt good.”

Arousal licks between your legs, but then he steps back, and you watch him curiously.

Azriel merely steps aside, encouraging you to go. “Hide.”

Heat sparks in the pit of your belly, and you’re hopping off his desk, grabbing your top, receiving a firm smack on the ass as you leave. “I’ll know if you don’t try hard enough,” he calls after you, voice being carried on those shadows, speeding you along.

First, you stop at your bedroom, but no—too obvious. Next is the kitchen, but nowhere to hide. Next is the study, and you sneak in, checking to see if you could fit under the desk. No way. But there’s a set of keys laying half hidden beneath some papers, and you smile to yourself.

Silently, you slide the key into the one remaining lock on the back door—having watched the other six come off over the years. Until just one remains. You catch it as it clicks open, careful not to make a sound as you open the door.

And hurry out into the night.

————

Toes curl in excitement as you settle your legs either side of the broad trunk, feet dirty from scaling the large tree. But now you’re up here, hidden, and have a good view of a few of the windows leading into your house.

Watch as he checks the bedroom first—he definitely would have found you there. Then the washroom, a few rooms you can’t see, the kitchen… He disappears for a while, and you assume he’s checking the study. Excitement thrills down your spine as you watch him search for you. Is this how he felt all those years? Secretly observing your activities?

It’s exhilarating.

When he reappears in the bedroom, his shadows are darker, writhing around his wings. He’s begun to figure you’re not in the house—he must not’ve seen the lock yet. You smile to yourself, satisfied with your efforts.

His movements drop their leisurely pace, sharpening to something more brutal. Lethally efficient as he checks each room again, going through the lovely house.

When the ground shakes slightly, you can guess he’s found the opened lock—guessed you’ve escaped out into the world. Returned to where he plucked you from.

Azriel prowls out into the garden, hazel eyes flicking left and right, scanning for movement, and you hold your breath. His nostrils flare, and he moves forward, shadows hunting close to the ground. He reaches the base of the tree, and comes up short. Your scent disappears from the ground.

He’s still. Quiet.

Then he begins muttering to himself. Your name, over and over. A strange spell being woven as he chants it repeatedly under his breath. Hands tighten to fists at his side, shadows writhing, and you can feel his agitation from below.

You watch, curiously. You’ve not seen him like this in a long time.

So you grip a pinecone, and drop it over the edge.

Immediately he stops, going silent. Staring at the cone at his feet. His gaze snaps up, razor-sharp hazel slicing into you, and you freeze. Cold, glittering fury dances in his eyes.

Excitement heats your body, hands gripping the trunk as you swing your leg over the side. Then tip off the edge.

His eyes widen, instantly moving to catch you, shadows springing up to soften your fall, and you feel it as his strong arms wrap protectively beneath you. Pressing you to his body. His grip is tight—possessive, and you nestle closer. “What d’you think?” You mumble, pulling back to peer up at him.

“I thought you’d gone,” he mutters, tips of his fingers tightening on you, before loosening, allowing you to settle your feet on the ground. “You know you’re not allowed out here,” he reminds roughly, hand settling on your waist, spanning the width easily.

Your hands settle on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against his rib cage. How fast and hard it’s pumping.

“You told me to make it good,” you murmur, “didn’t I do good?”

“I thought you’d gone,” he repeats with devastating softness. Maybe you shouldn’t have let it go on for that long. “I thought you’d gone,” he says sharply, squeezing your waist. “I’m here,” you say softly, pressing into him. “I haven’t gone any—”

“I thought you’d runaway,” he mutters, a little frenzied. “I thought you’d been pretending. That you’d succeeded in escaping from me.”

You brow furrows, “Azriel, I’m right here…”

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have come out here.”

You peer up at him, staring at his beautiful features. How could you ever run away from him?

Gently, you pry your hands beneath his own, linking your fingertips together. Step back a little. “Maybe I was trying to escape,” you taunt softly. “Maybe I’ve gotten bored of you, and want something else.” His face goes white with rage, and you spin on your feet, turning to run for the house.

You don’t even get a single step before his hand has brutally gripped the base of your neck, yanking you back to him. You whimper at the roughness, and he marks the sound eagerly. “Want to repeat that, pet?” He growls quietly, keeping you pinned to the spot.

Teeth prod into your lower lip, his gaze darkening.

“Maybe I was trying to run away,” you repeat, skin prickling beneath the intensity of his attention. Centuries of predatory training zeroing in, on you. “Are you trying to provoke me? Is that it?” He snarls. “Think that’s a good idea, pet?”

“I’m not your pet, Azriel.”

His eyes gleam with cold fury, anticipation burning icily. “No?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Canines flash beneath the moonlight, and then his shadows have encompassed you. The weightless sensation overtakes you, then your feet are again on firm ground. You flinch as something leathery wraps around your throat, tightening until it fits snugly. A collar.

Metal snaps, and you know he’s just clipped on the lead.

Azriel gives a firm tug, making you stumble forward, hissing at the pressure around your throat.

“I think someone’s gotten too comfortable with her position,” he growls lowly, jaw tense, shadows thick and writhing at your feet. “Needs some reminding who’s in charge of her, huh?” A shiver trills down your spine, and you press your bare thighs together. Needing the friction. “Isn’t that right?”

The tears arise on their own, barely even needing to be summoned.

His grip tightens on the leash, eyes flickering with arousal at the sight of your damp lashes. “If you don’t want your role of pet, then by all means, spit on it,” he drawls softly. Menacingly. “Entitled brat, aren’t you?”

He lands a harsh slap to your cheek, tugging roughly on the lead again to keep you steady. “If you won’t comply as a pet,” he snarls softly, “then you’ll obey as a slave.”

A whimper slips from your lips at that, heat turning liquid in you belly. His brow quirks, lips tilting up at their edges, “like that?” Breath trembles from your lips, legs turning weak with arousal.

“Azriel…” you whisper desperately. The heat is too much. You need him to relieve it.

“So desperate,” he laughs softly. “I haven’t even begun on you.”

Then he’s roughly guiding you back, shoving you against a wooden wall, shackling your wrists in chains, shadows copying the movement on your ankles. The leash hangs limp as he steps away, brushing over your breasts, grazing your thighs, and you bow from the board.

Azriel tuts lowly, retreating into the dark dungeon-like basement, allowing his shadows to play with you in the meantime. They skate up your thighs, wrapping over your hips, slithering up your spine. Gliding beneath your shirt. Pinching your nipples.

A breathless whimper slips from your lips as they twist and flick, pressing against the teal silk between your legs. Winding with enough pressure to feel good, but not enough to give any meaningful stimulation. Head tips back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as they teasingly circle your clit, more grazing your stomach, keeping you confused from where they’ll next come from.

Your lips part, hips trying to grind down upon them, but they move with you, refusing to come any closer. You nearly cry out in desperation.

You flinch when scarred fingers roughly push aside your soaked underwear, running something rubbery but firm through the wetness. Coating it. You attempt to peer down, but can’t get a good glimpse. Can hardly think straight with how desperately you need him.

Breath is shoved from your lungs as he pushes the object inside of you. Dreadfully slowly. In and out. A few inches at a time. When it’s fully in, he moves your underwear back into place, roughly tugging the strings further up your hips, shoving the toy deeper.

A moan bursts from your lips, spine arching from the circular board as you tighten around it, trying to keep it pressing against that wonderful spot.

“I was saving this for a reward,” he murmurs beside your ear, fingers between your legs, prone to push it further inside. “But I suppose it can double as a punishment, huh?”

Pleasure weighs on your eyelids, barely able to keep them open long enough to look at him. “Can you even remember my name, slave?” He asks, amusement clear in his question. You blink wearily up at him, begging for stimulation. All you get is a rough pat on the cheek, followed by his fingers pressing the toy up into you.

A strangled moan arises from your throat, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you try to silence yourself. He jerks roughly on your leash in reprimand. “None of that,” he tuts, gripping you jaw so you’re forced to look at him. “I want to enjoy this.”

Then he retreats again, and you sink into the wooden board, weight resting heavily on your arms that are still pulled taut either side of your head.

“Eyes up here,” he commands, a sultry roughness to his order. Heat buzzes between your thighs, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. And you nearly forget how to breathe.

Cold, hard steel catches the dim light. No more than an elegant slice of silver amongst his shadows. Azriel’s lips twist into a smile, deftly spinning the short blade in his hands, skilled with practice, flexible with familiarity. There are more at his side, piled on a table, all the size of small daggers.

“Azriel,” you breathe. “What—”

The blade flies from his hand, embedding in the wood to the right of your body. Too close for comfort. Especially because you know he could hit you if he really wanted, and you don’t know how close he’s willing to get to satisfy his desires. You cringe away from the Illyrian steel, but the chains hold you fast, keeping you pinned to the wall like an insect to a dissection table. Ready for him to play with; experiment on.

“Better keep still,” he mocks, picking up another dagger. “Unless you want a few scars to show for later?” His lips twist into a wider smile, “a reminder of your disobedience, perhaps?” The blade flies, lodging in the wood a few centimetres above your head. You yelp, dipping your head as your blood runs cold.

Another dagger has already left his hands before you can look up, slamming into the wood beside your right breast. A puff of cold air hisses at the skin, practically able to feel the blade if you tip your body a little to the right. It’s piercing the cloth of your top, just another restriction to your movement.

Azriel laughs, flipping a blade in his hand, marking your aroused discomfort. How you squirm.

“Do you regret sneaking out yet? In the night, where anything could have happened to you?” He asks, shoulders tensing at the reminder. “Do you understand how weak you are, huh? How delicate?” He throws another blade, this one nicking your cheek, as if to demonstrate how easily you can be hurt. A whimper is strung from your lips, the light stinging making you want to pull your thighs together.

“Mm sorry,” you breathe, lower lip wobbling. “Mm sorry, Azriel…”

He laughs at that, “better.”

Picks up another dagger. “But too late.”

Steel slices against your hip, slicing the teal string on your underwear, exposing your skin as blood beads delicately. Azriel licks his lips at the sight, a quick flick of his tongue that has you fantasising about everything else he could be doing to you. “Azriel please,” you whimper, vision blurring. “I didn’t mean to upset you… Wanted to make it fun.”

A rough chuckle sounds, the metallic scape of yet another blade sliding into his hand, “I’m having plenty of fun.” Steel flashes in the dim light, making you squint. “Are you not enjoying this?” Teeth push into your lower lip, blinking away the dampness, “want you, instead.” Azriel’s lips quirk, taking in the way your hips shift, tightening around the toy needfully. He targets the other string flawlessly, rewarding you with a matching nick to your hip.

“Yeah? You want me to be inside of you rather than that?” He asks, pleased with your answer. Though not satisfied enough to give you what you want. “Want me to unchain you so I can stuff you with my cock instead? Fuck you ’til you’re going limp in my arms? Is that what you’d like?”

“Yes!” You pant, tightening around the toy desperately. You’re so wet it’s slipping out, no longer kept tucked inside by your underwear.

“Azriel…! Azriel, I can’t— Az!”

Wood splinters as he targets just between your thighs, a breath below your skin. The toy perches atop the flat of the blade—having been thrown sideways. Your chest rises up and down, sweat making your skin gleam in the dim light. Things tremble, weak from the wild ride, adrenaline singing in your blood.

Light catches on his canines as he grins, slightly feral, slowly prowling toward you. “So obedient, aren’t you?” He drawls, towering over you as he rests his hands atop the circular board. Your spine bows from the wood, arching in attempts to get the toy to touch more of those sensitive spots. His grin widens, “want it a little deeper?” He asks mockingly, eyes gleaming with dark pleasure. You nod your head, cheeks hot like the rest of your body.

Teeth flash in the light, and he applies pressure to the board.

You scream as you’re spun upside down, so your head is in line with his boots, feet in the air. Dizziness crashes into you, tipping your sense of balance, warping your sense of direction as he laughs distantly. Fingertips brush down your inner thigh, dancing over the skin, breath grazing teasingly.

“So desperate,” he drawls. “Can you beg for it, hm? Think you can string the words together for me?” You blink hazily as he crouches down, peering at your confused form.

“Azriel…” you manage, then squeeze your eyes shut at the pressure. So hot. Blood rushing downward. “Azriel, please…”

“Please what?” He asks leisurely. “What do you want me to do, pet?” His thumb brushes over your lower lip, pulling it from your teeth, small scars from where you’ve bitten over the years indented into the pillowy flesh. He grins, leaning forward.

A deluded moan drags from your throat as he presses his canines into your upper lip, tugging on it slightly. Your hands pull on the chains, desperate to touch him as he plays with you, toy beginning to sink back in, but it’s neither fast, nor deep enough.

“Put it in me,” you beg, features scrunching with desperation, eyes squeezing shut against the pressure, brows furrowing. “Azriel, please…put it deeper.” Canines pierce your lip, something thick and rich bleeding onto your teeth, then he’s lapping it up. Landing a rewarding smack to your cheek before he stands. “That’s better,” he chuckles, finger brushing between your thighs, making to push them apart. “That’s much better.”

Breath drains from your lungs as he pushes the toy all the way in, gravity helping it sink deep into your heat. Hot liquid spills, dripping from your eyes up over your brows, trickling into your hair. Knees shake, hips bucking as he keeps the toy pressed inside of you, enjoying the view. “You having fun? Enjoying this?”

He pushes against the toy, making so it presses more into one side, circling the pressure, making you weep. “Yes,” you moan, “yes, yes, yes.”

Azriel halts his movements.

Before you know it he’s landed a smack to your clit.

You squeak, jerking against the shackles, to no avail. “Why the fuck are you enjoying it, huh?” He spits, landing another smack to your tender sex. “Did you forget this is supposed to be a punishment? You’re not meant to enjoy it.” Another smack, and tears slide up over your face, saliva wetting the corners of your mouth as you weep.

“No, we can’t have that, can we?” He mutters, grinning to himself as he smacks harder, making you scream, muscles flinching as you writhe against the chains. “How will you learn your lesson if it doesn’t hurt, huh?”

“Please, please, please! I’ve learnt it! I know better!” You cry out, hands balling into fists against the stimulation.

Relief sweeps in as he hold off for a moment, “is that right? Think you’ve learned? Think you know better now?” He presses the toy back in, having been slightly pushed out when you were tensing for impact. You nod your head frantically, “I swear! I’ll never do it again— Please, Azriel!”

He hums to himself, sounding satisfied. Leaning down, his mouth latches over your cunt, tongue flicking over your clit soothingly. Tasting your arousal. Azriel groans at the flavour, sealing his lips over your tender sex, suckling gently, wet muscle teasing the taut bud eagerly. Scarred hands grip behind your thighs, holding you still as you try to buck for more.

You’re murmuring prayers under your breath, chanting them desperately as he plays with you, a cat toying with its mouse—batting it back and forth between its paws. He changes the angle of the toy, and your mouth drops open, silent moans being drawn out, one after the other as pleasure builds and coils in the pit of your stomach.

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you hot and messy, slick coating the skin of your thighs, sex soft and tender from his brutal attention. Heart pounds in your chest as he unlocks your ankles, shadows keeping you pinned to the board as he does the same for your wrists. “Think we’re done, pet?” He murmurs, allowing your body to carefully fold over itself, so you tip over, shadows making sure you don’t hurt yourself as you land on the floor.

Your head is spinning from the movement, cunt aching for more attention, and your legs automatically spread as you attempt to push the toy back inside. Grinding against the floor, but it’s too low, too far away, and your thighs won’t spread wide enough. Whimpers spill from your lips in frustration, wanting that pleasure, riled up from the phantom lick of his tongue over your clit. How good it felt.

Azriel growls roughly, shadows collecting your leash, returning it to his hand as he tugs roughly, drawing your attention back to him, instead of the toy you’re pitifully trying to steal your pleasure from. “Come here,” he orders sharply, again tugging on your collar, causing you to choke.

Clumsily, you crawl forward, stopping to kneel before him.

“Feeling good, slave?” He asks, keeping your leash taut so you’re forced to tilt your chin upward, peering at his towering frame. You dip your head mindlessly, too dizzy and yearning for pleasure to properly think. He chuckles, “yeah? You liked that?” Again you nod, lips parting as your hand slips between your legs to press the toy back inside. Fingers come away wet, slick dripping down and onto the floor.

“But you still need more, don’t you?” He purrs, hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light, “so greedy. Greedy and gluttonous. Such a brat.” Whimpers drag from your lips, nodding your head dumbly along with everything he’s saying. He chuckles at you.

“Want to feel good now?” He asks, shadows cupping your jaw to keep your attention on him. When you don’t answer, he smacks you, cheek stinging with the impact. “Answer. Or do you want me to chain you back up and give that little cunt some rougher treatment?” Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your skull, but you shake your head in apology. “Mm sorry…please don’t…want to feel good, please…”

His lips quirk—he has you wrapped around his finger. Your pleasure dependant on him. You need him. Without him, you can never feel good.

Azriel takes pity on you, large hand landing atop your head, threading through your hair. “You’re going to be good? Gonna be good for me now?” He asks, grinning when you nod eagerly. Eyes gleam maliciously, and he tugs on your collar, pulling you flush against his leg, arms clinging onto him for stability.

“Go on then,” he urges, shifting one foot to be between your thighs, knocking your knees further apart. “Take your pleasure.”

Relief crashes into you, and you move to pull away, wanting to lie on your back—give him a nice view; a performance as you bring yourself over the edge. Only with his permission, of course.

You whimper when he tugs on your collar, making you peer up at him desperately, questioningly. Lips tip into a smirk as he taps his boot against the floor expectantly. “Go on,” he repeats softly, mockingly. “Take it.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip, hands gripping onto him desperately as your thighs spread, the toy settling against the leather. You lean your weight onto it. Eyes roll back, heat flushing your skin, taking inch after inch. His grip tightens in your hair, hand curling into a fist as he keeps your head tilted upward—so he can watch your blissed out expression as your features contort. All because of him.

Male satisfaction licks up his spine, cock stiffening in his trousers, rubbing against the seam.

You’ve already been worked to the brink, coil so close to snapping, it’ll take minimal effort to bring you that ocean of pleasure. Slowly, you wind your hips over him, unable to do much more with the depth of the stimulation, how deep the goodness is sinking. You wish it was his cock, wish his hands were roughly gripping your hips, arms bound behind your back so you’re completely at his mercy.

Speed up the motions, hips bucking as you grip onto him desperately, his hand fisted in your hair. Azriel watches as you tug your lip between your teeth, brows curving upward, drool shining at the edges of your mouth. Cheeks and lashes damp with tears. Skin hot to the touch. Lips part in pleasure, tongue flicking out briefly. “That’s it,” he goads, shadows gripping your hips to urge you on. “That’s it, take it. Take it from me. Be a good girl and take your pleasure.”

Eyes roll back, lids fluttering as you press your chest flush against him, gripping onto the muscle of his thigh as your hips drag back and forth in sharp, sporadic jerks. “Go on, a little more— That’s it. So good. So good, aren’t you? So well behaved.” The praise sings down your spine, and pleasure bursts across your skin, fracturing your conscious. Hips buck wildly, almost automatically, riding out the euphoria, his fist tightening in your hair. Keeping you still so he can watch as you cum.

His name chants on your lips over and over, eyes filling with tears at the pleasure as you press tighter to him, clinging onto him like he’s some kind of prophet. Some kind of saviour. You bow into his touch, desperate for more, to have more of his skin against your own.

“Azriel…” you moan.

It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. Never failing to make him dizzy with lust, enraptured with the movements of your body, how you’re kneeling and riding him so desperately. Like you really do need him. His temperature rises.

The aftershocks fade, leaving you panting quietly, relaxing your body, shifting off his boot. Thin strands of silvery slick connect the leather to your cunt, creating a sloppy mess. Azriel tuts softly, arousal zapping straight to your clit at the sound alone. “What a mess you’ve made,” he drawls, hand having released your hair. “Gotten my boot all dirty, haven’t you? What a filthy thing you are.”

Colour tints his skin, clearly pleased with the results—how wet you are.

“Think I should make you clean it up, huh?” He jerks on your leash, shadows tightening the pressure of your collar ever so deliciously. “Make you lick it up with that filthy mouth of yours?” He drawls, enjoying the idea. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he chuckles. “No…I think you’d like that too much. Pretty whore.”

A lovely whimper is drawn from your chest as he releases your collar in favour of tossing you over his shoulder, shadows keeping the toy tucked comfortably inside of you. You whine and writhe against him, wanting to feel more of him, have more of him. He lands a harsh spank to your backside, making you yelp, then wiggle more.

Azriel laughs lowly at your antics, rewarding your struggle with a harder smack, leaving the skin stinging in his wake. He carries you all the way through your shared home, taking you up each flight of stairs, leading you up from the basement and into your bedroom. Gently lowers you down his body as he sits, toy still tucked away deep inside. Legs spread over his lap, his arm winding around your waist to keep your chest flush against him.

Fingers thread through your hair, jerking your head back so he can stare you down, those hazel eyes enough to have arousal gathering all over again as you anticipate the awful things he’s going to do to you. “You regret going outside, don’t you, pet. Not going to do it again.” You nod your head along with him, showing you’re sorry. His mouth slides wide in a vulpine smile, “but what about those other things you said, huh? Think I’m just going to let those go?”

You whimper, rolling your hips against him, pleading for him to get inside of you. Fill you up.

He laughs darkly at your attempts to distract him, bucking up against you—let you think he’s forgiven you. But his hold remains tight in your hair, and he watches you swallow against the collar, shadows unclipping the leash. “You said something cruel to me earlier. Do you remember what it was?” He asks, smiling as you struggle and squirm in his lap. Shake your head in response.

Azriel hums, hand moving to grip your throat lightly, holding you gently between his fingers. “You said you wanted to look for something else. That you’d gotten bored, and you wanted something better.” The grip tightens, not enough to make you choke, but enough for you to feel the pressure. You squirm more, shaking your head in denial. “I didn’t mean it…” you beg, hands desperate to touch him, to hold him.

He tilts his head in mock concern, “no? You were lying?”

Teeth bite into your lip, dipping your head in confirmation.

Lips quirk. “That right? You’re a dirty little liar?”

Vision blurs, but you nod, grinding down on him in attempts to make reparations.

He chuckles lowly, deep in his throat. “You made me very upset with that comment. Made me think you wanted someone else. That I wasn’t good enough for you.” He grips harder, breath rasping out, pulling your mouth to brush against his own. “Am I good enough for you, pet?”

“Yes,” you whisper, trying to nod your head. “You’re so good. So good to me, Azriel. So perfect.”

One of his brows quirks. “Perfect? I don’t know about that, pet.”

“You are,” you insist, hardly more than a whine. “Best thing in the world. You’re perfect. Everything.” Lips part in a grin that’s filled with male satisfaction. He releases your throat, in favour of going to his belt. “Want to show me how perfect I am, pet?”

Heat washes down your spine, and you’re nodding frantically, quickly shuffling down his body as he pulls himself free of his leathers. You stare up from between his legs, knelt on the ground, the toy still tucked away, balancing on the wooden boards. Mouth waters as he touches himself, beautiful skin tinted with colour, flushed with arousal.

You don’t notice his shadows slinking away, trailing back down to the basement.

A hand slides through your hair, and it’s all the encouragement you need to be rising up—feet keeping the toy nice and deep—following his silent instruction. You open your mouth over him, and he groans from the back of his throat. You could cry at the taste of him, how right it feels to have him on your tongue, pushing your jaw lower. How lovely his skin is, so soft, and hot. Slightly salty, and tasing so distinctly of himself.

Fingers slip between your legs, rolling over your clit, tightening around the toy.

“That’s a good girl,” he drawls, pushing you down onto his cock, hips bucking upward. “So good. So good at making me feel good. What you were made for. Isn’t that right, pet?” You moan onto him, grinding down, fingers flicking and rolling over the sensitive bud.

Free hand grips his base, pumping what you can’t fit, tongue flicking over the slit in his head. Landing soft kisses to it, and the space just below, suckling lightly, before taking him entirely again. As entirely as you can, anyway.

Enjoying the process, saliva dripping from your mouth, lubricating the slide up and down. How he sometimes cuts off your airways if you take him too far down. How he twitches in response to the slight gags. Loving every second of it.

“Choose a number between one and five,” he orders lowly.

Brow narrows as you make to pull up, but his hand is already resting at the back of your head in warning. You still as his tip, tongue circling again, then you dip as far down as you can go. One…two…three times.

Azriel hums, then a faint clicking noise sounds through the room.

You writhe, muscles spasming, trying to tug away from him as the vibrations hit your sensitive walls. His hand keeps you in place, shadows returning from their adventure down to the basement. Eyes squeeze shut at the pleasure, the stimulation, and the darkness wraps around the base of the toy, slowly beginning to drag it in and out.

Tears build at your lashes, and you take him back down your throat eagerly, spine arching so it touches all kinds of spots. Azriel laughs softly as he watches you, how easily you bend to his will, curving and arching to fit to the shape of his pleasure. Stroking himself through the skin of your cheek, thumb skimming gently.

Another click sounds, and the vibrations change to a steady pulse rhythm, conditioning you to tighten moments after the sensation. His shadows pick up speed, pushing in faster, and harder. Free hand leaves from between your legs to grip onto him, having to steady yourself from the stimulation.

You moan again and again onto his cock, wanting him to feel as good as you are, lapping at the salty moisture that gathers at his tip. Darkness replaces your fingers, playing with your clit, running in tight, repetitive circles, making the pressure in the pit of your belly double…coil over itself again and again.

“That’s good,” he encourages, breathlessly, getting off on seeing how desperate you are. How your hips push back against his shadows, how you moan onto him, dripping onto the floor. “Keep going, pet. Making me feel so good. Show me how much you love me. Worship everything you can get that lying fucking mouth of yours on,” he snarls roughly.

Heat builds at the degradation, coil tightening as you take him as far as you can, nails biting into his leathers as you push your limits. His shadows work in tandem to your efforts, licking over your clit, flicking and swirling over your nipples, tugging on them lightly. Pinching, like he’s attached clips to them. He knows how sensitive you are…all those secret spots he’d discovered.

Azriel curses under his breath, low and vicious. “Do you remember how hard you tried to escape me that first time, pet? How you cried, and screamed? Screamed until that lovely throat of yours was raw?” He drawls, bucking his hips in time with the thrusts of the toy, vibrations making you see stars.

All you can manage is a heady moan, tears dripping down from pleasure, nearly numb with euphoria.

“And look at you now,” he laughs breathlessly, “all good and broken in. Told you I’d have you trained. But you didn’t believe me, did you? Thought you’d make it, huh?” Arousal sparks in the pit of your belly, and you widen the stance of your legs, spreading your thighs to allow it to hit deeper. And it does. It does so well.

Eyes roll back into your skull, hands trembling with the force of your orgasm. He twitches in your mouth at the pure pleasure in your scent, how overpowering it is. Strong enough to tip him into his own high.

Liquid pleasure spills into your mouth, and you nearly go mad. His taste coats your tongue, spurting hot between your lips, spilling down your throat as you lick and lap and suck: worshipping as he’d told you to.

Shadows tighten around your clit, pinching your nipples, tugging on them as he targets every part that you love, succinctly and with mind-breaking accuracy. Practiced precision.

Pleasure overwhelms you, feeling so wonderful as the vibrations crash into you over and over, made stronger as your sensitive walls flutter around the toy, clamping down, forcing it tighter.

The last thing you remember is how he’d pulled you from his cock, spit and cum mixing together to create silvery, milky threads, making your lips glisten. The way those last few spurts had decorated your cheeks, nose and mouth, marking you as his own.

And then your world dimmed, winking out.

————

He continues working on you long after you pass out, grinding his hips sloppily against your own. When you’re passed out, and unaware, you’re inanimate. A pretty accessory for his cock.

Cum gleams over your abdomen, cunt glistening from hours of use, release mixed with your slick. Even while you’re asleep, your body continues to please him, urging him to continue, to pursue that sick pleasure.

Azriel doesn’t mind how unresponsive you are; he gets to paint you as he pleases.

His fingers graze softly over your abdomen, muscle fluttering beneath the teasing brush, tensing as they glide through cum. He groans, cock stiffening expectantly as he scoops release up from your cunt, gathering loadfuls before raising them to your lips. He twitches as the milky liquid splatters over your mouth, trickling over your tongue, making you wake suddenly. Spluttering as he touches the back of your throat.

The scent of his arousal spears into your mind, and your body heats in response, so ready for him to work on you. So ready to submit. Tongue plays with his taste, peering down at yourself as sensations crest over you.

Azriel sits back patiently, allowing you time to catalogue the bruises; the devastation.

Bite-marks litter your thighs, the indentation of his teeth stamped so deep you hope it scars. Bruises hurt on your throat and collar bones, on the space beneath your jaw, and you raise your fingers to brush the intimate skin. Your breasts ache, and you know he’s been having fun with them: pinching, flicking, biting. Suckling the sensitive peaks while he no doubt stuffed you full, cock buried deep inside your tender sex.

Whimpers draw from your lips as you take in the results of his desire—how he’s inflicted his hunger upon your body. How he’ll continue to abuse every spot he likes until… There is no end.

Tongue flicks over your lips, and you settle onto your hands and knees, crawling to him. He may have removed the leash, but he’s still dragging you forward, invisibly connected to him.

“Azriel…” his name rasps from your lips, throat raw from use, need scraping against your skin. Hazel eyes gleam as he watches you crawl forward on shaky limbs—how you drag your tongue up the underside of his cock, set on worshipping him with as much devotion as he does with you. A quiet groan falls from his mouth as you rise up his body, breasts dragging over his chest. He doesn’t miss the flicker of pain across your features as they scrunch, how reactive you are, so sensitive to touch now you’ve been given chance to recover.

Mouth opens over his own, sharing the erotic taste of him across his tongue, revelling in how it strokes against yours. His hands lightly grip your waist, fitting perfectly over the already formed bruises, sliding into place. Tenderly, his tongue flicks out over your lower lip, lapping up his cum from your skin, gathering it in his mouth as his hand slides lower, fingers dragging over your entrance to collect your wetness.

Pleasure lights your body as he laps at his own fingers, indulging in your flavour.

His large hand grips your jaw gently, tipping you upward so you’re facing him. Taps the skin of your cheek twice with the pad of his forefinger. Open.

Hot liquid bubbles in your abdomen as he spits between your parted lips, digits sliding in soon after to press his taste into your tongue; mark every part of you with his scent, until you’re covered in him. You whimper around his fingers, hand wrapping around his cock as you move to pleasure him.

Azriel snarls softly over your mouth, and you retract your touch—even as he pulls you flush against his torso, cock pressing into your tummy so tantalisingly. Teasingly. You whine.

“Azriel…” you breathe, words muffled from his fingers, and pride flickers in his gaze. “What is it?” He asks softly, lips lifting at the edges. You could sigh with relief at that expression; you know what it means. It means lazy, leisurely. It means taking his time—gently, subtle bucks of his hips to stimulate you slowly. Warm you up again.

“I want you,” you plead, hands pressing to his chest. He allows you to guide him back, wings flaring as they press into the mattress. “You’ve had me all night,” he smirks, pleased you’re craving him as intensely as he is you. Mutual obsession. Tangible need.

“It’s not enough,” you mumble, hands skimming the tops of his thighs, eyes torn between laying on his own, and lapping up more of his cock. “I need to have you inside me.” Cock twitches, and you tighten in response, thighs parting over his hips, settling so you’re atop him. “You’ve had me inside you plenty of times tonight,” he reminds softly, eyes glazing with lust, darkening as his hand brushes your abdomen. Knowing how much cum he’s pumped int you.

Lower lip pushes out, brows curving together, “you know that doesn’t count.” Fingers press into the padded muscle of his stomach, slicked with sweat, and you want to trace each one with your tongue. “Want to have you inside, and to feel it,” you moan, guiding his tip to your entrance.

Azriel watches, entranced. Once again reminded at how obedient you’ve become.

“Open your mouth.”

You do so without question.

Lips fashion themselves into a smile. “Close.”

Your mouth closes.

“Good girl.”

Heat flutters between your legs.

Hands gently span your waist, urging you to sink your weight onto him, settle on his cock. You oblige happily.

Eyes roll back into your skull, and you hear him murmur soft words of reassurance under his breath as you sway. Temporarily rendered immobile. He steadies you, waiting for you to be ready for stimulation.

He’s had his fun, had his time to play with your body. Find his pleasure in it. He knows it’s your turn, and he’s happy to let you have it. You’ve worked hard for him, satisfied him repeatedly. Now he wants you to explore him all over again, swirl your hips until you find a pace you like, touch yourself as you want while he supports from the background.

You do just that.

Slowly, you lift off him, thighs trembling with the effort. Then you slide back down, feeling the push of his hip bone digging into the softness of your flesh. Thoughts block out of your mind, pushed away by his cock as it presses into your sensitive walls; quiet whimpers cry from your chest.

Legs shift out from under you as you yield control, unable to lever yourself up and down as you fully rest your weight on him. Leaning back against his legs, bent at the knee to support you, your eyes fluter closed, content to bask in the fullness of him.

His shadows stroke over your head, providing the comfort you seek. Warmth floods your chest at his caring nature.

“Azriel?” You mumble softly, words subdued under the weight of pleasure. He hums quietly in response, hands grazing the tops of your thighs as he watches you. “Tell me a story,” you request.

A chuckle rumbles out of him, and you feel it warm your insides, making you tighten around him. “What sort of story do you want, pretty thing?” You could melt at the nickname. Reduce yourself to liquid to splash all over him, saturate his skin.

Teeth bite into the pillowy silkiness of your lower lip, toes curling as you drag your hips forward by a few centimetres. “Tell me how you fell in love with me,” you request softly. Hands settle at your waist, heating your sides, thumbing the skin softly. “Tell me every thought you had… Every moment you watched me… Tell me all of it.”

“It’s a long and dreadful tale I’m afraid,” he laughs deeply, “I think it would sour the mood.”

“Then tell me one that won’t,” you breathe. “I want to know you more. Want to know everything.” His cock touches a lovely place inside of you, and you focus on softly targeting it, rolling your hips over him.

Azriel pauses, and even with your eyes closed you can feel the weight of his gaze, how assuring it is; how adoring. “Okay,” he sighs, giving in, stroking your thighs, “just one.”

Your lips tip at the edge, one set of fingers linking with his own as he squeezes back.

“It was pretty early on—before I really grasped how deep the obsession ran,” he begins, the rough timbre of his voice curling your toes. “I spotted you coming back from a night out. You were clearly drunk, and stumbling all over the place—I was surprised you made it to your door without falling flat on your face,” he says, fingers tracing patters across your skin.

“I remember knowing you hadn’t locked your door, and I was angry. Angry you didn’t take care of yourself. For being so reckless,” he continues, tapping lightly at your inner thigh—reprimanding you for all those decades ago. Nearly seventy years past since that infatuation took root. “I remember thinking I should use my shadows to give you a scare. Teach you a lesson for being so unaware. You desperately needed to learn to protect yourself, and you weren’t going to start unless something pushed you into action,” he laughs, realising how firmly in your thrall he’d been even back then. Before he was even fully aware of it.

“But when my shadows got inside, you were already undressing, and I couldn’t move.”

Eyes flutter open, and you meet his dark hazel gaze, something far deeper than love dancing in his features. Something bordering on violent, glittering with possession. Protection.

“I doubt you even noticed how dark it got in your room that night, despite the faelight,” he says softly, and your pulse spikes, knowing how closely he watched over you for all those years. How protective he is by nature. “I later learned whenever you came back like that, it often meant whoever you’d chosen for the night hadn’t be worth it, choosing to stumble back to your own bed rather than wake up in theirs.” Again those impatient taps to your thigh, and your hips roll in response, soothing both of you.

“It was the first night I saw you touch yourself. And it felt wrong to watch, but you were so fascinating. I’d never seen someone enjoy themselves purely for their own satisfaction. With partners, or workers in brothels, they’re aware they’re expected to put on a show. They emphasise movements to an obscene, unbelievable degree, while you were calm and quiet.” You swirl over him, vaguely managing to call up a murky image of your bedroom. Picturing the darkness that filled it, and you hadn’t even noticed.

Maybe you’d known, innately, he was not there to harm you, but to love you.

“It was entirely solitary; a completely private moment I was witnessing, and it was an unimaginable weight off my shoulders,” he says, circling the tops of your thighs, heat building and coiling in the pit of your belly. “For those few hours, I was no one. Gloriously free to simply observe,” his lips quirk ruefully. “Until it wasn’t enough to just watch.”

Breathing shallows, chest rising up and down with anticipation. Wanting to know where he took the irreversible step from the light. Straying from his own path, to collide with yours.

“You came back again, drunk and stumbling over yourself, and I knew enough by this point to know you wouldn’t remember a thing,” he says, voice growing softer with each confession. “So that night, when you were on the cusp of sleep, I helped push you over the edge.”

“You didn’t even struggle,” he murmurs, breathless. “Didn’t even try to put up a fight. Just waited patiently as I pushed your legs apart; pulled the silk from your hips. So lovely and docile. So perfect.” Colour flushes his skin and he can’t help the slight buck as he presses himself deeper into your cunt.

“Go on,” you urge, panting quietly. “Tell me more.”

A phantom smile plays on his mouth as he remembers, “there were moments I think you may have fallen asleep, then woken up when your body remembered what was happening. Like you were desperately fighting it off for me, trying to be there for me.” He huffs a laugh, squeezing your hand.

“I remember how you arched at the first stroke of my tongue, how your fingers tightened in the sheets, like you wanted to touch me but didn’t have the energy to manage. So I held you with one hand, just like this. To make sure you didn’t suddenly jolt awake; that you felt comfortable. So your body wouldn’t warn you about the violation.”

“You were nearly perfect, except you didn’t know how to attribute the pleasure, so you didn’t call out my name when you came on my tongue. I watched you writhe, how your eyes widened then slammed shut, squeezing together as you gripped my hand though it all. Like you were worried you’d be washed away in the torrent. You were absolutely breathtaking in that moment; every moment after.”

“That night you became mine. You never knew—I suppose until now—but you responded to me that night. You felt it. I know you did. Your body reacted to me, and you squeezed me back. Despite the scarring, and the burns. You held on like you needed me,” he breathes, panting deeply as his stomach muscles flex in the dim light, sweat glistening across his skin.

“You claimed me too, that night. And I couldn’t resist going back.”

“I think you grew to expect me. You would return from a night out reeking of alcohol, get inside your home, pass out on your bed, and within a few minutes, you would be soaked. Dripping onto your sheets, waiting for me. Spread out and perfect. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, yet you didn’t even know who I was.” His hand squeezes yours, and you know you won’t hold on much longer.

“I tried to stay away. For months I would be off in another court, and you consumed me. At night I would lie awake, thinking about you, wondering if you were lying in your own bed, cunt dripping for me, waiting for me to soothe the ache. Sometimes I would be gone for so long your body forgot how to behave when I returned.” His words grow rougher, more agitated.

“So I made sure you remembered.”

“That first week when I returned from a mission, I wouldn’t sleep. I spent my time watching you, shadows happy to play with you again—they’ve always liked you more than anyone else. But you know that now, don’t you.”

As if listening in—which they very well might have been—the darkness writhes at your back, cresting over your shoulders and cupping your breasts delicately, swiping over your lips as you tip back into them.

“Sometimes it was nearly impossible to pull them off you. They would constrict around your thighs, tighten around your hips so you were secure beneath them. I quickly lost count of how many times they would want a turn with you, so I would let them,” he breathes, and you can feel that coil on the verge of snapping, heat sizzling beneath your skin as you squeeze him desperately. “You responded so beautifully to their kind of stimulation. And I would watch all of it.”

“Admittedly, I was a little careless. But you never noticed, so I suppose it doesn’t matter if I was a little sloppy here and there. If I got you a little messy, too.”

“It was rare I would be gone for longer than three or four months at a time, but when those longer missions called, I would rush back to you the moment I could.” A twinge of pain has entered his voice, thinking back on how long he had to keep his love for you a secret. How you were carefully shielded from it. For years. Decades.

“And sometimes I didn’t want you to wake clean of any marks of my own. If you weren’t even going to remember, then I might as well leave some trace,” he laughs sharply, arousal dumbing your mind as his words begin to mellow out. “But those never bothered you either. Not the bite marks, or the bruises, or the ache when you thought you hadn’t taken anyone to bed that night. Not even when you woke to find cum between your legs. Or a faint taste in your mouth.”

He sighs, bucking his hips softly, and you exhale heavily.

“Did you ever fuck me?” You breathe, tightening around him at the thought. “While I was asleep, I mean. Did you ever take me before I knew you?”

Azriel shakes his head, smiling now. “No, lovely girl. I wanted to save that for you. I wanted to be with you, and for you to be fully aware when I first went inside of you. And it was torture waiting. It was cruel to make me wait all those years. All that time, and yet you never picked up on that other scent that would consistently turn up on you. Maybe you grew accustomed to it.”

Teeth push into your lower lip, and you tuck your legs back under you, once again able to move.

“The first time I had you…I’ll never forget it,” he groans, hand releasing yours in favour of gripping your hips. “You screamed so sweetly. Begged me to stop, like you hadn’t been asking for it for decades. How you were able to scream at me to stop when your legs would practically fall open for me…” he laughs, and you buck over him, quickening the pace of your swirls.

“You took me as well as I knew you would,” he groans, hands helping you rise and fall on his cock. “Took everything perfectly. Even my blade.”

Your eyes roll back, and you allow him to take control, gripping your hips tight to pound in to you. “It was just supposed to warm you up. To stretch you out so we could both enjoy it when I entered you… But then you reacted so well to it, and you had to have an orgasm before you took me. And you looked so fucking edible.” He grits out the words, and your hips stutter, jerking as pleasure brims at your lashes.

“Azriel…” you pant, tears spilling as he hits those beautiful spots, making you bounce on him. “You looked so fucking good I couldn’t believe it. And you felt even better.”

You clamp down on him, taking each buck of his cock as he drives up into you, mind going blank except for his name playing on repeat in your head. Filled with only him entirely. Nothing else would fit inside you anymore. It has to be him.

Hot cum spurts inside, and you can only imagine the mess he’s made in your heat.

How full he’s pumped you; how deep his release is.

How deep he’s burrowed his way inside of you.

Hips slow to a relaxed pace, grinding down onto him, keeping him tucked away inside of you. Refusing to release a single drop as you continue fluttering around him lightly.

Words are far out of reach, but he collects you as you sway forward, blinking away drowsiness as you settle on top of him, nestling into his chest. Nosing at his throat, licking up his flavour.

Azriel laughs quietly from deep in his chest, and it twines with his heartbeat. “You’re perfect…you know that?” Warmth fills your heart as his arms wrap around you, shadows pulling the blankets to cover you, despite being the wrong way up in the bed. What does it matter when he’s around?

“I’m perfect if you’re perfect,” you mumble back, hardly succeeding in keeping your eyes opened.

He doesn’t respond, but you can feel his heart, can hear how it picks up speed, and you know he’s happy.

Hot lips brush your head, pressing kisses into your hair as he keeps it from your face. You burrow into him deeper, pulling the sheets closer as you roll off to his side.

Azriel squeezes you again, making sure you’re as close as can be.

Neither of you would want it any other way.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

#Azriel #Dark!Azriel #acotar #Azriel smut #Azriel x reader #Azriel x reader smut #dark fic #dark!Azriel smut #dark!azriel x reader smut #[***] #Stockholm Syndrome #October

[luvvyouforever]

hc: acotar boys + s/o with illyrian wings

↳ including rhysand, cassian, azriel, lucien, and tamlin.

↳ some mentions of nsfw content but majority sfw, does not go into detail.

a/n: i have not read the entirety of the series nor have i wrote for acotar before. but this was stuck in my mind and i just had to see it through. enjoy, dears ❀

rhysand:

-adores taking leisurely flights with you across the night court lands, velaris, you name it and you're going. on days where you both need to get away and find some peace, you would fly away to some peak of a mountain or to a wide open field of flowers. smiles at you the whole time you glide easily next to him.

-definitely compares wing spans all the time. "no, i swear mine are bigger! look!" as he's straining and stretching the tips of them out to elongate his wingspan. you laugh and play along because you know that yours are without a doubt bigger but you'll let him win this time.

-his already large bed expands when you sleep in it together, ensuring that your wings rest on the sheets comfortably. he knows how annoying it is to tuck them in tightly or let them droop off the ends.

-if you've had a bad day, he'll ask for your permission before massaging the spots of skin surrounding your wings before gently running his hands along them, sending shivers down your spine. sometimes this will lead to more as his apt hands cause you to whimper but if it has been a particularly rough day, he is content to give you physical comfort and nothing more.

-feels incredibly proud to have you. while he hates entering the court of nightmares and putting on his persona, he secretly loves walking in to the city with you as his partner, wings fiercely on display.

-and just for some small self-indulgence, i think rhys loves wing play. when the two of you are close in bed, passionate and sweaty, he loves running his hands along your wings and he flares his out so you can do the same to him. he just can't help groaning at your reaction. enough said (i am so perfectly normal about this)

cassian:

-races with you in the air. some days he is just bounding with energy and adrenaline and nothing helps him more than leaping off of the balcony of your townhouse and soaring high in the air, dodging one another, doing tricks, etc. while rhys loves peaceful flights with you, cassian is the exact opposite.

-if you ever feel insecure about your wings, he'll encourage you to be confident about them and let them out. he may notice that a party, you get insecure about taking up so much space and you try to tuck your wings in as close as possible, placing yourself in corners. he'll come to your side, spread his wings out and tap your back to tell you to do the same. "don't feel bad about them, sweets. you look glorious."

-your sleep habits are definitely...interesting. two people in one bed with enormous wings sprouting from the backs? yeah, it's a little hard to maneuver. but you manage and usually, in the morning, you end up sprawled on the bed, limbs tangled, hair in faces, pillows off the bed, but rested and comfortable nonetheless.

-cassian loves being a tease and throughout the day, anytime he sees you, he'll sneak on you and run a finger down the most sensitive part of your wings, causing reactions that make those around you just slightly uncomfortable. he laughs and giggles and you don't stay mad at him for long.

-he would find it really attractive if your wings were bigger than his or if you could take him down in a fight. he's spent his life being a fearsome warrior, stronger than everyone, and if his partner can spread their wings and tackle him to the ground, he'll be so excited.

-you know that scene in good omens where aziraphale covers crowley's head with his wing? yeah, cassian does that. if you're walking anywhere and it starts raining, snowing, etc. he will gladly place his wing over top of your head to keep you from getting wet. you appreciate it more than anything.

azriel:

-i like to headcanon azriel as being a little fancy and bougie. he definitely has piles of oils, lotions, and skin care products for his wings that he will share with you. he likes keeping them shiny, moisturized, and clean. more often than not, he'll have you sit down in the bathroom while he does a mini skincare routine for your wings alone. you love it and look forward to it every night.

-azriel's wings are canonically the largest of the bat boys and i think he feels a secret sense of pride about this. no matter how good of a warrior cassian is or how good of a leader rhysand is, he holds that over them and this reflects in your relationship. he doesn't feel threatened by them, both because he trusts them and because he knows your affinity for his wings.

-oh my god...his shadows dance all over your wings when you're together. they tickle and give you goosebumps along every part of your body. azriel pretends to rein them in but he loves seeing you giggle at the feeling and sometimes sends his shadows out to run along your wings when you need to cheer up.

-if anyone ever hurt your wings or damaged them in any way, he'd see red and nothing else. he knows how much wings matter to an illyrian and if you come home from a battle with your wings bleeding, ripped, or scarred, he'd immediately find them and make them wish they didn't do such a thing to you.

-when crowds and people and senses become too much for either of you, you'll slip off to some secluded place, usually your home, and wrap each other in your wings, enveloping you in darkness and quiet. it's a great remedy for headaches or overstimulation. in general, i think azriel hugs with his wings. his arms will be wrapped tight around your body and his wings will encase you as much as they can.

-some more self indulgence here...i think azriel isn't as fond of his wings being used in the bedroom but as for yours...shew. you know how his shadows like to play with your wings? he revels in your sounds, gasps, and surprise at the feeling of your most sensitive spot being touched so delicately.

lucien:

-lucien has always been fascinated with illyrian wings. i think he'd ask you so many questions about them, about how they feel, how it feels to fly, etc. he'd very politely ask for your permission before grazing them with his hands, taking in the beauty of them.

-he always wanted to fly like the illyrian warriors he was familiar with but he never asked you out of embarrassment. the first time he flew with you was out of pure need as you escaped from some kind of danger together. he couldn't get away fast enough so without thinking, you picked him up and soared into the sky with him. after that moment, he looks for any chance to fly with you.

-lucien is a fast learner when it comes to learning how to care for your wings. he picks up on the spots that ache the most and pays special attention to those after long days. he speaks to cassian and azriel about caring for them, and he takes their advice to heart, buying whatever he needs.

-sometimes, he feels insecure and wonders if you'd prefer to be with someone who can match your skill set and keep up with you better. you shut down those thoughts as soon as they come up and make some joke that illyrians are a cocky breed and that you'd much prefer to be with him. you even offer to train him in some illyrian fighting techniques which he quickly takes you up on.

-if someone stares at your wings while you're at some kind of spring court high society function, he'd shoot them an evil glare which is particularly intimidating. he reassures you that there is no need to hide the beauty of your wings and that he'd deal with anyone who says something bad about them.

-lucien can't help but blush when you casually use your wings to help him throughout the day. if he shivers at a draft blowing through open windows, your wing will find a spot behind him to block the cool air. you will block the bright sun when you're walking together, barely caring about the intense warmth. if you're fighting together, your wing blocks hits and acts as a barrier between him and an enemy. when he questions himself, he thinks about those small moments that show your love and smiles.

tamlin:

-i think that tam can feel a little threatened sometimes by your wings and skills as a warrior. he places a lot of importance in his position as a protector and it takes him some time to get used to having a partner that can defend themselves. once he does, though, you two are practically an unstoppable force.

-he tries to act very nonchalant about your wings out of fear of offending you by staring at them or touching them. the first time you catch him looking at them in the sunlight, you smile and tell him that you'd never be offended by him admiring them. after that, he's constantly raking his eyes along your wingspan, creating poetic lines in his head about how the stars reflect on the silky black skin.

-tam is possessive by nature and if he sees someone complimenting them or, gods forbid, touch them, he couldn't hold back the claws emerging. he knows very well that you will stand your ground but nobody touches his partner like that and he will let them know very quickly.

-he will never really admit it but he loves seeing you in the light, pastel colors of the spring court, especially when they contrast so heavily with the dark wings on your back. he thinks one of his favorite views is you laid out in the rose garden, soaking in the sunshine with your wings laid out entirely on the ground. his love for you swells and he wishes he had a camera to keep the view preserved forever.

-he loves to spoil you with the best wing care you've ever seen. i'm talking expensive oil infused with gold that creates the most beautiful sparkle along the wings. i'm talking handmade soap sourced from velaris that smells divine which he uses while you take a bath together. he thrives when he gets to spoil you like this.

-his first calanmai after you became partners is an entire story in itself. even while ferociously charged with power, he asks for your permission to touch your wings while in the heat of things. his delicate hands are so different from the rest of the way he's taking you and he draws sounds from you that bounce off the cave walls and echo for likely miles.

i hope you enjoy this! i really like writing headcanons so if you have any requests, please let me know! <3

#acotar #acotar series #acotar x reader #rhysand #rhysand x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #tamlin #tamlin x reader #acotar headcanon #headcanon #wings #fluff

[hellsitegenetics]

Well since you mention valentine's professions of love, I think it wouldn't be right if I didn't take this chance to extoll the virtues of moths. Firstly, they're adorable. Some of them are really fuzzy and have cute antennae. The rosy maple moth and the common silk moth are both very very cute. Secondly, (as this blog proves again and again) there are SO MANY of them in such a huge variety that you're bound to come across one that tickles your fancy! Take the Atlas Moth for example! It's got a wing span of nearly 25cm! That's like the size of a small bird! (You have no idea how much I want to pet a large moth species. Not the caterpillars though. Never touch random caterpillars. In fact, some moth caterpillars have hairs and stuff that you definitely do not want to touch due to them being poisonous.) Thirdly, moths are culturally and historically important! Silk has been a major industry for centuries upon centuries. The techniques of silk production and the actual moths themselves are the subject of myths in various cultures. They were once so jealously and secretively guarded that there are legends of how they came to be spread to different parts of Asia. I cannot stress how big of a deal silk was throughout the history of the world and how the trade of silk influenced international relations for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Oh and the thing is, common silk moths aren't the only silk-producing moth! There are several moths in the Saturniidae family that make cocoons of silk which are also used in modern, commercial silk production -- some of which don't result in the death of the chrysalid.

Look, I know whatever string of nucleotides this ramble produces will not end up matching the genetic sequence of a moth, because that's just how these things work but... I hope that people will look upon all the moths that do show up going forth with a fond and grateful eye because moths are truly magnificent creatures. Happy Valentine's Day!

String identified:

c t at' , t t 't gt 't ta t cac t t t t t. t, t' aa. t a a a a ct ata. T a t a t c t a t ct. c, (a t g aga a aga) t a A t c a g at tat ' t c ac tat tc ac! Ta t Ata t a! t' gt a g a a 25c! Tat' t a a ! ( a a c at t t a ag t c. t t cata tg. tc a cata. act, t cata a a a t tat t t at t tc t t g .) T, t a cta a tca tat! a a a t ct ct. T tc ct a t acta t t a t ct t a ct. T c a a ct ga tat t a g t ca t a t t at Aa. cat t g a a a tgt t t t a t ta c tata at , t ta a. a t tg , c t a't t -cg t! T a a t t ata a tat a cc c a a , cca ct -- c 't t t at t ca.

, at tg ct t a c t atcg t gtc c a t, ca tat' t t tg t… tat a t t tat gg t t a a gat ca t a t agct cat. a at' a!

Closest match: Parapoynx stratiotata genome assembly, chromosome: 8 Common name: Ringed China-mark

#tumblr genetics #genetics #asks #requests #sent to me #moths #bugs #insects #valentines day #YOU GOT IT!!!

[kissitbttr]

frat!miguel gets into an argument bc someone says cheer isn’t a sport 🤭

“what the fuck did you just say, compá?!”

the room falls into silence once the head of the frat begins to speak. everyone’s eyes go wide when they realize his ruby eyes glare at one guy from the frat spewing some ridiculous comment, hands balled so hard into fists that his veins begging to be popped,

your eyes dart between miguel and the man who stands like he realizes that his life span about to be cut off short,

“miggy just leave it—“

“you want to say that again?” his tone carries anger and venom, slowly taking large steps towards the guy who gulps nervously,

“i mean come on o’hara i—“

“because if i heard you correctly, you underestimated my girl’s capabilities by saying what she does isn’t as good as the rest”

the guy scoffs, crossing his arms. “come on man, it was a joke. even if it wasn’t, you know that cheerleading is a girl thing. ain’t manly about that”

now it’s your turn to be pissed. the fuck he means by that?? not manly?! being put on hours and hours of physical training and lifting people’s body weight isn’t a true sport?!

miguel chuckles dryly, “that so? if you think that, would you mind haul my ass out to the front door then? since you’re a tough guy, eh?” he shoves the guy’s shoulder a little too hard making the colors in his face drains,

the crowd starts to circle, silently hoping that there would be a chance for them to fight. or perhaps, more like miguel beating the shit out of him

once more, he gulps. head shaking as a response before putting his hands up in defense.

“i’m good, man. i’m good” he tries to brush it off as if he isn’t intimidated. “sorry”

miguel hums. “any of you start shit by saying that, you’ll deal with me, got it?” he watches how the guys nod furiously,

he gives the guy one last hard stare before turning on his heel to walk away as the crowd begins to break and move back towards you. not before catching a glimpse of beck and glen’s matching smirk. miguel shoots them a ‘not a fucking word’ look,

his smile returns when he sees you, who wears a shy grin.

“you didn’t have to do that, miggy. i know how people can be when it comes to my sport.”

he shakes his head, frowning. “nonsense, muñeca. you’re my girl. it’s my job to defend your honor, no?” he kisses your cheek and you feel your cheeks warm,

“now” he circles his arm around your waist. “let’s go get some wings. i’m starving”

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara blurbs #frat!miguel

[jc96]

[this story is currently in its early development stage.]

The world is divided into two—the “normal humans” and the “powered humans”; people with mutations and abilities that put them above the rest.

It is unknown how the powered humans came to be but it started, one day, when a baby was born with gills on his neck—Case Zero. As the boy grew, so did his mutations—his hands and feet became webbed and it became clear how the boy was born to be in the water.

The next one was a girl—Case One, who was born with wings on her back, which only grew larger as she grew older. Soon, her wings grew so large it dragged on the floor. In a matter of years, her ability to fly and speed became even greater than planes and jets. A girl born to be in the skies.

What started with a baby every few months soon became a baby every month, to a baby every other week to a baby every week.

Today, 1 powered baby is born every 100,000 babies.

With the increasing number of powered humans, the governments of the world decided to implement the Powered Registration Act which aims to, as with normal human beings, register and regulate the powered humans. In line with the Act, the governments of the world created the PHSO - Powered Humans Statistics Office, the governing body solely for the powered humans, led by powered humans for powered humans.

With the emergence of the powered humans, a new occupation is created-heroes.

Registered and regulated by the government, heroes are employed by the PHSO to maintain order and peace while working together with the non-powered force.

Of course, when there are heroes, there are villains—powered and non-powered alike who do not agree with what they call “hero worship” given to heroes.

A never ending cycle of fights between good and evil, peace and chaos which span decades. Nothing new.

Of course, all of these do not concern you. You are not a hero nor are you a villain.

You are a barista with your own café in Sinagtala City.

[rating: 17+ for depictions of blood, non-detailed descriptions of violence, alcohol and cigarette use, off-screen character death(s), and others. this is subject to change as the story progresses]

You are a barista. Sure, your cafe may be a bit odd, compared to others but it is a cafe, nonetheless. Your pride and joy.

You’re the most ordinary citizen in Sinagtala City. Sure, you have secrets you’d do anything to keep, but who doesn’t?

This is a story following your daily life as you entertain customers, buy ingredients and stock your cafe.

...Sure.

— customize your mc! customize your name, pronouns and appearance!

— name your cafe!

— note: this story is set in the philippines and the mc is canonically filipino. as such, customization options are limited to those that are common in filipinos.

— romance 1 out of 3 love interests! are you going for the classic, best friends-to-lovers route? or maybe you'd prefer the enigmatic regular customer? how about the no-nonsense police captain?

— ₜᴿʸ ₜᴼ ᴹₐᴵₙᵀₐᴵₙ ʸᴼᵤᴿ "ₙᴼᵣᴹₐᴸ" ₗᴵᶠᴱ

The Best Friend 

Miguel Rivera [28 years old, he/him][ro]

— your best friend since childhood, Miguel is a constant presence in your life, the one person who has been with you through everything; from childhood quarrels with bullies to the death of your mother. Miguel was the first person to come in during your opening day and has been your #1 supporter from day 1.

— going by the hero name “Torch,” Miguel has the ability to control and produce fire, able to use it for short-distance flight, shoot fireballs as well as turn his whole body aflame for a short period of time. 

— tall, at 188cm, with a muscular build (but not bodybuilder muscles) from years of training. Brown (kayumanggi) skin, black, wavy hair that reaches his ears and light brown eyes. All of Miguel’s clothes are made from a special thread created from his hair to ensure their resistance to his fire.

The Regular

Kahel [26 years old, they/them][ro]

— a regular customer, Kahel is one of your first customers. They’ve been coming to your cafe for the past 5 years almost daily, with no fail. Through the years, the two of you have formed a friendship. Despite your years of knowing them, you know almost nothing about Kahel’s past and what they actually do for work (they told you they’re a ‘writer’). You don’t know Kahel’s abilities, only that they have physical mutations.

— average height, at 170cm, with a thin build. Pale skin with long, straight hair they keep to their lower back and tied into a braid. Kahel often changes the color of their hair, so often, you don’t know their real hair color. Their eyes are a light gray, and their ears are pointed, like an elf’s ears.

The Captain

Cristina Solomon [34 years old, she/her][ro]

— the captain of the Sinagtala Police Force, Cristina is tasked in ensuring the peace and safety of the inhabitants of Sinagtala City. The youngest to ever hold the position of captain, Cristina holds deep confidence in her abilities and in the pride her colleagues have of her. In her 2 years since becoming captain, the number of crimes have decreased even further, to the point that other cities have called on her expertise and guidance.

— Cristina has the ability to produce shields and force fields which are able to withstand even a direct hit from a bomb. Cristina possesses amazing control of her abilities, even using them for maneuvering. Although powerful, the more shields she produces, the weaker they get until they’re barely stronger than a glass panel.

— tall height, at 178cm, with a thin but muscled build because of her training as a police officer. Brown (kayumanggi) skin and short, straight, dark brown hair she keeps in a bob, stopping just above her jaw. Cristina has dark, almost black, brown eyes and a beauty mark under her left eye.

The Part-timer

Lib Santos [20 years old, they/them]

— a college student who works part time for you. they’re very happy to work for your cafe because it’s the only one they applied to that’s able to accommodate their schedule. They’re able to attract small objects to themself, an ability they use in working.

— short, at 150cm, with a round build. Brown (kayumanggi) skin with freckles on their face. Round glasses hide their dark brown eyes. Their hair is short, a pixie cut, and dyed a light blue.

The Mayor

Penelope Pascual [45 years old, she/her]

— Sinagtala City’s mayor. Unlike past mayors that were personally chosen by Sinag, Penelope was voted for by the public. A well-known figure in the city, it was only a matter of time before Penelope was voted mayor. Penelope is able to control and manipulate air. She mainly uses it to allow herself flight while patrolling the city.

— tall, at 175cm, with a curvy build. Tan skin accentuated by her light brown eyes and long, straight dark brown hair usually tied in its tight bun.

hello! jean here, bringing you a new story. of coffee beans, heroes and villains is an interactive fiction in it's early development stage. the story will be released in chapters and will be completely free from start to finish.

#interactive fiction #twine game #interactive novel #ocbhav-if #twine #twine if #twine interactive fiction #twine wip

[wolven91]

Skin Deep

The crit'yun are an ancient race.

Chitin instead of flesh, feather, scale, or fur. A mind that was vast enough to include all their kind, but also individual minds, all working towards a common goal broken up into hives then castes. They were like ants of old, but massive.

As for the hives, in the deepest, most protected parts of their worlds, there were pools of a biological soup that gave birth to new and needed bodies. There was no 'set' appearance to the crit'yun. If they needed pincers the most, then the creature that crawled from the ominous goop had pincers. If they needed size or bulk, the goop would recede as a titan lifted itself clear of the liquid, allowing it to cascade from it in great waterfalls as it stepped into the galaxy.

The crit'yun had been around since the various races that now dominated the galaxy had begun to crawl from their own primordial soups millennia ago. They watched the galaxy and recorded its comings and goings with a careful eye. Nothing was forgotten, everything was shared. Perhaps once the crit'yun had spread themselves across the galaxy, like a grand empire? But that wasn't the case now.

Their territory with a sliver that spanned several arms of the galaxy. They stayed there, watching and listening to the galaxy that appeared and grew now that they stayed dormant.

But the modern galaxy feared them, even before their most recent awakening.

Not just because they had perfected what was important to the current races, war and weapons, but because they were an antithesis to what was considered beautiful within the galaxy. Skittering. Twitching. Eyes that didn't look like eyes, or none at all, still watched without blinking. Legs and hands that were weapons.

They were judged on their first introduction. The crit'yun were aliens, even to the aliens.

When humanity appeared, it created an almost visible ripple amongst the insectoids. Something new. Something they hadn't seen. Something they hadn't recorded with their incredible minds. Something, that was dying.

Like a locust swarm amassing, the crit'yun, after thousands and thousands of years in isolation and refusal to engage with the wider galaxy; was suddenly abuzz with activity. The galaxy feared the crit'yun despite the diplomats they sent to assure the Galactic Community of their honourable intentions. They avoided crowded systems, sent only the most appealing of the crit'yun to parley when needed, but they were still shunned as dangerous, foreign things.

This was where Max came in.

Max had been in the 'care' of slavers. He was one of the lucky ones. He hadn't even been aware of their foul intentions. They had lied, placed him in comfortable quarters and began their journey towards a buyer before being found by the crit'yun.

"We are still sorry. That this. Was your first step. Sorry, that we, no... you... did not find... ally, friend, family." Chittered the creature. It was the size of a large dog, perhaps a Great Dane? It's red membrane wings flutters and twitched, but the numerous black dots, that Max had come to learn were its eyes, watched him carefully. Its speech pattern was strange, but it sat next to the human on a raised bench of resin that coated the inside of the crit'yun ship.

"It's alright. I should have known, I just didn't... think I suppose?" The human said with a sigh, gesturing with his hand before it fell back down against his knee.

"Absence. No. Lack of knowledge. Ignorance. Not worthy of fault. " Assured the creature as its head tilted one way and then the other.

The human smiled idly, more to the floor than to himself or a crit'yun. His hand, ever moving reach over without thought and rubbed a hand against the almost perfectly rounded head of the alien insect. Although there was no fur there, the distracted human merely felt calmer by the action. It reminded him of his own dog, Max missed him.

It was almost a whole minute before Max turned his head to the crit'yun and blinked, seemingly surprised that he was petting the insect and immediately withdrew his hand.

"I'm sorry! I didn't-" Blurted the human, holding his hands up in apologetic surrender.

"Why?" Asked the creature. It's perfectly round head turning, the beady black eyes rotating with it. It was a perfect impression of a puppy tilting its head.

"I wasn't thinking." Replied the human honestly, lowering his arms once more, paying attention to the creature.

"Ah. This one knows this. Nature. No... Natural action... To act by instinct. True Freedom. Fear no. Fear not. No offence made or received." Confirmed the alien, bobbing its head. Unbeknownst the Max, the instinctual drive it spoke of was its 'purpose'. Every crit'yun was born and made with a goal, a true purpose in life. The broodmother's was to birth and care for their young and vulnerable. The guards was to defend and destroy threats. To this drone? It was to reapply the resin to the ceilings of the crit'yun craft.

Since the human had shown preference to it, it had already been replaced, its purpose was now to stay by the human and ensure it wanted for nothing until the broodmother's craft arrived.

Max gave a smirk as this giant insect spoke in such an odd way, struggling to find the correct words, all the while he had accidently just treated it like a favoured pet. His brow furrowed as he thought about it though.

"How come the translators don't work for you?" The man asked curiously. He was aware that translators normally just adjusted any word heard for the word the speaker meant, in the listener's language. It shouldn't have been hiccupping over the insect's words.

"They do." Replied the creature smartly.

"But you mix up your words?" Pointed out Max.

"Ah. Translators fine. It is mind that is... limited." The insect explained, bobbing on all six legs.

"Mind?" Max was only more confused now.

"Yes. This one. Crit'yun you see with your eyes. Is only drone. Mind limited. In time... We will present acceptable crit'yun to you." The drone explained, speaking the words the broodmother sent through the hive's mind. It was a delicate thing, to speak through a drone, but doable. They didn't normally have the drive to talk or even need to. It was pure luck that this done was a talkative one, often humming to itself as it happily worked. The broodmother could only whisper simple concepts and the drone would repeat them as best it could.

"What does that mean?" Enquired the human. The crit'yun was pleased with the new specie's curiosity but feared that this was the moment they would lose this creature's trust. The crit'yun knew what they looked like, and the diplomat form could only look so much like them before it caused distress.

"We hide. Will hide. What makes us. Robes will hide chitin. Our eyes will be only... One... Two..." Counted the drone, repeating the broodmother's words. Her signal was getting stronger, straining the creature's mind.

"You don't have to change for me you know? I don't mind." Promised the young man.

"You... flinch." Pointed out the drone.

"I'm not going to lie, its intimidating, being surrounded by bugs, but I bet I don't look great to you."

"Clicks for this one. True. Truth is spoken. Very well. When this drone... is returned to the hive. Hive will not attempt... much... to hide selves..." Promised the drone, settling down onto its folded limbs. Tired now.

"Good. I was always told be proud of who you are. And you guys saved my life, so in my book you're alright."

"We wish to record your book. Please present it." Asked the drone, it's mind growing tired now that the broodmother had relinquished her hold on its mind. She was on the ship now. The idea the drone could record new history and present it to the broodmother? As it slipped from the waking world, if it could smile; it would have.

"Oh. Uuhh..." The human said, unaware he was the only one present now.

[r/WolvensStories]

[AO3]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #insect #insect x human #crit'yun

[jobean12-blog]

Bat, Please!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word Count: 1,992

Summary: You want something and Eddie does it best to make it happen!

Author's Note: I couldn't have a proper Kinktober celebration without adding some Eddie and although this is mostly soft and fun I just love him so! Thank you bunches to @blackwidownat2814 my lovely Nat for sharing some super fun Eddie coded tik toks that always help to inspire. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @wannabehamlet thank you sweets! 🥰

Warnings: cute and fun fluff, softness, some sp-ic-y fun

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

“Eddie?”

You continue to comb your fingers through his curls, separating them and fixing them as you go.

“Hm?” he answers sleepily.

“I want to get a bat.”

As you wait for his response you warm some product between your hands.

“Well?” you ask when he doesn’t say anything.

Just when you reach for his curls again he turns his head and looks at you with big brown eyes.

“A bat?” he asks. “Like a fuzzy bat or a baseball bat…cause these are two very different things. I’m sure Steve has a bat we can use but a fuzzy flying bat is a whole….”

He trails off and makes wild gestures with his hands, flapping them this way and that and making weird bat sounds.

“One of those,” you giggle and then turn his head back around so you can smooth the product into his hair.

“A bat,” he repeats.

“Yeah. A fuzzy, flying, fruit eating, hanging upside down cute as hell bat.”

After his hair is properly styled for his show tonight he leaps to his feet and leans over you as you sit on the edge of the bed.

“Where are we getting this bat?” he asks.

You shrug and slide backwards to give him room. He sits cross legged in front of you and stares.

“Look,” you start and grab the book lying on the bed.

“What is that?”

“A book,” you deadpan.

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head.

You smile and roll your eyes. “I got it at the library yesterday. LOOK HOW CUTE!”

You flip open to a page with a picture of a flying fox bat and point, sticking it in his face.

“EDDIE LOOK!” you squeal again.

He looks from you to the picture and back to you.

“It’s SO CUTE!” he screeches.

“I KNOWWWWWW!”

You scoot closer to him and he uncrosses his legs, spreading them so you can sit between them. His arms wrap around your waist and he takes the book from your hands, laying it on your lap so he can flip through it.

“What kind is this?” he asks when you get to a picture of a large bat with a huge wing span.

“The giant golden-crowned flying fox,” you read. “the largest bat in the world with a wing span up to five feet!”

“Jesus Christ,” he says. “I think maybe the little guys are better.”

“IS THAT A YES!??!”

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs as his head dips to your neck. “We can’t really get a bat.”

His kiss momentarily distracts you but when his words sink in you turn in his arms and give him a sad look.

“Oh come on angel, don’t do that!” he whines. “I hate when you’re sad.”

“But, but…look.” Your words are quiet and soft as you hold up another picture of one of the smaller bats. A fruit bat eating a mango.

“Little fuckers really are adorable,” he muses. “But I’m pretty sure we don’t have those kind of bats here in Hawkins.”

“Maybe we can rescue one?”

He studies you for a moment, several emotions contorting his features as he clearly tries to think of a way to make this happen for you.

You sigh and slump into his body, leaning your head along his shoulder and taking one of his curls to twirl around your finger.

“I’ll dress up as a bat for Halloween,” he offers with a sweet smile.

Your eyes light up at the thought of it but you quickly remind him you already have your costumes ready.

“I’ll figure something out,” he promises.

You snuggle closer and nuzzle his neck. “Do you want me to do your eyeliner for tonight?”

“Sure sweetheart, thanks.”

“Ok, lemme just get changed first so I’m ready to go.”

He reluctantly releases you and falls flat on your bed, spreading out like a star fish.

After you’re changed you find him in the same position, eyes closed and his breathing steady with his curls spread out wildly on the pillow.

“Eddie?” you say softly as you sit on the bed.

He stirs and blinks open an eye.

“Hmm must have fallen asleep,” he mumbles as he starts to sit up.

He rubs his hand over his face and gives his cheek a soft slap to wake up and once he is fully present he looks you over, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head when he sees your outfit.

“Good heavens!” he squeaks when his eyes drop to your chest.

You snort laugh and give him a look.

“Are you for real right now?” you ask.

His eyes stay glued to your cleavage and he licks his lips. “Are you for real right now?”

“You don’t like my shirt?”

You run your fingers lightly across your collarbone and arch your back.

“Angel…come on, I mean…you can’t go out like that.”

He grabs one of his girls and starts to mindlessly chew on it, still staring.

“What does that mean?” you fire back.

“It means! My dick is already hard and I haven’t even touched you yet. You expect me to sing and play guitar while staring at those?!?!?!”

You smirk and climb into his lap, straddling his waist.

“Oh,” you breathe out when you feel him beneath you.

“Yeah,” he hums, lifting his fingers and wiggling them in anticipation.

He traces the swell of your breasts with his calloused fingertips. “Fuck,” he hisses.

“I have to do your liner,” you whisper.

“Ok.” He audibly swallows and tries to focus on your face.

You grab the pen. “Close your eyes.”

His gaze drops again and you give him a pointed look.

“Eddie,” you scold. “Close ‘em.”

He sighs dramatically and closes his eyes. You start to apply the liner but his hands start to wander, feeling around the air to make a grab.

“If you don’t behave I’m going to either poke your eye out or stab you with his eye liner pencil.”

He concedes with another intense huff and drops his hands to the bed, curling his fingers into the soft comforter.

After you line the bottom you check your work and give him a thumbs up.

“Hot,” you state.

Without warning he takes the liner from between your fingers and then grabs you, flipping you onto your back and settling his weight on top of you.

His lips hover just above yours as his fingertips dance along your stomach and his curls tickle your skin.

“We’re gonna be late Eddie.”

“But, but….but!”

With a rock of his hips he grazes his knuckles along your skin, his rings teasing every inch he touches.

“You need time to set up…”

Your eyes start to flutter closed.

“But…” he whispers against your lips.

“Look we both want things we can’t have right now,” you sigh as you press your hands to his chest.

“What?” he asks, clearly confused and still staring at your boobs.

“I want a bat and you want boobs.”

“Just your boobs.”

“Of course,” you acknowledge.

“And I kinda want a bat too,” he adds.

“I’ll throw your flannel on for now.”

“I didn’t say to do that,” he whines.

“Ok then I won’t but let’s go! We’re going to be late.”  

You slide off the bed and grab your shoes, bending down to put them on. His muttered curses draw your attention and you catch him staring again.

Before you can respond he grabs his flannel and throws it in your direction. “Just put it on so I don’t have to go on stage with a boner.”

“Fine,” you say and blow him a kiss. “But I can’t promise I’ll leave it on the whole time.”

“Fine,” he shoots back. “And I can’t promise I won’t take you to the back room and fuck your brains out after the show.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“That was amazing!” you yell, still hyped up from Eddie and Corroded Coffin’s music.

“You know what’s amazing sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs as he drags you back stage. “You.”

“Eddie,” you giggle.

His lips on yours silence any other words and when he kicks the door of the back room shut and presses you against it you grab for his vest and start to tug it off his shoulders.

He pulls away and you chase his lips, whining out his name.

“Nuh uh angel,” he smirks.

He gathers your wrists between his fingers and slowly lifts your arms over your head, pressing your hands to the door.

“Eddie,” you gasp.

He runs his nose along the length of your neck, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear when he whispers, “I’m going to worship you.”

By the time you get home the early morning sun is brightening the horizon in soft hues of pink and orange.

You and Eddie collapse into bed and fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and bare skin. It isn’t until you start to feel a slight chill that you shift and search for the blanket, only to find the other half of the bed empty.

“Eddie?” you mumble as you crack open an eye.

His leather jacket is missing from the floor and his keys aren’t on the dresser.

You search for a note, spotting a small, ripped piece of paper sitting under a die on his pillow.

“Ran out for a minute angel, be back soon. Stay in bed xoxo &lt;3.”

With a smile you press the paper to your chest and curl back up, pulling the covers tightly around you.

“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, lightly shaking your shoulder.

You stir and whine out something incoherent but he catches his name and it makes him laugh.

“I have something for you…Sweetheart.”

He removes his shoes and takes off his jacket then slides into bed and starts to place soft kisses along your bare shoulder.

Your lips turn up in a smile and you whisper, “you’re back.”

“And I have a surprise for you!”

You lift your head and rest it on your elbow, blinking several times before focusing on Eddie and his excited smile.

“Ready???”

“YES EDDIE WHAT IS IT!” you squeal, now fully awake. “SHOW MEEEEEEEE!”

He keeps the surprise behind his back even as you grab at him and plead, until finally he kisses you.

Once you’re breathless and melting into the bed he stops and slowly reveals what he’s been hiding.

It’s small but not too small and black and soft and has sparkly wings and little fangs and big round eyes and It’s perfect.

“You got me a bat,” you say softly and take it from his hands. “He’s so ridiculously cute and perfect.”

You smush the stuffed bat to your chest and squeeze it hard before launching yourself at Eddie.

He catches you in his arms and lays you back down, curling you into his chest and covering you all with the blanket.

“I know he isn’t a real bat…”

“He’s just the cutest. Where did you find him?” you ask.

“I went to Starcourt this morning.”

You go still in his embrace and your eyes get wide.

“You went…to the mall?!?”

“Yeah…and it wasn’t that bad…I guess. I went. I saw. I conquered!”  

He waggles his eyebrows and you let out a peel of laughter before your expression softens and you snuggle closer.

“You really are the best; you know that Eddie.”

“Anything to make you happy angel,” he coos. “What are you gonna name him?”

“Well my first thought was Eddie of course but then I thought…Dio?”

His eyes light up. “DIO!” he shouts, taking the bat and looking him over. “He looks like a Dio.”

“He does right?” you reflect. “What about Dio Edward Munson?”

“Edward huh?” he smirks.

“Yeah. He’s a distinguished bat,” you state proudly.

“Well, it’s official. Welcome to the family Dio Edward Munson.”

Eddie kisses the top of Dio’s head then slides his thumb across your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss of your own.

@buckysdollforlife @goldylions @hiddles-rose

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things #kinktober 2023

[femoso-seben]

Monster fic:

Human Shaped Monsters

Blood bathed the soil. It spans decades, and at this point, there is no way either side could turn back, and strike a deal for peace. The humans who have been enslaved and the monsters who were belittled and forced into segregation for centuries.

Blood soil the hands of both leading sides, eyes shrouded by hatred and rage. This was a war to end either species… and the humans were losing.

Two decades before the start of this war there was a faction of monsters pushing for equal rights and humans siding with them. Not even that solidarity could bring both sides together. It started with peace and ended in the blood of an innocent.

The human resistance was shrinking and the leading factions began to divide a plan. A last-ditch for freedom.

Rabies.

It was a slow race, the first to be infected were the werewolves and other beastmen. It was a long wave of modification by a small group of scientists. They made sure it could jump to every other monster, the only free of it were, mermaids, gargoyles, and shadow beings.

They made it with no cure.

It was an overnight success. Their militaries begin to fall into smithereens. One by one they had to kill their own forces and burn their corpses. New fear spread across the monsters.

The humans leaked the information.

The fear of humans was raised again.

Switzerland was the only country that allowed humans and Monsters to live together, of course, there were some apartheid laws but in all of was far better than other countries where they were actual slaves, broodmares, pets, and cattle.

It was a painful year for the Monsters before they decided to come to a ceasefire with the remnant of free humanity.

They meet up in neutral territory, Switzerland.

Laswell’s wing folds flatly against her back as she looks over to see her escort, Task Force 141, and shadow company’s Graves. “Are you sure about this?” Price was in his wings folding.

“I don’t like making concessions to them but if they have a cure—“

“I doubt it,” Soap snears, “knowing that vermin they were trying to kill us off.” He grips the door his long nails scrapping the metal door, his tail swishing angrily.

“Kate Laswell,” a feminine voice calls out, they all turn to see a young human woman standing there flanking her side is a monster in tactical gear. Laswell walked forward and they followed after them.

“Are you part of the delegation?” Laswell asks. The human looks up.

“Well, I’m part of the… welcoming committee, we in Switzerland don’t want war.” The human smiles her dark auburn hair was pull back into a low ponytail.

“A bunch of cowards and weaklings,” Soap smears. The soap didn’t always hate humans, he grew to hate them. In his youth, he was to stay in love with one until another human took her. He watched as they destroyed the world, their corruption throwing the world into a near-constant war.

He hated them.

“What would Santana think?” The human girl asks, Soap found himself sneering at the human woman for being up his old love.

“She’s not here because of you-“

“That was far before my time.”

“You’re young,” Gaz notes.

“Well, this country is made up of refugees, our parents fought to be free.” The human said side eyeing the Harpy.

Gaz didn’t like humans, he had no fold memory of that human or that human in his mind where they showed their famed humanity. He has only seen their bigotry. His home was napalmed by war. He hated humans too.

“Why aren’t we needing at the capital?” Graves asks looking around. The sun was setting and he could see the beautiful landscape of Switzerland’s countryside.

“Too many people live there, too many anxieties. Here if war breaks out not so many people be hurt.” Soap snorts but looks around the air is smooth and clean, far less dusty than the battlefield.

“Mother Maia,” the human woman calls out. There in the setting Sun of a large building, what used to look like a big retail store was a woman taking down hung sheets.

“As Jezebel,” the woman’s sweet voice calls out. “Are these the monster’s delegates?”

“Yup,” the group stops in front of this strange woman. She was in all black, with no skin showing beside her hands. She didn’t look Muslim just… like a Victorian woman in mourning. It was nostalgic for Graves he couldn’t stop smiling, her dark veil covering her hair and face. “How are the kids?”

“It’s dinner, you know how the little werewolves get, so territorial. Then the gargoyles want to sit at the top. The dragons are trying to hord people.”

“Is Michael sweet-talking people for food again?”

“Of course, you can’t stop young sirens from praying on others, especially on crawfish night.”

“Crawfish? Damn now I’m hungry-“

“We’ll take your group to the meeting point and if you get their fast enough and back we might still have some leftovers.” The woman in black tease.

“C’mon, let’s hurry,” Jezebel said rushing the group of monsters.

“What is that place?” Ghost asks. There were monsters there? And a human talking so nonchalantly about them too.

“That’s an orphanage, government sponsored, that’s the head director, Mother Maia.”

“Is she a nun?” Soap asks. Jezebel cackles and turn to him.

“Nope she’s a former Sniper, before retiring only a few weeks ago.” A cold chill run down tje monster’s bodies.

“What was her name?”

“Something like the pale death.” The monster stopped walking Soap nearly ran back to that woman to kill her.

“Relax Johnny it’s a bad idea to kill her here.” Ghost said resting his stone hands on his friend’s shoulder. Soap bared his fangs but let his shoulder sag.

“That bitch has killed dozen of our men-”

“Hey,” Jezebel said, “you better be careful this is her boyfriend right here,” Jezebel pointed to the armed monster next to him. He was a humanoid monster, maybe a wraith… that would make sense at night he was the most powerful.

“Traitor,” Gaz glared at the shorter male who had a strange antenna coming from his helmet.

“C’mon, let’s keep going I’m missing out on delisting crawfish!” Jezebel practically jogged to the meeting point.

“Look at her, so carefree. Humans truly disgust me.” Soap whispers to Gaz who flew slightly above him.

“I know mate, they only care for themselves, and discriminate against those that differ from them.” The moment they got to the meeting Jezebel took off.

—————————— /\ ——————————

“Mother Maia?” The woman in black looks up and walks up to the group of monster. Walking into the giant old building. The inside was converted into a home.

“Yes?” She asks.

“They wanted to see the orphanage a little more,” assistant Andres said, his wolf tail swinging side to side.

“Of course come in—”

“That killer in in charge of our kind?” Soap sneers, walking up to her. His eyes widened she was quite tall for a human, 6ft.

A set of low growls ooze out from the back as a small group of five teenage boys stalked in, they were young Werewolf pups. They got in between her and him.

“Who the fuck are you pendejo?” One asks his accented English rolls off his tongue.

“She killed our kind—”

“You killed your kind! My parents were killed by cunts like you,” the Australian boy shouts.

Soap glared at the young boys in front of him. They were young, stupid, and weak. A few had missing eyes, and arms, and one missing a leg. In the order of monsters, they should be dead.

“Enough!” Mother Maia snaps loudly, pulling the young alpha back. She leans down. In a low tone, she said, “Go protect the other orphanage.” Soap frown, another orphanage? The young back sneered at him one last time and stalked off.

“Have some grace, most of them were maimed by the monster’s militia when their parents tried to flee. Most of their parents were either murdered in front of them or eaten.” A chill ran down 141’s back.

“Mate—”

“Of course, we have some monsters affected by humans, but humans wouldn’t let a single monster live. These survivors or victims of you.” Mother Maia said setting the basket closed down.

“So, pale death-“ Graves walk over a smirk on his face.

“Killed anyone of them?”

“They are my children, don’t you know? Human pack bond with anyone.” She said in the same flirty tone as Graves. She clears her throat and looks at the greater whole, “where would you like to begin?”

“What type of monsters do you have?” Gaz asks looking around, he can smell a plethora of monsters, even prey monsters.

“We have beast men, harpies, mermaids, fairies, shark born, dragons, gargoyles, vampires-“ a group of bats came flying in and transformed small little kids running up to Mother Maia.

“We’re hungry.”

“Go to the kitchen.”

“How do you feed them?” Graves asks, there was about six of them the oldest no older than twelve.

“Donation of course, this country knows blood from monsters and humans are welcome. Of course, we have animals.” Graves subconsciously nods. “We have a few turned, they don’t want human blood.”

“We also have pray hybrids.”

“To feed-“

“No.” Mother Maia cuts off Price.

“Come I’ll show you the barn,” Mother Maia turned and led the group. There in the back was a large barn, it smelled like a barn.

“Lenard,” Mother Maia calls out, a figure jumps down and a young gargoyle appears, “we’re bringing in some guess, go tell Jin.”

“Jin isn’t gonna like this… not these unknown predators in his camp.”

“I know but go tell him,” The gargoyle nods and flies off.

Mother Maia turns to them, the veil is getting annoying, and the strange clinking sound as she walks. “Don’t eat anyone of them, I’ll kill you.” Her tone turns from sweet and welcoming to cold and cruel.

She opens the barn.

Screams erupt.

There was many cattle hybrids. Sheep, goats, alpacas, llamas, cows, and even some deer. They all backed up and only one thing approached a small girl screaming.

“Yumna-“

“Get out!” She shouts. She was a stout girl? And from the marking of her fur, honey badger.

“Do they have to be here?” A new voice asks in the arms of Lenard was a boy, Jin. The horns said it all along with the one wing, dragon. This was his hord.

“Quit,” Mother Maia said, silencing the barn.

“As you can see we have farmed more prey species since they don’t want to be killed or eaten. We’re leaving now,” she pushed everyone out and close the barn after Lenard who climb back onto his perch.

“So…” Price smiles blowing out his cigar smoke, “that’s his castle and hord?”

“Indeed.”

They begin to walk far into the fields small predictor hybrids poke their heads up and watch them leave before going back to playing. They walked for a few miles to the ledge of a cliff down below the ocean.

“We don’t have any big trees, so most of the Harpies live on the cliffs in huts, down below in our seaways are Merfolks and shark borns. Of course, as you see another gargoyle and in the water an eastern dragon born.” Gaz eyes widen seeing the little harpies flying around. It reminded him of home.

“Priscilla,” Mother Maia calls out, a young woman in her early Twenties or late teens walked up. Gaz thought she was human at first until he noticed her feet. She was a wingless harpy. Gaz felt feather’s raising anger boiling under his skin. She inched her way closer Gorgyle behind her.

“Since Harpies are communal and the boldest of the youth train the harpies to fly, but since Priscilla had her wings ripped off most of the young harpies don’t fly.” Mother Maia said.

“We can!” One shout, from the cliffs their small heads and raptor eyes glued on them. “We just… don’t want to.” The little boy said shyly.

“And in the small brush forest we have the smaller pray species and a pack of werewolves.”

“A pack?” Soap asks, “there’s more than one?” Mother Maia nods.

“We have five they like doing mock battles to see who gets five feet of territory into another’s back, it’s all friendly games they come together to defend this area when needed.” Soap couldn’t help but smile, maybe if he was younger this would be a great place to create a pack.

“I can teach them how to fly,” Gaz said mindlessly staring at the cliff where there were probably over 20 harpies. All the young children and the oldest were younger than him, they wouldn’t survive if they couldn’t fly.

“Really?” Priscilla said her shoulder feathers raising in excitement.

“We’re staying here a few days.” They two turn to another Maia for an answer.

“You have to ask Baihu.” Pricilla cringed and sighed, “As the most senior member of this community and the oldest, it’s your duty.” Pricilla nods.

“Alright let’s go asks him, c’mon.” She begins to walk to the cliff Gaz following suit.

“Isn’t it a little cruel to have a human looking after a monster?” Soap ask.

“Not at all my counterpart is a monster taking care of humans, his hord.”

“This seems too perfect.”

______________________

Word count: 2.2K Would you be interested in this being a full fic?

Inspire by @bluegiragi @gremlingottoosilly

taglist: @kkaaaagt 

Part 2

#141 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #captain price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod #oc #cod monster au #cod x reader #monster 141 au #monster #eldritch #fic ideas

[vestaignis]

Жук-геркулес – необычное насекомое, которые встречается на берегах Карибского моря, на территориях Центральной Америки и южноамериканского континента. При среднем размере тела более 16 см. он считается одним из самых крупных жуков на планете. При этом размах крыльев у самцов редко бывает меньше 20 сантиметров. Самочки мельче самцов и могут достигать в длину не более 8 см. и у них нет рогов. Свое название этот жук получил благодаря известному древнегреческому герою Гераклу (по лат. Herculēs), который прославился своей невероятной силой. Жуки-геркулесы— «тяжелоатлеты» и способны переносить тяжести, в 850 раз превышающие их собственный вес.

Окраска жука зависит от влажности окружающей среды. Геркулес имеет жесткие на��крылья. Они могут быть темно-оливкового, желтого, желто-оливкового цвета и даже черными. Тело покрыто редкими рыжими волосками. На голове у жука находятся 2 рога, один большой сверху и второй, поменьше, ниже. Верхний рог имеет несколько зубцов.

Геркулесы – летающие жуки, однако крылья применяют лишь по мере необходимости. Благодаря цепким лапкам эти жуки отлично передвигаются по деревьям, цепляясь за кору.Жуки-геркулесы абсолютно безвредны для людей. Они не несут угрозу и сельскохозяйственной деятельности человека.Жуки-геркулесы питаются опавшей листвой, старой древесиной и древесным соком, а также перезревшими фруктами и ягодами. Продолжительность жизни имаго, так называется взрослое насекомое, равна 6 месяцев. 

The Hercules beetle is an unusual insect found on the shores of the Caribbean Sea, Central America and the South American continent. With an average body size of more than 16 cm, it is considered one of the largest beetles on the planet. At the same time, the wingspan of males is rarely less than 20 centimeters. Females are smaller than males and can reach a length of no more than 8 cm. and they do not have horns. This beetle got its name thanks to the famous ancient Greek hero Hercules (Latin: Herculēs), who was famous for his incredible strength. Hercules beetles are "weightlifters" and are able to carry weights 850 times their own weight.

The color of the beetle depends on the humidity of the environment. Hercules has rigid elytra. They can be dark olive, yellow, yellow-olive and even black. The body is covered with sparse red hairs. The beetle has 2 horns on its head, one large on top and the second, smaller, below. The upper horn has several teeth.

Hercules are flying beetles, but wings are used only as needed. Thanks to their tenacious paws, these beetles move perfectly through trees, clinging to the bark.Hercules beetles are absolutely harmless to humans. They also do not pose a threat to human agricultural activities.Hercules beetles feed on fallen leaves, old wood and tree sap, as well as overripe fruits and berries. The life span of an imago, as an adult insect is called, is 6 months.

Источник:/www.zoopicture.ru/zhuk-gerkules/, /beatlename.ru/beatle18=zhuk-gerkules, /wildfauna.ru/zhuk-gerkules, /zenun.ru/zhuk-gerkules/,/redbook.su/nasekomye/zhuk-gerkules, /kartinki.pics/pics/697-zhuk-gerkules-art.html.

#nature #video #insect video #insect photography #beetle #Hercules beetle #plants #flowers #macro photo #drowing #illustration #природа #видео #фото насекомых #насекомые #жук #Жук-геркулес #растения #цветы #макрофото #арт #иллюстрация

[gxthicupid]

Hi can I request a macaque and wukong with a s/o that is the mother of dragons like Daenerys Targaryen from games of trones

Ps: if you haven’t seen of games of thrones I got to say it’s good

୨⎯  𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑭 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑵𝑺 [𝑺𝑾𝑲 & 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒙 !𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑵 𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑹! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓]

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇxᴛ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʀᴀɪꜱɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ, ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴋᴇʏ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪx-ᴇᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴀᴄᴀQᴜᴇ?

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ <3

➨ Long ago, one winter season, a devastating snowstorm erupted, plaguing the world in an ever-lasting blanket of snow, hail and cold air from the sun's warm rays.

➨ The skies were no longer a comforting hue of blue but a lifeless grey colour. At the same time, all signs of life were extinguished and left nothing but the skeleton of living creatures, only to be forgotten by the gust of wind and snow, leaving it for the land to swallow.

➨ Unfortunately, you were stuck in a forest of death, with the trees' remains that were nothing but hollow and sculptured of their slow agony through the winter. You have lost your way from your home and feared the worst as you continued your path and saw the aftermath when death will sooner or later catch up to you.

➨ In an attempt for survival, you've stomped and held onto the snow below your feet and, with squinted eyes, found a cave nearby, which will keep you warm and safe from the blizzard. Finally arriving, you plopped down in exhaustion and tried gathering a pile of leaves and sticks scattered around the floor to make a campfire.

➨ As the wood crackled and popped crisping sounds, you decided to let your eyes wander around the cave, a glimpse of an abnormally large egg was clenched in the darkest corner. Feeling sympathetic, you decided to allow this egg to sit with you in the warmth radiating from the fire, and with each passing second, you fell asleep with the egg held in your arms.

➨ The morning came, and the snowstorm seemed to be put at a halt; with tired eyes, you looked down at your arms and saw that all you were holding were eggshells.

➨ Worried, you looked around the cave and noticed a dragon cuddling and sleeping on top of the extinguished campfire, and you couldn't help but crack a smile at such an adorable sight. From that moment on, you decide to care for this baby dragon as if you were their mother.   

𝗦𝗨𝗡 𝗪𝗨𝗞𝗢𝗡𝗚

➨ Several years have passed since that life-changing moment. Your dragon has become an adult, growing their spikes and adult scales, wings and maximum size span, and they were so big that you could ride on them.

➨ Speaking of, both of you were flying across the vast ocean to arrive at Flower Fruit Mountain, as it would be the first time you would introduce your dragon child.

➨ You and your dragon child flew through the clouds and dodged mountains and all the lava-covered cliffs, and as you got closer, you admired the graceful and lush view of the Monkey King's home that had begun to appear across the land.

➨ Finally, you arrive at Flower Fruit Mountain, and it looks beautiful once sunset hits. The sunlight engulfed the scenery with a vivid orange, making all the greenery pop perfectly to catch your attention, along with the bold colour of the mountains surrounding the main peak with a crystal-clear waterfall.

➨ The sound of water falling into the bottom pond below was relaxing once you and your dragon landed near the entrance. You could not contain your excitement and began to squeal and giggle the moment you were about to call Wukong.

➨ "Okay, Okay." You tried to calm yourself down to avoid suspicious behaviour in front of Wukong when he got here. "You hide over there, and when I signal you when you can come out, alright?" You spoke to your dragon, and they began to find a spot behind some trees and reciprocate whether their hiding spot was good or not.  

➨ "That's perfect!" You gave a thumbs up for reassurance, and then you began to call out for Wukong and try to spot that cheek monkey. After several attempts, you thought he was not here and sighed a defeated huff. Upon walking back to your dragon, before the arms of a familiar simian.

➨ "Peaches! Good to see you." The one and only Monkey King, Sun Wukong, hugged you from behind as you felt his tail wrapped around your waist affectionately. On the other hand, you nuzzled your cheek against his while gently caressing his face. "Hey Wukong, how's my gorgeous king doing?~" You replied lovingly as you gave him a peck on the nose, and instantly, his fur puffed and a shade of pink rose on his cheeks.

➨ "I'm fine, Y/N, but what brings you here? I don't remember inviting you to come over today." Wukong sounded confused about your unexpected arrival, so your childish smile came back, and you began uncontrollably giggling to yourself as Wukong gave you an abashed look.

➨ "So. . .do you remember I mentioned a surprise guest?" Upon hearing these words, a memory flickered in Wukong's brain from recalling the thought. "Yeah? What about it?". You turned around, placed your fingers on your lips, and whistled loudly before a rustle in the trees and bushes was heard, and your dragon emerged from their hiding spot.

➨ You turned around and waited for Wukong's reaction - and it was priceless. His mouth was left open in awe, while his eyes widened from shock and somewhat intense from the unexpected surprise.

➨ Your dragon approached you in a giddy mood, rushed up to you, and begged for head scratches, so you obliged. "So, what do you think? Pretty neat, huh?" Suddenly, your dragon galloped towards Wukong and gently nuzzled its scaly cheek on the Monkey King's face, mimicking your affection towards him.

➨ Of course, Wukong was taken aback but quickly recovered and began to laugh and have fun with your dragon. "You kiddin'? My lover is an awesome dragon raiser!" He then proceeds to hold you by your waist and happily swing you around as your dragon happily spreads one of its wings around the both of you. Once he lets you on the ground, he kisses you on the lips adoringly.  

➨ "Man, where did you find this little buddy?" He then got comfortable to lend a hand onto your dragon's neck and scratch its spiky chin. "I found them all alone in a cave when they were an egg, and their mother wasn't around, so I took them in." You then used both hands to cup your dragon's cheeks and gently pressed both of your foreheads together while, in return, a low and quiet hum was heard from your dragon.

➨ A look of sorrow washed over Wukong's delighted face in seconds before giving your dragon a sympathetic look. "Woah. . .Sorry there, bud." Your dragon began to cuddle with both you and Wukong. "It's okay. They're doing fine." You continued to play so tenderly as if they were your child, and Wukong watched with heart-shaped eyes and a loving smile.

➨ That's when you noticed him and his tail wagging and those lovestruck eyes, and you felt your heart skip a heat or two. "What's up, Wukong?" You questioned him as he seemed lost in his own world before he spoke, "Y/N. . .You surprised me. And that's what I love you for - that you show something new and amazing to me, and I can't help but fall in love with you again~" His words were so honest while his voice sounded smooth, and a bright blush came upon your face as your face felt hot.

➨ He came up to you, hands on hips, and your arms rested on top of his shoulders before you felt like the world didn't matter anymore. As you both gaze into each other's eyes, sparks are felt between you too, and slowly, you went forward for a deepened kiss.

➨ His hands slowly caressed your sides and back while your hands slithered up his and massaged his head.A fuzzy, romantic feeling swelled up in both of your hearts. At the same time, Wukong began to chirp softly and tenderly hold onto you as you continued to satisfy him and his craving for your touch.

𝗦𝗜𝗫-𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗤𝗨𝗘

➨ Heavy, grey clouds covered the city of Megapolis like a canopy. At the same time, rain poured down gently, creating a calm and peaceful melody in the air. The damp smell of raindrops satisfied your senses whilst you walked around your neighbourhood and carried a bag filled to the brim with food for a certain. . .dragon outside the city.

➨ As you continued to walk a path leading to a forest close to the city, the weather suddenly made a simple walk into a beautiful experience. The path's towering trees and mossy rocks have stolen your breath from its beauty. In the distance, rumbling thunderstorms could be heard and added a more relaxing mood.

➨ Initially, when your dragon was younger, they managed to live in your home easily. Still, as they grew older, their size suddenly became a problem. Of course, you know having a dragon known by the public will cause a lot of problems, so your dragon stays in a makeshift home you built away from people, where it is safe and spacious for your dragon.

➨ As you continued your quiet journey through the forest, you couldn't help but sense that someone was watching you from afar. Your skin felt a slight shiver, even when the wind wasn't around, and yet, every time you turned to check, you'd just keep walking and feeling some sort of familiarity.

➨ However, in the corner of your eye, you caught the slightest glimpse of a silhouette that somehow looked vaguely similar but disappeared the minute you saw it. You shrugged to yourself and thought it was the forest playing with your mind, but once you turned to face the path, the one and only Six-Eared Macaque was there, grinning as usual.

➨ You instinctively freaked out, and the mud from under your shoe managed to cause you to slip and fall. Still, at the last second, Macaque swiftly grabbed your hand and prevented you from getting dirty.

➨ He quietly chuckled. "I'd thought you'd gotten used to my little surprises, sugarplum~" he spoke deeply, as the tone was done on purpose before flashing a pearly smile.

➨ As he helped you stand up, you cupped your face to hide the fact that you were blushing. Unlike Wukong, Macaque was the kind of guy to tease and flirt often, even in the worst times possible.

➨ "Not unless you decided to scare me in a forest. I thought it was someone else." Your stern voice spoke, but you weren't mad; more flustered, actually. "What are you doing here anyway? I didn't think the Six-Eared Macaque would wander around these parts." Suspicion could be heard from your tone as you questioned Macaque under the light drizzle.

➨ "Well, I noticed you waltzing around the city, and I got curious about why you were heading into a forest alone," Macaque said honestly as you patiently waited for his reasoning. "Plus, I got you this umbrella, just in case." Behind his cloak, an umbrella appeared, and he demonstrated it as proof.

➨ "But it's only raining a little." Instantly, the heavy rain began to emerge from the darkest patches of clouds, and a moment of silence took place. A feeling of embarrassment overwhelmed you, and your hands covered your face as you tried to survive the upcoming tease of your significant other.

➨ "Remember, Y/N, never jinx it." You didn't need to look up at him to see that smug look on his face, but the sound of the umbrella popping up made you look up and see he was preparing the umbrella to protect you from the harsh rain.

➨ "I'll hold onto the umbrella. You seemed to be already carrying a lot of stuff anyway." A pang was felt in your heart from this act of kindness. Of course, he'll never admit it, but it was more than enough that he at least gave you moments that reminded you that he does love and care for you.

➨ During the walk, the two of you only listen carefully to the soft croaks of frogs or the soothing whistles of birds up high in the trees. You continued to smile and admire nature, as it is not something you see often in the city. But Macaque, on the other hand, kept admiring you and your beautiful smile as his heart kept fluttering against his chest like butterflies.

➨ "I've been meaning to ask you," Macaque began conversing with you, and you turned your head around to pay attention. "How come you're here in the first place?" You immediately forget that you brought Macaque to your dragon's secret home. Then again, this is Macaque, and you fully trust him to keep your secret until further notice.

➨ "Well, you see. . ." You started strong before stopping yourself, which led Macaque to raise a brow in curiosity. Before you could tell him the truth, you finally arrived at the makeshift home for your dragon and decided to take his hand and lead him inside. "How about I show you." Again, you smile excitedly this time, and you see the slightest glimpse of a flustered face the moment your hands touch.

➨ "So before we go inside, I want you to promise me something." A sincere expression on your face looked back at Macaque, and again, he listened patiently to you as you struggled to muster the words. "When we enter, promise me you won't freak out, okay?" Macaque was obviously unfazed by your words, but you knew that would change when you opened the door. "Don't worry, Y/N," You decided to test him by revealing whatever was on the other side. "I'm pretty sure it'd be nothing-"

➨ As soon as the door swung wide open, your dragon was the first thing to be seen. It appeared to be resting inside peacefully, and Macaque's face was genuinely surprised. You calmly walked in, and sat down next to your dragon as they hummed happily from feeling your presence.

➨ You looked back at Macaque, where he was standing, but he wasn't there anymore. And as you looked around, he was already next to you and your dragon as he locked the door and put the umbrella away.

➨ "So. . .you're a dragon raiser, huh?" Macaque spoke again while you took out some food and placed some in a large bowl for your dragon, and they began to feast on their meal. "Well, I guess you could say that. Are you surprised?" You nervously replied as you weren't sure Macaque was handling the situation well.

➨ "I'm not surprised to see a dragon; I'm surprised you have one." In an honest tone, Macaque responded and seemed to be relatively calm. The conversation went nowhere, so you tried to make your interaction less awkward. "Yeah, I found them alone somewhere in a cave. And you know, a dragon living in the city would be disastrous, so I kept them here to be safe." You briefly explained, and a face of solace looked first at you and then at your dragon before placing his hand on their resting body.   

➨ Judging from his eyes, a memory must be flashing before him, and you didn't want him to feel sad, so you carefully yet hesitantly reach out your hand and place it on top of his hand. He looked back at you with sombre eyes as he noticed your comforting gesture before he smiled and allowed you to continue.

➨ You rested your head on his shoulder and held his hand as his thumb gently caressed your delicate skin. "I love you, Macaque~" You looked at him with adoring eyes as his cheeks and ears grew a soft shade of red, but his eyes were hooded yet inviting for your affection. "I love you too, Y/N." He then kissed you on the head before the both of you brought your bodies closer to each other. 

#lego mokie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk #lmk x reader #lmk x y/n #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #lego monkie kid swk #lmk swk #lmk macaque #macaque x reader #macaque x y/n #lego monkie kid macaque #six eared macaque

[seiya-starsniper]

I don't know if you're still doing the flower language prompts, but I wanted to send about twelve and narrowed it down to two lol.

So for Dreamling: Sunflower, dwarf ("How many ways do I have to confess for you to believe me?") and/or Tarragon ("Here's all the reasons why you shouldn't like me")

🤘 five-and-dimes

@five-and-dimes my beloved, so happy to hear from you!!! <3 I did my best to combine these two because they’re SUCH GOOD PROMPTS and they also fit the @monsterfucktoberbingo theme so well. Hope you enjoy!!!

Square: Cryptid

Flower Prompt Game!

----------

When Roderick Burgess unveils his circus’s latest spectacle, Hob is one of the only spectators who doesn’t gasp or recoil in abject horror at what he reveals.

“Behold! I have captured the omen of Death himself!” Roderick declares loudly. “Many have decried his existence, but here he stands before you!” he gestures to the chained being. “Look upon his horrid form. Does he not strike fear even in the bravest of men?”

Well, he certainly struck something in Hob, but he wasn’t sure that the feeling was fear.

The creature on display was absolutely stunning, if Hob were honest, but he can understand why his appearance would seem a horror at first. The thing certainly wore the basic shape of a man, with pale white skin that seemed to glow under the harsh din of the spotlight, and messy black hair that fell down to his shoulders. But where his feet would be, there were instead large, golden talons with long obsidian nails that dug deep into the dirt below them as the creature struggled to keep his balance.

And his hands. They were barely hands at all, with only four fingers on each, and white nails so long they were practically claws. The skin too, from finger to elbow was ashen black as if burnt, but when Hob looked closer, he could see the skin there shimmered like the rest of him in the light. 

The most significant part of the creature, though, was his wings. They were what Hob expected an angel’s wings to appear like, large and spanning the length of his body. Except, instead of white, these wings were pitch black, with the very tips of them colored a deep red, as if dipped in blood during war. Hob so badly wanted to see the full wingspan of the creature, certain that it would outdo even an albatross, but, understandably, Burgess had completely bound the creature’s wings in both rope and chains in a measure to keep him from escaping.

Burgess cracks his whip near the creature’s feet and he snarls at the crowd, who jeer and yell in response. Burgess cracks the whip twice more but the creature has gone silent, glaring defiantly now at all its unwanted audience. 

When its eyes land on the area Hob is seated in, he swears it is his eyes the creature locks his gaze onto. And oh, even from as high up as he is, Hob can feel the ice forming in those cold blue eyes. It pierces through him like a hot knife through butter, and Hob finds himself willingly drawn in, wanting to move closer, wanting to reach out and touch this magnificent being—

The lights cut out shortly after, ending the show for the night. Hob goes to bed that night and dreams of the creature on the stage, dreams of talons and feathers, and drowning in an ice cold lake the color of the being’s eyes. 

When he wakes in the morning, Hob is resolute. A creature as magnificent as that does not belong in chains. He sets fire to Burgess’s circus arena later that night, and he and the creature (Dream, he called himself) steal away into the night.

—-

“Why are you helping me?” Dream asks him one afternoon after they’ve been on the run for three days.

“Would you rather I left you to rot in Burgess’s circus?” Hob shoots back as he’s skinning the stag Dream hunted and caught them for dinner.

“You had a life in that village, did you not?” Dream says, refusing to let go of the subject and stomping his talons into the forest floor. “Why throw it away for something like me?”

Hob shrugs. “I’m a widower with a dead son,” he replies. “Not much of a life by anyone’s definition. Besides,” he adds, “You looked like you needed saving.”

“So it’s pity then?” Dream snarls, unfurling his wings to their full length. They brush against the nearby trees and the sheer strength of their muscles snap a few branches clean off. Hob realizes he had been right about Dream’s wingspan. It was wider than that of an albatross, and they were absolutely gorgeous. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” Hob says before he can stop himself.

Dream stumbles back and retracts his wings, clearly caught off guard by the revelation. 

“You don’t mean that,” Dream says, looking anywhere but at Hob. He’s got a furiously red blush that starts at his cheeks and seems to crawl all the way down to his chest. It makes him look even lovelier.

Hob smiles despite himself. “Maybe that’s why I saved you,” he chuckles. “Maybe I just wanted you all to myself.”

“Then you are an even bigger idiot than I thought,” Dream replies, before he stomps off. 

—-----------

On a particularly cold night, Hob wakes to find himself covered by one of Dream’s wings.

“This means nothing,” Dream mutters, even as he presses his chest to Hob’s back. 

Hob can’t help but grin like a fool. He reaches out to run a finger along the bend of the wing that’s currently serving as his blanket, and delights when he feels Dream shudder behind him.

“Your secret’s safe with me, you big softie,” Hob chuckles before he falls back asleep, feeling more content than he has in years.

—------------

They’ve been on the run for almost a year before Burgess and his men manage to catch up to them. They’re cornered at the bottom of a valley, and Hob knows if they can make it to the river and cross it, they’ll be all right. Burgess’s men are all on horses that wouldn’t dare cross the rushing waters. 

They’re almost to the clearing when Dream stops suddenly and says, “Leave me.”

“What?! No, I’m not leaving you!” Hob exclaims. “Come on, we’re almost at the river—”

“Burgess’s horses will cross the river,” Dream replies. “He’s desperate to get me back, alive or dead. And you are tired.”

“I’m fine,” Hob insists. 

“You’re not!” Dream argues. “You’re practically limping and you—you have done more than enough for me. If I leave you now and fly north, they’ll stop following you and come after me instead.”

“Sorry sweetheart, you’re stuck with me,” Hob replies, pulling out his sword and getting ready to fight as he hears Burgess’s men grow closer. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Dream yells. “Roderick Burgess had been hunting me long before we met, and he will continue to do so until one of us is dead. You cannot possibly want to be on the run forever.”

“And if I do?” Hob asks. “Dream—how many ways do I have to tell you I want this—want you—before you’ll believe me?”

Dream hisses, and before Hob can say anything else, he finds himself lifted high into the air as Dream takes off with the both of them, rushing at full speed towards the river. His long white claws dig into Hob’s skin and Hob holds on for dear life as he buries his face into Dream’s neck to avoid the whiplash of the wind.

When they finally land, Hob can no longer hear the neighing of the horses, or the yell of Burgess’s men. Dream practically drops him to the ground, and Hob realizes the other had used the last of his strength to get them to safety. Before he can collapse, Hob catches him, and after a quick look around, manages to find a small cave that they can use for shelter for the night. 

“That was bloody brilliant, love,” Hob sighs happily once they’re inside and lying side to side. “Think I just fell in love with you all over again.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Dream mumbles. “Love me, at all. I have caused you nothing but harm, and you will always be on the run so long as you stay with me. I cannot give you any of the comforts of a human life, not money, status, or a family.”

“I know,” Hob replies gently, taking Dream's dark hands in his. “I’m not asking you to. I told you before, all I want is you. You can give me all the reasons you want about why I shouldn’t, but I’ll still choosing you.”

“Idiot,” Dream says, but his tone is fond. He then wraps a wing around Hob and scoots closer, so their bodies are flush against each other. “Though I suppose you are my idiot.”

Hob smiles and presses his lips to Dream’s. “As long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

#dreamling #dream x hob #hob x morpheus #monsterfucktoberbingo #the sandman fanfic #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling

[tadpolesonalgae]

Soft!dom!Cassian x reader: On the strategy board[*]

A/N: I didn’t even try with that title, did I? Straight to the point.

Warnings: reader steps through the door after a week long mission and they’re practically on top of one another, sex,,,on the strategy board

Word Count: 2,522

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The scent of home wraps around you, baggage sliding from your shoulders as you allow it to seep into your lungs. Put its hands all over you and infuse itself into your clothes.

Bones are practically aching for him already, having subconsciously blocked off your needs while you were on your week-long mission to make it more bearable. But now it’s all flooding back—a week without your mate. And it’s hitting you hard.

Hastily, you unbuckle the backpack, setting it on the table before going in search of him. You’ve half a mind to simply settle on the floor and take care of yourself right then and there. With how attuned you are to one another’s scents, he’d probably find you in a heartbeat.

You come across his study, finding him stood over his strategy board, a map encased in glass set upon its surface, tiny block carvings scattered across the detailed expanse. His large hands are braced on the edge, leaning over with his brow tight in the middle, staring at the Illyrian mountains, evidently pondering some kind of trouble they’re kicking up.

His wings remain tucked away at his back in concentration, nostrils flaring delicately before hazel keenly cuts to where you’re standing in the doorway. His eyes widen marginally before he’s easing out a deep sigh, shoulders uncoiling from tension and a smile breaks across your lips as he stalks forward. Powerful arms wrap around your waist and shoulders, pulling you into his towering figure as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nosing at the sensitive skin, already pressing light kisses down.

“Gods I missed you,” he breathes on an exhale, palm spanning your hip, keeping you tucked into him as he takes in the familiarity of your scent. You allow it, arms greedily snaking around his waist, keeping away from his wings for the moment, pressing your cheek into the broad expanse of his shoulder. “I missed you too,” you mumble lowly, back arching as he pushes away your hair.

“What were you doing?” You ask as he begins kissing lower, nipping at your collar bones. Calculating brain switching off for a moment to relish in the feel of you against him. He groans over hot skin, biting lightly at the neckline of your top, tugging softly before managing to pull himself away, delivering you his full attention.

“They’re making trouble for me again,” he mutters out, glancing over his shoulder at the strategy board, distaste passing through strained features. Your hand cups his jaw, guiding his gaze back to you as you push up onto your tiptoes, leaning your weight into his chest. “Can I make a little trouble for you, too?”

A low growl rumbles from his throat, and something thick and hard pokes into your stomach, hips digging in as he grips you a little tighter. “You are trouble,” he counters, pulling you flush to his torso, wings cresting at his back, the sharp talons at their peaks gleaming in the daylight. “Is that a yes?” You ask, shifting so your arms lock around the back of his neck, dark hair running between your fingertips.

“Gods yes,” he groans, opening his mouth over your own.

His hot tongue dips between your lips, stroking and flicking against the roof of your mouth as he explores leisurely but with an undercurrent of haste. Hands grip a little tighter, guiding you to that strategy table, calloused palms spreading beneath your thighs as he effortlessly plucks you from the ground, wrapping your legs snug around his hips. Pressing your soft centre to the shape of his cock, straining beneath the damn Illyrian leathers.

“I’ve missed you…so much,” you mumble between kisses, gripping his hair as he tastes you, pressing between your thighs. “Good,” he grits out, raising your top up over your head, throwing it off somewhere, taking the vest with it. “Can’t have you getting tired on me now.” Thumbs graze your peaked nipples, pinching and twisting, and you moan, arcing into his rough touch.

“Cassian,” you groan, his lips moving down to your throat, sucking and biting eagerly. “I need you. Hurry up.”

The male chuckles, a deep rumble from his chest as he raises to stare at you, hazel sharp and piercing. “Who gives the orders here?” He asks rhetorically, a bit of the feared Commander shining through, heat rushing between your legs that subconsciously spread wider. Teeth push into your lower lip as he pinches at your breasts, tugging lightly. “Give me some orders then,” you mumble, ankles crossing at his back, urging him closer.

The smile he offers is soft, but there’s that half-wild pulse beating between you, the bond urging you to devour one another and relish in the intimacies afforded. “Just because I won’t spank you raw now doesn’t mean I won’t do it later,” he replies lowly, pupils dilating as he stares down at you, wings flaring at his back in seductive threat.

But you part your thighs wider, hands lowering to the straps and ties on his leathers. “I’ll be good, General,” you murmur, peering up at him as your fingers work on muscle memory alone. “Just for you.”

Cassian groans, then his mouth reopens over yours, hands fumbling with the band of your trousers, palms snaking around your back, dipping beneath the band and prying them seamlessly from your skin. He swallows your gasp greedily when the cold glass presses icily into the warmth of your bare hind, goosebumps prickling your skin as he steps away to rid you of your clothes, leaving you in the single remaining scrap, clinging to your hips.

Hazel eyes latch with your own, discarding his top, pulling it off over his back having already undone the slats for his wings. His dark, hungry gaze meets yours, not even having to tell you to lay back on the board and spread your thighs before you’re doing it on your own.

Male satisfaction glitters across his features, lips carving themselves into a cocky smirk as he stalks forward. “So obedient when you want something, sweetheart,” he murmurs, hands brushing attentively across the tops of your knees. “If it’s the best way to get it,” you respond breathlessly, needing him to take himself out already and just sink into you before you flood his strategy board.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he works himself free, watching as your eyes drop to his cock, hungry with blow-out pupils. “That mind of yours,” he remarks lowly, gripping himself almost to the point of pain, stroking himself before running through the wetness of your dripping heat. “You love this mind of mine,” you breathe, hips winding, coating him in your slick so he’ll be able to sink in deeper.

Gleaming white teeth bite into his lower lip, hissing lowly as he grinds against you, already feeling the strain and stress dissipating. It does something in his brain, to see you spread out across a map of Prythian, all hot and bothered and messy. Dripping all over his strategy board—he’ll be having you lick that up later, when he has his fist in your hair and bent over the table.

He curses lowly, pressing to your entrance before sliding home, wings shuddering with pleasure as your nails press fully into the muscle of his back. He pulls back to look at you, feeling the heat practically rolling from your body, flaring with fire beneath his touch. “How do you want it?” He breathes lowly, starving hunger dancing a twisted rhythm in his eyes, hips pressed tight to your own, now secured deep inside your hot cunt.

“Your way,” you pant, bucking against him. “Just give it to me Cass.”

He growls, a half-feral sound as his hand splays across your chest, pinning you to the glass, getting off on how your nipples peak from the cold at your back, begging for him to put his teeth over. “We can be rougher later,” he breathes, palm pressing over your sternum, putting heat into your skin. “I need you to feel me feel in here,” he groans, hand dropping to your lower abdomen, pressing lightly, feeling himself move as he draws his hips back and slides in again.

A soundless moan spills from your lips, parting into a shape that on another occasion he’d love to put you on your knees for. He’d forgotten how fuckable your mouth is. How fuckable your cunt it. How fuckable you are in general, always singing for him to take you to his bed and attend to you until you’re soft and pliable beneath his war-roughened palms.

“Did you touch yourself while you were away?” He asks, feeling the hot wetness of your cunt wrapping around him, perfectly hugging him. You manage a shake of your head, fingers dancing in small patterns across the tops of his shoulders, occasionally risking dipping down—closer to his wings.

His large palm slides up between your breasts, carefully holding your throat, directing your attention upward and away from your joining point. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he breathes, hips moving languidly against your own. “Your voice is too pretty to be silent.”

“I— I didn’t…” you pant, clutching on as you grind against him, every sense keyed to his motions, bathing in pleasure.

Again he curses, more viciously than the last time.

A wicked grin twists the edge of his mouth. “At least your learned you lesson after last time,” he gloats lowly, cock pressing in fully, touching a spot inside of you that has you fumbling. “I’d hate to have to put you in those ties again, when you were so lovely and messy for me.”

You moan at his lewd description, heat ravishing your skin as the pace picks up a little, having you tighten around him with each time his cock brushes that spot. “Cassian,” you breathe needfully, reaching further down his back, wanting to urge him on. “Please.”

All plans in his mind are ripped to shreds with that single plea. When your scent had first drifted over to him, he’d had to take a moment to steel himself so he wouldn’t put his hands on you and fuck you into the floor the second he’d laid eyes on you. But then you’d come over to him, smelling so deliciously of arousal and distinctly like yourself he’d crumbled. Now you’re again asking for something, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you.

“Okay,” he groans, releasing you in favour of dropping his palms to your hips, pulling you back as he bucks forward. “Gotta take all of it though,” he drawls, pulse increasing as your scent thickens, arousal seeping into his lungs. “Every last drop. Can you do that for me?”

His hips roll, cock hitting that part that has you going dizzy, lips parting in soft gasps as he puts new heat into your body. Cassian chuckles, keeping the pace steady as he swipes the pad of his thumb over your clit, aching beneath his touch for stimulation, finally satiated. “S’pose it doesn’t matter, does it?” He laughs lowly, circling the sensitive bud. “You’ll take it either way.”

Your eyes nearly roll with pleasure at his words, panting and moaning for him to continue, something hot and syrupy bubbling away in the pit of your belly, having missed him so greatly. “Cass…” you breathe desperately, hands grappling for something to hold onto, feeling like you’re going to be swept away if he doesn’t let you touch him. “Cassian…”

He swears under his breath, low and viciously, releasing your hips in favour of lacing his fingers with your own, holding tight so he can buck against you properly. “That’s it sweetheart,” he groans, hazel piercing down into you. “Mm right here. You’re back now.” The words reach you on a deep sigh, coated in relief and exhaustion but you have no time to wonder what extremities he went to in order to preoccupy his busy mind.

Lips part as heat begins to coil tight, close to release from having gone so long without him, finally reunited after only a week. “Fuck, Cassian,” you cry out, head tipping back, baring your throat and chest for him as you arc from the board, disturbing a small band of warriors, sending them skating across the glass with a jerk.

“That’s it,” he grits out, “take it all. You’re back here with me again.” The demand has you releasing with a cry, nails biting into the brown, scar-flecked skin of his thick knuckles. The orgasm slams into you, taking you clean off your feet as tears build at the edges of your lashes, welling and spilling down onto the now-warm glass.

Cassian can hardly speak, staring at the arch of your spine, how well you’re taking him, the need and release lacing your body, turning you supple and taut in so many different places he hardly knows where to look. It’s enough to send him over the edge, finally allowing himself to temporarily shatter now you’ve reached your peak, free to topple over that edge with you, gripping tight.

Hot spurts of cum spill into you, so much you could swear you feel your tummy swell a little, hips dragging and bucking and grinding against you, eager to put his release deep inside of you, something primal and feral commanding him to fill you up until you’re dripping onto the glass board.

A high-pitched moan greets his ears, soft and sweet and wrapped in honey as it urges him closer to you, his powerful body curving over yours as the aftershocks fade, remaining deep inside as he kisses you thoroughly, mouth open, tongue flicking and stroking. It’s messy and not at all contained, quiet wet sounds squishing between your lips as you enjoy one another, his teeth gently nipping before soothing with his tongue.

You pant into the quiet when he pulls away, large hands cupping your cheeks as he stares down at you.

“Did I tell you I missed you?” He asks breathlessly, skin gleaming with heat, his arousal permeating the air. A wide smile stretches across your bitten, glossy lips. “I think you might’ve at some point,” you murmur, “between kissing me silly minutes within returning home and fucking me on top of your strategy board. We’ve gotten it all messy now.”

The grin he gives you is nothing short of wicked, having you tighten around him. “Cassian, no,” you murmur, trying to keep your smile to yourself. “Both of us need a shower and to clean off.”

He relents, grumbling as he pulls away, creating more of that mess as he spills out, but not before his fingers dip down, pressing it back in, shooting you a cocky look that has heat bursting all over again.

“And you had the nerve to say I was the trouble-maker,” you mutter, awkwardly shifting from the glass, trying not to create more to be cleaned up later.

“You started it,” he reminds lowly, hand squeezing your hind appreciatively. “I finished it.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian smut #cassian x reader smut #on the strategy board

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 30: Alexander's Rules

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: captivity, mind control, hypnotic language

Oliver followed Lord Alexander into the most beautiful room he'd seen so far: the music room. A grand piano stood in the center, the mess of sheet music on its stand indicating that it was actively played. There were a few more bookshelves -- nary a corner of this house without them -- but some of the wall space was taken by hanging instruments. Violins, some sort of lute, some other stringed instruments Oliver couldn't name. He was pretty sure that was a harpsichord on a dedicated stand. In the corner was a lovely guitar, with a second, empty guitar stand next to it.

"Do you play anything, Oliver?"

"No, sir." He'd never taken much of an interest, never had the time for music.

"Well, if you'd ever like to learn, let me know. It's a good way to pass the time. But please don't touch any of the instruments without permission. Some of them are very old and precious to me."

"Yes, sir." Another rule. One that was easy enough to follow -- but he worried. He had a question he wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if he should, given the result of the last one.

Well, Lord Alexander didn't seem to regard questions as disobedience, even impertinent ones, so...

"Sir, may I ask something?" he said quietly. "If I were to break a rule -- I don't want to break a rule, of course, sir, I want to be obedient -- but if I did break a rule, how... how would I be punished for that?"

He winced, hoping it wouldn't be something cruel. But Lord Alexander just looked a bit confused. "Punished? No, there won't be any punishments."

"No punishments, sir?" he said, not understanding.

"You're not going to break any rules, never on purpose. You don't need to worry about it."

Oliver wasn't at all sure he liked the implications of that answer. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean that I'm not in the business of doling out punishments. There isn't going to be any need." Lord Alexander moved past him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Let's move on to the main event. Something I'm sure you'll enjoy."

Oliver followed after, not sure what to make of it. Obviously, he would prefer to not have to live in fear of physical harm, or the more generous privileges he was being afforded taken away... but the way Lord Alexander phrased it, Oliver simply wouldn't ever break rules, maybe wouldn't even be capable of considering it. Was that true? Was Lord Alexander that confident in his complete obedience? That thought bothered him less than he should, that little voice in his head coaxing him to be a good and perfect thrall.

His fear and doubts were swept away by the final room Lord Alexander showed him.

The library was filled with the sweet smell of old leather and aging book bindings, spanning an entire wing of the manor. The bookshelves stretched up two stories, with scattered wheeled platforms and ladders to allow access. A stone fireplace was embedded in one of the walls, and in the center of the room, in a clear space unoccupied by stacks, were a few brown leather armchairs and couches. Further back, there was a large desk covered with a cluttered mess of pens and stationary.

It was a breathtaking display, many times as big as Oliver's cramped shop, containing more books than Oliver could read in years, maybe in a lifetime. His concerns about being held captive here immediately began to ebb.

"Does it please you?" said Alexander, clearly already knowing the answer.

"Yes, sir, very much so." He dearly hoped this wasn't a bait and switch. "I can read here?"

"You can read anything you like, as long as you don't remove books from the manor and don't leave a disorganized mess. But I believe you already know how to treat valuable books, and all of the truly dangerous volumes are safely locked away," he said. "I know you've been through a lot in the past few weeks. Why don't you pick out some reading material, peruse the stacks? Would you like that?"

"More than anything, sir," he said, eager to dive in. He truly did feel fortunate to have been purchased by Lord Alexander now. The fact that he would be allowed to spend his free time reading from a nigh-endless, heavenly library seemed too good to be true.

"Very good. I have some work to do, anyway." 

Lord Alexander sat down on one of the couches and picked up a pen and a ledger as Oliver ran his eyes over the shelves, not sure where to even start. He turned back to ask Lord Alexander, but he seemed already engrossed in his work.

It didn't really matter, though. He was going to be here for a long time, and that thought seemed far more bearable now that he was in the library. He marched over to an interesting looking shelf, and quickly realized that even though the bulk of the titles were in English, he didn't recognize a single one of the titles or authors -- surprising, given his entire career was based around finding obscure books. They seemed to be historical accounts, but the events listed on the spines weren't any he recognized either, like he'd fallen through a wormhole into an alternate world.

"Oh, that shelf is all vampire history," said Lord Alexander, not looking up from his ledger. "I don't recommend it unless you want to fall asleep reading self-involved petty drama." 

"Well, sir, if it's all the same to you, I didn't know vampires existed up until a few months ago, so that sounds fascinating."

"Suit yourself," he said with a little smile. He kicked back with his work, humming to himself, a low and pleasant tune.

Vampire history! Despite Lord Alexander's dismissive comment, that made him want to read it all the more. He eagerly pulled down one of the books and skimmed through the contents. It was dryly written, certainly, mostly politics among various clans and families, but he'd never known any of this was happening. When he reached a chapter about conflicts with a prominent witches' coven, he had the immediate instinctive reaction that this must be embellished, that witches weren't real - before reminding himself that he was reading a book written by vampires in a vampire's personal library. Witches must also be real. Magic was real. What else was real?

Despite his intense interest in the supernatural world that now surrounded him, he felt himself yawn wide. He was suddenly so tired. The book really wasn't that dull, and he hadn't been awake for that long, so -- the stress, perhaps? The fear? He rubbed at his drowsy eyes. What was...?

As he grasped the bookshelf, trying to steady himself, his gaze flickered over to Lord Alexander. The vampire was no longer writing in his ledger. He was looking right at Oliver. Looking, and humming. 

That was what was stealing his focus, that was what was making him feel so strange. "What are you doing, sir?" he asked.

Lord Alexander said nothing. He kept humming, weaving his song around Oliver, and Oliver felt drawn to it. He let go of the bookshelf and took a few steps towards him, a helpless sleepwalker, unable to drive the fog from his mind.

He wavered only slightly, swaying on his feet, before sitting down next to Lord Alexander on the couch, turning to face him, leaning into that voice, that song. Lord Alexander hooked a finger under his chin, coaxing him closer, directing Oliver's gaze into his eyes. Oliver was diving into the sea, night swimming under a full moon, treading in warm water, quiet and serene. 

"Slip under my control. Nice and easy now, Oliver," murmured Lord Alexander. "Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Drift."

Oliver could feel the tension and fear of the day leaving him with every breath out, his shoulders relaxing. Lord Alexander kept singing to him softly. He could listen to the sound of it forever.

"You're mine now, Oliver," said Lord Alexander. "I'm your master."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, his conditioning locking his answer in place. "I wish to obey."

"I don't need your obedience."

Even in his daze, Oliver's face scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Obedience is a cheap thing. It can be bought with fear, force, and money, and lost just as easily," said Lord Alexander. "What I want from you runs a lot deeper than that. Trust. Loyalty. Loyalty as deep as the sea and reliable as the tides. I want you to fall and know that I will catch you. I want you to be in near full possession of your faculties and still choose me without hesitation or wavering." Lord Alexander was examining his face, seeking something. "But you don't trust me yet, of course. Why is that? Be honest."

"...Because you're a vampire, sir."

Lord Alexander seemed amused. "There is that, although I think that's hardly the worst of my flaws. Tell me, though, what's truly holding you back? What do you fear?"

Oliver felt as though it were being pulled from him by Lord Alexander's spell. "That my life will be over here, sir," he confessed. "That I never did any of the things I planned to do someday, and now it's too late, because I'll never leave this manor again, or do anything without your permission, sir. And I'm at your mercy, sir, and you could remove my personality or my memories, or do whatever else you like..." A few hot tears rolled down his cheek, and he was too captivated still to wipe them away. 

"So that's it," said Lord Alexander, under his breath. "It's not going to be like that, Oliver. Your life is far from over. I don't intend to confine you here permanently or control your every whim. And I don't intend to erase your personality or memories, either."

"You don't, sir?" said Oliver, surprised.

"No, I don't. That's why I'm asking for your loyalty. So I don't have to control you with tedious blind obedience. So that you can continue to think for yourself."

"I see, sir."

Lord Alexander moved in closer, his blue eyes flooding more of Oliver's vision. "I'll make sure that your service to me is fulfilling. You have nothing to fear from me." He began humming again, swaying in time with Oliver, and Oliver was once more enraptured, soothed, losing himself.

"Fall, Oliver," he said quietly. "Fall, and trust that I'll catch you."

Oliver felt some deep, hidden part of his mind become untethered from its moorings, and he fell, sinking deeper and deeper into the warm ocean water, the moon shimmering on the surface above him. "Yes... Master."

"Good, it's starting to take." He sounded pleased, which made Oliver feel comforted and safe. "Can you trust me now, Oliver?"

"Yes, Master," he said, with no hesitation this time. 

"Good, good, that's very good. You're doing excellently, Oliver. I'm just going to take your mind, just for a brief moment. I'll treat it very gently, and then give it back to you. You can sleep through the whole thing."

Lord Alexander's eyes were filled with meaning, a clarity of purpose that Oliver hadn't known. It was as though he'd spent his entire life sleepwalking, waiting, keeping himself for this, his true purpose that he only now understood. He was wanted. He was needed. He'd never been either before, not since he was a child.

His master was singing to him again, and it was making his eyelids droop, a lullaby and a promise. Oliver tipped forward, so drowsy, his head coming to rest on his master's shoulder. He felt a cold hand work its way into his hair, a sweet and comforting gesture as he fell ever deeper under his new master's spell, right where he belonged.

Part 29 >> Masterlist >> Part 30.5

Thank you for reading this story about an entranced man.

An extra you may have missed: Fitz's Waking Nightmare

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable

#whump #whump writing #vampire #mind control #whumpee #vampire whumper #captivity #hypnosis #hypnotic induction

[thetypingpup]

Yk, I've had this thought for a long time about dragon Mingi, and idk if it's in anyway accurate to dragons, but I was thinking about ab riding with him, and he's enjoying the sight of you on top of him, but he's also partially in his dragon form; his wings spanning across the expanse of the couch, while his clawed hands rest on your hips, loving to feel the way you use him for your own pleasure; but at some point, you accidentally rub yourself over one of his more soft scales that are close to his v-line, and unbeknownst to you, a dangerously sensitive spot for him, and all it takes is you brushing over it twice before his eyes roll back and he cums hard, growling out curses and cries of your name, and you realize you've unlocked a new level of pleasuring your dragon boy.

I am unwell 🥲

omg this is immaculate. just imagine seeing those dark amber scales tracing the v-line chiseled onto his hips, etched onto the sides of his rippling abdomen. you see his scales glint in the light, a golden sheen tracing the overlapping scales when his hips roll up to meet yours. you're transfixed by the sight, watching where your core meets with his waist every time you sink down on his large cock. you feel every swell and ridge inside you, stretching to take in the knot at the base every time you slide down. you bounce on him at a brisk pace, used to his size, wanting to feel the ferocious power of his size and the fervent pleasure of him filling you to the absolute brim. your half lidded eyes rove upwards, tracing the defined planes of his heaving chest, the large wings that stretch across the back of the couch, and his smoldering emerald gaze fixated on you. you bounce faster on his cock, panting harshly at the stretch and the full feeling of him reaching innermost depths you didn't know existed. the tip of his cock rubs over your sweet spot, the rest of his cock stimulating every tender patch of titillation within you all at once, and you clutch his shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscle. chasing your pleasure, you grind down on him almost deliriously, your clit rubbing over the scales on his belly just beneath his naval. a smooth softness meets with your sensitive bundle of nerves, offsetting the intense bursts of pleasure from within you, making you cry out as your back arches sharply, your body craving more.

you're brought out of your haze of frenzied pleasure when you hear him growl, so sharp and loud it borders on a roar. his hands clutch your waist tighter, claws pressing into your skin, as he brings you down on his cock again. his head tilts to the side, unable to keep upright, and he growls out rough, animalistic grunts as he bucks his hips up into you. smoke puffs from his nose in time with his erratic breathing, his inner fire burning so hot that beads of sweat form atop his furrowed brows.

"fuck, don't stop don't stop don't stop." he chants through clenched teeth, keeping you sheathed on his cock and just grinding against your silken heat, pressing himself against your points of pleasure while your clit rubs over his scales. deep, bellowing growls rise in his throat and rumble in his chest. his wings flutter and flap behind him, making him arch off the couch. it's intense, so intense that tremors overtake his entire body as he cums, unexpectedly and uncontrollably. a flood of liquid heat pours into you in spurts, heated spurts of seed amplifying your pleasure. your own eyes roll back as you tighten around him in spasming pulses, milking his orgasm right from him while your own pours down his length in clear rivulets of ecstasy.

"that..." he tries to pant, struggling to catch his breath, "felt really really good."

"i could tell." you chuckle, your chest heaving and your heart racing so fast you can feel it, even as you remain perched on his cock. neither of you move, trying to come down from such an intense high, feeling that he's still hard and still pulsing inside of you.

"want me to do it again?" you offer with a tease, your hand meandering down to those soft scales you were just grinding against.

"i need a few minutes." he waves your hand away, far too sensitive for such contact right now, before sitting up to meet your gaze with a smirk, "but yes, we're definitely doing that again."

#ateez smut #ateez mingi smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #mingi x you #mingi x reader #dragon!au #never thought of dragons this way but yknow what #this is elite i love it

[onestopfanficshop]

"running away is easy, it's the leaving that's hard."

pairing: f!reader x tsu'tey + the sully family

part one word count: 2.7k

warnings: none. everything is na’vi, unless otherwise specified! na’vi names for girls need their mom’s name as their last name, so your given na’vi name is Tirea'asevin', which roughly translates to “pretty spirit” :,)

author's note: FINALLY POSTING THIS. would you believe me if i told you this little thing has been in the works since february 😭 that is actually so embarrassing but!

headcanon post of the (your lol) kids so you can get to know their personalities here!

summary: with the forest no longer safe for your families, you and tsu'tey accompany the sullys, along with your four children, to the strange and unknown territory of the metkayina.

You try to ignore the lump in your throat as you dismount your ikran, putting on a brave face as you help your youngest, Za’wey, slide off of its emerald green back. Too young for his own ikran, his hand clinged to yours as you cautiously approached the curious faces surrounding your family and Jake’s. The first thing that you noticed was the smell of the sea. It’s salty, with the unmistakable scent of algae that you recognized from the beaches back on Earth. Sand had never touched the feet of your Avatar body before, and you let your toes sink in further, soaking in the warmth that it provided. As much as you could appreciate the distinct beauty of the ocean clan’s home, it wasn’t anything compared to the forest that you had grown to love. You tried to push that thought to the back of your mind, knowing that if you thought about it too long, you would start crying. Again.

You’re attempting (and failing) to stop replaying the last forty-eight hours in your head. Your argument with Tsu’tey and Jake. Trying to console your confused and upset children. Saying goodbye to the people that had once considered you an adversary, but were now your closest friends and confidants. The tears streaming from your eyes as Jake told you, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey that you had to leave the forest. That you had to leave your home–something that you never thought you would consider Pandora to be as someone born on Earth. But your life on Earth seemed so distant now, almost as if it had never happened. The Na’vi believe that your life begins twice: the day that you're born, and the day that you earn your place among the people. You could safely say, without a doubt, that your life began the moment you set foot on Pandora.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you watch Jake signaling for Neytiri to forgo bringing her bow, and it's hard to miss the annoyed look on her face. Your oldest son and twin daughters, Satsey, Ameyä, and Atlìyä, along with Lo’ak and Neteyam, trailed behind Tsu’tey and Jake as they approached with their arms outstretched so as to not appear as a threat. Your head whips up at the sound of beating wings to see a small group of men flying above you on animals that were not unlike the ikran that you had flown in on. When they land, one man slides off and steps up to the front, and you can tell by his attire that it must be Tonowari. Jake had mentioned him to you before; he was the chief of the Mekayina, the reef people. He stood tall and imposing, gripping a decorated spear as he made his way to where your families stood.

“I see you, Tonowari,” Jake said immediately with the accompanying hand gesture. The rest of you follow suit, and you can feel the prickly heat of dozens of eyes watching you.

“Jake Sully,” he nods back in acknowledgment. His ears flick back to a sound behind him, and he turns around to a woman approaching behind him. You can tell that it must be Ronal–not by her clothing, but by the way she carried herself. Her hair spanned down her back, with a large shell headpiece adorning her forehead. She held an air of authority and regalness around her.

“I see you, Ronal,” you say to her, bowing reverently. Jake, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey repeat the same courtesy. She, however, did not reciprocate. Instead, she stared at you and Jake intensely, her lips set in a tight line.

“Why do you come to us, Jake Sully?” Tonowari questions.

“We seek uturu,” he replies.

“Uturu?” Ronal repeats back to him incredulously, casting a glance at Tonowari.

“A sanctuary for our families.” Jake continues, arms gesturing to where you all stood behind him. “We’re more than willing to learn your ways, yes?”

“Yes,” Neytiri said quietly, nodding in agreement. At that, Ronal moved closer towards her, picking up her tail and letting it slip through her hands, eliciting a surprised huff from Neytiri. Then she moved around to grab the arm of Za’wey, lifting it up for inspection.

“Their arms are thin,” Ronal announced matter of factly.

“Dad?" he said quietly, nervously scrambling to hide behind the space where Tsu'tey stood next to you. He held his youngest’s hand and stood protectively in front of him.

“Their tails are weak,” Ronal says, yanking Kiri’s tail. The girl let out a pained yelp, wrangling her tail out of Ronal’s grasp and shooting her a glare. “You will be slow in the water. And these children–” she paused, taking both of Kiri’s arms in her hands and lifting them up so that they were visible to the entire clan. “–Are not even true Na’vi. They have demon blood!” she exclaimed. The crowd gasped as Kiri looked back helplessly at Jake. She dropped her arms away from Ronal and drew her shawl tighter around herself.

"Yes we are!" she said defiantly. You put your arm across Kiri's shoulders and gently pulled her towards you and out of reach from Ronal. She narrowed her eyes upon seeing your own four fingers, but before she could say anything to you, Jake jumped in to speak and change the direction of the conversation.

"Look," he said, holding up his own hand, tearing Ronal's gaze away from you and Kiri to him. "Look! I was born of the Sky People, but I am now Na'vi. You can adapt, okay. We will adapt." Jake said firmly.

"My husband… was Toruk Makto," Neytiri said suddenly, stepping out from her spot behind Jake to face Ronal. You notice Jake wincing at her words. "He led the clans to victory against the Sky People," she continued.

At this, Ronal simply scoffed. "This you call victory? Hiding amongst strangers?" she retorted. Neytiri shifted uncomfortably in the sand but held eye contact. "It seems Eywa has turned her back on you, Chosen One," she proclaimed boldly, looking between the couple. Neytiri stepped forward, letting out an irritated growl, to which Ronal responded with a warning hiss. The intimidation match went on for a few more seconds as Tonowari and Jake looked at each other, seemingly at a loss for words.

"I apologize for my mate," Jake said swiftly to Ronal. "She's..."

"Do not apologize for me," Neytiri interrupted fiercely. Her ears went flat as she turned her head to look at Jake with a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

"...Come a long way and she's exhausted," he continued.

"Jake," she said vehemently. He responded by giving her a pointed look. Neytiri stepped back and remained silent, but when you caught her eye, you saw a cloud of irritation hanging on her face. You raise your eyebrows at her knowingly before casting your gaze to the sand. Jake was definitely going to pay for that later.

"Toruk Makto is a great war leader," Tonowari said, hoping to diffuse the tension. "All Na'vi people know his story, yes?" The crown hummed in agreement. "But us Metkayina, we are not at war. Jake Sully, we cannot allow you bring your war here," he finished solemnly.

"Listen, I'm done with war, okay? I just–," he pauses, turning to look back at the rest of you. "We just want to keep our families safe."

"Uturu has been asked," Neytiri added quietly, holding Kiri's hand where it was resting on her shoulder. Tonowari sighed and turned to Ronal, whose eyes were focused on Tsu'tey and Za’wey.

"Did I do something wrong, Daddy?" Za’wey asked quietly, looking up at his father worriedly.

"You did nothing wrong, Za’wey," Tsu’tey said reassuringly to his son, bending to pick up the boy and hold him on his hip.

Ronal turned her attention back to Tonowari, giving him a look that only he could seem to decipher. He tilted his head back at her and let out a soft exhale. In response, she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, giving him a nod of approval.

"Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us," Tonowari announced, turning back to face Jake. "Treat them as our brothers and sisters. They do not know the sea, so they will be like babies, taking their first breaths. Teach them our ways so that they will not suffer the shame of being useless," he said, driving the end of his spear into the ground for emphasis.

Your ears flicked up, eyes going slightly wide in surprise. They were going to let you stay. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and squeezed Tsu'tey's hand.

"What do we say?" Jake asked, looking down at Tuk.

"Thank you!" she responded sincerely. The rest of the children chimed in with a chorus of quiet "thank you’s”.

"Our son Aonung and our daughter Tsireya will help your children," Tonowari continued. The son in question looked at his father, clearly unhappy with the role of makeshift teacher that he had been assigned.

"Father, why do I have to–?"

"It is decided," Tonowari interjected, his tone making it abundantly clear to Aonung that the topic was not up for debate. You watched as his daughter stepped towards you with a kind smile on her face.

"Come! I will show you our village," she said excitedly, extending her arms to help take some of your belongings.

She led you through a winding path made of a woven springy material that extended to the canopies above you, which Tuk and Za’wey took delight in hopping on. They watched in fascination as sea creatures peeked above the surface, chittering and splashing tiny droplets of water at your feet as you walked by them. Some members of the clan watched curiously as you walked by, with one woman pulling back her child from getting too close.

"These mauri pods are for you," Tsireya said, coming to a stop. "Your new homes!"

Jake and Tsu'tey moved in to inspect each pod further. They sat right next to each other; both of them were right over the water, with openings at the top that allowed the light from the midday sun to flow in. They were beautiful, but it was undoubtedly different from the home you knew so well back in the forest.

“Yeah, this’ll work. This is great,” Jake said, looking back at Neytiri. “It’s nice, right?”

Neytiri took one look around and simply dropped the mat she was holding with a sigh.

It had taken about half an hour to unpack everything between the twelve of you. You looked over to where Kiri sat with Ameyä over the edge of the entrance, lost in conversation with their feet dangling over the edge of the entrance into the water. Tuk and Za’wey talked animatedly with a fisherwoman nearby that let them feed the creatures you had seen earlier (which Tuk would later tell you were called "ilu"). You watched as Neytiri went to round them up, just as Jake was calling for a family meeting.

“Alright, Sullys, fall in. Tsu’tey, could you get your kids in here, too? Everybody, take a knee, let’s go!” Jake commanded, clapping his hands and dropping into a crouch. You resisted the urge to shake your head as you took your place next to him and Neytiri.

'Take a knee'? Really? This man is a Marine through and through, you thought to yourself.

“ I need you kids to be on your best behavior, alright? Learn fast, pull your weight,” Jake said sternly. “Don’t cause any trouble, got it?” He gave a pointed look at Lo’ak.

“Yes, sir,” he said dutifully.

“Tonowari has done us a great favor by letting us stay,” Tsu’tey added. “Pay attention to what his children teach you. Make yourselves useful, and don’t step on anyone’s tails, you understand?” he asked, looking expectantly at your kids.

“Yes, Dad,” the children sighed.

“I want to go home,” Tuk said suddenly. She tearfully dropped her face in her hands.

“Oh, Tuk,” Neytiri said sympathetically.

You and Neytiri were broken-hearted at the thought of having to leave the forest, but you couldn’t imagine what it must be doing to the children, especially Tuk and Za’wey. They were too young to be facing the horrors that war brings. All of the kids were.

“Tuk… this is our home now,” Jake said gently, holding her hand.

“We’re gonna get through this, alright?” he said, turning to address the rest of you. “We’re gonna get through this and we have each other’s backs. I’m here for you, your mom is, your siblings are, your cousins are, your aunt and uncle are–we’re all here for each other, yeah?”

“What does your father always say?” Neytiri asked.

“Sullys stick together,” Netyam and Lo’ak responded automatically.

“Right! This time with some feeling,” he said, looking at Kiri and Tuk.

“Sullys stick together,” the girls chimed in unenthusiastically. You couldn’t help the small smile that came to your lips. Kiri was just so much like Grace in ways that she would never know. Your smile, of course, did not go unnoticed by Jake.

“In fact, all of us. Everybody hold hands. On three, after me. 'Sullys and Rongloas stick together',” Jake said, raising his eyebrows at you and Tsu’tey. As much as you wanted to roll your eyes at Jake for trying to include you in his sappy (albeit sweet) family mantra, you forced yourself not to. You wanted to do your best to present a united front for the kids, so you held Tsu’tey and Neytiri’s hands. The twelve of you were now in a makeshift circle, linked hand-in-hand as you looked at Jake.

“Seriously, Uncle Jake?” Atlìyä sighed dramatically. She raised the back of the hand that was holding Kiri’s to her face, rubbing her nose absentmindedly.

"Do not get your boogers all over me!" Kiri exclaimed, trying to force her hand back down.

"I scratched my nose because it was itchy, Kiri. Is that a crime?" she responded, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, don't start, you two. And yes, seriously, Atlìyä,” Jake deadpanned. “Sullys and Rongloas stick together. One, two, three…,”

“Sullys and Rongloas stick together,” everyone said in unison.

“See? Didn’t that make everyone feel better?” Jake asked with a smile.

“What would make me feel better is a nap,” Kiri said, yawning. Tsu'tey let out a chuckle, looking outside at the setting sun. The sun was hanging lazily on the horizon, casting a soft orange hue over the rippling water of the ocean.

"We've had a long day of traveling–I know everyone's pretty tired. We should all get some sleep," you said. The kids all groaned in response, even though you knew deep down they were all exhausted.

"Not me, Mama," Za’wey said energetically. He made his way over to you and rested his chin in your lap, looking up at you. "I'm not tired at all!" His body betrayed him by letting out a loud yawn.

"Are you sure about that?" you responded, affectionately mussing around his braids.

“I don’t think so,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes.

This brought out a chorus of laughter from everyone else, and your heart lifted at the sound. This new phase of your life was daunting for sure. You had no idea what the future had in store for you. But you all had each other. And that made everything just a bit more bearable.

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