#maybe you can’t kill his species in the way you might kill a human

[merakiui]

ALIEN SCARAMOUCHE WITH OVIPOSITION MERA ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME 😭 I need more, what would he look like, what are his motivations... Omg... Maybe some kidnapping going on...some experiments on humans...him studying how humans reproduce and if his race can use them... Aaaa my mind is going crazy with ideas, please do share yours too! <3

What if he doesn’t have a form of his own (something that sort of ties into canon Scaramouche’s obsession with wanting a heart and a purpose)? And maybe he’s more like a shadowy mass that can take the form of anything so long as he’s encountered said thing (i.e. made contact with it? Or maybe he has to kill the original in order to take its form? Or it’s something like a reflection where if you happen to look at him long enough he’ll have a good enough idea of how to replicate your form from staring and analyzing it.) and since he’s so dedicated to having a form that really fits, that truly feels like him, he’s continued to adapt and evolve as the years pass throughout every planet in the solar system.

Perhaps he does have a few features of his own, but maybe they’re sort of scattered?? Or they aren’t really features his species is known to have? He’s like a mixture of various things he’s observed over the time he’s spent on your planet in an effort to shape himself into something beyond the formless shadow he’s lived as for so long. Like a patchwork copycat composed of so many different parts because he’s desperately trying to understand all of these things. It’s like his version of trying on clothes and new fashion styles. So maybe he has horns or maybe cat ears because he’s seen so many stray cats and they’ve always fascinated him for some unexplainable reason (maybe in order to have these features he’s had to ingest part of the living thing he wants to replicate??? Just something a little extra horrifying for our beloved alien mouchey. <3) And maybe the only thing he has from the one who created him (Ei) is the same piercing stare in a pair of brilliantly colored eyes she graciously bestowed upon him.

Maybe Scaramouche can’t understand human emotion in the usual sense that other humans might, so he assigns flavors to these unusual feelings. When he hurts the things he likes or is interested in (cats, the human he stole his current appearance from (i.e. Kabukimono; let’s pretend they’re two separate individuals hehe), and even other gentle things or creatures who are completely innocent), the taste in his mouth is sour or bitter or so very intolerable. I think over time he hardens himself and learns to live with the foul flavors he often encounters when he attempts to blend in with humans and utterly fails because he can never replicate their emotions as well as he can copy behaviors or appearances. He starts his journey so curious and sweetly innocent, albeit murderous and eerie, and he tries so hard to learn and be good and explore the world with the eyes his mother gifted him and yet he always finds himself hurting. He hates it. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible, and he has never truly felt before. This is new.

When Scaramouche is captured by Dottore, a human scientist who is a little too dedicated to the pursuit of forbidden knowledge, he finally tastes the cruelty of humankind—learns of the lengths they’ll go to in the name of scientific breakthroughs. The researchers run dozens of tests on him. He can’t feel external or internal pain from wounds or injuries; he’s sturdy, birthed from a substance foreign to humans, intended to survive the harshest conditions. But Scaramouche feels pain—the emotional kind. He’s never felt fear; he’s what humans would call an apex predator. He’s strong. He’s never needed to feel fear, and so he doesn’t fear the unknown. He isn’t scared of the sharp tools, of the peculiar creatures he’s shown in hopes that he might replicate them and their features, nor does he fear the trajectory of this new life. The concept of ethical practices means nothing to him even though he’s aware he’s a lab rat, a grotesque curiosity that doctors poke and prod at. He reacts to everything in unique, defensive ways. He impaled a doctor through the throat with a strange shadowy spike. It moved as though it were liquid, yet it struck very solidly, sharply, deadly efficient. Dottore likens its movements and behaviors to that of an octopus’s tentacle; Scaramouche is unsure of this comparison. This is merely a shadow of something he has observed—a reflection. A cheap copy. He has never been original.

You’re the first human he meets who isn’t adorned in sterile white. No lab coat, no gloves, no goggles, no protective gear. Just clothes. Normal clothes. The both of you are separated by indestructible glass, placed in two very white rooms, and you can see one another so clearly. Scaramouche hates the purity of white because he knows that when he’s forced into a white backdrop he’s meant to stain it red. And lately he doesn’t want to break things that are undeserving of it. Perhaps he’s feeling too much. Perhaps he ought to tear these human feelings out and go back to the blank, shadowy slate he once was. How he intends to accomplish that, he has no idea.

He’s uninterested in you at first. You’re a human. He’s seen humans. He interacts with them daily. He’s killed plenty. But you spend nights in that white room and he watches you sleep. He tries to sleep in the same way you do; he has no need for sleep. He regulates his energy differently. He tries to breathe like you. He blinks at the same times you blink—or he comes awfully close. He tries to copy your movements and mannerisms. One night he presses himself to the glass and takes your form and watches you, counting every rise and fall of your chest as you lie so comfortably on the very uncomfortable cot. With hands that mirror yours, he pokes at these human features. He fits one hand in the other and pretends he’s holding your actual hand. There is no warmth, though. Humans are warm; Scaramouche is not. He’s frigid. His home planet is gloomy and cold and desolate. He thinks humans are lucky for cyclical days—for being in close proximity to the sun. There is no sunshine where he hails from. He likes the way the sun feels on him. It used to burn terribly when he first arrived on this planet. Now it’s like a hug—a hug that still singes, but a hug nonetheless. He’s never known what a hug is, but he thinks this is what it must feel like—like the burning warmth of a sun.

Scaramouche feels true, raw, animalistic, paralyzing fear when you’re taken out of the room after two weeks and replaced with a new human. You’re gone. Replaced. Are you dead? Did he kill you? Did he stare too long? He’s distraught, overcome with a horrifying emotion that has him curled and trembling in the corner of his white room (a cage if he’s ever known one). Why aren’t you here? And why is he so…restless? He can’t call it fear because he doesn’t know that word. But oh he’s scared. He’s so scared. You were the first human to smile at him, to put your hand on the glass where his rested, to sit close to the glass and eat meals alongside him. You were like the stray cats he’s interacted with: kind, soft, gentle, sweet. He’s so scared he loses the ability to remain in his human skin, and he practically melts into a shadow, clinging to the corner like glue or slime. He’s empty and alone. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible.

The humans that follow are terrified of him. Either that or they’re disgusted, baffled, cautious. He hates every one of them, so much so that he’s tried to break through the glass numerous times to dispose of them. Weeks pass; he’s forgetting your features. There are no mirrors here, so he must rely on the reflections shown in the glass. Some days he thinks he looks just like you; other days he’s certain he’s a monstrosity—a sloppily stitched version of you. The you he saw did not have pointed fangs or curling horns. He hates his reflection because it isn’t you. Most importantly, he hates that the humans he’s forced to look at are protected by this thick layer of glass. If it wasn’t so indestructible, he’d tear through every human nuisance until he reaches you.

Scaramouche is not sure how many months pass, but you return. And when you do the fear ebbs away. He feels…happy? Is that the right term? He’s pleased to see you, and for the first time in a while he returns to his human appearance—to the one he took from a young man many centuries ago. You’re back. You’re here. He’s so happy. He detaches himself from his corner and he tries to smile in the way you do. And, though it’s awkward and strange and sharp-toothed, you smile right back.

Dottore decides then that you are to be the next subject in this experiment. He’s observed Scaramouche’s reactions to you and compared them to reactions to the other humans and found that you are the best suited to this role. If anything, the alien couldn’t have picked a better specimen to adore. You’re helpless and so naïve. You need the money; it’s why you allowed yourself to live in that room for a few weeks. You were paid handsomely for it. He’ll pay you beyond handsomely if you agree to what’s next. And, really, when you’re in between a predator’s jaws do you really have much of a choice?

Scaramouche needs a human match, and the scientists need to study more than just the social biology of an alien. They promise you he won’t hurt you, and if he does it’s all right. They’re kind enough to respect the wishes of the dead. You must let Dottore know if you’d prefer a burial or a cremation. There’s nothing special in this distinction; it’s just a precautionary measure. You’ll agree to participate in this experiment whether or not you want to.

Your new home is the white room that faces Scaramouche, and after some more time and observations to ensure you won’t be killed the moment you step foot in his space the glass barrier will be lifted. Dottore wonders how Scaramouche’s kind mates and reproduces.

There’s only one way to find out.

#genshin chit chat #alien scaramouche #yandere scaramouche #scaranya #please forgive me for rambling orz #i just think there’s so much potential for aliens and scara #I PROMISE I HAVE OVIPOSITION THOUGHTS FOR HIM TOO OTL #i just wanted to world-build a little >_< #(adding more tags because i have so many ideas but!!!) #maybe you can’t kill his species in the way you might kill a human #maybe the only thing that kills his species is heartbreak (or extreme emotions) #because his species cannot handle just how overwhelming heartbreak and things like fear are #maybe because his species was never intended to feel to the extent humans feel #because scara has evolved to withstand any and all dangerous threats #he hasn’t evolved enough to defend against emotional threats #so essentially he is physically very strong but mentally/emotionally he’s weaker because he does not know how to feel or comprehend feeling #and too much of a certain emotion if felt in extreme amounts is detrimental and even fatal to him #because he doesn’t know how to protect against that or repair the damage that has been done from strong emotions #he can be beheaded and he’d easily repair the wound #but heartbreak… he can’t repair that (not after he’s formed such a strong bond with his darling) #AAAAA TOO MANY THOUGHTS

[petrapalerno]

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #5

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, breath play, and violence.

MASTER POST

PREVIOUS

“Your mate?” You stutter as you pull yourself out of the water and sit down, dripping wet, on the furs near the fire. “What do you mean that I’m your mate? Isn’t the whole point of volkroth spawning season is that there are no mates. I was under the impression it was a kind of ‘free use’ scenario around here.”

He’s got to be joking, right?

Drohako sets his jaw, but his eyes soften from the blind rage of earlier. His purple irises bore into your soul as he speaks.

“I can see that you weren’t aware of every possibility here,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“No shit, sherlock,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes. “What exactly did I get myself into?” Despite trying to play it cool, you’re nervous as hell about what he might say.

“It is common for my people to breed only in the spawning pits. As I’m sure the representative informed you, the volkroth only produce male offspring. We’ve needed females from other species for longer than I’ve existed. The volkroth have adapted to this way of life—but it’s not how it’s always been.” He seems to have calmed down a little as he sits down next to me. His meaty thighs folding under him as he does.

“I knew you, this unassuming, aggravating little thing, were my mate the second you took the thick knot of my cocks. That isn’t something that happens every time we rut a female, human.” His voice deepens as he talks about being buried inside you.

“Mate... The aliens on the station have those. Are you telling me we’re like...married now?” Your throat gets sticky and the word marriage feels thick, like peanut butter.

“I do not know what this marriage word means—If it means that you are mine, and then I will pump you full of my seed until your belly is swollen with my children, then yes. You may call it a marriage.” His filthy words are spoken as plain as day.

“What if I say no?” You interject, “What if I want to fuck some other big dumb alien?” The words sound whiny even to your own ears.

Drohako narrows his eyes. “You are mine, and I will kill any other male for looking at you...do not test me human or there will be consequences.” Though he whispers, it’s almost scarier than when he was yelling.

Consequences.

Is it fucked up that the word has you clenching your pussy?

“What if I can’t behave myself?” You toy with him.

Maybe if he didn’t feed into every brutal fantasy you’ve ever had, this whole mate thing would be a much harder pill to swallow. But your freshly healed pussy throbs at the thought of him taking what he wants from you, of killing another male for just looking at you.

“You will learn discipline, you will obey me, or I’ll restrain you.” A jolt of pleasure thrums up your spine, and you sit up at attention.

“Then what?” you ask, your hand finding its way down to your already slick lips. The big brute of an alien cocks his head as he watches you slide your fingers over your clit.

“I never gave you permission to come,” he says with a glint in his eye.

“Whoops, guess you should tell me how to earn that privilege, shouldn’t you?” You dip a finger into yourself.

“Stop,” he says through gritted teeth. His fists ball up at his sides as he glares at me.

“Does it make you want to punish me? Does your little human mate make you angry, Drohako?” You buck you hips, finding a rhythm.

Drohako, a male of action, doesn’t bother with his words any longer. With two of his massive strides, he bridges the distance between us in the blink of an eye.

With a single fluid motion, he tears the loincloth off his waist. Standing over you, the vee of his groin muscles lead into the swell of his cocks, already thick and drooling. He can act mad all he wants, but you know that his body is screaming for yours. Grabbing his cocks at the root, he pushes them against your mouth.

“Open up, human, prove to me you're worthy of a release.” Drohako wants you to suck his cocks? You were under the assumption that most aliens might not understand what a blow job is...but it seems the volkroth have no misunderstanding on the art of sucking dick.

He grabs your hair, wrapping it around the back of his hand, and pulls your head forward. Your lips are barely opened as the head of one of his prehensile cocks pushes past your lips. Just one of them is enough to fill your entire mouth, but as he shoves the second pulsing member in, you can’t help but gag. Slavia drips from your mouth as he fucks it. Guttural slurping noises fill the cave.

“Touch yourself,” he commands. When you do, you’re even slicker than before, clit throbbing with a pleasure that hovers near pain. Both his hands are woven in your hair, and he’s pushing himself as far into your mouth as he can go, only a little more than halfway down his girthy length.

“Do you want me to fuck you, human?” He gets out between thrusts.

“Yeshfnugpmh,” you gargle as he hits the back of your throat again.

“Do you want my seed dripping out of that swollen cunt of yours?” his breathing is getting uneven, and you feel his balls tighten against his body.

You can’t even make out the words to say yes, but god yes you want him to use you. Your mouth is stuffed too full. You can taste his sweet pre-cum on the back of your tongue, leaking like he’s about to bust. He withdraws and pushes you on you back.

“Are you wet enough for me?” he asks before sliding down your body and hovering his square stubbled jaw over your weeping mound.

“So wet for you,” you croak, your throat not recovered from the fucking he just administered to it.

You expect him to crawl back up your body, to notch his cocks into you and to fuck you until you explode. But you’re grabbing the furs you lay on as he drags his wide, rough tongue up your slit.

“What are you?” he asks, the heat of his breath that fans over your pussy is driving you insane.

“Human,” you breathe, squirming under him.

“Be still,” he commands, putting a hand on the small of your belly. “No, what are you to me?” He asks again, looking up at you with serious eyes.

“...Mate?” You say unsure. He rewards your answer with a slow and firm lick of your clit.

“Say it again,” he says as he bites your inner thigh.

You can’t help but arch up, needing more of his touch.

“Mate, I’m your mate!” you yelp as his lips close over your clit and he begins a relentless rhythm of suction and thrumming of the sensitive nub with his tongue.

“Fuck, Drohako, I’m going to cum,” you mewl under his ministrations. He pushes two of his thick fingers into you, never stopping his aggressive stimulation of your clit. The muscles of your sex clasp around his hand, begging to be fucked harder. You can feel the delicious burn of a building orgasm as it coils in your belly.

“A little further, keep going, don’t stop,” you beg him as he sucks your clit.

“Wait, you’re not allowed to come until my cocks are inside you, human,” he says as he lifts his head from your mound.

Wait? You can’t wait! You’re almost crossing the precipice, at the point of no return.

“Too close, can’t wait,” you pant bucking up against his mouth.

When he growls against your pussy in response, it’s just what you need to cross over. His mouth leaves you at the very second you do, and you can feel his cocks pushing into you as your pussy flutters and you spiral into pleasure.

Every inch of his cocks that pushes past your trembling core only heightens your pleasure into pure ecstasy. Your vision tunnels as he grabs your hips and lifts them off the ground.

Drohako grunts when you go limp in his hands. You’re so overwhelmed with pleasure that you’re seeing literal stars. Your senses narrow.

The only thing you can see is his sweat covered brow, his black hair sticking to his forehead, and the only sound you can process is the beat of his sac as it slaps into your ass with every vicious stroke.

His cocks coil inside of you, and you feel them knotting themselves together, pushing against your cervix.

"My mate, you're my mate, you're my ma—" Drohako jolts, and his cock shoots his hot seed into your belly. His thick shafts push deeper still, as if he wants to push his cum as far into you as he can. He is so fucking desperate for it to take root.

The locking of his knotted dicks swells, and you can feel it lock inside of you. Even though his thrusting has slowed, they still pump. Drohako collapses onto of you, his colossal body pinning you to the ground.

“Drohako,” you wince as he crushes you underneath him. “I can’t breathe!”

He groans, eyes closed, and flips you both, still locked together until you’re straddling him flat on his back. Your pussy still throbs around him as you let yourself be the one to collapse this time. The sweat of our bodies, the mixture of his cum and your slick, leaves us sticky and panting.

“I like not listening,” you mutter into his big blue chest. An enormous hand slaps your ass, and you clench at the sting. The barbarian's eyes roll back and he moans in response to the motion of your reaction.

Your clenching milks his knot and you feel his release push out of your pussy. He brings another hand down with a crack on the other cheek and you tense and tug at the tie between you again, an unavoidable response to the pain.

“I thought you didn’t want me to move when we’re knotted together?” You pant, reaching a hand back to rub your stinging ass.

“Not in the spawning pits...but here in the home cave, I want your cunt to milk me as long as it can,” he moans, as his cocks pump even harder.

“As long as I can?” you ask with an arched brow as you lean back against his knees, reclining to present him with your knotted pussy. He tucks his chin down, still glistening with your juices, to watch the show. You take his hand and put it over your swollen clit.

“Hit me here,” you command him with a devious smile.

His eyes narrow, but you get no warning before he cracks his hand against your slit.

“Fuck!” you yelp. The reaction of his hand against your already oversensitive clit sends sparks to your core. You squirm and clench so hard that he grunts and holds you tightly against his cocks, both of his hands on your hips.

Even though he’s not thrusting, it almost feels like he is as his knot expands and contracts.

“Again,” you tell him, and he obeys. Each thwack of his big palm bringing you closer to a second finish.

“You’re my mate,” you moan on the smack that pushes you over the edge. His knot spasms, and you swear you can see it bulge in your belly. It pushes against your g-spot and when you orgasm this second time, you can feel the rush of wetness as he makes your pussy squirt for him.

As the aftershocks roll through you, you’re completely boneless. You slump against his warm chest and finally rest. It might not be so bad to be someone’s mate after all.

#monster fucker #monster fuqqer #monster smut #monsterfuqqer #monster romance #monster lover #smut #terato #aliens #i love aliens #alien romance #alien x reader #alien x human #alien #Petra palerno #STTABshort

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Business Decisions

He's not who people might think he is.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, Unstable AU, set prior/during the Jungkook storyline, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, strangers to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut

Length: 3k Words

-Masterlist

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Min Yoongi is, despite his looks and quiet nature, a very kind person. Or at least, that's what some very selected people will tell, if one was to ask them.  

His tail softly sways behind him as he keeps an eye on the main operational panel in front of him, while you watch. His cat-like ear snaps a bit irritated at something- when his eyes turn towards you, glaring. “can you.. stop staring?” He requests, and you nod, instead turning to look out the large window of the spaceship instead. You’re quiet, but not mute- having talked to him quite a bit before. Maybe you simply don’t speak much, or don’t put much value in.. smalltalk.  

That’s fine by him. He doesn’t either. 

He's found you- or rather, you found him- just hours earlier at an outpost, asking him to take you along to another location in exchange for a small amount of money. Where he went next you didn't care- you only needed a ride to get around, most likely used to this kind of life, since you'd obviously chosen him very specifically amongst all the other options at the bustling restaurant.

In hindsight, it made sense that you approached him despite his grim appearance- he was the shortest and least threatening looking species in that restaurant at the time, and was also one of the only one's there without any company at all. You're clearly smart about this whole process of finding a ride from one place to another-

otherwise, you wouldn't have lived like this for so long, having done this for years, according to you.

“There is.. Food over there. If you’re hungry.” He tells you, and you look over to spot the metal trunk in a corner, before you nod at him, not moving at all however. 

“I’m not.” You answer, though your stomach growls as if to disagree, making you clearly a bit ashamed of it, eyes widening at being betrayed by your own body like this. 

“Just eat. I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t want to give it to you.” He mumbles to himself, resuming his task of checking the ship’s systems again while you stay seated where he’d last told you to sit. You still won’t move, and he’s unsure why not- but he’s also aware that he shouldn’t get too invested in you. You’re gonna be dropped off next stop, and that’s gonna be it- which is for the best, because getting involved with humans is never a very good idea.  

And he’s also still on a mission to get his revenge- and secure his place in the foodchain, to be no longer seen as nothing but a docile little pet. A mission that might as well kill him- and if he can avoid pulling anyone down with him, he surely will. 

When he notices your eyes blinking longer and longer, he walks to fetch a sleeping bag from one of the other metal trunk in the corner, to offer it to you. “Sleep. It’ll still be a few more hours until we’ve reached the next outpost.” He says, and you take the sleeping bag from him with a thankful nod, before you spread it out right on the floor where you sit, to crawl into it and lay down. He has a suspicion what your way of earning money had been until now, but with your behavior so obvious, it’s very clear to him now.  

It makes him upset. The fact that you’ve been driven so far just to somehow survive.  

Either way, he stays awake to both keep himself safe just incase he’s misjudged you and your intentions, and to make sure the old and very small spaceship keeps it’s course as it sometimes tends to deviate over time due to the old navigation system. And yeah, maybe he also can’t help his instincts as well- 

Unintentionally guarding you while you sleep, eyes always checking up on you any time you move in your sleep.  

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Min Yoongi was born on Zoldos- a small, cold and relatively poor planet, which had been industrialized for ages. He remembers his father making toys out of junk he found while working at the metal factory each day, turning trash into small spaceships for Yoongi to play with.  

Most of his time however was spent with his mother, and the many children she’d foster over the years of his childhood- many of them he’d see as his sisters, as all of them would be girls given up by their families, since in his culture, they’re said to just be expensive and too much work to raise. Maybe this way of growing up, helping his mother with the young kids every day while she taught him everything he needed for his future, made him into the man he is today.  

His father had always been described as ‘unusually soft’ compared to what is usually expected and seen in his kind- Xaqal people tending to be combative, easily irritated, and quick to escalate situations into physical violence to defend themselves from others. But his father was already uninterested in any of the usual past-time activities his coworkers would indulge in, like underground fighting, or gambling- rather spending his free time home with his son, foster children and partner, which was unusual in itself. Usually, partners of his kind don’t stay together after their children learn how to walk- but Yoongi remembers that even when his mother passed, his father would continue to live at the same house, to find new homes for the remaining children, before he moved away as well once Yoongi decided to leave the planet.  

Yoongi is still in contact with his father, and doesn’t believe that he should’ve been raised any different than how he was. 

But his now rather soft and kind character comes with a price to pay- with most people on other planets not taking too kindly to him and his friendly nature at first. Friendships don’t pay your bills after all, so the first lesson the young man had to learn back then, was to toughen up, and start thinking of only yourself first and foremost. Getting attached to others was a risk to take, and would most likely end in a burden one might think of unnecessary.  

Even so, Yoongi has made friends along the way. From a very, very charismatic guy named Seokjin and his mother on Cryon, or the stoic and self-admitted younger ‘Asshole’ human-Bolku hybrid going by the name of Jungkook. But other than that, he keeps himself independent- away from others.  

However, for some reason, he’s now sitting with you on a bench on the outpost while his spaceship is being refueled, having bought you some warm food to eat, despite your active arguments against that. Maybe because you’re obviously in need of protection, or because you’re not a threat whatsoever- but he feels like he should at least make sure you’ll be okay on this outpost, before he’ll leave you here.  

Deep down, he knows it’s not the question if you end up getting into a situation where you’ll be killed- but more so, when.  

“What are... your capabilities?” Yoongi asks after a moment, watching your hands as they tear apart a piece of bread to dip it into your hot soup he bought. A warm and filling meal was a good idea to him, since it’ll keep you energized for longer than just a snack or fast food.  

You look up at him, caught off guard, as you swallow down, thinking.  

“Hm..” You hum as you think. “I.. Can read maps pretty well. And I’m good at cleaning.” You say. “But I could probably learn other things pretty quickly, if needed. It depends on the job I could get.” You explain, and Yoongi nods.  

“So if you had to learn about another species’ health and how to care for it, you could learn quickly?” He asks, and you nod.  

“If.. Given enough recourses to teach myself.” You mumble, continuing to eat. He’s getting the feeling you’ve not had a filling meal in a while with how eager you are to finish all of it.  

“I will not offer you monetary compensation.” He says, and at that, you look up again. “But instead a place to sleep, regular food, and.. Basic protection.” Yoongi explains to you, and at that, you instantly nod.  

“I can do anything!” You chirp, desperate- and he carefully pushes you back down by your shoulder, calming you down again. “Really-” 

“I believe you.” He nods. “But Be aware that I am not just some traveler.” He remarks, and you nod.  

“I understand.” You say. 

“Hm. If that’s the case-” He starts, looking over to a small shop that sells different electronics. “-I’ll get the necessary equipment to finalize our agreement. Stay here- and don’t talk to anyone.” He commands, and you nod, continuing to eat while he gets up to walk into the shop. 

Many of the people inside this shop are wearing the distinctive blinking tiny tracker around their necks- either from a simple leather collar, something more sleek like a silver hoop, or even one with a chain. It’s to be expected, as most of what is sold here is equipment for ‘personnel’, as it’s called across the galaxy, after the term ‘slave’ had been outlawed and categorized as a slur.  

Yoongi can feel the eyes on him, since the tall, green-skinned lady at the counter most likely waiting just like the rest of them for another person to follow him to buy equipment for him, as it’s normal for his kind- but the second he picks out a combination of a tracker, and EID tag, and a simple, silver collar that wouldn’t stain or sit too tight around your neck, people become interested.  

“Size is a bit small for you, kitty.” The alien woman giggles, scanning the items to add the price of everything together. “You know how to set the EID up?” She says, clicking at the end of her sentences a foreign tone, similar to an insect. 

“I know how it works.” He tells her, voice stable and monotone, something he taught himself to never give away any sign of his actual emotions. Because showing them will show weakness- and Yoongi needs to keep up an appearance of indifference at all times, just so people can never quite figure him out.  

People naturally fear the unknown, down the line, no matter the species.  

“Alright. Just out of curiosity though..” She says, clicking sounding again as she narrows her dark eyes at him while he pays. “...who the hell wants to be under the command of a Xaqal?” She says, some people in the small store giggling to themselves as if a joke had been told.  

“Someone who will live a fairly comfortable life from now on.” He simply answers, payment confirmed by her system, before he takes the bag of items, and leaves- gazes following him long after he exited the store.  

He’s relieved to still find you right where he left you, no one seemingly having tried to take you away, or worse yet- so he taps your shoulder to gain your attention, nodding towards his ship in the distance. “Let’s go. I need to set up your EID after we take off.” He says, and you nod, getting up to follow him.  

“Are- are you sure I’m a good choice?” You ask, walking after him like some lost pet, eager to keep up with his rather fast pace. For a Xaqal, he’s surprisingly tall- not quite as tall as some of the other human’s you’ve met, which normally are considered a shorter species, but also not as short as some of the Xaqals you’ve seen in the past.  

“Are you trying to sway my mind?” He wonders, opening the cargo door to his spaceship, before he climbs in- noticing how you don’t follow. So he walks back, and has to swallow down a laugh- because you clearly struggle to somehow pull yourself up on the iron steps, which are too high off the ground for you to properly reach with your legs. “...well, at least you won’t take up too much space on the ship.” He mumbles to himself, before he holds onto one of the metal handles on the sides, before he pulls you up by your arm so that you can make it onto the steps, able to finally climb inside.  

He’ll adjust the steps in the future. Maybe add one. Or rather three. 

Back in the main navigation center of the ship, where your sleeping bag is still laying in front of the front windows, you sit down right there, as if you’ve accepted this spot as your place to exist.  

The ship calms after it breaks orbit, softly flying through the empty space while Yoongi sets up the EID tag for you. The electronic identification device opens a new window on his control panel as he places it on the scanner he has, asking for him to input the necessary information- and he looks over at you, where you sit, looking out the window.  

“Once I set this up, it can’t just be undone.” He tells you, and you snap your head towards him, before you nod. “Alright.” He mumbles putting in his own information and ID number as your set ‘Employer’- scanning the chip placed onto the bone of his forearm, before he waves you over. “Put your arm here.” He tells you, and you do- though nothing is scanned at all, no matter how you twist or turn your arm. Yoongi’s brows furrow. “Where’s your ID-chip?” He asks, and you perk up, before you turn around, pointing somewhat to a spot on your back.  

“My spine- it should be between my shoulders.” You say.  

“Spine?” He mumbles, unsure. The spine is not a good spot to place an ID chip, no matter how small it is- it could still dislodge and get in between important nerves or even the vertabrae, causing damage that would be potentially fatal. “Why is it there?” He asks, picking up the scanner to run it over your back- a beep signalling that the chip had been found, and sucessfully read by the device.  

“As far as I know, most humans and Yon get it there, because its harder to get out.” You explain, having turned around to curiously watch Yoongi tap away all the info into your future identification. “Because, you know, Humans and Yon are popular Personnel. People would just chop their arms off and exchange it for a prosthetic later after they'd take them and put them up for sale. So to combat that, we get the chip on the spine instead.” You say, and Yoongi cringes to himself, realizing now why he sees so many humans and Yon people with a prosthetic.  

“I’ll research any risks to make sure you’re not doing any tasks that might end up immobilizing you.” He mumbles as he finishes up the settings, the red blinking light on the EID tag turning a steady green, signalling that it’s ready to be worn.  

“Oh, don’t worry. The chip is attached to the bone, so it doesn’t move.” You inform him, and that reassures him quite a bit, as he nods, and uses quite a lot of force to clip the tag onto the silver collar- metal snapping into place, making it hard to get it off again.  

“Alright. Come here.” He tells you, and you almost proudly stand straight, offering your neck to him as he clips the collar around you- electronic lock clicking shut, never to open again for anyone else but him. “Is that alright?” He asks, and you nod, while he tests- slipping two fingers between the metal and your neck, just to make sure it’s not too tight. “Alright.” 

“Alright.” You mirror, getting only a mild reaction from him.  

“I’ll order some books and electronic information devices for you to study. We’ll pick them up at the next outpost.” He informs you, and you nod, taking this as a signal that you’ve been dismissed- so you walk back to the sleeping bag, sitting down on it to look out the window again.  

“Can I.. sleep a bit?” You wonder, and Yoongi nods.  

“I don’t need you right now, so you can rest.” He accepts, and at that, you eagerly crawl into the sleeping bag again to sleep once more, giving him a moment to think about what he’d just done.  

He blames his instincts, the fact that his kind lives in groups and usually prefers company at all times. Maybe it’s the fact that he actually does need someone to be able to help take care of his health if a job went south. Or maybe, he just can’t shed the way he’s been raised, even though he’s not that kind person anymore. Even still, he feels odd, looking at you asleep in front of those large windows.  

Like he just got himself entangled into something a lot more complicated than he believes right now. 

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #hybrid imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #bts yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi x reader

[wthtorke]

Feral

Feral predator x Afab reader NSFW - Warning for kidnapping

You've been warned! This one is nasty lmao also has 4k words so be prepared, and enjoy! As always this was seen over a month and something ago on my patre0n! 

Hunting runs in the veins of his people. From the youngest child to the wisest elder, it was a rite. Tradition. Part of them.

Some warriors had their rites before a hunt. Some prayed, some others cleaned their weapons and sharpened their blades. He chooses to watch.

Hunting is about patience, he believes. So he watches them days before striking.

He sees her on his first day. A foggy morning in the dense forest they resided in now. A small village on the outskirts of a kingdom he flew over before landing; since then, he got bewitched.

The air smelled of leaves, the occasional local fauna scent hitting him as the thick smell of humans below made it almost too annoying to breathe without his mask.  He wasn't hunting- yet.

He stretched over the thick tree branch supporting his weight, looking intently at the artificial shelter he knew belonged to her. Man-made.

To say he was interested was an understatement. He was intrigued, rather obsessively, even. What he feels in his sheath isn't the thrill of the hunt but the desire for a partner. A mate, It's odd.

He feels his cock throb, pressing against his crotch armor, yearning to be free and inside of something right after, to be inside of her.

He had heard of it before from older, wiser warriors. "Your cock is stupid. Sometimes it will mistake prey for a mate, don't listen to it." He had scoffed, just a youngblood then, "So what to do if that happens?"

"Kill it."

She seems to hear his thoughts, or feel the ghost of them, for she looks straight up at the tree he had been resting on, now watching her from another angle- Lower, closer. She seemed to be a servant of some sort, always carrying a basket of food, feeding the stock, or hauling buckets of clothes to the river like she was now, crouched on the side of it. She forgot the scrubbing as she looked around, looking for him.

She hadn’t seen him yet. None of them had. He hadn’t killed anything yet, nothing that didn’t deserve it, but he found that he liked watching her. All of her species was weak; her included; a frail little thing was washing her strange clothes on the riverbank, day after day, with no greater ambitions for the future than to get her daily chores done and maybe get some rest.

He slowly stalked across the grass, staring at her from the other side of the river. His camouflage made him feel beyond lucky in situations like these; most warriors used it for sneaking surprise attacks, others used it to flee- he used it to watch. He could taste her scent on his tongue, taken by the curving winds into his mouth beneath his mask. It was a hot day like yesterday was, but he’d still have to catch her swimming in the river as she did days ago. He had wondered if she could smell him like he did her. Maybe he just alarmed her prey instinct, watching her lifted head, eyes still scanning for the source of her uneasiness.

He felt his chest rumble, claws gripping the tree bark under his fingers; she might not smell him like the deer or the bears do, but she knew something was wrong. She knows she's not alone, and he can't help but feel his hunter's instincts kicking in.

She doesn't have a mate, not that he can tell- but then again, humans here were strange. Some tribes were more advanced than others; some had shelters made of hide and fabric while others had them made of stone and wood. He found them all to have some hidden savagery in them —especially the wood and stone humans.

She was a wood and stone human, but another thing he noticed about them was the way they looked at one another. Humans and yautja held their differences regarding facial expressions, but every sentient species he knew had a universal "I don't trust you," look. She didn't trust any of them. Especially the males.

He thought about his options as a hunter, and then he thought of his options as a male whose -possible- mate felt distressed around their people.

What to do?

He checks back to reality when another scent hits his nose, muskier, filthy—a male. Feral watches him make his way to her, smaller than him by two of their human heads. He doesn't like it, so he slowly stalks forward, crouched and cloaked to see their interaction.

Human words are odd, he can't make out many of them, and his translator was always shit, but he wasn't an idiot- he could read tones. Every species sounded about the same when pissed the fuck off.

"I've told you time and time again, Gale, I'm not interested." She snaps, scrubbing her clothes harder onto the rocks.

"What in God's name is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I even want to marry you? You should be licking my boots for this." The male hisses. She shakes her head.

He grabs her. She screams.

So he grabs him.

It takes less effort to kill an adult man than it does to skin a snake. His blades slice through him, and his screaming stops– hers do not.

So he grabs her.

He slings the woman over his shoulder as he hears barking in the distance and the faded shouting of other males making their way to the river. He scoffs and runs off.

You keep screaming when the demon carrying you jumps up a tree to another, then another, and another; endlessly, far away from your village. Where to? You had no idea. Your futile attempts at punching its stiff back turned into desperate clinging when he landed straight into the river again, splashing water everywhere and soaking your dress as it scents the air before running up the river with you over his shoulder.

You commend your brain for whatever half-thoughts it could muster while the beast ran away with you. What was it? A demon? An animal never seen before? A creature? It had to be a demon, didn't it? Animals didn't run standing, and they definitely didn't throw people over their shoulders while running.

Its hide was thick and textured. You felt its ridges and needle-like protrusions under your fingers, not enough to cut skin but enough to tickle your palms, its tips pressing against the skin bluntly.

"Please- please put me down!" You pleaded, trying to look back at the thing's head; did it have no ears?

It growled and snarled, shaking you some before speeding up again- as if telling you to keep quiet, so you did.

After an hour, the demon diverges from the river, turning and entering the dense forest. You dozed in and out as it carried you around, getting shaken awake when it stopped by nightfall, dropping you on the patchy floor. Your body screams as you sit up, looking around in the dark, looking for it.

You whip your head around, squinting your eyes and trying to calm your breath; the moonlight is scarce through the trees. You sniffle and wipe your face as you try to listen for any sounds- the ringing in your ears makes it hard to discern any noises.

A twig snaps, and you jump. Your dress drags, wet and heavy, against the grassy patch you're sitting on, "Please- please don't hurt me-," you choked on your words when a twig snapping made you jump a second time. You look back as heavy steps begin walking towards you before the big hands from before are on you again. The clawed fingers close around your arms and move you around as you thrash and squirm in their grasp to no effect.

"Unhand me-! Stop-," you hiss as it drags you onto another grassier spot and sits you down like a toddler, pushing you down two times as if to say stay.

It growls and walks about. You can hear it now; twigs were snapping, huffing, and snarling. You listen to things get thrown around. The sound is like-

"Wood? What are you trying to-,"

A weird sound reaches your ears, like metal scraping against metal; shrill, thin, and prickly like a new needle. You shake your head at it, only opening your eyes when something bright- when immediate warmth reaches your cold, wet frame.

Fire.

“Oh my God!” You gasp in surprise, seeing the structured twigs as you scoot closer to the fire, bringing your stiff fingers closer to the flames, shaking as you did your best to chase the shivers away from your bones. Still- you weren’t alone.

You look around, fire briefly forgotten as you struggle to locate the creature that kidnapped you from the river. It saved you, yes- but what for?

“If you plan to cook me, that fire won’t do!” You blurt out. The panic forces nonsensical words out of your mouth. You shake your head, feeling more tears welling up in your eyes. You cry out loud when the creature comes forth again, only that the fire made him very visible now.

You crawl backward as your lungs burn with every desperate attempt at sucking air. Its skin was not like anything you’d seen before. It wore no clothing other than some kind of leathery loincloth that hung around its hips. Your eyes ran up its form, taking in its muscles- no man you had ever known had muscles like that. No man you knew could kill another like it did, too.

Rapid breathing makes your chest hurt. Your heart is speeding when you meet its face.

Bone.

Its face was of pure bone.

It snarled and snapped, making you cry louder and recoil, pulling your knees to your chest and hiding your face so you wouldn’t face imminent death. You cry harder, feeling your shoulders wack with every desperate sob that leaves you when you hear more cracking in front of you.

You feel its breathing on your skin. The clicking and raspy sounds make you shiver but still, no contact. Why wasn’t it doing anything? You wanted to look, to face your fears. But it was easier said than done.

Feral snorts on the thick fear stench that rolled off you in waves. He shook his head as his open palm hovers over your head, claws spread and ready to close around your form again. He felt annoyed. He didn’t know your language but being so different from you, it was apparent you thought he was some sort of monster. Not far from the truth, but still not it.

He huffs and snarls, trying to catch your scent under all the panic and fear you presented so strongly now. That one trail that made him feel the way he did at the river. The way you’ve been making him feel since he laid eyes on you.

Stupid, he was stupid.

Of course, you would fear him. Of course, you would want to be as far away from him as you could. But there was no way to explain. No way to communicate. Would you even listen to him if he could? Maybe he could try.

Yanking you off the floor like a twig by your arms, Feral steps closer to the fire again, sitting by it as he slowly lowers your struggling form to the floor again. You act like a restless toddler to him, trying to get away from his grasp and run off into the forest.

Luckily for him, he has many young siblings.

Every time you get up, he pulls you back down, forcing you to sit multiple times until you tire out. He can’t hold back his laughter when you land yet again on your ass in front of him.

“What do you want?!” You hiss at him, face hot from the strain, feeling anger boiling over the fear.

It’s easy enough to guess what you’re asking him. So he lifts his finger, points at you, and tensely points it to the floor, growling to make a point.

“What is the point of dying sitting? I’m not making your job easier!” You frown and tense your legs to get up. The speed with which he draws a blade from his thigh and sinks it into the ground next to your leg has you melting back onto the floor.

‘Good.’ He thinks. ‘We’re leaning.’

“O-Okay- I’m sitting now.” You say. His jaw twitches slightly. “Si-tting! I’m sitting! See? Sitting! Sit!” You point at yourself and then at the floor, just like he wanted. “What now?”

Feral snorts again. The stench is still strong. He sheathes his knife again, turning back to look at you. You make him feel things, and he wants to make you feel things in return, but not while you’re so afraid and angry at him.

He places his palms on the floor and leans forward toward you. You try to shy away, and he growls again, lowering to a low hiss when you stop moving.

It was like the hounds back at the village. You spoke to the kennel master a couple of times while helping him deliver puppies into this world. “You have to respect animals.” He said, “They have their own language, learning it means survival to both of you. That usually means find out whatever makes it stop growling and keep doing it until it trusts you.”

So you keep still, chest heaving as the demon gets closer and closer to your face. It didn’t seem to have eyes, but it knew of your every move. How could it be? How could it see anything?

Its bone cheek grazes against yours, its thick neck hovers over your own body. It felt hot, so very hot. Almost as hot as the fire to your side. You could feel its growling in your core, intense, rattling.

You don’t see it move its hand from the ground until it almost touches your other cheek. You close your eyes, gasping a bit. Nothing comes. You feel your tightly shut eyes sting with tears again, and your chest tightens with upcoming sobs before another strange noise reaches your ear.

It's a sound you know well. A sound that made you happy when you were a child, whenever it was your turn to feed the cats milk, a reward for their hard work keeping the mice away from the grains and seeds the village had harvested.

Purring.

Heavy, deep purring.

Your eyes snap open, and your hand shoots up on reflex against its chest, trying to push it back. But it doesn’t move. Nor its body or its hand, still lingering close to your face. Your hand trembles with the vibrations coming from its chest. It goes up your arm and makes your heart skip more beats. You blink, confused. Your cats never purred to people they didn’t like. Was this a trick?

“What-?” You croak, voice raw and raspy from crying and screaming. The tears dry on your eyes, not yet shed as its hand finally comes in contact with your dirty face. You jump a bit when its purring slows down, dragging out more as its clawed thumb slowly strokes your face.

You feel petrified as your fingers curl a bit on its chest, feeling the texturized hide under your palm. Your other arm hurts from supporting your weight when you tried leaning away from it. The strain burns your muscles as you wince a bit, still afraid to move. But not as much as before, scarily enough.

Feral breathes in your scent, letting his other hand snake behind your back, slowly wrapping around your waist to relieve your arm. An excuse to bring you closer to him. You notice the change and shift against him. Not away, but against him. A win, in his book.

He keeps stroking your face, feeling the plush cheek under the pad of his thumb as he slowly drags you closer to him. Feral can feel that scent again, only ever starting to break through the foggy fearful one from before. He rubs his mask against your face as your chest meets his collarbone. So small, yet yielder of such a strange power over him.

“Oh…”

The smallest of noises leaves your mouth. The first one not touched by dread ever since you’ve met. It sends a shiver down his belly, straight to his sheath.  Feral lets the hand on your back slide up and into your hair as he buries his face in it, reveling in the way your chests touched, reveling in how relaxed you were in his hands now.

You couldn’t say what made you let out that breathy sigh for the life of you. Everything felt too real and not real at all. No man had ever touched you like this. No man had ever treated you so…gently. Gentleness this coming from the beast who mauled a man to shreds not hours ago.

Still, it did not matter. Nothing mattered. You let your free arm come up, and touch its shoulder, resting your palm on another patch of prickly skin as he kept sniffing into your hair. It was still sitting as your knees stood just before the ground as it held you in its arms, reminding you again of just how big and dangerous it was.

You sigh and close your eyes for a second, feeling its hot breath against your hair as its hand moves from your cheek to caress your ear, making your hairs stand on end once more. For a different reason this time. Your hand grips its shoulder tighter as its face comes closer to your neck. Maybe this was the end. Maybe it finally tired from toying with you. You can’t bring yourself to be afraid again.

Feral lets his tusks touch your throat before he lowers his jaw and lets his tongue drag against your skin, making you arch your back, pushing your chest against his again. “A-Ahhh…” He chuckles at the noise, his huffing cutting through his purring before it evens out again, deep and constant as before. If not heavier with lust.

You pant, opening your eyes again as you feel the hot tongue swiping against your throat over and over again. Your body felt hot, not from the fire or Its body heat, but from your own desire. Desire. For a demon. Your heart beats faster as you realize what you’re truly feeling in his arms. And just how tight you had been pressing your legs together. You breathe in deeper, heavier, as his tongue moves down to your collarbone.

He supported your body by letting his hand close around your neck, holding you up against him as he licked the skin between your breasts over the fabric of your bodice. You moan, feeling your face burn in embarrassment from everything. But it was not like you. Maybe it had no idea you were embarrassed.

The moan sends another shiver down Feral’s spine and another spike down his sheath. He wanted to breed. Badly. But most importantly, he wanted to breed you.

Feral pulls back long enough to let his claws hook around the bodice’s fabric, slowly pulling it down, baring you to him. You panted and closed your eyes. The hand on his shoulder tightened even more, but he couldn’t smell fear. Shyness wasn’t a thing among his people; there was no use for it. But he couldn’t say he didn’t find it oddly endearing.

The fabric catches under your breasts as the sleeves strain against your shoulders, leaving your chest exposed to the night air. To his tongue. He breathes heavily as he looks them over. Most of the females he knew were flat-chested. Their breasts only swelled when they were with child. But you had no child now. Was this normal of your kind? What would you look like when…?

Another shiver. His cock strains against his sheath, ready to breach it.

He growls and lowers his face to your chest again, feeling the softness with his tusks, letting his tongue drag over the nipple he chose to lick. Your gasps and foreign words urge him on, bringing his other hand to feel the other breast as he purrs louder than ever. You smelled good, tasted good, and felt good. How could he deny this? He brought your hips closer to his torso as he switched breasts with his tongue, making you arch against him again. Only some more layers of fabric separated him from you. He shivers again. His sheath opens.

Feral groans as he lowers you to the ground, positioning himself between your legs. Between the rumple of the fabric of your dress’s skirt. You pant as he plans his next move, lifting your skirts over to your belly, and exposing your legs along with your chest.

You clutch the fabric nervously as you try to regain your breath. You knew how things worked between a man and a woman. But this was no man, and you surely never heard of one so big as this for comparison. It fumbles with its crotch cloth before turning back to you.

His cock stood fully hard before you, slick and as big as you thought it’d be, if not more. Your eyes widen, and your cunt tightens around nothing. You let out a breathless sigh as he moves closer to you, hooking his hands under your legs and pulling you to him. His cock was reddish like the center of his chest, ridged and bumpy like his skin. It’s your turn to shiver, and he purrs for you.

The head of his cock slides against your slit, and you gasp, choking on a moan as he nudges your clit before coming back down and repeating the motion. Your slick mingles with his as he presses his head against your hole. It’s tight, unforgivingly tight. It’s going to hurt.

Your entrance is breached, and you’re frowning hard already, feeling the thick, swollen head of his cock pulsating inside your cunt. The corners of your vision go white as you pant in strain, lust, and anxiety at what's to come.

He pauses and reaches for his back, his free hand stroking your thigh as he produces one of his weapons from his back. Some kind of spear.

Feral’s hand leaves your thigh to aid him in pulling it apart, making it a two-piece. He lays the blade part on the ground and keeps the end part to himself. He purrs heavily again as he lowers the pommel to your cunt, resting it over the small nub that made you react so hard before. He reaches for his wrist gauntlet and presses two buttons, causing it to vibrate.

You yell out in surprise and pleasure as he presses the vibrating pommel to your clit, leaning over you as you moan and squirm under the best sensation you’ve ever felt in your life. A sudden rush flows through your body as your pussy spasms around his cock. You groan as he presses more of his cock into your cunt, slacking on the floor as he lifts the pommel from you again, stopping his movements halfway through once more. He strokes your thigh, and you crane your neck to look up at him, “Please- please do that again. Please.”  You beg, pointing at his spear’s end.

He understands. And lowers the pommel onto you once more. “Please-” you pant, moaning as he shifts closer to you, pressing the same spots on his strange wrist armor. You rest your hand over his on the spear, panting harder before that sensation kicked in again full force. It shook you to your core, rattling you from the inside out in the best way possible. “In me-, in me-” you beg in between moans, grabbing his thigh under yours with your other hand, trying to pull it closer to you. Feral snarls and closes his free hand around your hip, thrusting his cock the rest of the way in. You shouted again as that same rush crashed over you again, making you tighten around the massive cock deep into you.

Feral roars and bucks his hips, small spurts of precome getting squeezed out of him by your pussy. “Please- please- please fuck me, please-” He recognized the word as he pulled his cock back and thrusted back in fully, tossing the spear end to the side as he focuses on you again. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he sets a bruising pace, hands tightly gripping your hips as he roars and snarls.

You panted and gasped as your dress dragged roughly against the forest floor as he fucked you hard, the loud noises of your mating enough to make you close your eyes in embarrassment once more. No one could hear you here, only him. All of your moans and screams were for him and only him, as his growling and purring were yours, and yours only.

“I’m going to- I-” You shudder as you feel that rush coming through you again, in a slightly different way this time, but no less pleasurable than before as you grab his arms, coming onto his cock for the third time. Feral roars and slams his cock as deep as he could, filling you up to the brim with thick come. It drips from your cunt and onto your skirt’s fabric, torn and dirty after everything you went through this day alone.

Feral doubles over and rests his head on the ground next to yours supporting himself with one of his hands. He purrs and nuzzles into your hair again as you struggle to regain your breath once more. He licks your cheek, and you smile, wincing briefly when he pulls away from you, laying down on the grassy patch before pulling you close to him. You cover your chest again and lower your skirts before snuggling up to him.

You hug his middle as he wraps his arms around your form, feeling his chest pick up its purring as your eyes grow heavier by the second. Feral watches you slack against him, out like a light. He strokes your hair and rests his jaw on top of your head. He scoffs as he drifts off to sleep himself.

The elders didn’t know shit.

#just gonna leave this here #dont forget to check my thing out cause man i work hard on these lmfao #hope yall like it lmao #feral predator #Headcanon #predators #predator #alien vs predator #Aliens vs predator #The Predator #yautja #Yautjas #yautja x human #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator x reader #yautja/human #predator/human #yautja boyfriend #afab reader #Female reader

[leemillion]

Theory Time!

Alright so I have an abundance of theories for The World of Mr Plant so I’m just gonna spill them all here. Maybe I’ll even update it as more theories arise, who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

~Mr. Plant always loved Argos~

Now call me crazy but I think Mr. Plant always had a thing for Argos. He just didn’t fully realize/come to terms with it until the valentines episode. And even then he struggled to express emotions at first, but he’s been getting better at that.

Now adding on we all know Mr. Plant won’t hesitate to kill any minor inconvenience that comes his way. And Argos supposedly annoyed him to hell and back. So why didn’t he kill Argos? Sure he thought about it, but he never actually went through with it. It makes no sense to kill a random stranger just for a job but then leave someone you supposedly hate alive, but that’s just me:

Maybe he mistook his feelings for Argos as anger or tried to deny it by rationalizing it in some weird way. I mean it doesn’t seem like he has any relationship experience. Maybe this is his first time feeling these things and that’s why he was so hesitant and confused.

~Why Mr. Plant joined the scouts~

Now I find this one pretty wholesome. Mr. Plant doesn’t like kids at all so Argos being apart of the scouts was something he actively discouraged. Yet by the end of the episode he chose to join them 😌

Now I have 2 reasons for this. It could either be one of them or a mixture of both of them.

Reason #1 - After the incident with the “human” he thought “oh shit I get to kill people and murder people holy shit-“ and decided hey it can’t be that bad

Reason #2 - After the incident with the “human” he realized Argos and the scouts might need someone to protect them so he decided to join to keep them safe.

I think I like the second reason it’s so fucking wholesome. Argos and Mr. Plant have 3 unofficially adopted children now 😌

(One more thing that’s not important to the theory but I didn’t know where else to put it: On the phone Mr. Plant immediately ran over the second Argos mentioned he was “right across the way” Do you think Mr. Plant knew about the creep that lived there??? That he knew about him kidnapping and doing who knows what with kids?? And once he heard Argos was over there he was like “oh fuck no not my Argos 🔪” That’s so cute wtf 😭)

~Mr. Plant’s other half~

So we all know Mr. Plant is half banana leaf. But what about the rest of him? I’ve seen many theories of him being part walker plant, imitation plant, and even human. And I think imitation plant might make the most sense (I still like to think a small part of him is a walker though)

I mean in Gardening with Argos, Argos refers to some of his plants as his “favorite flower.” We all know Mr. Plant is obviously his favorite 🙄

Unless… Mr. Plant isn’t considered a flower at all?

Now this could be a stretch. Maybe there’s 2 types of plants. Those that are considered people and those that are considered just plants. But who knows.

~The mushrooms found Argos creepy~

This might not be so much of a theory as it is an observation.

At first when I watched this episode I thought “tf they mean creepy? He’s like the most normal guy here” And then I realized Argos looks the most normal to the viewers but not the other characters.

Every other character either has an object head, an animal head, a plant head, a body part head, and of course the “humans” with their uncanny ass proportions. Argos isn’t the most human looking thing in their world. In fact there isn’t anyone else in the void who looks like him.

Maybe that’s why he’s always seen as “weird” or “creepy.” Plus we never know much about his family. Just his great great grandfather banana leaf. Maybe his family is some rare species.

Holy shit what if they’re hunted for sport and that’s what those “accidental deaths” were??? Maybe not. Maybe I’m going insane.

~It’s been a long long time~

So I found this comment on a TikTok video:

I did the math and they’re correct. And if Argos is around the same age as Ashur is (23) then he’s been in this specific void since he was about 5 years old. He’s been marking up the days since he was old enough to write.

Meanwhile Mr. Plant moved in almost 2 years ago.

Argos was part of the welcoming committee then right?? I like to think he fell in love the minute he saw Mr. Plant 😌

So what’s next for them? Who knows but I’m rooting for lore in the next episode. Andddd I think that’s about it for theories for now, or at least until I suddenly come up with another. See you all next time :D

#mr plant #weirdcore #the world of mr plant #argos #argos twomp #argos x mr plant #ashur gharavi #twomp #twomrp #mr plant twomp #eye love you #watch the neurodivergence go crazy #Autism rizz #Ashur if you see this I am so sorry #I’m not #you created this community now witness how absolutely insane we are #Call me Matpat cause I’m going crazy #crazy? i was crazy once #they locked me in a room #a rubber room #a rubber room full of rats #and rats make me crazy #ill stop now #thanks for witnessing my insanity #baiiii #:D #XwO

[magentasdoodles]

Decided to make a separate post for my space riders au Oc Dream Eater. The original post with all the info about their backstory and personality is here, if you wanna read that. (Once again, pronouns are they/it)

I actually have way more thoughts about this guy than I posted about before, either hadn’t thought about it yet or just straight up forgot to put it in the other post, so I’m putting it here. It’s mostly just worldbuilding that I thought of though, just thought I’d share them.

So Dream Eater’s species is, as stated before, a type of parasite called a somnivore that latches into the nervous system of a host and sucks the chemicals that are produced by the body during sleep. They require hosts to survive and usually can’t last long without one, around a month, and reproduce asexually through budding. Somnivores actually have the intelligence leves of humans and other space faring creatures, but haven’t formed any sort of society due to their lifestyles. This can lead to situations where the parasite can communicate with hosts and others and maybe even a more mutualistic relationship where the somnivore only takes the chemicals require to survive and helps the host with tasks while they sleep, but not always, because like other beings, their personalities can vary a lot, not necessarily all malicious, but can be difficult depending on the individual. They were actually fairly localized on their planet with the exception of a few accidental interplanetary hitchhikers (like Dream Eater) until the planet was invaded by the Prototype and his cult. Now because somnivores are so dependent on chemicals from their hosts, it also makes them insanely vulnerable to the red smoke, which can kill them quite easily, so now with the entire planet overtaken by the cult, the only surviving somnivores are the ones that left on interstellar hosts.

“Wait,” you might be asking, “but if they die when exposed to the smoke, how is Dream Eater still alive?” Well, Dream eater isn’t exactly a normal somnivore. In order to fit in with the cult, they needed some…”enhancements”. This included a higher capacity for the red smoke and a much, much larger size (the typical somnivore is only around a couple centimeters in length and maxes out at about 50), so they could not just survive, but also be a much deadlier weapon for the Prototype.

The space riders au was made by @onyxonline, go check out their stuff as well as all the other stuff made by other talented people!

#space riders au #my art #oc #my Oc #poppy playtime #tagging this as poppy feels a little disingenuous considering how divorced this concept is from anything in the actual game #But eh I guess it counts #worldbuilding

[rambleonwaywardson]

Lonely Traveler

Part 3 of the Home to You series now posted on AO3! Part 1 Part 2

I'll put a preview below. All 3 chapters of part 3 now posted!

Summary: "I thought I'd lost you." "I love you too much." War does its best to tear love apart, but that doesn’t mean love goes away. It just becomes something that can hurt you more.

Total Word Count: 10,101

---

Preview:

War messes with your mind in a way that a civilian will never fully understand. It messes with your body, with your heart, and with your soul. It goes after love, even, grinding it down like another enemy, when all it is is collateral damage in the raging gunfire. People like to think of war as somehow romantic. Maybe some parts of it can be, in a way. 

But war is not, never will be, kind to love. Especially not in a POW camp deep in the Reich, where if the guards don’t kill you, the cold or starvation just might. 

And if none of that does you in, well… war sure does mess with your mind, doesn’t it?

–

Who knew the sound of bombs in the distance could carry so much hope. It’s a sick side effect of the human condition: one person’s suffering is another’s salvation. The world isn’t so black and white, though, and when you think about it, it could be said that a few bombs over Berlin isn’t nearly enough to make the Nazi’s pay for what they’ve done to this planet and its people. In a few years time, the human species will wonder how such violence can be natural, if this is just how people are meant to behave. How could this possibly be true? But then again, how could it not?

In a POW camp in 1944, the sounds of an air raid play like a symphony.

The gunshot outside, the man on the ground, the dog trying to tear him limb from limb, the shouting – those instead are the sounds of tyranny, of wielding power just because you can. Suffering for suffering. Death for death. 

When the guards yell at the airmen to get back inside, Bucky tells Gale that the goddamn Nazi goons are gonna take them out one at a time. Gale says nothing. He can’t stand it here any more than anyone else, and he is well aware that a toe out of line could mean fade to black. But at least here, he knows that he and John are both alive. They’re alive. They have each other, and at least Gale isn’t alone. He clings desperately to these facts that he knows to be true. This could be worse.

Days pass, and hope is tangible in the barrack once again as the men gather around Gale, watching intently as he fiddles with the crystal radio that Bucky had spent days gathering the measly materials for. News from the front seems to be the only thing anyone really wants these days, short of being far, far away from here. It’s the only thing that carries any promise of an end. The only proof they can get that they aren’t stuck here for nothing, that their sacrifices are worth the pain they’ve endured. 

When Gale slams the headphone down on the table, he can’t believe he’s failed. The bubble of hope pops like a sad balloon.

When Bucky asks him one day if, when the weather clears (will it ever?), they should make a move, Gale tells him all but no. Tells him to find a plan with better odds. Tells him “my plan is to get home in one piece.” 

He remembers all too well the deadly state John was in when he stumbled into camp months ago. He remembers the sleepless nights spent trying to keep him alive. His own harrowing journey to the Stalag he barely lets himself think about. He has nightmares – about John dying on him, about hands and ropes around his own neck, about crashing through the sky in a tin can in flames, about being the only one left standing like a lost little kid in the street with no one to call home. Sometimes he feels like he’s holding on by a thread to the only sense of hope he has – the fact that they are both here and they are both still breathing. Beyond the fences of this camp, none of that would be guaranteed.

Bucky’s the opposite. Sure he has nightmares, just like everyone else in the sleepless night – about getting beaten to death in a burning town, about Buck’s plane going down, about hiding behind marsh grass with a gun just waiting to be killed, about everyone he loves getting taken out one by one until he’s alone with nowhere to go. This place, though, is not the answer. He’s damn sure of that. The Luftwaffe doesn’t care which of them lives and which of them dies, and Major John Egan is not about to stand by and let them use him – or, God forbid, Buck – as target practice. Why doesn’t Gale get it?

“You’ll die here in one piece,” Bucky tells him.

Gale stays quiet, and Bucky doesn’t even notice the way that he nervously grabs at the ring hanging on the chain around his neck. Gale clutches it for all it’s worth though. Why doesn’t Bucky get it? This could be worse.

They go on, living day to day but hardly living. They eat their rations and assemble for appel and try to sleep in rickety bunks and freezing cabins. Occasionally, Buck gets a letter from Marge: news from home, sending thoughts and prayers for him and John, telling trivial stories to make him smile. She’s even started including baseball stats and scores for Bucky to follow. Gale tries to get Bucky to read them, to maintain a connection with the outside world and understand that someone beyond these fences is thinking about him. John refuses, won’t even touch them. Gale writes Marge that he’s concerned about Bucky. Her heart breaks for them. 

None of the men can seem to find a balance between thinking of home and trying not to let the thinking drown them. 

They find ways to entertain themselves. Books, music, sports, the occasional play. Gale has started holding classes for some of the other POWs, teaching them about physics, mathematics, and astronomy. It feels good to learn just to learn, to understand something about the world that isn’t shrouded by the war. It’s Gale’s escape, his offering to the men who offered up there lives. Bucky used to love listening to Gale go on about these things, would look at Gale like he’d hung the stars himself, smile and kiss his nose and make him blush before insisting he keep talking. He could listen to Gale talk for hours, and Gale had rarely felt so loved.

Now Bucky leaves the room when Gale starts teaching about the beauty of their universe. He doesn’t want to hear it anymore. Somewhere deep within himself, it hurts too much. It doesn’t line up with the situation in which he’s found himself. He can’t stand the way he feels alone in a crowded room. He can’t stand accepting that this is who they are now, where they’re meant to stay. 

Sometimes, Gale will find him, will try to hold Bucky’s hand. He’s getting worried, doesn’t know what to do. Bucky tells him he’s fine, just needs some air, just needs some space. He’s just cold, just hungry, just tired, just angry at the fucking world. He’s fine. Gale tells him he loves him. Bucky doesn’t say it back.

He doesn’t feel right anymore. He hasn’t in a long time. He can’t say why. Words like depression aren’t commonplace yet.

Gale thinks it’s his fault.

After Gale manages to sand down the copper wire of the radio, he’s thrilled to hear actual transmissions coming through the headphone. The BBC, news from the front, their saving grace. Suddenly, the fact that they’re all stuck in this camp means something again. They went down swinging for something far bigger than themselves, and the allies had filled in the gaps. They hadn’t narrowly defeated death for nothing. The men scramble to start copying down and disseminating information, and the bubble of hope starts to grow. 

Something like that is awfully fragile, though. It ebbs and flows and hesitantly tries to fill the cold and musty corners of the barrack, wrap itself around these men like a blanket. It’s enough to keep them going, but never quite enough to keep them warm. To keep them sane. 

After dozens of men are executed for trying to escape the camp, that bubble bursts again. Things are about to get worse around here, not better, and Gale wonders if they should’ve taken a chance when they had it. Maybe they’d die trying, but maybe they’d die anyway. 

But Bucky tells Gale that he might’ve been right, they shouldn’t be so hasty with an escape after all. Gale has about two seconds to feel like maybe they’re on the same page again, maybe Bucky is finally coming back into himself. About two seconds of that hope he’s been trying to cling to. Then Bucky declares that he has nothing worth rushing home for anyways. 

Gale’s heart drops. The hope flies away, fading tendrils swirling in the air that he can’t quite keep a grip on. He wants to scream, aren’t I enough? 

How many days and nights had they spent dreaming about a future? About a life after the war? It’s enough for Gale to hold onto, but his gut twists as he wonders if the private vows they’d made to each other before they shipped out, the rings they’d had engraved and carefully gifted to one another, had been nothing but words and hunks of metal. What the hell had happened to I made it home to you? Did it all mean so little to Bucky, now? Did Gale mean so little? 

Sometimes the words you don’t say hurt the most. He tells Bucky that it’s just this place getting to him, but he doesn’t know how much he believes it. For the first time since Bucky made it back to him, Gale starts to feel alone.

---

Continue reading on AO3

#masters of the air #mota #john egan #gale cleven #clegan #bucky egan #buck cleven #gale buck cleven #john bucky egan #buck x bucky #clegan fic #bucky x buck

[scarlett-vixen]

Wake Up

A/n: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written and I apologize for making you read this.

Summary: A quick trip to the woods for potion ingredients takes a turn as the group is attacked by a wild creature and Mammon is injured.

Cw: no established relationship but Mammon/MC have feelings for each other, angst, death, survivor’s guilt, hallucinations, minor psychotic break, hurt/comfort, as always let me know if I missed anything.

Word count: 10k

The Devildom was full of mystery, wonder and more than anything: danger. Over the course of your stay you had grown accustom to the brothers protecting you from dangerous situations, always promising to keep you safe no matter what, but what were you supposed to do when the protecting went too far and cost them their life? What were you supposed to do when it was your fault?

“Yer sure we couldn’t have just bought this at a store in town?” Mammon asked, dodging another large tree branch. “Seems like a lotta work for two ounces of venom.”

“You didn’t have to join us Mammon. I need this for a potion and it works better fresh, if you’re scared you can always turn back and head home.” Satan offered, still looking straight ahead.

“Hey! I ain’t scared! Just think it’s a waste of MC’s time, makin’ ‘em walk all this way…it’s dangerous for humans out here ya know!!” He huffed while crossing his arms.

“I asked to join him Mammon,” You chimed in. “I wanted to see how you obtain the venom for this sleep serum and Satan said I could come along, you’re the one who suddenly started running after us!” You rolled your eyes as you teased him.

“Well, yeah! Can’t let ya wander off into the Forest of Terror! Ya might get eatin by somethin!” exaggerating his dismay, Mammon threw his hands up.

“No one calls it that Mammon,” Satan sighed, aggravation apparent in his tone. “Except for maybe children…which I guess you classify as, so never mind.”

The second born scoffed and started mumbling to himself, you simply laughed and turned back to Satan.

“Why do kids call it the Forest of Terror?”

“Probably because that’s what their parents have taught them, it’s a good way to keep young demons out of these woods, less chance of them getting attacked and injured.” The fourth born stopped, checked his surroundings, and then started off to the right.

“Young demons? But aren’t all demons born with powers?” You followed him.

“Well, yes. But young demons cannot fully control their powers and are also more susceptible to poisons and venoms than adult demons. That’s the main reason these woods are so dangerous for them, there’s a species native to this area that secretes a venom strong enough to kill a young demon.” He explained.

“W-what about an adult demon?” Mammon asked, now holding onto the back of your hoodie.

“It would paralyze them for about a week.” As Satan spoke you made a connection.

“Let me guess, that’s the creature we’re looking for?”

“Precisely,” The Avatar of Wrath beamed, he adored how well you listened to his ramblings. “Although the veonm is also very poisonous to humans as well, you would do best to stay with Mammon and let me obtain it MC.”

“Of course!” You turned to see Mammon—now holding onto your shoulders with is head right next to yours—looking over his shoulder at the trees around you. “Someone has to keep him safe.”

“Hang on a minute!” Mammon started. “Yer telling me we have to get the venom from a RedFang?! That’s insane! Those things are super aggressive!”

“Dear brother, I’m the Avatar of Wrath…I am aggression!” Satan sighed once more while shaking his head.

“What’s a RedFang?” Typically, you would have been embarrassed to ask so many questions, but you knew Satan loved to spout knowledge more than anything.

“That’s not their real name,” Satan chuckled. “That’s just what Mammon and the other fledgling demons call them. Their real name is Mors Lupus, or Death Wolf…which isn’t very comforting I suppose.”

“Huh, Death Wolf…sounds like a really great name for a death metal band!” You joked, trying to help Mammon relax. In the few moments of silence between the group after your joke, the air was filled with a horrifying noise. It started as a low deep growl, slowly rising in pitch and then transitioned into a screech so earsplitting and shrill you were sure your ear drums would rupture. “What the hell was that?”

“That would be your death metal band preparing to perform, get down!” Satan pulled you down with him behind a large bush, Mammon dove to the ground soon after. “We don’t want to be spotted.”

“How the hell do ya plan on getting venom without being spotted??” Mammon whisper shouted from the fetal positions he was in.

“I just need to obtain a small amount, typically Death Wolves leave behind trace amounts when they bite into their food, fortunately for us that was a hunting signal. We just have to wait for it to eat and then leave so I can extract the venom I need.” Satan sat up enough to see over the top of the bush. “You two stay here, I’ll go closer and be back once I have the sample.”

Satan checked his surroundings again before making his way towards the sound of some creature feeding on its prey. You looked down at Mammon to find him already scrambling to sit up, once seated upright, you could tell he was much closer to you than he intended by the obvious blush on his face.

“Hey handsome, guess we’re alone now~” You teased and winked, watching his whole face turn bright red.

“S-STOP MESSIN WITH ME!” He was whisper screaming again. “Can’t keep ya safe if you’re distractin me like that!” You tried to muffle your laughter. It was too easy to fluster him, which made it your favorite thing to do.

“I’m very sorry,” Your tone slightly sarcastic and teasing. “Please, Great Mammon, keep me safe from the big bad wolf of the woods, oh please don’t let him eat me!” You dramatically fell against him, covering your face with one arm.

“Told ya to stop being cute…” The second born mumbled, cheeks still burning and heart racing. You were busy laughing quietly to yourself and didn’t notice him watching you, your smile was breath taking to him, before he realized it he was leaning over attempting to steal a kiss without you noticing. Just as his cheek brushed against yours a nearby bush rustled, causing you to jerk your head the opposite way. “Damnit…”

“What was that?” You leaned around the bush to see if you could spot the source. You looked in the direction Satan had headed toward and saw nothing; the sound of the creature feeding had stopped and you figured he was collecting the venom finally. You turned to your left and spotted a little tail sticking out of a bush a few feet ahead, curious about the animal you left your spot behind the bush and snuck over to the other.

Moving a few branches and peering inside you saw a small black creature that resembled a puppy, but slightly different. It’s fur was unusually dark, two small fangs peeked out from under its lips, it looked up at you with its little red eyes and swished its tail in an excited motion.

“Oh, look how cute you are!” You cooed, keeping your voice low.

“MC get away from there! What are ya even lookin at? The Great Mammon is far more interesting than whatever is in that bush!” Mammon called.

“There’s a puppy in this bush! He’s so little and all alone!” You turned to look at Mammon and saw him pouting, one arm propped up on his knee, his chin resting in his palm, angrily scrolling through his phone, clearly annoyed that you left him to investigate. The bush in front of you rustled some more, this time several twigs snapped as well, wondering if the young pup had gotten stuck you turned back around to help it. Only the puppy was gone, in its place was a paw larger than your head attached to a tree trunk of a leg. You looked up and froze, your blood ran cold and goosebumps covered your arms, you slowed your breathing trying to move as little as possible.

Directly in front of you stood a creature with jet black fur, somewhat resembling a canine but on all four legs it stood nearly six feet high you guessed. Its hackles contained what appeared to be quills, the claws on its feet looked sharp enough to take down a small tree in one cut, its head was hung low and its lips curled upward in a snarl revealing several massive teeth and two crimson red fangs, an orange slime dripping off one and landing on the grass below causing it to shrivel and wilt.

You didn’t have to guess what this thing was.

“Run.” Your voice low and shaky, you took one step backwards.

“What? MC are ya trying to play with that thing.” Mammon looked up from his phone and caught sight of the creature. “Shit.”

“RUN!”

You took off, sprinting back the way you came, the earsplitting screech from before was now much closer and you suddenly realized what prey felt like. You turned to look over your shoulder for Mammon, he was nowhere to be seen but the RedFang was already giving chase, you were running for your life but knew your tiny legs were no match for that beast.

“Mammon!” His name ripping from your throat a little more desperately than you had planned. The growls and shrieks behind you were drawing closer, you cussed out Diavolo in your mind for not enforcing some type of gym class to keep you in shape.

“I gotcha!” His voice closer than you expected. You looked back again for your demon but only saw your hunter uncomfortably close to you, shutting your eyes in fear you suddenly felt his arms wrap around your waist and your feet left the ground. Eyes still shut you were able to turn and grab onto Mammon’s jacket, burying your face in his neck at the same time. The air started rushing past you rapidly and Mammon’s chest felt rather exposed, you lifted your head to confirm your suspicions, in his demon form Mammon had scooped you up to fly you out of harm’s way. “Told ya I couldn’t let ya get eatin!”

Reaching the outer edge of the woods, Mammon landed and set you down. Looking around you realized you were back at the entrance where the three of you had started your journey. You felt a knot in your stomach forming.

“What about Satan?” You were almost too nervous to ask.

“He’ll be alright, don’t worry.” He was trying to comfort you but seemed a little anxious himself. “Listen MC, we got lucky this time! Ya gotta be more careful, I don’t want anything bad happenin’ to ya.”

“That’s sweet Mams,” Though he avoided eye contact, you could see the blush creeping up on his cheeks. Ever since Lucifer had appointed him as your guardian, Mammon made it his personal mission to keep you safe no matter the situation. Recalling the many times he had been there to keep you out of trouble, you vowed to make it up to him once this was all over with. “Don’t worry, next time I’ll—”

Cut off by the sound of rustling leaves, you eagerly turned your head hoping to see Satan emerge from the forest, a knot formed in your stomach when a familiar sound began to accompany the rapidly approaching footsteps. A small black blur emerged from the bushes lining the edge of the woods, it was running full speed at you with no signs of stopping, instincts taking over your body you dodge the creature at the last second. Making impact with the ground, the creature stumbled a few times trying to get back up, as it did you were able to get a clear look at its form.

Jet black fur, small little legs with razor sharp claws, short quills on the back of its neck, small blood orange fangs; this had to be a juvenile RedFang. Finally regaining its balance, the small hunter set its sights on you again, a softer version of the low growl from its larger counterpart rumbling through its chest.

“HEY!,” Mammon yelled, raising his wings to intimidate the small pup. “You want them? Yer gonna have to go through me!”

As if accepting the challenge the young RedFang charged at you once more, quills raised and fangs bared, it was much faster than the adult had been. The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. You froze as it leapt into the air directly at your face, you felt a hand on your chest and suddenly you were falling to the ground. Mammon stood in your place, wings open wide to shield you and prevent harm.

There was a sharp yelp and suddenly the creature was falling over the second borns shoulder, as it tumbled to the ground and landed next to your own fallen form you felt a sharp sting in your right arm. The young pup met your gaze and quickly took off back into the woods, limping slightly as it did.

“Yeah that’s right! You better run punk!,” You stood up and shook your fist at your attacker. You winced as pain coursed through your arm, looking down you saw a small scratch with a thin stream of blood oozing from it. “Psh, you call that a wound? Better luck next time kid. Thanks for protecting me Mams.”

You were fidgeting with your torn sleeve awaiting his response…you quickly stopped when nothing was said in return.

“Mammon?”

A gentle wind through the trees the only response.

“Mammon…”

Your voice a combination of confusion and concern. You looked over your shoulder to see the demon laying on his side, his back facing you, one wing draped over himself with the other folded beneath his body, you watched for a second and saw no rising of his chest.

Something was wrong.

“Mammon?”

Your voice rising an octave out of fear. You scrambled over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention, his skin felt cold beneath your touch. Your heart began to race, your mind started to cloud with emotions, you braced yourself and pulled him towards you. His body followed your command all too easily and a pain ran through your body. His massive wing still covered his chest but his head lolled to the side and you saw your fears coming to life. His eyes shut and lips turning a light blue.

“No…”

You placed a hand on his face and your heart lurched, his usual warm skin was ice cold and color was beginning to drain.

“Please Mammon, don’t…”

You lifted your other hand, shaky and hesitant to move, you reached out and lightly brushed his wing. You argued with yourself, you tried to convince your mind that you were wrong, that there was a different outcome to this, that when you moved his wing he would grab your hand and tell you it was some cruel prank and you’d both laugh while you scold him.

So, you lifted his wing. You saw his chest. You saw the quill.

And you knew.

“Please no…” The plea came out soft and broken. “Mammon…Mammon!” You jostled his shoulder knowing damn well there would be no response. Yet you begged. You grabbed his hand and felt the tears running down your face, watching them land on his jacket. Your chest grew tight, you screwed your eyes shut and your breathing became choppy. You fought back the sadness, you fought against the guilt, you fought so hard against the anger. But you lost the battle.

His name ripped from your chest like a battle cry, clawing its way out of your throat with a force that took all the air from your lungs with it, echoing into the sky as you gripped his shoulders and buried your face in his neck. Your tears began to mix with the blood that trailed his chest, apologies fell from your lips and onto an empty audience, the anger inside grew like a raging fire threatening to scorch everything around you.

Heavy footsteps and snapping twigs broke through the sound of your cries. You spun your head towards the forest, taking a defensive crouch over your fallen demon, your sadness shifted to full rage and you readied yourself for a fight.

Bring it on you bitch.

“MC! MC is that you?” a familiar voice called, laced with concern. Shortly after, Satan emerged from the tree line, covered in dirt, scrapes on his arms and neck, out of breath and in demon form. “I heard you scream and then your wrath spiked resulting in— are you okay?”

Satan slowly approached while looking you over, noticing the way you were positioned in front of his brother, the scratch on your arm, and the anger on your face. His face dropped as he saw the tears in your eyes, the blood on your hands, and he began to make the connection. Your throat felt tight and all words escaped you, the hand you still held was growing colder with each passing moment. You moved so that Satan could see just what had sent you into such a state, he dropped to his knees beside you and grabbed Mammon’s wrist, after a few seconds he reached up to Mammon’s neck. You knew what he was looking for.

You knew he wouldn’t find it.

“MC, I—” Satan’s voice was softer than you’d ever heard before, it broke your heart even more. His eyes scanned over Mammon’s body and then looked to you, he searched for words, any words at all to fill the haunting silence that surrounded you both. His mind was blank.

“He’s gone… isn’t he?” The question burned your throat like acid.

“Yes…” Voice shaky and tears brimming in his eyes. You threw your arms around Satan and let yourself breakdown, burying your face in his shoulder, tears soaking his shirt, screaming into his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist, you felt his horn gently nudge your head then his face nuzzle softly into your hair, you felt his chest heave and his fingers dig into your skin. The Avatar of Wrath began to sob violently along with you, both trying to seek comfort and unsure of what to do. One thing was clear though.

This was all your fault.

---

The sky was dark and rain began to fall onto the ground below. Umbrellas opened and people started to make their way down the sidewalk and out the gate in front of the House of Lamentation. You sat upstairs on the ledge of the massive window that overlooked the front yard, rain gently tapping against the colorful stained glass. Watching demons and succubi alike say their goodbyes and leave, the funeral had ended five hours ago but for some forsaken reason there had been a “grieving ceremony” held at the house. You wanted nothing to do with it. You wanted to hide away, none of these people knew Mammon the way you did. None of them felt the way you did about him. They all seemed so fake.

“It’s not your fault. You do know that, right?” A stoic voice broke the silence and crawled under your skin like an unwelcomed guest. What did he know? “Please, MC it’s not fair to blame yourself. The quills on RedFang younglings are incredibly poisonous, there’s nothing you could have done to save him.”

“But someone else could have saved him?” You snapped.

“Excuse me?”

“You said there was nothing I could have done, which implies that anybody else could have saved him! What you’re saying is I was too weak; I didn’t have what it took to keep him safe!” You rose to your feet and looked him dead in the eyes. “All he ever did since the day I got here was look out for me and keep me safe! But I couldn’t do the same. He was trying to protect me and I got him killed!”

The tears flowed down your cheeks once more, but this time it was mostly out of anger. You stood your ground and Lucifer seemed stunned, unprepared for you to snap at him that way.

“That’s not what I meant. I apologize. I just don’t want you to blame yourself for this.” Lucifer reached a hand out but you pulled away, side stepping to walk around him. Enough visitors had left by now that you could safely make it to your room without being stopped.

---

You stripped out of your funeral attire and threw on your pajamas, curling up on your bed you tried to force yourself to sleep, despite your attempts you were still wide awake. Staring at the ceiling and swimming in guilt, the weight on your chest increasing with each passing minute, you sat up and hugged your knees. Glancing over on your nightstand you saw the framed photo that would now haunt you, a picture of Mammon at the carnival last month, his signature smile radiating through the frame, next to the picture was a vile of sleep potion that Satan had left you. He created a decent amount using the RedFang serum he had collected and gave you a small portion to study.

“If ever there was a time…” You mumbled to yourself. Pulling the dropper out of the top, you stuck your tongue out and let one single drop fall against it. A tingly sensation crawling up your tongue and down your throat, a sweet flavor washing over your taste buds, a sudden warmth filling your body. “It…actually tastes good” You said to your empty room before placing another drop on your tongue.

Your body suddenly felt lightweight, as if you could float to the ceiling if you jumped hard enough, you could feel your muscles relaxing, your eyelids grew heavy, all sounds inside the house stopped. You managed to close the vile just before your body crashed against the mattress and you were pulled into a deep sleep.

---

This was one of the most peaceful sleeps you had experienced in a while, alone on a hilltop underneath a blanket of stars, a gentle breeze blowing, the only thing that could make this better would be—

“MC?” his voice piercing your heart.

“Mammon?” You turn and see the second born approaching you in his human form. Your chest aches, how cruel was your mind to bring him here to you like this. “I know it’s not really you, this is just a dream…”

“What? Ya mean ya don’t recognize your first man?” He sulked.

“No I, I know it’s you but its not…you. You’re not real… you’re not alive.” The last three words becoming  a whisper.

“ME? Course I’m alive!” Mammon beamed, throwing one arm over your shoulder.

“No, Mammon! You’re not! I was there, I saw it happen! I went to your funeral!” Your voice wavering. His touch felt so real, like his hand was actually there, like maybe this wasn’t a dream…but you knew it was. You hated how wrong this all felt.

“Then I’ll prove I’m alive, I’ll tell ya something that only I would know!” He leaned in closer to your ear and yet when he spoke it was almost like an echo being heard from a distance. “I gotcha a gift, I bought it off Akuzon so it took a while to get here. It’s in the trunk of my car, I was gonna give it to you before we left but I got nervous.”

He turned and suddenly the car from his room was parked right beside him, Mammon opened the trunk and pulled out a small pink box with a gold ribbon tied around it. Holding it in one hand he held it out towards you, as you took the box you noticed the familiar blush on his cheeks, he was always so sweet on you and you took it for granted. You felt tears making their way to the surface but you fought them back as you held the small box in your hands.

“It’s very pretty… can I open it?” You asked hesitantly.

“Course ya can! There’s just one thing I need ya to do first.” Mammon’s face switched from his typical goofy grin to a more serious look.

“What?”

“I need ya to wake up.” His voice soft. He took one of your hands and held it gently in his. His touch was warm and soft, just the way it had always been.

“Wake up? But I don’t—”

A sudden gasp for air and your eyes flew open. You were back in your room, on your bed in your pajamas, the lights were off now though. Assuming one of the brother’s—probably Beelzebub on his way to the kitchen—had turned them off, you tried to make sense of everything else that had happened. It was only three a.m. so no one else was up yet but you saw no point in going back to sleep, not after that.

---

“MC don’t you think this is a little…odd?”

The brothers had been concerned about your silence at breakfast but were hardly prepared for you to tell them about the dream you had last night. They were leery of what actual truth it held but they had followed you to Mammon’s room regardless. Now you and five of the brothers stood gathered around the trunk of Mammon’s car—Levi had been absent from breakfast per usual.

“No, I don’t.” You placed a hand on the trunk of the car and took a deep breath. “In my dream Mammon told me he left a gift inside here just for me. If it’s there then that proves there must be some part of him that still exists!”

“Well duh he still exists…as a corpse in the ground.” Belphie smirked but Satan quickly elbowed him.

“Are you proud of yourself for that?” The fourth born snarled.

“No… I just made myself sad again.” The youngest crossed his arms and leaned against his twin for comfort.

“Whatever, I’m opening it.” Using both hands you slowly lifted the trunk open. With bated breath the brothers all leaned in to see what it held, inside you found nothing but an old tire jack and a receipt from Majolish. “Damn.” You muttered; collective groans filled the room. Despite their skepticism, the brothers had all hoped there would be something inside worth finding.

“Geez I’ve been looking for you guys all over the place! I just got back from pawning all that crap in Mammon’s trunk and got enough money to cover what he owed me plus more! You guys want to go the new maid café?” Leviathan entered the room with a large wad of money in hand, looking at his brothers he realized he just walked in on something sensitive. “Uh…w-what happened?”

“You idiot…” Satan shook his head.

“Was there anything in the pile of crap that could’ve been a gift for me Levi?” You pushed your way through the brothers and walked down the stairs towards the third born.

“O-oh uh, y-yeah actually,” Levi dug in his pocket and pulled out a small pink box with a gold ribbon on it, just like the one Mammon gave you last night. His cheeks burned bright red as he handed it to you. “H-here, sorry. I was going to give it to you later but I—”

You shushed his rambling and slowly opened the small package. Inside the pretty pink box was a crow plushie with little golden eyes and a tag with your initials on it, your heart ached once more holding the soft bird in your hand.

“That proves it! Somehow Mammon is still alive! He’s out there somewhere and he’s speaking to me in my dreams!” You turned to face the others with an eager smile.

“MC, that seems highly unlikely. A lot of strange things happen down here but there’s never been an instance where a deceased person was able to make contact through dreams.” Lucifer looked pained as he spoke, he knew it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “I’m afraid it was a dream and nothing more.”

“Well how else would I know about the gift in Mammon’s car??” You argued.

“Simple,” Satan started. “He must have told you about it before we went into the woods and your mind blocked it out due to grief.”

“So what, are you saying I’m going crazy? That I’m just making this all up?” You became defensive.

“No not at all dear, no one thinks you’re crazy.” Asmo made his way over to you and attempted to give you comfort. “This is just hard on you that’s all. Maybe you just need a little more rest.”

“Yeah,” You looked down at the small crow. You knew there was no way Mammon had mentioned this before, he was always too excited to watch you open gifts once you knew about them. “Maybe you’re right.”

---

You found yourself back on the hilltop, the stars above you shining bright, the breeze blowing softly once again. You closed your eyes and tried to concentrate, this place felt comforting, it felt familiar, it felt somewhat real but you couldn’t place why.

“Hey MC,” His voice filling your ears once more. You decided not to engage this time, it would only cause you more heart ache anyway. Keeping your eyes shut, you hear him approach you and sit down beside you. “I’m not sure if you can hear me, but I’m just gonna keep talkin’ alright?”

The former Avatar of Greed starts telling you some made up story, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and try to will him away but it doesn’t work, why is it that you have no control over his appearance here? Frustration continues to boil in your stomach and you finally snap.

“Would you shut up?!” You opened your eyes and looked at him, that damn smile on his face like always. “Lucifer says you’re not real, you’re just a dream, and Satan says you’re only here because I feel guilty!”

“Oh yeah?,” Mammon smirks. “Well could a dream take ya on a romantic getaway to Paris?” He grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet, the hilltop and stars disappear, instead a gorgeous pink sunset and the Eiffel tower appear in their place. The air feels light and warm, a familiar scent is wafting through the air and for a moment you think of that one perfume Asmo always wears.

“Yeah, technically it could…it’s still sweet of you.” You intertwine your fingers with his and lean against his chest, you know it’s not real but you want to pretend it is, even if just for a moment.

“Then what if we shared a sleigh ride across the Antarctic?” Mammon spins you gently and as you stop, you fall seated onto a soft cushion. A large red and gold sleigh beneath you with a massive polar bear pulling you across the snow, Mammon hands you a mug of hot chocolate and you feel the warmth of the cup on the palm of your hands. He gives you a soft smile and pulls you close to him, resting your head on his shoulder you feel his warm skin against your cheeks, the faint scent of his cologne dancing its way into your mind. Your body feels relaxed, for the first time since the accident you feel happy, it’s the kind of happiness that only Mammon could bring you. Lucifer be damned, this was more proof than you needed.

“Oh Mammon, you have to be alive. I could never imagine something so sweet and romantic on my own.” You feel your face begin to heat up.

“Take my jacket treasure, ya look a little cold.” The second born removes his jacket, places it around your shoulders and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you Mams,” Pulling his jacket tightly around your shoulders you sighed. “I just wish I could convince your brothers that you’re alive!”

“You can,” He took your chin in his hand and lifted it to meet his gaze. “All ya gotta do is wake up.”

“No!” You pulled away from his hold, your heart racing. This time felt so different than the last, his touch, his jacket, the warmth on your hands, all of it felt so real. There was no way this was a dream again. “Don’t say that to me! This isn’t a dream!”

Another sharp gasp of air and you were back in your room, you sat up on the bed in a panic.

“Damnit!” You threw your head in your hands. The dark room covered you as tears quietly streamed down your face. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t you just have a normal night of sleep?

You moved your hands to wrap around your shoulders but flinched when you touched an extra layer of fabric. Pulling it off your shoulders you shuttered, there in your hands was Mammon’s jacket, the same one from your dream. “He really is contacting me…I knew it… he is alive!”

---

A few hours later once your alarm went off and you ran towards the dining room, ready to show off your evidence. You barged in so quickly that you nearly tripped on the rug in the hall, a few brothers tried to greet you but you cut them off quickly.

“Mammon is alive and I have proof! He gave me his jacket last night in my dream and here it is!” You threw the jacket on the table in triumph, waiting for them to apologize for doubting you before.

“MC, that’s not Mammon’s jacket.” Asmo retorted, picking up the article of clothing and turning it over. “Mammon’s jacket is an autumn brown. This is Satan’s jacket, a hideous fashion disaster blue.”

“What?” You snatched the jacket from him and looked at it in disbelief. This jacket had been brown ten minutes ago in your room.

“Oh? I wondered where I left that!” Satan casually took the jacket. “Sorry MC, I must have left it in your room the other day.”

“But Mammon—in my dream he—when I woke up it was on me!” You protested, still trying to piece together what was happening. How could it change colors like that?

“Look MC, you’re under a lot of stress. Why don’t you sit down and join us for breakfast?” Lucifer offered.

“I don’t want breakfast! I want to know what’s going on!” You snapped.

“Everything is going to be alright hun.” You were looking directly at Asmo as he spoke but heard Beel’s voice come out instead.

“What?” You panicked.

“I said, everything’s going to be alright.” Asmo repeated in his normal voice, tilting his head in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay dear?”

“I don’t know, maybe I am freaking out a little bit.”

“A little bit? I know freak shows that aren’t this freaky.” Beel smacked his twin on the shoulder and gave him a glare.

“Be nice!” The sixth born ordered.

“I just need to relax,” You took your seat at the table finally. “Maybe I should take more of the RedFang serum.”

“You’ve been drinking RedFang serum?” Levi screeched.

“MC you need to be careful with that!” Lucifer added.

“He’s right, one drop calms you down, two drops help you sleep, but three drops and it could send you into a sleep so deep you never wake up!” Satan informed you. “MC please, do be cautious with it.”

---

Later that evening, unable to relax and desperately wanting some rest, you took your vile of serum and headed to Mammon’s room. Everything was just the same way it had been before the accident, clothes still thrown on the floor, unopened packages from one of his shopping sprees, no one dared to come in here so it all remained the same. You took your usual spot on his couch and sighed heavily, it felt so different sitting here alone, no laughter, no music, no new scheme planning. Just you and the white noise of the room.

“Let’s hope this helps.” You opened the vile and pulled out the dropper. “One drop calms you,” Placing a single drop on your tongue you feel the familiar calm returning to you, the same warmth you felt before creeping slowing up your body. Your arms felt both heavy and loose, your vision starting to blur slightly. “Feeling a strong ‘calm’ today, but two drops will help me actually sleep.”

You place another drop on your tongue and wait for sleep to kick in. Time feels slow and your breathing becomes shallow but you’re still awake and longing for your best friend to be by your side. The guilt eating away at you.

“Well, three drops can’t hurt. I’m sure Satan was over exaggerating anyway…” You reached for the vile once more but your arm felt like a steel bar, your control over it was less than perfect and you accidentally swung too far to the left completely knocking the vile over. The iridescent glass shattered, serum sprayed all over the couch and rug below. “Shit!”

You panicked, not only did you just break an entire bottle of hard-to-get serum but you also just stained Mammon’s incredibly expensive couch…not that he would ever know. You jumped from the couch and ran to the bathroom in search of a towel, part of you wondered how you were able to move so quickly when moments prior your whole body felt like cement, but the other part of you was too busy freaking out to care.

You rummaged through Mammon’s cabinets for a towel yet found nothing, finally you spotted one thrown on the floor near his shower, not stopping to question why it still felt damp you ran back out to the couch. A sharp squeal escaped you and you froze in your tracks.

“Hey, treasure!”

“Mammon?” You were stunned for a moment, then something similar to relief washed over you. “Is it really you?”

“In the flesh!” He gave you a wink accompanied by his signature smirk. You didn’t understand how nor did you really care, that smile was more real than anything, he was here, he was really here! You ran to the couch and threw your arms around his neck; you felt his hand gently touch your back and you nearly melted.

“MC is everything alright? We heard you yell— Mammon?” In the doorway stood the twins, both wide eyed and in shock. Belphie, who stood slightly behind his larger half, turned and called out down the hall. Moments later you and Mammon were joined by all the brothers, each one flabbergasted by the return of the second born, questions flying out every direction. The room soon became a cacophony of noise and Lucifer was forming a headache larger than ever.

“ENOUGH!” The first born commanded. “Satan, what’s the meaning of this?”

“Me?! Why do you think I know what’s going on? Do you think this is some elaborate prank on you, because it’s not! Though it would make for a good one…” Satan trailed off.

“Hold your temper for five seconds, please!” Lucifer sighed. “I was not accusing you, I simply thought you may know what would cause this. You were at the accident with Mammon and MC, plus you have the most knowledge on Mors Lupus and the venom they secrete.”

“Right, well…” The Avatar of Wrath coughed, slightly embarrassed by his reaction. “I do have a pretty extensive knowledge on these creatures and the many uses for their venom but…I’ve never heard of this happening…”

“OOOOOOOH, this is totally like ‘That Time I Went Into The Woods And Was Attacked By A Wolf Only To Later Be Reincarnated By The Same Wolf’s Blood’!” Leviathan said in awe.

“The manga or the anime?” Belphie asked mockingly.

“The manga obviously! The anime was overrated and poorly produced.” The third born scoffed.

“Anyway,” Irritated by the interruption, Satan continued. “The only possible explanation I could give is that somehow the serum mixed with DNA on Mammon’s couch and created…this…it sounds just as idiotic out loud as it did in my mind.”

“It sounds absolutely repulsive! I don’t want to know how much of your DNA was on this couch to recreate you!” Asmo nearly gagged at the thought

“Who cares how it happened,” Beelzebub spoke up, pulling Mammon to his chest and hugging him tightly. “Mammon is back and now we’re all together again! Let’s go celebrate.”

The others all quickly agreed and headed out the door, leaving just you and Mammon alone again. Your mind was a little fuzzy from trying to understand what happened still, but your heart was happy to have him back.

“Mams I’m so glad you’re alive and okay! The guilt of me getting you killed was starting to get to me! But you’re here and you’re alive and everything is alright!” Your smile stretched from ear to ear, maybe after dinner you could finally rest peacefully.

“Well, not everything…” A solemn look covering Mammon’s face. He took your hands in his and gently ran his thumb across your palm.

“What? What do you mean?” You felt him squeeze your hands gently.

“Ya have to wake up.” This time you could see the tears threatening to spill from his blue eyes. You started to panic again.

“Wake up? No! No! I’m not—“

A bright flash of light and your eyes flew open, franticly you looked around the room. You were still in Mammon’s room, still on his couch, vile still in one piece, and still alone. Your heart dropped and your stomach churned, the line between fantasy and reality was starting to blur, at this rate you were afraid to go back to sleep. You hated not being able to tell when your mind was tricking you anymore, not knowing if you were speaking to a real person or just an illusion inside your head. You felt yourself breaking and knew being alone was only going to make it worse.

You ran upstairs and asked Lucifer to hold a family meeting, maybe talking about all this would help put your mind at ease. Once all gathered, the brothers listened to you explain your most recent reality slip, they wouldn’t voice it but you could tell Lucifer and Satan were both growing increasingly concerned about your mental state. You weren’t sure which was scarier: losing your grip on reality or the two of them getting along for once.

“I know I’m losing it, when I fall asleep I feel happy and at peace because Mammon is alive and with me, but when I’m awake my mind plays tricks on me and I can’t keep up with them anymore. In the beginning it was easy, I could tell what was fantasy and what was really happening but now…now I just don’t know anymore.” You slumped against the table and put your head in your hands.

“Please, try and take it easy MC.” Lucifer spoke calmly. “I know this is difficult, you and Mammon had a very strong bond and losing him has caused you great stress.” His voice had started off like normal but gradually rose in pitch as he spoke, by the end of his sentence it sounded as if he had inhaled helium before speaking.

“Say that again?” You raised your head to look at him, something seemed…off. He repeated his sentence to you in the unusually high voice, you started to question it but then heard Asmo speaking to you…only Asmodeus wasn’t the one talking. Turning you saw Leviathan’s mouth moving and yet for some reason Asmo’s voice was coming out, confusion covered your face but before you could say anything you noticed something odd in front of you.

The vase that sat in the center of the massive table contained seven Hell Roses, only now each rose had a tiny face and was waving its little leaves at you. Mesmerized by watching them sway back and forth you tuned out the various brothers giving you advice from the wrong bodies, all their voices were horribly distorted anyway. You watched as one rose in particular pushed itself up from the vase and crawled onto the tabletop, its roots splitting off to make little legs and using them to walk towards you, as it got closer you felt your skin crawl.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” You jumped to your feet, hurling the dinner plate before you at the mobile plant, the plate shattered with no sign of the rose underneath. You looked around the table and saw six sets of eyes staring at you with deep concern.

“Darling are you alright?”

“I-I just…” Your mind was racing, your adrenaline started to pump fast and you felt nearly claustrophobic in the giant dining hall. “I need some air!”

You made a mad dash out of the house and took off into the nearby woods, there was only one way to end this, only one way to find out if you were truly crazy. You had to go back to his grave. You had to make sure he was really there.

Your feet were moving faster than your mind could keep up with, as if some unknown force was pulling you to straight to your goal, it was dark and you had no source of light but somehow you knew exactly where you were going. Stopping abruptly, you spotted his headstone, your heart raced and you questioned yourself on if this was wrong. Only for a moment though. You scrambled over to the freshly dug grave, the dirt still loose on top, and you started to dig.

Tears poured down your face and dirt caught under your nails; you were terrified. Terrified of how you were behaving and terrified of not knowing what to do once you reached his coffin. All too quickly you hit something hard, clearing away a few more handfuls of dirt you uncovered the final resting place of your love. That’s what he was after all. That’s what all this was about.

You had been plunged into a deep guilt, not only because you got your best friend killed, but because you were never honest about your feelings, with him or yourself. Love makes you do crazy things right? So it must be natural to dig up the grave of a lost love, or so you try to convince yourself. You hesitated for a minute, your hands resting against the black wood below you.

“I have to do it,” You told yourself; a pep talk of sorts before crossing a very dark line. “I have to open it and know!” You shuttered at the thought of what you’re about to do, of what you’re about to see, but tell yourself it’s the only way. “I’m so sorry Mammon…”

You closed your eyes and with one good pull you ripped the coffin open, you let out a shaky breath and opened your eyes to peer inside the box, only the box was gone.

You were back in your bedroom.

“What?” You grabbed your sheets, somehow you were back in your room and seated on your bed. Confusion and anger swirled inside your mind, what the hell was going on? “I don’t understand, how did I get here? Why am I back at the house?”

“Isn’t it obvious dear?” A sickeningly sweet voice called out. “You killed Mammon.”

A pain ran through your chest, you had felt that way all along but to hear it out loud hurt worse. You whipped your head around searching for the fifth born, ready to demand an explanation for his words. But there was no one in your room but yourself.

“Where are you…” You muttered.

“Right where you left me, killer.” You turned in the direction of his voice but only found the wall of pictures in your room. Photographs of you and the brothers from various outings and events over the last few years, your eyes scanned wildly in search of him and finally spotted your tormenter. There on your wall, inside a picture taken in the public gardens, was Asmodeus.

Only he was moving.

“What’s going on…” You backed away slightly.

“You killed our brother MC.” Asmo purred with a wicked grin on his face.

“No, I didn’t mean to! You know that!” You begged nearly.

“You killed Mammon, just like a wretched human. Always making our family smaller.” In a nearby photograph Belphegor started to speak. You shook your head in defiance, you never meant to hurt anyone. The more you pleaded for them to stop the more photos came to life, each brother was now bashing you and calling you a killer, their voices were growing louder and louder, their words repeating and echoing off each other.

Something inside you snapped, you let out a frustrated scream, ran at your wall and started ripping down the photos. Tearing them to shreds and smashing the frames onto the floor, the voices slowly faded with each destroyed picture, finally stopping when the last one was ripped in half.

“Okay, so I am insane. At least I’m sane enough to realize it.” Catching your breath you sat down on your bed again, you were more scared now than you had been during this entire ordeal. You looked over at the framed picture on your nightstand, the one with Mammon from the carnival, your eyes started to water. “Mammon, I don’t know what to do…the only time I feel safe is in my dreams with you.”

The vile next to his portrait caught your eye, you remembered what Satan said about being cautious with the serum, and you found your solution. Even if it was a grim one.

“Three drops, that’s all it takes…then maybe I can stay with you in my dreams forever.” You hesitate, holding the glass vile in your hands, turning it over a few times before opening it. You consider your options, staying here and continuing to battle against your own mind, unable to differentiate fantasy and reality while slowly slipping into madness. Or take your chances with the serum and slip blissfully into an eternal slumber where Mammon was still alive. “Here goes nothing.”

You raise the dropper to your mouth for the final time, slowly releasing the first drop.

One.

The tingling sensation makes its way through your body once more, warming you up along the way and bringing back the sweet flavor to your tastebuds. You let your body settle some and release the second drop.

Two.

Your body feels heavy again, weighing you down just like before. Your mind starts to cloud but you fight it long enough to keep the dropper still. Your hand shakes out of fear and exhaustion, you close your eyes and are met with vivid memories of the time you spent with the brothers both good and bad, you wouldn’t trade your time down here for anything in the world but living like this now is unbearable. You just need some sleep, that will fix everything. You start to squeeze the dropper.

“MC, LOOK OUT!”

Startled you let go of the dropper and it falls to the floor, you looked over and saw Mammon in the frame waving his arms wildly and pointing towards your window. You turned to see the window of your bedroom opening, as it does a large beast slinks its way into your space, the large claws and black fur send your body into shock. What the hell was that thing doing here?  

“Listen to me treasure, ya don’t wanna lie in bed forever! Ya gotta stay strong!” A slight panic in his tone.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” You broke. All the frustration, all the tears, it came boiling over. You started sobbing into your hands, you just wanted this all to stop, you just wanted to feel okay again. The RedFang in your room was now standing opposite of you, staring you down as if to challenge you.

“FIGHT IT!” Mammon yelled.

“I can’t! It’s too hard!” Ignoring the massive creature, you turned back to the little demon beside you.

“Yes you can! There ain’t no way my human would give up this easily! Ya gotta try MC, for me!” He leaned against the edge of the frame; a pleading look in his eye. You wanted to give up but you couldn’t, not when he was still fighting for you. You nodded your head in agreement but as you did a sound you knew all too well filled your room. The RedFang was now standing in the same stance it took before chasing you and Mammon, a low growl in its throat and drool dripping off its fangs, you screamed as it lunged toward you.

“GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!” You grabbed a nearby textbook off your nightstand and chunked it at the beast. On impact the massive creature bursts, creating hundreds of smaller RedFangs all snarling at you from the ground, a few jumped up to try and climb onto the bed but fell backwards instead. You grabbed the portrait of Mammon and pulled your knees in close; the sound of growling filled your ears, you could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Look MC, I dunno if you can actually hear me…but there’s somethin’ I wanna tell ya.” Mammon’s voice was soft but it cut through the loud room like a hot knife. “I love you…and I wish I’d told ya sooner.”

“Mammon I’m scared!” Your ears were ringing, you could practically hear your own heartbeat, the growling continued to get louder, as did your sobs. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Just wake up darlin’ please…just wake up.” His voice wavered and you watched his eyes become glossy.

“Mammon please!” You begged. “I don’t understand! How do I wake up? What do you mean?”

“Just wake up, for me…” A few tears started to make their way down his cheeks. You couldn’t stand it, watching him cry, hearing his voice break like that, this was like being stuck in your own personal hell. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed the frame against your chest, the growling below grew louder and then started to fade, in its place you heard a soft and steady beep while Mammon’s words continued. You felt something wet touch the back of your hand, afraid of what you might find you opened your eyes slowly. There was a soft light and your vision was incredibly fuzzy, blinking a few times the room started to straighten out, though it wasn’t your bedroom. You glanced around the dimly lit room and saw a tv, a wall clock, dozens of flowers, around sixteen stuffed animals, an oversized basket full of sweets, a few empty chairs and next to you was a white-haired demon, holding your hand and crying softly with his head against the bed.

“Mammon?” You called softly, afraid to find out if he was real or not.

His head jerked up, revealing bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His hair was unkempt and he looked in desperate need of caffeine, his mouth hung open slightly and he blinked a few times before responding.

“You’re awake!” His face lit up and he did his best to erase any evidence of the tears he had shed.

“Of course, I’m awake. You wouldn’t stop waking me.” You chuckled softly. You wanted to believe this time but you were so scared to do so. Looking down you realized you were laying in an unfamiliar bed. “Where am I anyway?”

“In the hospital! Lucifer and Lord Diavolo rushed ya here right after the RedFang got ya!”

“What? No, the RedFang got you! I saw the quill in your chest, it barely scraped me with its claw!” You sat up and winced in pain, a strong heat ran through your right arm. Looking over you saw the bloody bandages covering your shoulder and bicep.

“Ya mean this?” Mammon lifted his shirt to reveal not only his incredibly toned abs and chest, but a small bandage placed exactly where you had seen the quill the day of the accident. “RedFang quills ain’t venomous to demons, but the poison in the claws on the young ones are fatal to humans turns out…”

Your mind was still a little hazy, you had a ton of questions you wanted to ask but before you could the door opened softly. Leviathan and Asmodeus entered the room, saw you sitting up and darted out the door again, shortly after all six remaining brothers were surrounding your bed and excitedly talking over each other. Asmodeus was practically vibrating with joy, Levi was updating who knows how many social media accounts right now, and Belphie was comforting Beelzebub who was in tears. Lucifer stood at the foot of your bed and gave a soft smile.

“I’m thrilled to see you’re awake MC, I’ll make sure to inform Lord Diavolo as well, he’s been most concerned about your condition.” For a brief second you thought you heard his voice shake.

“I don’t understand, it’s just a scratch. I blacked out for a little bit but I’m fine, why is Diavolo so concerned?” You expected the brothers to behave this way over an injury— they threw a table out one time because you stubbed your toe on it— but couldn’t imagine why Diavolo would be worried about a small scratch like this, surely he had better things to do.

“MC, you didn’t just black out…” Satan sat next to the bed, opposite side from Mammon. “You’ve been in a coma. Since you’re human the doctors did their best to treat your wound and administered antivenom but they were unsure if you would ever actually wake up.”

“Wait…seriously?”

“Indeed, when they told us that there was a possibility you may remain unconscious for— well…that was when Diavolo became concerned. He’s been beside himself about this, so learning you’re awake will be a huge relief.” Lucifer let out a content sigh.

“How long was I actually out?” You questioned, curious to know exactly how long you’d been laying in this bed.

“Three weeks,” Asmo answered. “and Mammon stayed by your side the entire time.”

“Really?” You turned to look at the second born. A light blush covered his cheeks and he turned his face slightly away from you but his hand was still holding firmly onto yours.

“It was twenty-two days technically…I couldn’t just leave my hum—I couldn’t just leave you alone.” Mammon glanced at you from the corner of his eye and his blush deepened, a coy smile appearing on his lips.

“Mammon talked so much that I’m surprised you didn’t wake up sooner. There’s no way I could’ve slept through his constant rambling.” Belphie joked.

“Hey! I only did it cause Satan’s book said it might help!” Mammon barked defensively. He shifted in his seat a little and then turned to face you fully. “Just thought that, y-ya know maybe if ya heard a familiar voice it might help.” He looked down bashfully at your hands that were still intertwined. “But it probably didn’t even help, who knows.”

You watched as he gently rubbed his thumb against your hand, a smile still plastered on his face, even though he was trying to act nonchalant you knew he was ecstatic to have you awake. While studying his relaxed form you noticed the jacket he normally wore was missing, adjusting yourself on the bed you felt an extra layer of fabric against your shoulders, looking over you found that Mammon’s jacket was placed carefully around you.

Then you started to take in the rest of the room.

A sweet fragrance filled the air, you immediately recognized it as Asmo’s perfume but also the sweet dream of Paris. A vase of Hell Roses sat on the counter beside the tv, though these were faceless and quite still. Next to you on the bed was a small little crow, just as soft and plush as the one from the box Levi had kept after selling everything else.

You couldn’t help but smile as everything started to come together, you yanked Mammon closer to you and threw your arms around his neck. You took comfort in holding him close to you and knowing it was really him this time, not just another horrible dream. Tears started to form in your eyes and you let out a soft chuckle.

“It helped Mams…it helped.”

Mammon had sworn to always protect you when you first met, now you knew he really would, no matter the circumstance.

Even in your dreams.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me angst

[princess-of-the-corner]

K, 2 things:

1. — So, yeah, looked at potential vampire beings for Himiko hero names and either 1), they are not actual “vampires” but creatures that simply primarily drink blood, otherwise have no connections at all, or 2) they really lean into the “Ancient, Sexy Immortal”. I basically made my criteria “drinks blood” after a bit, because it was otherwise REALLY HARD to find anybody who sort fit. Of the few I found that KIND OF fit:

Strix - in Greek myth, a creature that largely resembles an owl, but seems to reflect the behaviour of a bat, hanging upside down from perches, and making high-pitched noises that sound like crying. They drink blood (though a few tales mention feasting on human flesh) and were either the familiars of malevolent witches, or merely ill-fated omens which themselves posed no harm, but seeing one was the harbinger of doom or despair coming your way. Also called “vampyre owls”. Apparently six strix feathers were main ingredients of several love potions. Strix also became synonymous with “witches”, specifically used to refer to “flying women”, at some point, though it seems to be fairly even between the witch and vampire association.

Mullo - a kind of vampire from Romani culture, though more specifically, an undead, usually a person who did not receive proper burial rights. This isn’t being included as an actual name suggestion, I just got a kick out of Mullo also being the Mouse Miraculous, so I imagined a little vampire mouse.

Jubokko - a Japanese yokai, basically a demonic tree that grew near a battlefield. So many people died on said battlefield, that the tree would suck up blood rather than water, and seem to become addicted? (The website I found this one on was oddly translated, and Wikipedia did not help much). So, the trees start kidnapping travellers who venture near it, wrap them in its roots, and drain them dry.

Dhampir - supposedly the offspring of a vampire and a human. Can really only see this if Himiko was making some kind of statement about her parentage.

Empusa - both the best and worst one I found. Greek mythological beings, they were blood drinking shapeshifters (often said to have one leg of bronze/copper, and the other vaguely reptilian). They also lured young men in, so they could Black Widow them (the spider, not the Marvel character). So like, on the one hand, actual blood-drinking shapeshifter! On the other, Greek myth monster that liked killing people! I could definitely see Himiko making it work, but again, it doesn’t really fall into the “cute” category she’s going for, even the one she has that’s different from most peoples.

2. — Now I’m thinking about it, Termina could be an entire side quest section of No Fate. Like, you get introduced to it by whatever the Zora Quest is (cause I am really attached to the Trio turning into different species). Like, Trio can’t get to Zora’s domain, because it is COMPLETELY flooded/underwater, so they follow a rumour about a mask that lets you breathe underwater. They end up in Kokiri/Deku Forest, and find a hut with an old man, who says he’ll carve them the masks if they get wood from the Deku Tree. So, the go to the Great Deku Tree, who gives them some wood to use, they go back to the Old Man, and he carves the masks. My main thoughts here are 1) as the Trio travel through the forest, they see glimpses of Termina. 2) Maybe at some point they fall asleep and their dream selves get briefly transported to Termina, where they encounter [Fairy Whose Name I Forgot].

Regardless of how it happens, they first ask the Deku Tree about it, and he tells them that the Forest occupies a “Space Betwixt and Between”, a kind of crossroads that can lead to other places. Then, they ask the old man, as he’s carving their masks, and he makes some vague remarks about the state of his “home”, and why he might be in the Forest in the first place. You get the masks, and go do the Zora thing (Ganon and Zelda are both surprised to actually TURN INTO Zoras, while Link is like “oh, should I have warned you?”). The Zora masks let the Trio breathe underwater and swim fast (or in Ganon’s case, let him swim), and maybe let you explore the Great Lakes or something, but are the only Masks that are plot relevant.

The Termina thing could be a whole side thing, where you visit the old man, fall asleep, and get Dreamed to Termina, where you sort out various problems, probably find some rare items or materials. Completing the various sections would also earn you new masks, which while cool, giving you new forms to wear, wouldn’t be required to beat the game. Like, you could have a Rito Form, who increases your jump (and changes any gliding animations from a Glider, to using your wings), and maybe gives you default cold resistance, maybe makes using bows easier. The Goron mask lets you roll around, and has a built in heat resistance. Zonai could give you increased magic buffs. None of these things are required to beat the game, but they are helpful, since they wouldn’t take up any armour slots. You put the mask on, and your “base” changes, but you can still wear all your other gear.

Thoughts?

-

Re: Himiko’s Name: I think the thing here is that yeah a lot of them are so off--handedly scary. And while some Heroes can have ‘scary’ names, Himiko is trying for more cute than scary.

I have a Thought™ on what I may want with MM but I’ll come back to that

#submission

[yami-yomiel]

Redrew that one Joel image from .. a long time ago.

Including a whole extensive story i did while working on this mid wip. Warning- it’s long as BALLS and i don’t recommend reading it on a phone /hj

I mean he’s distracted - by theory you can just grab what you need and dip.

He HAS been missing some socks

Mostly pairs

But thats just a ‘rumor’ so to sayyy. I mean , SURE he’s dealing with demons everyday so im sure a few missing socks wouldnt be a huge deal- Not if he sees you at least. he’s probably getting off the phone , he can’t leave all that stuff laying around ya know 😏

Although him catching you is .. a little unlikey imagine if he did. Joel to me is the type to scream like a girl sorry - and that would probably give you enough time to run back under his dresser [twirls hair]

BUTTTTTT there’s also the chance of him just grabbing you. And he might be a little .. rough with it~ not trying to kill you but you get a little winded. Perhaps the fear and shock in your eyes is mutual - but you don’t know that because you’re trying to comprehend the fact you’ve been caught. Imagine his surprise when he finds out you’re a human - or a least a sentient creature thats not a mouse or a rat. You think he’d feel guilty for scaring you half to death. I don’t think Joel would be mad about the whole ‘I’ve been living in your walls for a while ‘ thing - he would be weirded out though YES. But maybe he warms up to it. Like think about it like a sort of symbiotic (is that the term?) relationship - you help me and i help you sorta deal. I’d beleive he sorta.. forgets to put you down and sorta fidgets with you. The fact you’re so small and YET alive and lived for this long is fascinating to him. Sure he has an interest in the dead -i mean he has an ouija board and all - but the living also interests him.

Semi related but i feel like he’d be a biology nerd - and knowing that small things are more fragile he’d probably take that into account when handling you - assuming Joel would anyways. Maybe he gently pressed a finger into your ribs feeling your heartbeat, and that sets a glimmer in his eyes. Your own heart is almost the same size as his finger nail - holy cow. But it frightens him. Shoot, one wrong move and you’d be a little splatter on the ground. And right now he doesn’t want anyone else around him suffering anymore;

To call back to another headcanon i made - I said he likes to imagine himself as a borrower - or at least a small tiny guy. So seeing you would be like a childhood dream come true. He chews his lip trying not to ask incredibly personal and difficult questions. ‘have you ever been caught before?’ ‘Have you fallen from a high place before’ ‘How did you learn about borrowing, did someone teach you or was it sort of like an instinct’ Those sorts of questions. I don’t think they’d be easy ones to answer given your skill level (if you can measure it anyways). If Joel thought about it for two seconds he’d probably ask about what you took from him. Not in a rude way but more so what you did with them , what did you use those socks for? You know while this is all going on he’s poking and prodding at you - probably not in an invasive way (you can always tell him to stop) but right now you’re in awe. You’ve heard so many stories about humans being big and scary and wanting to harm your species but .. for someone whose just been caught by one - you seem to be alright. Even if you’re going though a very extensive look over or whatever.

Joel is probably internally freaking out at this whole thing. I mean he’d always wanted to BE a small person, but seeing one right in front of you is a different story. His look of wonder turns into a silly grin as he scooped you up, . You know noted how oddly soft his hands were, given all the equipment you saw him use you’d think they’d be a little textured, but nope, they were quite plushy. Ahem anyways. He scoops you up and plops you right onto his desk. It seemed to be neat, a laptop and some recording supplies , quite minimal. Joel at down right infront of you, given his look it still seems like he’s in awe over the whole thing, you can tell he’s holding back from bouncing or pacing around but he’s gotta keep his composure. You’d try doing the same but, him leaning forward and getting a full few of his face made you squeak. “Sorry , I’m just.. I’ve never seen someone like you before - ya know?’ He said. His voice was deep, so deep in fact it vibrated in your bones and brain.

Hot Dog.

You nodded but really you’re trying to shake off the warmth that spread from your face and down your back, causing goosebumps.

[It’s now 11:09 i need to go to BED]

#ghosttrickanon #ak mystifying oracle #Joel Hayes #mystifying oracle #giant/tiny #g/t art #sfw g/t #g/t community #g/t related #g/t #Ibispaint #lasso tool #illustration

[heli0s-writes]

bite the hand

a/n: featuring a whumptober prompt of “fracture, dislocation, are you here to break me out” 2.6k words of wolf/shapeshifter reader & human bucky, who are both trying to break the mold of their species.

warnings: violence, blood, language.

moonchild masterlist

You’re not any kind of damsel in distress but there’s no point in lying to yourself this time. There aren’t many ways to escape a steel cage and considering the silver they tied you with and the after-effects of enough tranquilizers to knock out a stampede of horses, you figure you’ll be here indefinitely.

Nine humans tore through early morning. Raids have been far and few but once in a while they get bored, get audacious. The pack moves often enough, and deep enough, to where hunters can’t track, but sometimes they also get lucky.

Or you’ve been had. Because you’re the volunteer liaison, and Barnes always said you were too damn trusting for one of your kind.

Maybe you trusted him too much. 

You shut your eyes, tired all the way through, and try a number of any imaginary techniques to keep from despairing. How long do wolves stay alive in captivity anyway? It’ll drive you fucking insane before you die. Your muscles might atrophy with this tiny perimeter to pace around in, but your heart will go first, getting carted out of the wilderness and into smoggy, disgusting cities.

They’ll either sell you or gut you or parade you around as another circus act. Let their ugly children throw rocks and garbage between the bars, but at least it wasn’t any of the others—and especially not any of the pups.

You could bite the one feeding you, hold their arm between the bars with your teeth until another one puts you down.

But what if they don’t give a shit? Humans can be horrible like that. Depending on who it is, they’re likely to weigh their options, wonder if you’d be worth more sold as pelt or organs or teeth crushed to powder than the poor bastard giving you scraps.

You let out a whine. Slump down as comfortably as you can because the damage to your left shoulder is not letting you forget it any time soon. If you could turn or push up against something, you would—that’d set the damn thing right—but the chains and the drugs and yada-yada.

On the bright side, if you give up and let them take you, at least it means they won’t come back for the kids.

Pietro and Wanda and little Peter who’s a damn prodigy when he darts through the trees but skin and bones after a long winter. Most of you are, which is why humans showed up, which is why you were barely strong enough to fight, get shot to hell, and strapped down to the bed of a truck.

Your animal form would have been hard to manage, but you were weak, tired, and human. Your shoulder dislocated, and leg fractured, and if you see another tire iron coming your way you’ll beat the fucker swinging it to death. No. You’ll fucking eat him.

If you see Barnes, you’ll eat him, too.

Delirium is definitely sinking in. Being the liaison between humans and wolves means that the wolf should never have the urge to eat a human or else it would totally compromise the position. And yet here you are, fantasizing of biting down on Barnes’ beautiful skull.

“See you in the spring,” he’d said as he fixed his gloves. He was hilariously bundled up, nose a startling pink, admitted he couldn’t deal much with the cold and snow but then after a couple weeks of scarce prey and hungry bellies, there’d be a deer, or a rabbit, dragged close enough to where you’d smell it, far enough to where no one else would.

Rumlow would call you a traitor to your face for taking it home, but at least the kids ate. If he had his way, the nearest town would be a bone yard. But that’s the stupid in him. The dumb animal part that hasn’t evolved past eat-fuck-kill. That’s gonna get the locals burning the entire forest just to smoke the pack out.

One of the men who captured you knocks a pipe against the bars.

“Crazy bitch really does look human.” He bangs the cage without rhythm, just hitting it over and over, chortling. After a few more seconds without a response, he pulls back further to wind up.

“Cut that shit out, man,” another one says.

“We ain’t got nothin’ to fuckin’ do until sundown.”

“If you’re bored, go into town with John and get some fucking gas and bandages. We got a long drive tonight.” A third guy snatches the pipe, throws it over his shoulder and jerks his thumb toward one of the trucks.

“You do it.”

They bicker for a while longer, and the shittier one between the three of them picks up a rock when he loses the argument, hurling it at you as hard as he can. It bounces off the bars, and you can only hope that they have the same crappy aim at wherever carnival you get hauled off to because the metal is still quivering, and you have never been in love with the idea of being stoned to death.

-

The sun is sinking, resting low atop the tree line, temperature dropping rapidly in the absence of its heat.

They’re going to move you as soon as the last ray winks out. Take the cars past the edge of the forest, hit the interstate and then they’re home free. Wolves wouldn’t chase humans on the highway, across state lines. There’s no bureau of jack shit to follow your trail. Rumlow would never even suggest it. He’d just call you one of them, anyway, as if wolves aren’t half-human to start.

You shoot up when the air shifts. The scent on the wind is different, the noise dimmed but it’s a stillness that’s too quiet for these woods and for these humans.

Four went and five stayed because despite their advantage, on the off chance you got loose, they probably figured they’d need one for each limb and one to blow your brains out.

The one by the fire spits out a mouthful of chew and checks his phone, oblivious.

Your skin is prickling, hairs on the back of your neck lifting because the new smell isn’t stale tobacco and 3 days worth of grit— it’s— familiar. Like intention, an adrenaline that doesn’t rush so much as slinks forward.

It’s how you feel padding between the trees, ears pulled back, your sights set on the pulse of a fawn’s neck.

And then, the rush hits.

He’s there, eyes flashing blue between the pines, to the fire, to the cage. You fight the wolf that wants to tear out of your skin—fight the instinct to howl at bloodshed, to kneel and leap and affix your canines to something soft.

A bullet flies through the trees, pierces one in the shoulder. A second through the side of the one next to him. A third to another guy just now on his feet.

They pull out their pistols and shoot back, blasting into the pines blindly, recklessly reloading.

Shouting commences, and the humans split apart, try to flank Barnes in the trees.

And regardless of how you thought about biting off his head earlier, your fists are clenched, wanting to give anything to break free.

Pops go off in the distance with thuds following. There’s snaps of twig and bone and soon after, there are no more bullets, only the pained whimpers of wounded men.

He dashes out, a ring of keys clutched tight in his hand.

“Hey,” he says, crouching and out of breath. He’s talking fast, puffing out continuous clouds in the late February air. “Think all the ammo’s in the other truck. Heard some guys bragging about catching a wolf last night. When I said see you in spring, I didn’t mean like this.”

He’s too damn casual about it. You jerk helplessly at the one suddenly sprinting up from behind. “Move!”

He quirks a brow, “That’s all I get?” and proceeds to dodge a bat full of nails like it’s made of cotton candy. “No thanks for breaking you out?” But his eyes catch on the swollen mess of your shoulder, the dead limp of the rest of your arm. The silver. And then he’s immediately serious, sharp and deadly, and gets a foot into the nearest ribcage.

Logically you’d known that he would have been strong enough to, at the very least, keep his life if the liaison decided to eat him rather than broker peace. But for a man who doesn’t change into anything the way you can, he’s pretty impressive.

He fights like he’s been in a lot of them. Like maybe he’s been trained.

He ducks low, sweeps a pair of feet out, and then he’s sending a single kick to the temple, and uses the motion to fall forward into the other guy. He’s swiped at, a hidden blade cutting across his chest but his leather jacket takes it, and it only nicks his jaw, sending a single trickle of blood flowing out.

You growl at the sight. The low buildup starts from inside your belly and rolls upwards until it’s roaring out of you—a promise of retribution for every drop.

It makes his last opponent flinch, and Barnes tackles him over, punches him til the lights go out.

All five are accounted for, unconscious and strewn across the dirt. There’s no noise for a few seconds other than the calling of nocturnal birds until you hear the other truck around the bend of trees, tires crackling against fallen branches and gravel road. You hear it first, but Barnes is listening too, watching for your signal.

“Hey,” you say, urgent, “are you here to break me out or are you just gonna stand there looking pretty?”

He looks like he’s about to smirk and give you shit for calling him pretty by any degree, but you start pulling against the cuffs, let him hear the way it sizzles, and then he’s rushing forward with keys, throwing the door open, kneeling by your side.

“Shit,” he mutters, face screwing up when he gets a whiff of blackened flesh. He unhooks the padlock, rips the links off, and flings them across the cage.

“Come on.” You nod at the jut of bone as it nudges against your skin. There’s no time to waste. “Go, go, go.”

His pained frown keeps on, big eyes darting back and forth.

“Barnes,” you say, ducking your head so you can stare into him, into all that worry and fear that’s taking hold of his reason because you know what you look like right now. Skin and bones and bloodied up. But you won’t look like it for long—but if he keeps getting stuck, both of you are going to end up in the dirt. “The adrenaline will be enough, you hear me? It’ll be enough.”

He nods, shutting his eyes for a second before calmly settling in front of you. With one hand, he takes your elbow, with the other, he gently places at an angle, right beneath the swelling.

The correct way to set a shoulder is to relax the tightened muscles, which takes massaging, and breathing, and patience. But right now the car is pulling up—you can smell the exhaust, the open beer, the sour smoker’s breath on the wind, see the flicker of headlights as they make slits through the trees—and you need pain. Need that kick in your system that overrides reason.

“On three,” he says.

You take a breath and don’t even make it to one before the explosion of your joint ramming back into place whites everything out.

It’s sirens all the way.

Slamming doors, footsteps, yelling. Shots. You’re a terror of instinct shredding across the short distance from vehicle to cage, landing first on the one with the gun. A bullet grazes your belly, but it doesn’t hurt. You sink your teeth into a neck, then an arm, and when someone else reaches for a new magazine, you take their fingers. Take their shoulder, their side. It’s indiscriminate killing and what they would have done to you, and the kids, and one of their own.

You counted every drop that slipped off his chin. You’ll take a mouthful for each.

When logic comes back, you’ve got your paws on a jerking limb, fur matted at the snout and claws.

Barnes is still by the cage, like he meant to go somewhere and then forgot.

“Shit,” he says, awed, ambling forward. He reaches out his hand, touching the side of your face gently, parting the furs and stroking your cheek. “Goddamn. You’re beautiful, aren’t you?”

You bare your teeth, canines nearly 3 inches long and sticky with blood but he just says, “Nah,” like you’re not one yawn away from cracking his skull, stupid smile a wild slash across his face. “You’re a sweetheart.”

He rubs the line of your snout, up between your eyes.

“Yeah,” he says again, quieter, “you are.”

And because you can’t fake it anymore, because you’re too tired to fight it for fucks sake— and he’s looking so soft and dumb as he strokes his thumb over one ear and then the other, you start to change back, one crackling bone at a time.

He takes off his jacket, placing it around your naked shoulders when you’re bipedal again, eyes fixed on the stars overhead until you clear your throat. The leather smells like him. Warm and musky but clean like fresh air. There’s notes of his morning coffee—caramel and lemon aromas. His soap, his toothpaste, his maple syrup. His sweat.

You feel out your shoulder and previous fracture, both healed slightly after the change. “So it wasn’t you who led them to us.”

“You’re breaking my heart. You think I’d do something like that?”

“Hm.” No, not really.

“I think maybe they followed me, though. Followed you.”

“Do you have a poacher problem in your town?”

“No, they’re from somewhere else.” His brow furrows.

You think about Rumlow, how he transplanted himself into the pack, digging his heels in and trying to assert some kind of dominance. How the hierarchy existed but loosely, because packs evolve, and change, and those who don’t fall behind.

Human-wolf relations are changing, too. You’re not the first liaison and you won’t be the last. Small towns are trying to learn how to coexist all over the world.

You look at the many unconscious men behind your back, and the one to your side, alert and watchful. Him, and you, agents of change— despite the challenge, side by side.

“The kids care much?” He gestures to the very human artifact over your body.

“No,” you admit, “they like you.”

He whistles, scrubs his hand through his hair, letting the wind rustle the long waves he’d grown out during winter. And it’s killing you—all that smell whipping around so carelessly. All of him, just there. That pretty, pretty aroma separating him from the rest of his kind.

He doesn’t even notice. “What’d I do to win them over?”

You sigh. Before this? Nothing, really. He didn’t do anything except be decent. And be your friend. But then again, crossing the distance from one species to another, two polar opposites that have hunted each other, have hated each other, is brave. And bravery is high on the list of good virtues for wolf pups.

For grown wolves, too.

“I like you, is what.”

He stops playing with his hair, color flaring back to his wind-whipped cheeks. “Don’t let Rumlow hear you saying that.”

“Think a human’s the only thing I’ll bite?” You grin, pulling his jacket tighter to your body, dropping your head dramatically to inhale.

“Oh,” he breathes, kicking dirt as he stumbles around his words, attention glued to how you nuzzle in because wolves don’t forget scents. Not even feral ones, when they’re lost to instinct and chasing thoughtlessly after the moon. Rumlow would only choose to leave you to rot because he’s an asshole— not because he can’t track.

So when you take in a lungful of Barnes, you’re promising him of some kind of forever.

And if Rumlow gives you shit for coming home wearing Barnes’ clothes, you’ll just have to remind him you’re not human enough to consider yourself above cannibalization.

It had been a long winter, after all.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #whumptober #reader insert #mcu #fanfiction #moonchild series

[black--sun]

Is Ichigo actually still in his human body? does he consider that maybe he's in a gigai? or that his body has always been a gigai since birth? does he ever feel like his human body is gonna give out under the weight of his power?

@jaegersol

Is Ichigo actually still in his human body? does he consider that maybe he's in a gigai?

This is actually a really interesting concept, and I’ve heard it detailed out quite a few times. I personally do not hold to this idea, though, and I’ll tell you why.

Ichigo would have to either be ignorant of the body switch or he’d have to be okay with not being human anymore. Since Ichigo says repeatedly through the series that he’s human, I’m inclined to think that’s something that means a lot to him. He clearly does not believe he is no longer human. I mean. Maybe human is a state of mind. Which would move us on to the idea that someone replaced his body, and he’s simply ignorant of the switch. And this is squicky, but the most plausible reasoning I’ve heard. However, considering how proud Ichigo is of his humanity, this would be a rather large breech of trust. To remove his human body, effectively killing him, replace it without his knowledge, and then conceal that truth. That would be so very close to a betrayal. Which I think Ichigo would forgive. I can’t imagine it wouldn’t hurt him if he learned of it. That means to keep him ignorant, it would need to be concealed on a widespread basis. Bleach is full of a lot of smart people. I have a hard time thinking it would go unnoticed. But it’s still possible.

HOWEVER.

If he lost his humanity, the same logic that says he’s stronger for being a hybrid, would dictate that he would be weaker to lose any of those species. Ichigo is a Human, a Quincy, a Fullbringer, a Shinigami, a Hollow, and sometimes a Zanpakuto, as seen when he becomes Getsuga etc. His strength comes from being an amalgamation. His Human, Quincy, and Fullbringer sides are mortal. To become only Shinigami/Hollow would make him considerably weaker. And I know what you’re going to say, you’re going to say Ash, Ichigo’s Quincy powers go with him when he leaves his body. And that is correct, his Quincy abilities have merged with his Zanpakuto. Actually, they all end up merging into one. He is a special case. However, it doesn’t change the fact that Quincy are human and spiritual beings, they’re both.

I suppose since the body snatching and switch would’ve happened toward the beginning of the series, it could be argued that maybe he is in a gigai and he is weaker than he would’ve otherwise been, BUT that seems like quite a gamble for someone to make, and honestly, inefficient, sloppy work with no obvious benefit.

Also consider when we see him in the seventeen month time-skip, he’s still capable of awakening his Fullbring, which implies humanity. Now, a gigai can turn spirits into humans. We’ve seen it before, BUT why make him human or even imitate it when he was already human??? Inefficient. Sloppy.

I would need to see a long list of benefits for destroying his true body and replacing it with a fake body. Even a super powered gigai. Benefits that outweigh the potential loss of trust, considering he‘s basically being dehumanized at that point just so he’ll make a better weapon.

Also, while we’re speaking of the seventeen month time-skip—Ichigo was completely without his spiritual powers during that time. He would’ve been a plus soul in a gigai. I hope it’s making sense why this would be an awful, awful thing to do to him. He would be dead inside an artificial body. To be fair, he seemed as if he might feel that way. And it still wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s been done to him in the series. So. Still possible.

HOWEVER AGAIN.

It’s made clear toward the end of the arc that he’s considered a substitute Shinigami. His humanity is an important factor in this.

Umm, I could talk about how his human body, strengthened by his Quincy blood, would be ideal for what he puts it through, and might be responsible for his superhuman strength. Ishida wasn’t the only one to keep his Quincy abilities through the Auswahlen. Ichigo did as well. His Quincy blood isn’t weak or lesser than. It is an asset. Why remove it? Quincy power resonates in the soul and the body. A Quincy doesn’t need to remove their body to access their spiritual powers. His body is a benefit.

He also ages like a human. A Shinigami might age inside a gigai if it simulates humanity, but again, why bother simulating humanity? He was already human.

None of this is a definite yes or no. I could make an argument around it, because a lot of bleach lore is fluid. But there are more cons than pros to this theory.

As for what happens to Ichigo’s body when he’s outside of it, I’ve always imagined this to be something like an OBE, astral projection, and the like. The spirit leaves the body; the body is in a sleeping state. Obviously, that’s a problem if a spirit leaves long term, but if simple, un-spiritually aware humans can keep a body alive when it’s non-responsive, surely someone capable of making a fake body realistic enough to pass as a human could manage it. If not, there’s Kon. If that fails, Ichigo’s father is a literal doctor possessing literal doctor equipment. But let's be honest, these are not reliable people. They could’ve absolutely let him die. I’d believe it and someone needs to call child services.

or that his body has always been a gigai since birth?

To what purpose? Masaki was quite human. And according to Urahara, Isshin’s body was something of a shinigami-human hybrid while Masaki was alive. If Isshin couldn't work up enough DNA to pass on, Ichigo wouldn't exist.

does he ever feel like his human body is gonna give out under the weight of his power?

See above where I talked about his exceptional Quincy pedigree. He seems like he was having a harder time dealing with his exceptional power while in his spirit body. Remember Zangetsu's comments about him shaking because he couldn't handle the power of his bankai?

#jaegersol #tsp activity check #ahhh i hate answering questions #i always sound aggressive #im really not and open to counter-points #ooc #long post

[indaysinaya]

Chapter 4- Looking for Monsters to Fight

GABRIELLE

We decide to leave Amilyn at the apartment before we head out. It’s not safe what we’re about to do, and as a pinili, she’s still helpless in the situation we’re about to put ourselves in.

Si nous n'étions pas dans un tel besoin, I wouldn’t agree to this solution. Still, desperate times call for desperate measure.

See, what we’re about to do is to attack a monster and collect its prize, and use said prize to catch a ride home.

Allow me to explain. When a being of the supernatural dies, it leaves behind precious jewels. The bigger and the more dangerous the being, the more jewels it leaves behind. Our plan is to kill such a monster and summon an anggitay to ferry us home.

Supernatural creatures can be classified into three: the good (those who serve the deities), the bad (those who wreck evil), and the neutral (those who simply exist and act and react to situations as befitting the dilemma). An anggitay is a neutral species. They have the upper body of a female human and the lower body of a horse. They can travel at such speed and run over water. And most importantly, they love jewels. Anything that sparkles, they go for. So for us to fetch a ride home on an anggitay, we need jewels.

Now, a monster to kill isn’t that hard to find. In fact, I’ve sensed one the moment we stepped in the block. And you might ask, why am I complaining? Isn’t my job basically to get rid of monsters? Well, mon ami, I happen to have just had my nails done, and the monster is a big one, by the looks it. I don’t fancy getting my nails damaged today. But well, it is what it is.

I checked the news just to confirm our suspicions. Sure enough, there’s been some disturbances at some abandoned building just east of the apartment.

And so we go, drenched in the rain, in search of our very own monster. Quelle heureuse pensée !

“Are you sure this is the place? There seems to be nothing here,” comments Alren as he looks around.

Truth be told, he seems to be right. The dilapidated building isn’t the typical place for a kapre to appear. For one, it’s not in the middle of the forest, where huge trees like the balete tree where the infamous kapre lives are found. Two, we’ve been here for minutes already, and nothing is attacking them. Rule of the thumb is as soon as baganis emerge, monsters always immediately jump out of their resting place to devour them; it’s just how things are, baganis are delicious lumps of meat for all monsters. Just as we bagani can sense the supernatural, they too can sense us. But in this case, there’s nothing but the occasional howling of the wind and our own footsteps.

We need this monster, and we’re already drenched in the rain. It’s cold and time is of the essence. And we can’t leave here empty-handed.

“Old building two hundred meters from the apartment, this is it. I’m sure this is the place,” I reply as I  continue to look around. “Maybe it left?” I suggest as she takes a turn.

“No, it’s still here. I’m sure you can sense it as clearly as I can,” Alren replies. “But it sure is taking its time showing up.

His complaining is answered by the roof of the building suddenly caving in. Pieces of cement and plumes of dust came flying toward us. We immediately jump out of the way in reflex. In swift and practiced motions, we both summon our weapons before they even land on the ground.

Alren pulls a crystal ball from a series of other stones hanging around his neck. As soon as the ball is free, it lights up and turns warm. In a few seconds, a huge single-edged sword is in his palms. The sword is dual pointed and with a carved hilt, heavy and forty inches long made of pure steel. This sword is called a kampilan, a sturdy sword that can take out two human heads in a single swing, not that it’s meant for human head cutting.

I take out a single pearl from her bracelet. Like my partner’s crystal, the pearls glows and starts to warm before morphing into her own weapon. Not too long after, a kalis appears in my hand. The sword is a double-edged sword with a single tip. It is straight from the tip down and wavy near the handle, finished with a wooden handle.

“Well well well, look who decided to show up,” Alren comments although he can’t really see what they’re facing.

“Oh shut it, will you? Don’t anger the…hooooooooooooly….”

I’m not able to finish her sentence as Alren drags me to the side, just in time to avoid a giant fist landing on where she was standing just now.

The dust clears up a little, giving us a better view of what we’re facing. In front of us is a giant humanoid monster, about thirty feet tall. The creature is hairy all over, and is sporting a huge cigar in its mouth. Its eyes are red and the size of a human palm, and its body is all covered with black hair.

“That’s one huge kapre,” comments Alren as the two inch backward, preparing to evade the giant’s next attack.

“You don’t say,” I reply. “Wanna do the honors? We shouldn’t wait for it to keep on attacking us.”

“By all means,” says Alren, raising his sword. “Well then, here goes,” he adds, cracking his neck and then…running straight toward the monster in front of them.

Kapres depend on their brute strength to defeat their enemies. They can’t see well because of the hair all over their eyes, and their moves are slow and wobbly. Even for a giant as big as this, it’s not too difficult to get in between the feet and start getting to work slicing and dicing. Which is exactly what Alren intends to do. But first, he needs to get up close, which is where I come in.

I  start chanting under my breath while simultaneously ducking to the side to avoid the kapre’s next attack. A few seconds later, a ball of light emerges from her hand. The light grows larger and larger until it’s the size of a basketball. I then raise my hand and throws the light at the giant. The light hits the kapre right in between the eyes, causing it to scream out in pain. Even when on the move, I fancy myself a good aim.

The kapre howls in a loud booming sound, causing all nearby glass structures to break. I fall to my knees and cover my ears with my hands.

I always hate this part, no matter how many times I do it, I tell herself as I curl up to a ball. No matter though, I’ve done my part superbly.

 The light itself is harmless, but being creatures of the night, kapres are sensitive to light, it burns their eyes. Getting hit by a ball of light near the eyes hurts just like having your eyeballs gouged out.

“Now!” I scream, struggling to be heard over the kapre’s howling.

“You don’t need to tell me that!” replies Alren.

During my distraction efforts, Alren made it right below the giant. And he starts with the task at hand. He attacks the limbs first. With a mighty swing of his kampilan, he strikes the giant’s right leg. One swing is enough to cut the leg off cleanly. The giant howls out in pain some more, but Alren isn’t done yet. Avoiding the giant’s hands that are attempting to grab him, he draws his attention to the left leg, also slicing it in one clean swing. The giant falls to the ground face-first. Blood spurts out from both severed limbs like a waterfall of black goo, as the giant writhes around in pain.

Alren takes the opportunity to climb the giant’s hairy chest. In one push, he drives his sword right into the giant’s chest.

The giant gives off one last shudder before finally dissolving to a pile of dust. In it’s place are four shining golden nuggets. Alren, who was until now riding atop the giant, falls to the ground. He walks toward the nuggets, collecting them in his hands.

“Well, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” he comments, playing with his prize.

“You don’t say. How many this time?” I reply, referring to the golden nuggets.

“Four. Should be enough to fetch us a ride home.”

“And I didn’t ruin my nails. Quelle chance!”

“Right, lets go fetch our pinili and get out of here,” declares Alren.

#bagani #mythology #story #novelseries #adventure #comedy #gods #hero #teenhero #journey #warrior #philippines #fiction #mystery #superpowers #fantasy

[snowcandyz]

Eternal Memories

Genre: Fluff + Angst

Pairing: The relationship depicted in this story can be deemed as romantic or platonic, except for Luke, which is strictly platonic.

Summary: Let’s take a walk down the memory lane with all of the Obey Me’s characters!

Warning: Contains spoilers for Season 1 and a little bit of Season 3.

For a better reading experience, play 'Eternal' by Obey Me Boys on loop.

Devildom.

A special place where bittersweet memories were made and eternal friendships were shared.

Choosing to participate in this exchange student program was the best decision you could’ve ever made. Nothing is more valuable than learning about different cultures and making new friends; especially when your friends are of other species.

Not only did you get to learn about the demons, but you also learned a lot about angels. Even humans; you’re own species.

Sure, it’s not always butterflies and rainbows, but what’s life without its ups and downs?

You also discovered your origin while participating in this program, which is unbelievable, to say the least.

And the brothers…

The newfound family you’ve learnt to love and care for.

The family you shared your laughter and cried to.

The family you didn’t know you need.

.

You were first acquainted with Mammon since he was tasked to take care of you. Although he seemed like a reckless guy, you got to know his hidden sweet personality.

Calling himself your Guardian Demon, the days were always so bright and meaningful with him by your side. Soon enough, you found yourself growing fond of the tsundere.

He’s also the one who kept you safe the most. Never wanting to leave your side out of fear,—or just plain greediness—he’s there with you 25/8.

Always protecting you.

Always denying his affection for you.

And always wanting the best for his human.

Then, there was the whole TSL Quiz incident where Leviathan almost killed you. Honestly, you’re not sure how you sprung back up in no time and asked him to be your friend.

Maybe you’ve secretly admired his passion for his interests?

And shockingly enough, he also offered to make a pact with you.

You began to spend more time in his room; playing the latest video games together, watching the newly released animes, chit-chatting about the light novel he just bought, or just spending some time talking about his goldfish, Henry 2.0.

You learnt that Leviathan is just another sweet demon behind that mask.

Always comparing himself to his brothers, the poor guy can’t find anything worthy to be proud of—which is a lie because you can’t help but feel jealous of his unlimited talents.

And sure enough, Beelzebub also came into the picture not long after that.

This kind-hearted demon may seem angry the first time you two met, but as you learnt more about his past and why he still couldn’t forgive himself over his sister’s death, you knew he’s just trying his best to protect his family.

Known for being Lucifer’s personal bodyguard a long time ago, you found yourself wanting to help him achieve his goal.

And because of him, you vowed to save Belphegor. Because his twin brother is his everything.

These brothers have a complicated relationship with each other; that much you know. And you found yourself wanting to help them in every way possible.

Whether it’s to find themselves or to understand each others’ hidden stories, they deserve to know that at the end of the road, each and every one of them loves each other dearly.

Next was Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust, a demon who’s full of himself.

You could say he’s a narcissist too. But when you dived deeper into his thoughts, you realised he’s only feeling insecure about himself.

Thinking he didn’t have anything worthy to be shown except for his looks, Asmodeus chose to hide his pain and scars by indulging in others’ praises of his appearance.

Which hurt you so much because you know how kind he is. Besides Mammon, Asmodeus too never threatened to kill you by changing into his demon form.

The underground tunnels incident might have opened his eyes to what he’s capable of doing because he volunteered to make a pact with you himself.

The same goes for the Avatar of Wrath, Satan.

Always walking on edge around the fourth born, you found yourself gaining deeper bonds with him when it’s known to you that he’s still finding his identity.

Born from Lucifer’s wrath, all he could ever feel was anger and rage. He started questioning his identity and self-worth.

He’s insecure about his presence because to him and everyone else, he’s only a mirror of Lucifer’s shadow. Constantly being compared to the eldest didn’t help, especially when the latter is worshipped and glorified by all.

What was the meaning of his birth? Why did he ever exist?

Knowing how he must have felt, you showed him a whole new world besides his fury.

Satan is his own identity.

Smart and knowledgeable, this cat-loving demon is surprisingly very patient with others despite being perceived as a ticking time bomb. And as much as he chanted his hatred to Lucifer, his love and care for the eldest didn’t go unnoticed.

Because of your help, those two found a mutual ground to work alongside each other.

.

You were getting closer to your goal, and the remaining target was Lucifer.

But you couldn’t comprehend why he’s so mad at you in the first place when you mentioned Belphegor. Did he not love his own brother?

Lucifer had tried to kill you more than once now, and it’s a lie to say you’re not hurt by his action.

After all, you were only just trying to help.

And so, help was what you did when you accepted Lord Diavolo’s offer to go back in time. In order for the brothers to stay together, you had to do this.

You had to sacrifice yourself.

And sacrifice was truly what was done by Belphegor to you.

Even to this day, you could feel that small fire of anger in your heart every time you remembered his action.

You felt wronged, betrayed.

Deceived.

You carried your broken heart away from the family, retreating yourself from them.

Although the impact you have on all of them remained.

.

Because they kept chasing after you, kept apologising for their past actions and promised to keep you safe ever since.

Belphegor too apologised for what he did. He was wrong to hurt the only person who helped him throughout those times he spent in the attic.

Being with you had enlightened him that no one was at fault for Lilith’s death.

The times you two shared up in the attic made him feel guilty for his hasty action. And your pure intention of releasing him from the attic made it clear that you were only hoping for the best for everyone.

Perhaps he’s too blinded by rage that he can’t see things clearly. And maybe that’s the reason why Lucifer locked him up in the first place.

Belphegor also volunteered to make a pact with you as an apology because he wanted to make it up to you by offering his power.

It was tough to forgive them—especially the Avatar of Sloth—because the pain was still aching in the deepest part of your heart, but somehow, you found yourself wanting to be near them too.

And no matter how much suffering you went through, you never want to let go of them.

Because they’re your family.

.

The last to ever make a pact with you was the eldest, Lucifer.

Always hiding his true emotions behind his ego and pride, he’s truly the only one you didn’t understand at all. But what you do understand is that he’ll do anything to protect his brothers.

Going as far as to offer eternal loyalty to the Demon Prince, he only wanted what was best for all of his siblings.

Let them throw insults at him.

Let them misunderstand his whole motive.

Let them hate him with all their might.

But he won’t stop defending his brothers in silence.

When you learnt all these traits of him, you couldn’t say no anymore when he offered a pact.

Although truthfully, you’re not even sure why he insisted on it. Since Belphegor was already released from the attic, another pact wasn’t needed at all, right?

His true intention was just to be close to you; to share the same bond his brothers shared with you; to have you as his Master and protect you anywhere you go.

The brothers are complex but you can’t deny you enjoy every second spent with them.

But what about the other friends that you’ve made throughout this whole exchange student program?

They’re also one of the best.

You were the closest with the angels as their kindness towards you touched your heart. Even though you’re from a different species than Luke and Simeon, not once did you ever feel small or worthless around these two.

They took good care of you; cooked you delicious food; accompanied you everywhere you go and even shared many sweet memories with you. You honestly love them so much.

If Mammon’s your Guardian Demon, count on these two to be your Guardian Angels.

To be the guiding light every time you feel down.

To be the warmth and comfort you needed after a bad day.

And to be another reason to smile after you shed your tears.

Not to forget, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos too.

Although they are powerful beings and could easily punish you for your wrongdoings throughout your whole stay in Devildom, not once did they threaten you with their authority.

You were treated as one of their own; like one of the royalty.

You know you’re not truly polite and modest all the time in front of the Future King of Devildom, but Lord Diavolo never told you off. Instead, he welcomed your quirky ideas and honestly, you’re really grateful for that. They are truly your best friends ever.

Barbatos, too helped you a lot in adjusting your life in Devildom. You could always crash into the Demon Lord’s Castle anytime you felt homesick. He’d always be there to give you a home-cook meal—or at least try to because he’s also not too accustomed to Human World’s food.

You cherished these two with your whole heart and wished to keep spending more time with them in the future.

The last but definitely not the least is the Wise Sorcerer, Solomon.

A friend from the same species and the friend that kept you safe in silence. Being your master in sorcery, he helped you through your ups and downs and guided you in every step you took.

People often misunderstood him and called him shady, but you could see his point of view. When you’re cursed to live for all eternity, you had no choice but to watch your close friends die right in front of your eyes.

You also know why he decided to keep things for himself and not share his thoughts easily with others. After all, sharing bonds with mortals will only hurt you deeper when you have to see them off on their deathbeds.

Wanting to see him happy, you vowed to do your very best as his friend. And at least give him some good memories in his long years of living because he truly deserves it.

This journey taught you so much and you’d definitely keep them all locked up in the deepest part of your memories. Everyone had given you joy from your bleak life in the Human World.

You wished for these happy moments to last and to always be by their side, but reality hit harder than you thought. Commitments and responsibilities in the Human World have pulled you off of them. You found yourself getting busier by the day and having no time to return their calls. Even when they sent you messages and invitations to come back to Devildom, you have to reject them.

You hoped to return too. Their laughter could be heard as you reminisced on those sweet times. You couldn’t wait to listen to their jokes, their silly banters with each other and even their corny pick-up lines.

The time spent with them was truly a magical wonder.

Maybe you should clear up your schedule? And pay them a surprise visit? After all, everybody loves surprises!

You smiled as you thought of the idea. You couldn’t wait to see their shocked faces when you returned to Devildom later.

Alright! You’ve decided. You would be paying them a visit next month, so in order to do so, you’d need to work extra hard to clear your schedule for the entire month.

No pain no gain, right? And work hard play hard?

You mentally noted the first thing you wanted to do after arriving in Devildom.

You’ve grown apart for so long because of your massive workload and frankly, you felt very guilty. Not once did they ever stop giving you messages and asking about your condition in the Human World. They understand your situation and always wished for the best.

You’ve read the messages in your free time, but due to the time strain, you couldn’t find the perfect time to reply.

They even called you to check on you sometimes, but to no avail; you still haven’t called them back.

So the first thing you wanted to do when you return to Devildom, was to apologise and give them all a big hug.

Still fantasizing about your journey back home, your phone rang from the incoming notification.

You had hope for one of them to give you a message like they usually did, so you clicked on it.

“Thank you for always playing Shall We Date? Obey Me!

After the great years spent together, it is now time to say goodbye. We regret to inform you that we will be ending service of the game on February 30, 20XX 9:00 PM (PST)

Users will be unable to newly install the application, and in-game purchases will no longer be purchasable.

*The application will not be available for re-installation or updates.

▼What happens after the termination?

Users will be unable to access the games and won’t be able to play the apps after the termination date.

There will be no refund or exchanges for any items and/or in-game purchases purchased in the application. We sincerely apologise to all of our users concerning this issue.

Thank you for understanding and for being a supporter of the Shall We Date? Obey Me! game.”

Your heart throbbed painfully inside your chest as you skimmed through the text once again. You then opened the app hastily, trying to recapture the memories that kept flooding your mind at the moment.

Everyone was there, waiting for you like they promised every day. They were smiling and greeting you with cheerful smiles plastered on their faces.

Your friends, your saviours.

“I was looking forward to your visit,” Barbatos greeted.

“Welcome back…! You’re late!” Luke pouted.

“Aaah, I missed you so much!” Asmo exclaimed.

“Welcome back. It was lonely without you around,” Lucifer sheepishly said.

“You’re finally here,” Belphie said before giving you a smile.

“It’s not like I’ve been waitin’ around for ya or anything… Seriously, I wasn’t!” Mammon pouted.

You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down to your cheeks.

“Ah, you’re back. I’ve been waiting for you,” Solomon said.

“Hey, do you have any food on you?” Beel asked, still giving you a smile that radiates the whole screen.

“I’ve been waiting for you to show up. There’s this really good manga I thought I’d lend you!” Levi excitedly exclaimed.

“Finally, you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you.” Satan smiled.

“I missed you…truly.” Diavolo looked at you with eyes full of longing.

You had to bite your lips to suppress the incoming cries.

“What is it? I’m right here, so everything will be okay.” Simeon offered you a smile.

Yes, because they’re here for you when you needed them the most.

You held your phone close to your chest as you cried your heart out from all the happy memories that came flashing back.

“Thank you for all these years.”

“We hope you enjoy being with us, just as much as how we love being with you.”

“We won’t forget you. We promise.”

“Because we love you.”

And it is an eternal vow.

The notice used in this story is strictly fictional.

| Masterlist |

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me writing #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me angst #obey me fluff #obey me fic #han writes

[slasherhaven]

I've never made a request for anything on here before but if it ain't too much trouble I wanna know how slashers react to their s/o asking them to get pads/tampons for them (having them know what a period is or not is up to you!) Sorry to pester you-

Asking the Slashers to get you pads/tampons:

Thomas Hewitt

Honestly, Luda May probably got some in when you started staying with them. She probably gets those sort of things on supply runs into town.

However, if Hoyt goes on his own he might not get them (because he’s the worst), leaving you needing to ask somebody for help.

Thomas would get them as soon as you ask because Luda May raised him right. He can probably just get some from the gas station. 

He isn’t really that shy about it and Luda May is proud of him for being so helpful with you. He only hides them from Hoyt, knowing the comments and teasing he would get from him. He just wants to avoid the confrontation.

If not, there needs to be a trip into town which means it has to be Hoyt or Luda May. Just ask Luda, she won’t hesitate and she’ll have Hoyt drive her into town.

Michael Myers

At first he’s kinda like “no, that’s your problem”. He’s not exactly used to dealing with these things.

But all you have to do is ask him a few more times, explaining that you can’t walk to the store to get them yourself because you don’t have them right now!

He’ll eventually give in...he’ll steal some for you. 

It’s not like he’s going to walk into a store for anything, how he obtains them is none of your business, don’t worry about it.

You’re just lucky he went for them in the first place.

It takes a little while for Michael to become completely understand of your periods to be honest, but at least he’s kinda helping.

Jason Voorhees

When you realised that you weren’t prepared and asked Jason if he could find any products for you, he wants to help but feels like he can’t.

It’s not like Jason can walk into town...but maybe the most recent group of campers had some with them?

He’s apologetic that he can’t go to the store for you.

So, he will try and find some that were left behind or something. It only really happens in emergencies, just so you can make it into town to buy some more.

You make sure to stock up some more next time you go into town.

Brahms Heelshire

You just need to put them on the grocery list and you’ll be fine.

You’ll learn to make sure to always have a pack of pads/tampons in the house because if you forget to get some...you’re kinda out of luck.

Brahms can’t leave the house, he certainly can’t go to the shop.

Bo Sinclair

Bo was usually the one who went into town, so if you needed something, you had to ask him to pick it up for you.

So, you knew you would have to ask him to pick you up some hygiene products.

Because he’s a bastard man, he will tease you about it, maybe even telling you that he won’t get them (even though he will, it’s not like he really has a choice).

He just likes to mess with you, and tells you that you owe him.

Honestly though, he is probably the type to get a little weird about buying period products, which is ridiculous and makes you roll your eyes when you notice it.

He buys you what you need when he’s in town, probably just picking up the first pack he sees. He doesn’t know or care about the differences.

Vincent Sinclair 

Vincent never goes into town for supplies, for obvious reasons, so he feels terrible that he can’t help you when you ask.

He’ll run down to the gas station to see if there is any products there for you.

If there aren’t any...you’re going to have to ask Bo, which is a nightmare.

If you ask him, he will tease and mock, and then get you whatever is cheapest from town.

Or Vincent will offer to ask him for you, so he’ll get teased instead, Bo is just an ass.

But if he could leave Ambrose, Vincent would happily get you what you need.

Lester Sinclair

Lester sometimes goes into town, so when you ask him to grab you a pack, he’s happy to help.

He’s probably the type to get a little embarrassed about it but he pushes past it for you. You need something, so he’ll get it for you.

Get’s very confused in the store. Why are they all different? Why are they different sizes? What does it mean by flow? It’s very overwhelming.

Very much the “in the pad aisle, what size pussy you wear?” meme but means well! He just wants to make sure he gets the right thing.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba would love to help you...really, he would but he doesn’t go into town for supplies.

...that means you have to ask Drayton. You’d rather ask Nubbins or ChopTop.

Drayton will get you them, knowing he doesn’t have a choice, but he will complain and grumble about it.

Bubba is very apologetic for not being able to help you out but you understand.

Bubba makes sure that Drayton gets them regularly so you don’t have to ask in emergencies again.

Billy Lenz 

Billy never leaves the house, what do you want him to do?

So, you probably won’t even mention it, knowing he can’t go to the store. Though, if he knows, he does want to help.

Probably randomly comes up to you, handing you a pack of pads/tampons, kinda like a cat bringing a dead bird into the house.

You have no idea where he got them from or how he got them, and he refuses to tell you how he got them when you question him.

You just make sure you always have a pack in the house, you don’t want Billy doing whatever it is he did to get you some again next time.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

You normally have some ready just in case your period comes unexpectedly, you thought you had some but apparently you didn’t.

So, you ask Asa to go to the store and get you some. He’ll go for you. It’s just one of those things, a necessity in life. He might chastise you a little for being unprepared but doesn’t really complain about getting them.

He already knows what you want, he’s seen the pack in the bathroom before, so he just gets you what he assumes you usually get.

It’s not that big a deal to him.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Sure, not a problem! Jesse will head to the store as soon as you ask.

Will ask questions to make sure he gets what you want. Pads or tampons? What brand? Flow? It really doesn’t bother him, so he’s pretty direct about it.

Once he gets the information, he’ll get you whatever you usually get. 

Probably gets you chocolates as well since he was already in the store, and he knows you like them.

Otis Driftwood 

Otis thinks you’re joking when you ask him to go get you some, but quickly realises you’re being serious.

He tells you to ask Baby but you explain that she’s not in.

He mutters to himself as you tell him what you need, but he goes to get them.

He kind of feels like an idiot buying them from a store. He doesn’t get flustered or embarrassed when talking about periods. With his lifestyle, of course it doesn’t bother him, but he feels stupid doing this.

He just can’t believe he’s running errands for his partner like this, maybe that’s why he feels so stupid.

Gives the cashier a look that says “comment on it and I’ll kill you right here”.

If you were there, you probably would have found the sight a little amusing.

Baby Firefly

It’s not even close to being a problem.

She might have some for you to use. Even if you don’t use the same products, it’s good enough to use before getting some more.

If she doesn’t have any either, she’ll gladly make a trip to the store for you, knowing you would do the same for her.

Yautja (Predator)

Your mate is happy to help in whatever way he can. His species do not get periods and so he’s just trying his best.

If you’re living among the Yautjas as the only human (or one of the very few), you have to explain what these products are, why you need them and how often, your mate will have something sorted for you.

Assuming you’re living somewhere were Yautjas and humans coexist, he’s happy to go to the store for you.

Of course he has no embarrassment about it, he’s just getting you what you need.

Just imagine him standing in the hygiene aisle, a pack in each hand as he compares them. He has no idea which is better, what to get you.

He probably gets you one of each, giving you a proud trill as he drops an arms full of products down in front of you.

#thomas hewitt x reader #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #billy lenz x reader #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #chromeskull x reader #otis driftwood x reader #baby firefly x reader #yautja x reader #predator x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher #My writing

[beskarberry]

Blue Orchid

Flowers for Ishtar, Chapter 1

(Nonhuman!Mando x f!Reader) [+18!]

You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

Next->

Summary: You discover your hunting partner isn't human, which in a galaxy far, far away isn't that strange until his alien needs become too much for him to hide.

Rating: Explicit as FUCK

Word count: 9.2k

Content warnings: Major kinks: breeding and pregnancy, eggs and oviposition, mpreg/fpreg, alien genitalia. Minor kinks: praise, eating and weight gain. Kink sprinkles: threw some things in like just a tad of sex pollen, hair pulling, spanking, a very brief daddy kink, the idea of a/b/o. There's a few more but if you're familiar with my writing you know what's up. Negatives: body horror, dysphoria.

A/N: Yeah... um... hm... So this is some weird shit but if you enjoyed Garden of Ishtar this will be right up your alley. If that was weird and creepy for you then this is not for you! You have been warned!!!

There’s something strange going on with your partner.

Mando, as he insisted on being called, even though that was clearly not his real name, had been acting differently recently. Though he was an odd one from the get-go, the burly, short-tempered, efficient hunter took some getting used to, but now something about him was off.

It was a strange partnership you’d gotten yourself into, ever since that day you had been sitting in the same cantina booth as him on Nevarro, arguing with Karga over the last available bounty puck.

“Karga, I’m not splitting a puck with this guy.” You’d barked, crossing your arms and leaning back with a huff. Next to you, the armored stranger grunted in agitated agreement, his plated shoulders catching the light as they stiffened. You didn’t know each other, and as far as you could tell the only thing you both had in common was that you both worked for the Guild.

“Well that’s too bad!” The old agent stated, shaking his head. “This is the last one I’ve got until next month, so unless one of you wants to wait until then, this is all I have left. You're going to have to work together as a team.”

“Unless I kill her first.” The iron giant said coldly, not even looking your way.

“I’d like to see you try.” A knife flew from your belt to the table as you buried the tip of it in the faux wood counter, glaring daggers with your eyes at his shiny metal head.

“Easy now, we’re all friends here! Can’t have my two best hunters fighting, or killing each other…”

“Bullshit, I’m the best hunter here, Kargsy, and you know it.” Fury seethed from your words, but it was seemingly lost on the other man. “Tinman here can go fuck himself.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, but I fuck yours with it!”

Greef slammed a fist down on the table, making the trio of spotchka glasses bounce and spill. “That’s enough, either you two figure out how to play nice or neither of you will be getting this puck, or any other pucks for that matter! And that’s final!”

That was six months ago.

Despite your differences, the pair of you made for a terrifying duo, between his heavily armored body and your quick, nimble blades, it was like hell itself had released its most deadly demons. The bounty was found, hunted, and captured so quickly and easily that the minute the Razor Crest touched back down on Nevarro you were both excitedly harassing Karga for more.

Your newfound companion didn’t talk much, but what he didn’t say with his words he made up for with his actions. He gave you a little backstory, filling you in on his Mandalorian heritage and what that meant regarding his helmet and armor, and you were fine with the condition that he would never show his face around you. What he did show you was how lethal he could be, a whirlwind of blasters and beskar, an immovable object that coupled neatly with your unstoppable force.

It was poetry in motion.

Bounties fell at your feet like wheat before the scythe, wracking up credits like Kessel-running smugglers which you both blew on firearms and vibroblades as if the galaxy was ending tomorrow. What didn’t go towards guns and ammo went towards food and fuel, the Crest blasting off of Nevarro again and again and again.

As time went on, you slowly started to warm up to each other. You couldn’t really say you were friends, just work partners that happened to be flawlessly efficient at what they did. It was a fine arrangement, but over time small, but significant changes between you started to catch your attention.

You’d pinned a bounty, a large, malodorous Twi’lek that nearly squirmed out from your grasp, only to earn themselves a vicious cold-clocking to the back of their tentacled skull. Breath heavy and eyes burning with aggression, you’d slogged the captive into the carbonite freezer like you were taking out the trash, your wanton strength not going unnoticed by your companion.

“Good job.” Mando had said with a tilt of his helmet, watching your chest heave with adrenaline. “Such a strong verd’ika, can’t wait to see what you do to the next guy.” He’d never complimented you up to that point, if he spoke to you at all. It’d caught you off guard, but in a good way, and you knew right then you wanted to hear him say it again.

So you kept doing a good job.

And you did it on purpose.

The next bounty you held in place while Mando punched their lights out, holding steadfast against the living sledgehammer that was your partner, wincing every time you felt his fists explode against the Aqualish’s exoskeleton. When they’d keeled over, you let them fall to the floor, jumping slightly when Mando patted your shoulder, impressed with your ability to hold your own.

He seemed kind, when he wasn’t retaliating against your snide remarks or beating the living shit out of a bounty. Often when it was just the two of you he was almost soft spoken, asking you if you got enough to eat or if your wounds needed tending to, but not once did he ever make a pass at you.

That was somewhat of a surprise, but you didn’t even know what species he was, so there was a good chance you weren’t even on his sexual radar. He looked human, he obviously wasn’t a Togruta or a Twi’ with that helmet, and he was too tall to be a Rodian or Ugnaught. Too broad to be Gungan.

He was humanly proportioned to a sinful degree, his wide armored shoulders and cinched waist giving you wicked thoughts in the late hours. Even his fucking voice did something to you, the deep, gravelly husk of it almost reverberated in your chest when he spoke, and more than once you wished it would vibrate for you somewhere else.

But you were just two hunters making a living, nothing more.

Recently, however, something had started to change; and it wasn’t something that you liked. You weren’t buddy-buddy, but in the recent weeks his demeanor had started to wane. Mando was always private, taking his meals alone and keeping the fresher door locked when in use, but even when he wasn’t dealing with the necessary inconveniences of being alive he was starting to avoid you more and more.

At first you let him have his space, it was none of your business what was bothering him if he wasn’t going to speak up about it. But as the weeks seemed to drag on his temper began to flare more often, his sentences getting even shorter than they already were, his words sharp and vindictive.

You let it slide until he was rude to a merchant in a Bespin market, demanding more food rations than what he was being offered. Mando had left the market with so much dried meat and canned vegetables that it was falling out of his satchel, leaving a breadcrumb trail of bantha-in-a-can as he stormed back to the ship.

He was eating more often, too, squirreling himself away from your campfires or tucking himself up in either his sleeping cubby or the cockpit; whichever was further away from you at the time. You had your own space in the upstairs part of the Crest where he’d strung a ramshackle hammock for you, but it was so close to her reactors that you frequently woke up sweaty whenever you were in hyperspace.

On one such occasion you decided to sneak over to the ladder hatch when he thought you were sleeping, carefully peeking into the hold below. You could see him in his alcove, but just barely, only his back visible to you from your vantage point. He was eating, a lot. You watched his back and shoulders heave with each desperate bite of food, gorging himself as if he’d been lost in the desert for weeks.

The next cycle he kept his back to you almost constantly, like he was trying to hide something from view, but there were very little private spaces in the ship, especially while the stars streaked by overhead. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his secret from your prying eyes, though you weren’t surprised with what you saw after watching him eat like there was no tomorrow.

He was gaining weight.

It was just a little at first, maybe just an illusion brought on by some extra layers of clothing; hyperspace was chilly, after all. However it soon became obvious as his extra warmth began to pudge over his belt and upset his armor that it wasn’t all fluff. You checked the larder after he went up to the cockpit to work on the navigation, and you were alarmed to find that almost half of your rations were already used up after having left Bespin only three cycles ago.

Something was definitely up with your partner.

You were watching him now from where you sat on one of the supply crates, toying with a vibroblade while he rigorously cleaned a plate of his armor, his back turned to you. His beskar was spotless, nary a drop of blood or spec of dust remained. He was just trying to distract himself from his newfound curves, but you were starting to get frustrated.

It was time to get to the bottom of this.

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting-”

“I’m fine.” he barked, the aggression behind his words making you jump. You weren’t afraid of him, or he of you. Your partnership was mutually beneficial and respected, and it wasn’t like him to be so short with you in close quarters. You weren’t having any of it.

“That’s crap and you know it, something's up with you, I can tell. You wanna talk about it?” Though he wasn’t looking your way, you cast your eyes at his pudge muffin, hoping he would catch your implications without you having to put it into words.

He said nothing, instead he rose from his seat and hurried up the ladder to the flight deck, sealing the airlock behind him.

You didn’t see him again until the ship dropped from hyperspace.

It was a quiet couple of days, and fucking boring too. Mando didn’t even come down to use the fresher or grab food, which made you nervous after seeing him stress eating like he had been. The Crest touched down on Jedha not far from an enormous crater that the Empire had put there in its heyday, but even when the engines went quiet, the blast door remained sealed.

“Mando? You still alive in there?” You asked tentatively with your ear pressed to the door, rapping your knuckles against the durasteel.

“Fine.”

“Are you coming out?”

There was a long pause, then: “...No.”

You grumbled and donked your head against the door. “Are you gonna make me go get this bounty myself?” He didn’t answer, which unfortunately meant the answer to your question was ‘yes’. You sighed heavily like you’d heard him do innumerable times. “You suck. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“No, thank you verd’ika.”

He was still alive, and talking, so those were both good signs, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with him during your entire hunt. The bail jumper you were after came quietly, which on a regular day would make you angry that you had even wasted fuel for such a lame chase, but you were anxious to get back to your partner.

You marched the delinquent up the ramp and goaded them into the freezer, filling the little cabin with carbonite fog. Though you were making a hell of a racket, you still hollered up the ladder before climbing it, only to find the cockpit empty. Nervously you searched the upper floor, checking everywhere from your hammock to the fuselage, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Jumping down the ladder, you quickly scanned the hold, only to realize that you’d run right past him. The door to his cubby was closed, like it always was even when he wasn’t in it, but outside on the floor near the entrance were piles of empty food tins. Horrified, you checked the larder, your eyes going all the way to the bottom of the crate. He ate everything!

“Mando! I’m back! Open up!” You yelled, pounding your fist on the door, not giving a flying fuck if he was asleep. Something was very, very wrong.

“You’re back already?” He called, his voice weak and hoarse behind the door, making your blood run cold. Oh Maker no, don’t tell me he’s sick.

“Yeah, and I’m worried about you! Open this damn door before I rip it off its rails.”

“You need to leave. You can’t be here.”

“‘Scuse me? Fucker I live here! I’m not-”

“Please, you’re not safe.” He pleaded, his voice sounded broken and desperate, like he was trying to choke something back.

“Not safe? Mando you’re not making any sense, I already took care of the bounty, they-”

“You’re not safe from me!”

A weird mix of emotions flooded through you, first the worry for the health of your partner, the confusion at his panic, and suddenly the rage that burned behind your eyes at the mere notion of him thinking you couldn’t peel him apart like a can of sardines.

You’d had enough.

“Fuck you, chum bucket, this ends right now! Hope you’ve got pants on because I’m coming in!”

“No! Don’t, please!”

“HERE I COME!” You bellowed as you slammed your fist into the glowing button panel on the wall, deaf to his fretful protests. The metal grate rattled as it rolled upwards, and briefly your eyes caught the back of his head right before his helmet sank down over the dark curls that he kept secret. The fact that he even had hair was the least startling thing of all.

What hit you first was the smell.

Inside the sleeping cubby where the Mandalorian was hurriedly scuttling into the deepest reaches, the pungent scent of...something hurtled through your synapses. It didn’t stink, quite the opposite, it smelled delicious. Warm and rich, like honey on fruit sitting out on a beautiful summer day, the alien aroma making your mouth water.

“What the fuck is that smell?” you roared at the man huddled as far away from you as he could get, his body lost to the shadows behind the scattering of armor he had discarded. You didn’t like that one bit, feeling something akin to pity at his doubled-over, armorless frame. You sniffed the air again, taking deep, greedy inhalations and trying to decipher what the fuck was going on. “Are you eating starfruit?! You fuckhole! You’re snacking without me!”

“Please leave me alone.” He grumbled, wedging himself even harder against the back wall. “I’m fine, really, I just want to be alone.”

“Well that’s just too fuckin’ bad, you’re sick, and the least you could do is tell me what’s wrong. I have a right to know if my partner is gonna up and die on me.” He pleaded again, his voice sounding whiny even through his vocorder, but you were having none of it. “I’m coming in.”

“Dammit all, why won't you leave me alone?!” He was yelling now, but in his anger he turned enough towards you that you could see his front, making you gasp.

Big.

“Holy fucking shit, Mando, are you… are you pregnant?!” Hidden by his broad backside no longer, his protruding belly caught the light, jiggling a bit when he wrapped his arms around it.

“No! I mean… sorta…”

“The fuck do you mean sorta?!” you were screaming now, blown away by his swollen guts and the fact that he was very much not pregnant only a few days ago. “What the hell is that then?!”

He was caught now, you’d seen his shame and there was no going back. “They’re… they’re my eggs.”

You stood a moment, staring at him while your mouth flopped uselessly like a dying fish. Welp, there’s your answer, he is not human. There were lots of sentient species in this great big galaxy you called home, many of which produced offspring via eggs, so you weren’t as surprised by that as you were by the suddenness of it. Of... him.

Mando rubbed at his belly, curling in on himself as if doing so would shrink him down into nothingness where he could disappear into oblivion. “Please, it’ll pass, I’ve just… I’ve never had anyone around me while I...grmph... deal with it.”

His groan of pain broke your stare, pumping determination into your legs along with the burn of adrenaline. “Do… do you need help? Is there anything I can do for you?” You leaned forward into the alcove, reaching for him. “Are you in pain?”

“...I-I’m f-fine.” He shirked away from you, avoiding your touch. “Happens every couple of years, just...hmmph… it’s not usually… so much.”

Now you were just plain fascinated, climbing up slowly on your hands and knees, trying to be delicate. “Mando, I’m your partner, I’m not just gonna stand around while you suffer. Tell me what I can do to help.” The warrior flinched hard when your fingers found his shoulder, reflexively protecting his belly. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Cyar’ika, please, I don’t want to...hmmph… do anything that I-I’ll regret.”

“You already ate all our fucking food, what more could you do to piss me off?” You said with a laugh, trying to break the tension. Carefully you brushed your hand along his clothed shoulder, a thin smile dancing over your lips when you felt him shudder.

“You shouldn’t touch me, I’m dangerous.”

“You ain’t shit, and I’ve seen how you’ve stiched my wounds closed, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”

“No you don’t!” He screamed, flipping around all the way to try and shoo you out of the cubby, but his hefty gut kept him rooted in place. You couldn’t help but stare at his rounded middle, his flack coat straining to keep zipped shut as the weight of him wobbled delightfully. It made you laugh.

“Mando! You’re gonna be a m... da... parent! You’re gonna be a parent! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have baked you a cake.”

“It’s.. it’s never been this bad.” he stuttered, consigning himself to the fact that he was stuck with you. “I grow a clutch every year or so, but it’s usually just a handful of... them.” he hissed with an air of disgust, shame creeping into his voice. “They pass without much issue, but it’s never been this much.”

“What do the other Mandalorians do when this happens?”

He shook his head, guarding his middle. “Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed. The Mandalorians rescued me after an army of droids killed my parents and everyone else in my village. I… I don’t know what species I am, and neither does my clan. There’s no record of my village, or where they found me, and I can’t find anything on the holonet about… this.” His visor tilted down to his tummy. “I might be the last of my kind.”

“Mando, that's terrible, but I’m sure there’s more of you somewhere. There’s gotta be! Maybe if you took off your helmet I could see-”

“No, helmet stays on. I don’t need to add the indignity of a broken creed to this mess. Now please, mesh’la I’m begging you, lock me in here and let me ride this out alone. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I hurt you.”

You scuttled closer on your knees until you were right up against him, cautiously reaching out towards his swell. His visor snapped at you, his body flinching harder into the corner, but he was trapped. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me?” You whispered as your palm met the straining fabric cradling his shameful secret.

He grabbed your wrist so hard you felt your bones grind from the strength of his grip. “Because…” he growled, the timbre of it so low you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Because I don’t know what I am, but I know I need to put these eggs somewhere, and I want...I need to put them… inside…” He trailed off when a painful contraction shook his body, making him let go of you to hold himself together. “Get out now! It’s starting… please I can handle this alone but if you’re near me… I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Shut’cher gob and tell me what to do, and don’t tell me to leave because I won’t!” You didn’t know jack shit about human births, let alone alien gestation, but you’d been through some fucked up situations, what’s one more for good measure? “I’m guessing you need to get your pants off.” His breathing was heavy, his helmet tilting with each laboured heave, but he nodded and started to fumble with the zipper of his trousers.

Your heart leapt to your throat. In the darkness of your hammock you’d imagined what it would be like to undress him, taking each of his beskar plates off and trailing your fingers down his tight clothes, revealing the man underneath like unwrapping a gift. With your fingers lost between your legs you’d pictured his muscular shoulders and broad chest, maybe even a trail of dark hair that led you all the way down his beefy abdomen to his thick, heavy cock. You’d had to bite down on the corner of your blanket when you thought of him pinning you to the wall or bending you over the dashboard, stuffing you full of his length while he groaned his praises in your ears until you were soaked.

This was not at all what you had imagined.

His gloves and his girth were giving him a hard time, so diligently you stepped in to help him undress. Your nimble fingers found the button and zipper with ease, the heat of his groin making your cheeks flush rosy pink, and then red when you pulled the zipper across the bulge in his pants and flooded the tiny nook with the perfume of his sex.

The hair surprised you, you didn’t think that an egg-bearing creature would even have curls, but there they were. Dark brown and soft against your fingertips, growing from lovely, sun-bronze skin, but that was the last of his human traits from there on. Ultimately, you were expecting a cock, horrified by the implications of what that meant in this situation, but as the zipper’s teeth continued to split, your eyes were greeted with something that made your guts flip.

It was fucking blue.

The thing sitting heavily between his legs was the prettiest ocean blue you had ever seen, with coils of deep indigo veins running up it’s length between bands of bioluminesce. Long, thick, and glowing, Mando’s half-hard trouser meat sprang out of his open pants, a relieved sigh wheezing through his modulator. It was shaped like a wang dangler all the way up to the head, but there it was something else.

At his tip a circle of petal-shaped protrusions cinched together like the blossom of a flower right before it bloomed. The knobbed end of his thingy wept with clear juices, beading deliciously from between each little bud. Your eyes were locked to a particularly fat drop of precum as it slicked down his length to his base where you found another feast for your eyes.

A hole.

He didn’t have balls, you guessed they were somewhere inside him, instead he had a fat, juicy cunt, his quivering cock growing from where a clit would be on a human. It was just as alien as his length, a dark cobalt that lightened to vibrant teal around sharp teeth that lined his widely spread folds. Those rightfully made you nervous, and fucking confused. What the hell are those supposed to latch on to? Me?!

“I’m disgusting, I know.” He whispered, turning away from you to study the wall while you studied his excitables.

“What? No you’re not, you’re… you’re beautiful.” He snapped back towards you, his visor searching your star-struck eyes for the hint of a lie, but there wasn’t one. He was looking at you, but you weren't looking at him, you were looking at him, straight through his groin into his vulnerable soul. There was just so much, and you wanted to touch all of it. Reflexively you licked your lips, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. Your fingers crept forward, hovering inches from his cerulean length. “Can I?”

A sharp inhale echoed in the cubby, followed by a stark nod. “Be gentle… it’s... argh… sensitive!”

“Shhh, Mando, I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you.” Your fingertips met his heated flesh, making him shudder and groan. His strange length twitched from your touch, making another pearl of precum shimmer from the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking the velvety length that weighed heavily against your palm. His helmet hit the wall with a deep, guttural moan, sending molten waves of heat to your own growing need.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck mesh’la...your hands are amazing.” The man purred, letting his arms fall from his belly to his sides where his fists tangled in the threadbare sheet. His hips thrust upwards into your slow tugs, rutting into your palm. In the tight quarters the mouthwatering scent of honeyed fruit grew stronger until you were sucking down your own spit to keep it from flooding your mouth.

“Hehe, yeah? You like this?” You flicked your wrist in languid spirals, running your thumb over the weeping blossom to drag warm slick down his length and towards your second goal. His toothy slit parted for you as you got closer, the pearly white fangs curling away from you safely. With one hand still on his beef, you rubbed your fingertips around his flushed hole, sinking a digit down to the knuckle.

“Yes.” he moaned breathlessly, his womb jiggling when he convulsed from your touch. You sank another finger inside, scissoring him open while you fisted his cock. “K-keep doing that and... and…” His heels scooted on the mattress when he clenched around you, his swelling length pulsating in your hand. A needy whine busted out of his modulator, and between your sunken digits you felt something grow.

“Go ahead, Mando, come on my hand, or in my hand, I don’t care. That’s a good boy.” He bucked into your steady thrusts, lost in the combination of filling and being filled. His walls fluttered around your fingers, and you felt something press against you when he bore down, but instead of something popping out of his cunt, something went up his length.

*Pop!*

From the tip of his spear, a bright orange ball sprang from him, surprising you so much you let go of his throbbing shaft and pulled your fingers from his slit. Excitedly you plucked the egg from where the halo of petals parted, presenting the orb to you like a priceless gem. “You did it! Look, Mando, it’s a… ball! Congratulations.” You were beaming, so proud of yourself for midwifing him through the process, but he was shaking his head.

“There’s more… and… and I’m starting to get desperate. You got me started, I can take it from here. Thank you for your help.”

“I’m not leaving til you’re done, but let me go find a bucket or something to… oh no!” In your hand the soft shelled egg started to dissolve and wither in the dry air, turning into goo that dribbled down your arm. “Oh shit! Oh shit Mando I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know w-what happened!”

“No no… It's alright.” He shook his head, bringing a hand up to caress his swell. “They never make it. It’s ok though, it's not like they’re fertilized. Please leave me now, your hands aren’t going to tide me over for long, and I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

“You keep saying that! I don’t understand, why do you think that you’ll-”

“Because I want to breed you.” The singular black eye of his visor snapped viciously towards you, making you pale. “I’m sorry, but it’s all I can think about. It’s been getting worse the closer I’ve gotten to my heat, but I don’t want to do that to you, I respect you too much. Please… forgive me.” He looked away from you shamefully, but his luminous length was still pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “I think being around you is why I’m so full, you’re just so damn beautiful… a-and I want you.”

Maybe it was the sickenly-sweet spice that he was putting off, or the cum soaking your hands, or even the vulgar fantasies that you imagined to yourself in the night, but you were intrigued. “You wanna do what now?”

“Breed you.” He growled, his voice so dark and sinful everything inside you clenched around nothing. “Fucking stars ever since you stabbed the cantina table I’ve wanted to be inside you. Feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me, hear those sweet moans you make when you’re alone at night… yes I can hear you. You’re louder than you think you are. But I want to be the one making you scream.” His growls turned to forced laughter. “I wish I’d gotten to before...this.”

“I don’t mind this…” You hummed, dragging your fingers along his velvety length, but he caught your wrist again, shaking his head.

“Stop, before I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.” You batted your lashes at him and bit your lip, leaning seductively towards his hunkered body. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know what I’d do to you, what my… ugh… eggs… would do to your body.”

“Maybe we should… find out?”

“You don’t know what you're asking.”

“Neither do you.” With that you rolled forward to kiss at his big blue eel, making him curse out your name and grab a fistful of your hair.

“Mesh’la…”

You hummed and lapped at his crown, his nectar tasting even better than it smelled. Sweet and succulent, driving you crazy with need. Your venomous tongue could be so kind when it wanted to be, swirling around his knobbled head and flicking at his frenulum. Beneath you he was a mess, writhing and bucking with desperation. Lips slick with spit, you sank your mouth as far down as you could take him without gagging, fisting the rest with one hand and teasing his cunt with the other.

Fingers digging into your scalp, Mando fought the urge to fuck your throat raw, your obscene sucking threatening to toss him right over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and spun your tongue, lapping around each sensitive bean and plunging into his slit to drink him down.

His muscles swelled and clenched with another pass, and you barely were able to pull your mouth away when a new sphere spat out his tip, rolling away from you to melt elsewhere. “Mando, they’re going to waste, what are we going to do about that?”

“Take your fucking clothes off so I can fuck them into you, pretty girl.” He was gone, the husk of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me breed you properly, make you mine. Show you what it means to be mated by a Mandalorian.”

You obeyed, rocking back on your haunches to peel your shirt away, releasing your breasts into the hot, steamy space. The black swath of void where his eyes should be drank in the sight of you as if you were the last glass of water on Tatooine, his hand coming up to pinch at your pert nipple. “These are beautiful. I’ve dreamed about these for so long, but they’re so much better in person.”

“They taste better, too.” You crawled over top of him, your knees in between his, waving the heavy dewdrops in front of his armored face. “You wanna?”

“My creed…”

“Party pooper. Fine, then you better help me open up, you’re packin’ more than I think I can fit.” You’d taken lovers before, once you’d even taken a Wookie on a drunken dare, and if it wasn’t for the persistent wet dog smell it might have been the best sex you’d ever had. But Mando was thick, and even thicker when his cock swelled to push out an egg.

“Are you really ok with this? You’re not just saying…”

“Mando~” You purred, pressing your softness against his pulsating length, shivering when you felt his fangs scrape your thighs. “Breed me. They’ll just melt back out anyway, what’s a little...fun?”

He reached a hand up tentatively to your face, his helmet shaking slightly from side to side while he hunted in your eyes for any resistance, any clue that you were just saying that to make him feel better, but he found none.

“How did I get so lucky…”

“You’re about to get even more lucky.” You teased, taking his hand from your cheek to pry the black and yellow glove off, chucking it somewhere behind you. The flesh of his hand matched the flesh of his groin, a soft golden tone that looked like it was kissed by the sun, but not once had you ever seen him bare an inch. It was also very human, looking much like your own, save for the length and thickness of his fingers and the dark hair that grew from his knuckles. They were very much the hands of a man.

Yay!

Your pants fell away next, disappearing out of the cubby and onto the floor with the collection of empty ration tins and discarded armor. Naked as the day you were born, you clambered over him and flopped against his side, letting your legs fall open. “Touch me, Mando, get me nice and ready to be bred.” He growled against you, rolling on his side and cradling you to his chest so he could easily sink his fingers into your fluttering heat.

“Fucking stars, you’re soaked. This all for me?” You nodded and whined, your eyes rolling back when he dove one finger inside, then a second, curling them upwards to find that hidden patch of nerves you could never really reach on your own. “Gonna get you nice and open, make you cum so you can take my clutch. Would you like that, mesh’la, want me to fill you up? Swell your belly full?”

You mewled at the debauchery of it all, blissed out of your mind as he finger fucked you relentlessly. His fingers sank into you all the way to the knuckle, his thumb drawing tight, diligent circles on your clit. Mando snaked his free arm under your neck, pulling you in close to his muscular body and leaning his helmet against your brow. The cold metal burned against your sweating forehead, the steam of his breath coiling out from under the sharp iron edge with every ragged breath.

“That’s it, come for me, beautiful. Almost there.” Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders and made you realize he was way more dressed than you were. Need to fix that. With shaking knees you squirmed and writhed on his slick hand until he brought you over the edge, your walls trying to break his fingers as you came, drenching the thin sheets. “Good girl, such a perfect little cunt. Give me one more, cyar’ika.” All his gentleness evaporated as he thrust into you, his thumb pressed to your sensitive button and making you fall apart all over again.

“Fuck me, Mando, please! I want you in me, you’re not the only one with wet dreams, y’know.” He rumbled a laugh and pulled his arm out from under your neck and his fingers from your sopping mess, dragging the wet of it across your bare thigh. Hauling himself up, he moved until he was between your legs, pulling his remaining glove off and working to undo his flack.

With bated breath you watched him hurriedly undress, wondering what other fun alien treats he was keeping from you. As the dark fabric fell away, your eyes were gifted with the sight of his body, though besides the wandering blue tiger stripes and his obvious non-human bits, he was remarkably close to a man.

Except for the parts of him that were glowing.

Strings of faint teal lights followed the flow of his body, mixed intermittently with yellow stars. It wasn’t enough to illuminate the little alcove, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless, a constellation of stars you could call your very own.

His chest was wide and muscular, a trail of dark brown hair dusting down his sternum and over the swell of his middle. His arms and shoulders looked like tree trunks, ribbons of countless scars marring his flesh with shimmering whites and pinks. Pushing his pants all the way off gave you an even better view, though he had considerably more glow streaks further down his legs, spanning from the sapphire spire around his hips.

He was fucking gorgeous.

What does his face look like, then?

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?” He asked sweetly, grabbing his beast and dragging the leaking head against your thirsty little cunt. You bucked your hips up to him, trying to notch him in your entrance, but he pressed his tip into your clit to make you writhe. “Tell me, I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Mando, now please please fuck...me!!” He snapped forward and thrust his appendage into you, bottoming right out even though his full tummy was in the way. He held himself still, his body shivering with delight as your excited walls rippled around him. Deep inside you felt the little buds at his tip teasing at the tight ring of muscle that protected your innermost sanctum, politely asking for entry.

“Fuck-ing Maker, I knew you would feel good, but...ah… so much better than I ever imagined.” You giggled at him, reaching out and rubbing the taut flesh of his abdomen where it sat heavily against your own, rocking your hips side to side. His fingers dug into the skin of your knees with a broken curse, trying to hold you still. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna…”

“What? This?” You arched your hips into his, trying to coax him into gear. “I didn’t know you were such a tease, tinman.” His helmet vibrated with a growl before he was sliding himself out, making sure you felt every inch of his length drag along your walls. The head of it almost managed to drop out, sitting tantalizingly at your gates before thrusting into you with reckless abandon.

You shrieked, impaled on his otherworldly spire again and again, the noise of it wetly echoing in the cubby. Above you he grunted with the strain, hooking his elbows under your knees and going to town. You were helpless, head rolling back, eyes fluttered shut as he filled you over and over again, moaning out his name.

Though he was lost in the heat of the moment, he wished the name on your lips was his real name, the one he had sequestered away when he took his oaths. Din. He fantasized about it in the night, the short syllable tumbling from your full lips, wet from sucking him dry. Din! He wanted to snuff out the sound of it with his own mouth, capturing your tongue and tasting you fully, plundering the hot wet hole that would so beautifully sing his song.

“Din!”

But Mando would have to do.

For now.

Both of you could feel he was getting close to something, his thrusts quickening with his breath. You felt your heartbeat gallop in your chest, thundering against the walls of its cage with excitement. He was gasping, struggling to pull oxygen in through the iron that protected his face. Hips snapped against yours, the slap of skin sounding obscene in the little space. You arched your back and bore down on him, your coiled muscles milking out his release.

And then you fucking felt it.

The clever little buds on his tip stuffed themselves into the cradle of your body, teasing your cervix open and leaving something behind. Inside you felt the soft little ball swell your womb sweetly, giving you a feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. You keened from the sensation, bringing your hands up to your belly, searching for your treasure.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?” Mando asked urgently between broken breaths, a weathered palm coming up to caress your face. You tittered and nodded, his relieved sigh felt through your legs and stomach.

“Got any more for me, big boy?” You purred, dragging your nails through the soft hair on his bulging abdomen where he obviously did.

“You’re going to ruin me, cyar’ika.” The pulsating length stuffed inside you slid out slowly, stringing a line of precum from your slick heat to his flushed blue tip. “Get on your knees and I’ll show you how much more there is.”

Scrambling out from under him, you flipped yourself over like a slutty little pancake, presenting your ass in front of him to feast on with his eyes. The rough pads of his fingers dug viciously into your fleshy globes, making both of you groan. “Gonna give you all of me, beautiful. Tell me you want that?” He was trying to be dirty, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart flood with honeyglow.

“I want it, tinman, I wanna be full!”

A dark, lecherous laugh rumbled behind you while he lined himself up, rubbing himself over your slit before plunging in. Stars flashed behind your eyes when he hit your deepest reaches again, making you drop to your elbows. He circled the bones of your hips with his hands, squeezing and rubbing at your waist while you adjusted to the new angle. Impatiently you clenched around him, earning yourself a stinging swat on your backside that made you squeal.

“Bad girl, you have to wait.” He growled behind you, making you whine and earning yourself another spanking that was followed by a soothing palm. “You gonna be a good girl while I breed you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“-snrt!-” You were having too much fun now, begging underneath him for friction with a roll of your hips, giggling through the cock-dumb grin on your face. “I’ll be good~”

“I know you will.�� He slid forward, the angle hitting something destructive inside you, and you could tell he felt it. Memorizing your insides, he rocked forward again and again, building you up higher and higher to make you squirm. Fisting the sheets you cried when the lightning cracked up your spine, your cunt squeezing the life out of him and soaking him through. Your orgasm sucked another egg from his cock, the gentle weight sitting pretty next to the first.

“More…” you mumbled into the mattress, curving your ass up and brushing the underside of his swell. “Please…”

“You’re fucking perfect, mesh’la, so perfect for me.” His voice behind you sounded wildly different, lacking the gravelly modulation you’d grown used to, replaced with a rich baritone that tied your guts up in knots. Curiosity almost got the better of you, but before you could turn around to look at his bare face he covered your eyes, his broad palm spanning the entire width of your face. “No peeking. Be a good girl or you won’t get any more.”

He set his empty helmet down by your head, giving you something to look at if you could keep your eyes open, but his filthy cadence made your eyeballs roll back til they were gawking at your brain. Mando plowed you like his life depended on it, his fuckstick swelling inside your walls with each pass of his spend.

Reaching back, you rubbed your steadily-filling middle, the weight of his brood already making you show. Your devious digits kept going, fingertips teasing around where he melded into you, your lips stretched tightly around him. He jumped when you stuffed your hand back even further, careful not to catch on his goddamn crotchteeth to finger his cunt.

“Mesh’la!” He cried, bucking into you and pushing at least three more eggs into your womb with a single thrust. Above you he curled against your spine, his belly flattening while yours continued to swell. His arms left your hips to snake up your body, crossing between your breasts like a seatbelt and hauling you up off your elbows to his chest. Buckle up, buttercup! His sweaty pecs stuck to your spine while he kissed at the side of your neck.

You wanted so badly to look.

Instead you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the passionate kisses he pressed to your skin, his teeth grazing the tender flesh under your jaw. The fact that he even had lips crossed a few dozen species off of your list of possibilities, and even more when you felt the tickle of facial hair. Mando’s heated kisses tracked up your throat to nibble at your ear, his thrusting getting messy behind you.

“Can you cum for me again, beautiful? I wanna feel it.” The hand between your breasts slid up to your throat, pressing ever so gently while the second found your clit and spun devious little circles. His scruffy beard scraped your shoulder as you writhed on him, tears springing to your eyes with your crashing orgasm. “Mmph, that’s my good girl. So fucking perfect!”

His hips stuttered, slapping against your ass with a final burst, the fill of him swelling your middle to capacity, bouncing with fullness. Heavy, desperate breaths puffed against your skin as he came down from his high, caressing you with his hands and the sharp point of his chin; mumbling praises in your ear. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, look at you…”

At his purring you flickered an eye open, looking down past your breasts at where you were swollen with his clutch as if you were swollen with child. His broad palms danced along the taut flesh, sliding from your precious tummy to the drops of your breasts, his hums of contentment rumbling between you. His chest and abdomen were flush with your spine, his body returned to its natural shape while yours had changed so drastically.

Between your legs his spent cock throbbed, making your combined arousal drip down onto the destroyed mattress when it softened and released. You whined from the loss, whining louder when he sneaked his fingers inside, feeling your stretched walls and musing about how wonderful you felt.

You reached forward for his helmet, handing it back to him and trying not to look at the warped reflection of his face in its sloping surfaces. He took it from you gently, letting it sink over his face so you could get off of your knees. You flopped heavily over on your butt, sitting upright and petting your full womb with a blissed out look on your face.

He laid next to you, holding you close to his body as if you were his cute little wife expecting your first baby together, and not a pair of interspecies hunters giving in to your primordial needs. You leaned against him, sighing contently and watching his serpent retreat into his body, the rows of teeth biting together and showing you why he didn’t wear codpiece with his armor.

“That’s fuckin’ weird, dude.” You laughed, brushing a fingertip along the glistening enamel.

He winced behind you. “I know, I’m sorr-”

“No, I like it.” you crooned, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “That was fun. How often did you say this happens?”

“About once a year, but… uh… I can still get hard, without a clutch, if that’s what you’re asking?” You nodded with a laugh, curling up against his side so your full womb rested on his hip. He sighed contentedly, drawing circles on your belly with his fingers. “How does this feel? Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all, actually feels good. Feels full. I like it, I’m almost sad that it’s not gonna last.”

“Me too, you look so good like this. I could get used to it.” You hummed in agreement, shifting your legs apart so that when the eggs withered and turned to goo they could easily make their way out.

Should be any second now.

The two of you waited, laying together in post-coital bliss, just enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies, tracing scars and stars, exploring the wonders you’d kept secret from each other.

You waited.

And waited.

The minutes ticked by, at first it was a blessing, giving you time to bask in the afterglow together, but as the minutes turned to quarter hours, then halfs, you started to get worried. “Mando? I can still feel them, they’re not breaking down.”

“I’m sure they will, they always do.”

“Ok…”

They didn’t.

Hours went by, and even after waddling to the fresher shower and trying to squat them out, the eggs remained. You got washed up, half morbidly, half exuberantly watching the way the fresher water dripped from your belly while you cleaned up.

Outside the shower you toweled yourself off, taking extra steps to dry under the swell of your womb, but you struggled to reach all the way around. Mando knocked on the door politely before letting himself in, dressed only in his helmet and pants. Dutifully he took the towel from you and got to the places you couldn't reach while you were carrying his potential young.

It was surprisingly intimate, maybe even more so than being stuffed full of his length. He started on your legs, between your thighs and up to their apex, then softly wiped at your tummy and hips. His deft hands dragged the towel under each breast, then your shoulders and arms, then lastly your neck; draping the wet fabric around you like a cloak when he saw your bunching brows. You looked nervous.

“We’ll figure it out, mesh’la, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He stated with determination, brushing his thumb down the curve of your cheek and turning your eyes to meet his visor. Your hair was still wet, and now so were your eyes, the first twinges of fear creeping into their corners. He didn’t like what he saw. “Close your eyes, lovely girl.”

You did, squeezing back the mist that was starting to form. He let go of you, and you heard the sound of something heavy and metallic being set down on the sink. The towel around your shoulders was lifted over your head, draping it over your face. You were about to give him hell, mad that he would want to hide your face when you were clearly getting emotional, but instead you felt the wet fabric being lifted as he joined you underneath.

Then he kissed you.

Warm, petal-soft lips pressed against your cold wet ones, suddenly surprising you before you melted into him. His kiss was as gentle as his hands that were making their way up to your jaw, holding you steady while he slotted his mouth to yours. He felt human, the edges of his teeth dull like yours, thankfully not sharp like the ones between his legs. Tasted human, too.

You kissed him back, darting your tongue out with an experimental flick, licking his plush lower lip. He inhaled sharply, caught off guard by your forwardness. His fingers coiled around the back of your head, tangling in your wet hair as his kisses grew in intensity. The smooth muscle of his mouth danced with your own, letting you both taste each other for the first time.

“Ner cyar’ika, I’ve waited so long for this.” he purred against your lips, his words heavy with adoration. He kissed you again, pulling you into himself hungrily and tickling your nose with his mustache. Your own hands came up, slowly dragging over the expanse of his chest to the sinewy length of his neck, and finally to the edge of his jaw.

“Can I touch your face, Mando? I won’t look with my eyes.” He nodded against your lips, his nose bumping the side of yours. Cautiously you wandered your fingertips along the edge of his jaw, the stiff bristles catching under your nails. He shivered with need when you scratched him, carding through his scruff like you were taming a massif.

His sharp jawline led you up his cheeks, their softness dusted with erratic bristles. You ran your thumbs under his eyes, exploring his cheekbones and the creases that bordered his large eyes. Pressing your forehead to his and pulling your lips away, you circled your thumbs down the sides of his well-defined nose to the line of hair above his lips. The creases that your hands found told you he wasn’t a young man, but he probably wasn’t too far beyond your age either.

And you imagined him to be very handsome.

It wasn’t until your hands found his ears that you remembered he wasn’t the same species as you. They were pointed, and sensitive if his little moans of pleasure were anything to go by.

“I don’t ever want you to see those, they’re ug- oh!” You cut off his self depreciation to tilt his head between your hands, pressing a kiss to each of his ears with a seductive puff of steam. “St-stop, you’re giving me goosebumps.”

“Stop being so mean to yourself, buckethead, only I can be the judge of that, and I bet they're cute!” He laughed, the sound warm and brassy, but not enough to distract you from your current predicament. “What… what are we going to do about… this.” You took each of his hands in yours and set them on your full belly, letting him caress his handiwork.

He sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead in the dark of the towel, his lashes brushing your skin when he dropped his brow to yours. You heard his lips part with a smile, imagining the way the wrinkles around his eyes would bunch, wistfully hoping that one day you could see them for yourself.

“Mesh’la I-… I have no idea."

Next->

If you liked this fic, check out Garden of Ishtar! It's chapter 9 in a series but can be read stand-alone. Enjoy~

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