#The Void Yawns Softly

[lexosaurus]

Went to edit my post and I realized I'd forgotten to make a post to begin with—oops!

Anyway, here is my final piece for @lexiepiper's fic The Void Yawns Softly, which is an AMAZING reveal fic where Danny works for NASA and must travel to space to rescue his crew!

All art was done by @k-beckerart (@quishaphantom), and you can listen to the first two pieces I made here: Liftoff / Vlad's Theme

The whole project was incredibly fun and I learned a LOT about orchestrating with midi and combining synths to traditional orchestra. This song in particular was a really great creative exercise in incorporating lots of little symbolism things and hidden elements from the fic!

I was so excited to have the opportunity to try my hand at making music to a fic, and I can't wait to do it again soon!

[lexiepiper]

Aaaaand here we go!

After a truly horrible year, and a fic that just didn’t want to be written, my @invisobang space horror fic The Void Yawns Softly is finally up!

My collaboration artists were @q-gorgeous and @lexosaurus. Gorgi’s art will be found at @k-beckerart, and Lexx’s music at @lexosaurus. Each will be posting their respective pieces as the matching chapters are posted at a rate of one chapter per day!

Fic summary: Despite saving the world, nobody knows that Danny Fenton is anything other than a perfectly normal astronaut candidate training for the first manned mission to Mars. He's generally happy to keep it this way, too, until he's disqualified from the team at the last minute. They jet into space without him, only to go dark on comms a month into their journey while he's left back on Earth, unable to save them from whatever went wrong. He has to rescue them. He's the only one who can... But when NASA sends him up there to achieve the impossible, Danny comes face to face with the very thing he fears the most: despite his love of the stars, space is cold and empty and ready to destroy him, and when his welcome aboard the stricken ship isn't what he'd expected, he's going to need everything he has at his disposal to bring them home again.

Thanks again to Gorgi, Lexx, special mention to beta Bib, and anyone else who helped me with the crazy science and was so patient with me throughout this entire process!

I hope you all enjoy the story <3

[invisobang]

The Void Yawns Softly

By @lexiepiper

Despite saving the world, nobody knows that Danny Fenton is anything other than a perfectly normal astronaut candidate training for the first manned mission to Mars. He's generally happy to keep it this way, too, until he's disqualified from the team at the last minute. They jet into space without him, only to go dark on comms a month into their journey while he's left back on Earth, unable to save them from whatever went wrong.

He has to rescue them. He's the only one who can… But when NASA sends him up there to achieve the impossible, Danny comes face to face with the very thing he fears the most: despite his love of the stars, space is cold and empty and ready to destroy him, and when his welcome aboard the stricken ship isn't what he'd expected, he's going to need everything he has at his disposal to bring them home again.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I absolutely love your writing!! Your writing and fics are just *chef's kiss*. Please write one where they tell us to "sit down." And Please!!!! Make us sit down!! I want to be sat.

Anon!! Oh my goodness! You're so freaking sweet!! Thank you for dropping into my ask box and leaving this little prompt. You want to be sat, anon? Do you? Because I do. If I was having a little argument with one of them, and they told me to sit down, my ass would be sat immediately. No question.

Presented in four drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, brief alcohol, arguing, butt grabbing, kissing, established relationship

Word Count: 400

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You’re being a brat, love.”

“Then punish me,” you snap back, arms out at your sides.

“That’s exactly what you’re hoping for. Isn’t it?”

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest. John is right, but you don’t want to admit it. “You don’t order me around. That’s not how this works.

“That’s exactly how this works,” growls John. He strides forward and grabs your ass, squeezing hard.

You gasp, hands fisting the front of his shirt.

“Sit. Down,” he murmurs.

You promptly drop onto the sofa.

John’s hand goes to his belt buckle. “Show me that mouth, love.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Can you stop for a second and just bloody listen to me?”

You throw the empty plastic cup at Kyle’s head. He easily knocks it to the side. “Real fucking mature.”

“Fuck you, Kyle.”

You try to walk past, but he grabs your arm. He pushes you up against the kitchen table, holding you so possessively it steals your breath.

“Fuck me? You’d love that wouldn’t you?”

You remain silent and he drops his hands away. “Sit down.”

You drop into the chair, surprised at how quickly you folded.

“Now, love,” he says, pressing into your space. “You’re gonna listen.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I’ll leave if this is how you’re going to talk to me,” you snap angrily.

Simon strides forward so quickly you don’t have a second to process his movement until he grabs your face and smashes his lips against yours. It is a deep, possessive thing that unfurls heat low in your belly.

He draws back, gaze harsh and consuming. “Sit down,” growls Simon, pointing to the sofa behind you.

You hesitate a second before sitting.

Simon leans forward, resting his hands on the back of the sofa, boxing you in. “I’m gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You’re bloody pissed, love.”

Johnny grabs the shot glass out of your hand before it reaches your lips.

You whirl on him. “You’re not my boyfriend, Johnny. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Johnny stares you down, and then downs the shot, not grimacing. He places the glass back on the bar top.

“No. I’m not your boyfriend.” He leans in. Lowers his voice. “But I’m the man you get on your knees for and please.”

Your face grows red. “How dare—”

“Sit down,” he commands.

You immediately drop onto the bar stool.

“I’m sat,” you murmur softly.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@taysarchive @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[fangswbenefits]

Intimacy

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Lack of intimacy after childbirth can weigh a relationship down. Thankfully, Miguel always finds new ways to keep the spark alive.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Lactation kink. Fangs. Implied breeding kink. A comprehensive study on intimacy with Miguel O’Hara.

“She’s finally sound asleep.”

Holding back a yawn as you entered the living room, you were promptly met with a very heavy-eyed Miguel O’Hara on the couch, enjoying the comforts of home.

“Thank you,” he said truthfully, straightening up lightly in his seat. “Come here.”

You paced towards him, lazily settling on his lap, both legs framing his as two big and warm hands sprawled across your back, pulling you into an embrace.

Instinctively, your eyes fluttered shut once cheek came to rest on his shoulder, taking in his body warmth and enjoying the steady heartbeat that drummed against your chest.

You figured you might just fall asleep and don’t fight against it. Taking care of a baby had been taking a toll on you both as of late, but it was to be expected.

Still, you missed moments like this. No talking, just feeling right at home in a silent embrace.

Miguel planted a few kisses to the back of your neck, but they were void of any sexual bearing. You knew what he meant with those. Absolute gratitude and devotion.

“Next time, I’ll put her to sleep,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hmm.”

His hands glided along your back, fingertips applying just enough pressure to raise goosebumps across your skin.

“I mean it.”

“You’re also tired,” you drawled out with a yawn, body slumping fully into him. “Work and all that…”

Another tender kiss. “But I have responsibilities here, too.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“You taught me how.”

Point taken.

Silent seconds ticked by and you shifted on his lap into a more comfortable position, ready to enter the valley of dreams.

“I miss you,” he said all of a sudden.

His hands settled on your arms to straighten you, a pair of red eyes encasing yours.

“I miss us.”

Miguel wasn’t a man to deliver empty words as filler, so you knew that he genuinely meant it, which had your heart to skip a beat.

His digital suit began to fragment and reced, exposing the skin underneath. Your placed your hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscles flex under your touch.

He was so handsome. Almost unfairly so.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered.

You nodded, bringing your lips to meet his in a lazy kiss as you dragged your fingers along his hair, earning a moan of approval.

It was a slow and steady kiss. You were in no hurry and wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity.

One of his hands slid to grope your breast and you felt him groan against you lips, breaking contact.

His half-hooded eyes were now on your chest, and as you followed his line of sight, you realised what had caught his attention.

Your shirt was getting soaked with milk.

Damn.

Two round damp spots spread across the fabric that covered each nipple, and you felt instant embarrassment take over. “Sorry… wanted to pump before putting her to bed, but she—”

“Don’t ever apologise for this,” he silenced you at once.

You tried to slide off the couch to fix yourself, but he kept you in place with both hands gripping your waist, pushing you down on him.

“Stay.”

Oh?

“I’ll help.”

Oh.

“Miguel…”

Masterful fingers worked their way down the buttons of your nightgown to reveal your heaving breasts.

You knew that look on his face.

Hunger.

“So full,” he said more to himself, cupping both of them softly.

A few droplets coated both nipples and he brushed the pad of his thumbs along the sensitive skin, earning a jerk from you.

The tingling between your legs emerged in full force from just the sight of him staring at you like he could devour you whole.

He craned his neck just enough to capture one nipple with his lips before latching hungrily.

The overwhelming sensation was enough to have you clinging to his broad shoulders for support. You squeezed your eyes shut and gasped once you felt him sucking gently.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the growing pressure between your legs from his hardening cock.

“Be gentle,” you moaned, caressing his cheek that would rhythmically hollow as he downed your milk.

“Hmmm.”

Then your hand came to his neck and you gently gripped it, feeling his Adam’s apple bob with each gulp.

You stared adoringly at him, slowly grinding into his covered cock. A raw groan reverberated through his throat, and you could tear your eyes away from the sight of the warm liquid pooling in the corner of his mouth.

The latch was just perfect and felt too good.

You brought your hand to caress his face once more, brushing a few strands of his hair away.

“You’re so good…” you moaned.

His cock twitched at your praise, and you could feel the wetness damping his own underwear. Now he was the one leaking for you, his body full on auto-pilot as precum readied him for more.

A couple of droplets began to run down his chin, dripping and drenching his underwear.

“No fangs…”

You’d felt them grazing your skin lightly, but you couldn’t really blame Miguel. His fangs would emerge from either extreme anger or blinding pleasure. A roll from your hips with added pressure was enough to tear his lips from your nipple, head falling back and mouth parting with a raw moan.

He bared both sets of fangs as both hands gripped your waist. Your own mouth dropped open as haziness filled your vision, absolutely revelling in seeing your own milk dripping from his lips and down his muscular neck.

“Fuck,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut.

You hurried to collect some of the beads of milk from his skin, but Miguel intercepted you midway, capturing you into a searing kiss. His tongue hurriedly slipped past your lips and you tasted sweetness.

Parting yourself from him, you focused on the grind of your hips and Miguel snapped open his crimson eyes, lust dilating his pupils.

“I’m not… I’m not…” he mumbled incoherently, too lost in his pleasure. “I’m not… lasting…”

You leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I’m surprised you lasted this long,” you whispered seductively, pressing a quick kiss to the pulse point on his neck. “So much stamina…”

Miguel was a sucker for praise and it was the easiest and fasted way to get him to crumble.

Your clit rubbed against his covered cock in a steady rhythm as more droplets of milk kept dripping from your nipples. Your eyes roamed along his chest that was glistening as beads of white liquid streamed down.

Suddenly, Miguel pulled you into him, your breasts now squeezed in between you two, more liquid pouring out.

He titled your head and immediately latched his lips against your neck, fangs nearly puncturing the flushed skin.

“You ride me so good,” he murmured hungrily against you.

A moan tangled in your throat and your hips surged to encourage his, ruthlessly intensifying the pleasure. Miguel picked up the speed again and you felt each burst of bliss at every thrust and desperate to feel the next.

Your orgasm was upon you faster than you had expected, the sense of urgency in his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Miguel… Miguel…” you moaned, your panties completely drenched.

“Inside… please…”

Desperate fingers clawed at your underwear, sliding it to the side as the tip of his cock nudged at your entrance. He slid inside effortlessly, bottoming up in an instant, and after a moment he gave a harsh cry and shoved himself so deeply and tightly against you that you gasped, clenching hard around him.

Miguel buried his face in the crook of your neck in a failed attempt to muffle his groans.

He kept grinding and rocking against you with stifled grunts, spurting hotly inside.

Only the sounds of your harsh breathing followed, and you sank against him weakly as if drained of all energy.

A familiar waile filled the room, making you wince.

“Shit… were we too loud?” you asked, trying to ease your breathing.

Miguel was still buried deep inside you, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “I’ll go check on her.”

You could tell he reluctantly slid out, easing you on your back. The sudden emptiness made you clench involuntarily, and you felt some of his warm cum spilling

“Keep it in,” he said, pressing your legs together as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

Masterlist

[heartysworld]

The third wheel // LN4

Lando Norris x Female Reader

In his attempts to make you feel less lonely, Lando ends up being the one who feels neglected.

W.C: 1.5k

Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Feel free to send requests or other questions if you happen to have any! Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

You wake up to the soft sounds of Milo’s tiny yawns and the gentle rustling of the covers as you carefully slip out of bed. Blinking against the sunlight streaming through the curtains, you stretch and cradle the little furball close to you. The puppy that Lando got you for your birthday has been your constant companion, especially during those long weeks when he’s away racing and you're unable to join him.

Milo has filled a void in your life that you hadn’t fully realized was there. His playful antics and loyal presence have made Lando’s frequent absences more bearable. Today, though, Lando is finally home for the summer break, and you’re both excited to spend some quality time together.

You move around the bedroom, getting ready for the day. Milo follows you everywhere like a shadow, his tiny paws padding softly on the floor. You pick out a casual dress and head to the bathroom to freshen up. As you brush your hair, you glance at Milo in the mirror. He’s sitting obediently, watching you with his big, adoring eyes, his tail thumping against the floor.

“Are you ready for a walk, handsome?” you ask, smiling at him as you lean down to give him a loving scratch between his ears and earning a small lick of your wrist.

From the bedroom doorway, Lando’s voice chimes in. "Yeah, just about," he replies, his tone filled with warmth and excitement.

You laugh softly, realizing that Lando thinks you were talking to him. Turning around, you see him standing there, grinning at you. "I was actually talking to Milo," you say, giggling.

Lando’s smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers and laughs along. “I see how it is.” he mutters playfully, though there's a hint of real disappointment in his eyes.

You walk over to him and give him a quick kiss. “Oh, come on, Lando. You know I love you too. Ready to go?”

The three of you step out into the sunlit streets of Monaco, Milo trotting happily between you. The morning air is fresh and crisp, and you can’t help but feel a sense of contentment. As you walk hand in hand with your boyfriend, you two chat about everything that’s happened while he was away.

“Did you see the photos I sent you from when we visited that new café?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Yeah, it looked amazing. We should go there together.” Lando replies, squeezing your hand.

You nod enthusiastically. “Definitely. They have the best pastries and even offer pup cups for pets!”

Milo tugs on his leash, eager to explore as the mention of his second favorite thing reaches his floppy ears. You laugh and let him lead the way for a bit. Every so often, he stops to sniff at something or chase a fluttering leaf, and you can’t resist bending down to pet him and tell him how cute he is.

Lando watches, a soft smile on his face, but you notice a hint of something else in his eyes. Is it jealousy? You brush the thought aside, focusing on enjoying the walk.

Later, you stop by a little café for a quick breakfast. You find a table outside, and while you and Lando sip your coffee and nibble on croissants, Milo sits at your feet, looking up at you expectantly.

“Do you think he wants some?” Lando asks, pointing to Milo.

You chuckle. “Probably. He’s always hungry.”

Lando tears off a small piece of his croissant and hands it to Milo, who gobbles it up with a wagging tail. “Good boy, Milo." Lando says, ruffling his fur.

As the day goes on, you visit a few shops, picking up some treats for Milo and a couple of things for the house. Everywhere you go, people stop to admire Milo and comment on how adorable he is while your worldwide famius boyfriend is waiting on the side. You beam with pride, feeling like a proud parent.

Back at home, you and Lando prepare dinner together. As you chop vegetables and he stirs the sauce, you talk about your plans for the rest of the summer break.

“I was thinking we could take a trip somewhere,” Lando suggests. “Maybe a weekend getaway?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agree, smiling at him. “Where do you have in mind?”

“Maybe the south of France? It’s not too far, and we could take Milo with us.”

You nod, your excitement growing. “I’d love that. Milo would too, I’m sure.”

As you finish preparing the meal, you notice Lando watching you with a thoughtful expression. “What’s on your mind, handsome?” you ask, setting the table.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You know, sometimes I feel like Milo is the man in this relationship,” he says with a half-smile.

You pause, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he gets all your attention. I feel like I’m the one begging for it,” he admits, trying to sound light-hearted but clearly feeling a bit left out.

You laugh softly, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his waist slowly making their way up to the base of his neck, something that you know makes Lando melt. “Lando, you’re always going to be my number one. Milo is just... well, he’s our little baby. It’s different.”

Lando chuckles, pulling you closer. “I guess I’ll have to get used to sharing you.”

The following race weekend, you’re at the Dutch Grand Prix accompaning Lando with Milo safely by your side. As Lando talks with some of his friends and fellow drivers, he shares his feelings about Milo taking over the house. They laugh, nodding in understanding.

“I know exactly what you mean,” says Carlos. “When we got our dog, I felt the same way. But trust me, it gets better. You just have to find a balance.”

Charles chimes in, “Yeah, and sometimes, it’s nice to have a little competition for their affection. Keeps things interesting.”

Lando grins, feeling a bit more reassured. The camaraderie with his friends helps ease his worries.

During the race, you and Milo cheer Lando on from the sidelines. Milo barks excitedly whenever Lando’s name is mentioned, and you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

After the race, Lando comes over, sweaty and tired but grinning from ear to ear. He scoops Milo up into his arms and gives you a kiss. “We did it!” he exclaims, pulling your body closer to his.

“You were amazing out there,” you say, beaming at him. “We’re so proud of you.”

That evening, back at the hotel, the three of you curl up on the couch. Milo is snuggled between you, his little head resting on Lando’s lap. You lean against Lando’s shoulder, feeling content and happy.

“You know,” Lando says softly, “I think Milo might be growing on me. He’s not so bad.”

You smile, reaching over to stroke Milo's fur. “See? We’re a perfect little family.”

Lando chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Yeah, we are.”

As the night settles in, you all cuddle closer, enjoying the warmth and comfort of being together. In that moment, everything feels just right. The love and connection between you, Lando, and Milo create a perfect harmony, making every moment together special.

MASTERLIST

If you wish to be added to my upcoming taglist, please leave a comment!

[meazalykov]

a day in my life

sydney lohmann x contentcreatorwife!reader (requested)

summary: you're a content creator who shares her life with her millions of followers

you open your tiktok app, the bright and colorful icon glowing on your phone screen, you yawn as you spend hours editing– or should you say preparing to share another piece of your life with your vast audience of 3 million followers. 

scrolling through your feed, you can't help but feel the warmth of your community surrounding you. every comment under your videos makes you smile, each one a reminder of the positive space you've created. 

viewers quickly praise how pretty and gorgeous you look while also expressing their admiration for the delicious meals you whip up, your hygiene hauls, your skincare and haircare tutorials, grocery shopping vlogs, and more. 

the positivity is intoxicating, and you thank them for contributing such joyful energy to your day.

the sun filters softly through your kitchen window, casting a golden hue over the space. it feels like the perfect day to create something cozy and comforting—a hearty soup, perhaps, or a flavorful stir-fry, something you know your followers will appreciate and be excited to try. 

you set your phone on the countertop, adjusting the camera and tripod until it captures just the right angle of your kitchen and you busy at work. the space is organized yet warm, with hanging herbs in the background, jars of spices lining the shelves, and an array of fresh vegetables waiting for your expert touch. 

as you gather your ingredients, you glance over at your pets lounging nearby in the spacious living room.

your three cats, each with their unique personalities, are nestled in their favorite spots—your tabby is laying on the windowsill soaking up the sunlight, your calico sprawled lazily on the kitchen rug closest to you, and the void kitty perched atop a wooden stool, watching you intently. 

your dog, an affectionate golden retriever, lays by your feet, occasionally looking up at you with big, adoring eyes as if to say, “what’s for dinner, can you drop something please?” 

these little moments bring you joy. you adore taking care of them, and they, in turn, seem to love being a part of your daily influencer journey, often making cameo appearances in your videos.

you begin chopping vegetables as you talk to the camera, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board a comforting backdrop to your thoughts. 

“what’s your secret to looking so beautiful while cooking?” one comment might ask, while another expresses their desire to make cooking look as fun as you do. 

you know that sharing your passion for cooking, hygiene tips, and pet care not only showcases your lifestyle but also encourages your followers to embrace their own routines with confidence.

between chopping, you take a moment to wash your hands, the cool water refreshing against your skin. you make a point to highlight hygiene in your videos, explaining the importance of cleanliness in every kitchen as you scrub away. 

“keeping things clean not only makes your food better but also should give you peace of mind,” you say, glancing up at the camera with a playful smile and eyebrow wiggle.

that’s what this is about for you—creating an environment that feels secure and inviting, one that resonates with others who might feel the same way.

as you move on to your next ingredient in the video—a bright red bell pepper—you read the comments on your videos. you feel a rush of excitement. you know your followers are eager to engage. 

“what’s your go-to meal for busy weekdays?” someone comments. 

you pause, contemplating. 

“anything that has rice, vegetables, and some kind of protein!” you replied to the comment, explaining one of your favorite dishes.

the chopping and mixing continue in the video,giving some kind of asmr affect while you talked from the voiceover. each time you look at the comments, you see familiar usernames offering support, commenting on something silly that might’ve happened in your video (one of your cats knocking over the flour), and how gorgeous your meals look. 

it’s heartwarming to see names familiar to you—followers who have always been there, cheering you on. they ask questions about your daily routines with the pets, wanting to know how you manage your time, how you balance it all while fulfilling the role of a traditional wife. 

you realize your life might not resonate with many— but they still see themselves in your routines.

“this is my favorite part,” you say in the video with a smile as you hear the timer go off for the food you put in the oven, giving a little twirl in front of the camera. the laughter that fills your kitchen feels contagious as you channel your enthusiasm into the moment. 

every so often, you peek at your pets, which you do in the video. you held up your calico cat, who meows at the camera before you give her a light kiss on the head. you put her down and the clip cuts to you taking the food off of the stove and out of the oven. 

with your pets, you can’t help but share snippets of your pet care routine as well, talking about their feeding times, grooming, and little quirks that make them uniquely lovable. your content is filled with different stuff, which is how you attracted many people to your content. 

“my cats love to get into everything,” you chuckle, and you can see your viewers relating to those everyday struggles that come with pet families.

“off topic to the video but do you have any favorite fragrance scents?” you read one comment.

you nodded knowingly before typing to reply to that comment. 

“i have a video posted about that coming soon :)” 

you happily respond to some comments, knowing it would be unrealistic to reply to all of the comments you get from thousands of users. you genuinely enjoy helping others and answering their questions—whether it’s about your favorite recipes, store vlogs, or trad wife jokes.

as you dive deeper into the comments on your latest tiktok video, you notice a recurring theme: questions about your “husband.” 

at first, you chuckle to yourself. you can see why people might think that; after all, the shimmering ring on your finger is hard to miss. it’s a beautiful reminder of your commitment—a symbol of love and partnership. 

as you scroll, a sense of mild frustration settles in. many viewers comment on why you never showcase your husband in your videos or joke about him going “off-camera.”

living in munich and posting in perfect english can sometimes create misinterpretations. your followers likely pictured a traditional marriage between a man and a woman, and while a part of you understands the confusion, it feels strange to think that they have constructed an image of your life that doesn’t quite align with reality. 

your heart swells with pride knowing you're part of a loving partnership, but there’s a longing to set the record straight. you’re not married to a husband; you’re married to your beautiful wife, sydney.

sydney, a football player for bayern munich, doesn’t post much about her personal life on social media, opting instead to keep her professional and personal worlds somewhat separate. this could explain why your followers often don’t make the connection between the two of you; to most, she’s just an athlete in the spotlight who just cares about her club and her national team.

she works hard, dedicating herself to her sport, and while she’s known widely for her skills on the field, she doesn’t share the same kind of social media presence as you do. it was always you who took the lead in posting, sharing your daily life and exploring the joys of cooking, cleaning, and caring for each other.

as you set the camera up for another video, the ring glimmering on your finger catches your eye once more. you reflect on the day you exchanged vows with sydney three years ago, a small celebration filled with laughter and love among close friends and family.

it was perfect in its simplicity—just two women, madly in love, promising to navigate life together. while you take care of the cooking and household duties, sydney has her own passion and career, bringing balance to your lives. 

the dynamic you’ve built over the years is one that thrives on mutual support and respect.

picturing sydney’s infectious smile, you can’t help but feel a pang of longing for her to be part of your videos, sharing moments together with your viewers. however, you know she’s more private, focusing on her career and you privately with her friends and acquaintances. 

perhaps it’s time to find a way to bring her into your vibrant world online, to showcase your life together and dispel the assumptions that others have made.

waking up in the morning, the dog was snuggled beside sydney as your calico cat was laying on top of your left leg. the both of you still groggy and half-sleepy. however, sydney didn’t have anything football related so you decided to stay in bed for the bit longer before waking her up. 

later, after making breakfast and filming the sizzling sounds of bacon cooking alongside fluffy scrambled eggs, you brewed a steaming pot of coffee. the warm aroma filled the air as you took a moment to scroll on your latest post’s comments. 

you posted the video the night before and decided to not check the comments until the following morning. 

the reasoning why? you posted your wife for the first time on your page, blowing up the assumptions about you having a, “husband.” 

in the video, your “spend the day with me” vlog, you began to prepare lunch by chopping some bell peppers as sydney’s arms wrap around you from behind. relaxed in that clip of the video, you turned your head to see sydney, her playful grin lighting up your heart. 

“don’t cut yourself!” she teased, but the video couldn’t hear it since you were doing a voiceover. 

syd started planting kisses along your neck, moving from your temple down to your shoulders. it was a spontaneous moment, and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, knife in hand, with the clip showing the love that was filled in your eyes. 

the unsuspecting viewers were treated to an endearing glimpse into your marriage, the warmth and tenderness so apparent even through the screen.

the comments exploded after you posted the video hours before: 

“is that a woman you were cuddling with?” 

“WOAHHH Y/N IS GAY TOO???” 

while many found joy in your representation, others were filled with disbelief. you could feel the surge of both surprise and excitement—when love is real, it knows no bounds. some expressed their admiration, saying “i love that you’re a lesbian trad wife!” 

the curiosity didn’t stop there. as the day unfolded, you posted another cute video of sydney playing with your golden retriever in the backyard. 

the sun reflected off her hair, illuminating her playful smile as she dribbles a ball with her foot for the eagerly bouncing dog. the clip was heartwarming, showcasing the simple joy the three of you shared—a family moment that anyone could relate to. 

however, it was this clip that sent the comments section into a complete frenzy: 

“IS THAT SYDNEY LOHMANN?” 

“I KNOW I'VE SEEN YOUR WIFE BEFORE WHY DOES SHE LOOK FAMILIAR?” 

“that's me in the background drowning in the pool (i’m jealous).”

while a faction of your followers were well-versed in european football, many, especially those from the united states, didn’t immediately identify the familiar figure. 

soon, the chatter erupted: 

“wait, is she a bayern munich player? i swear ive seen her before?” 

“OMG, I love her!” 

people started connecting the dots, and as they did, a wave of excitement washed over you. sydney was known in germany for her skills on the field, but now more than ever, they’d see her as a loving partner.

while your heart swelled with happiness at the support spiraling around you, you felt a familiar itch to address all the questions and assumptions. 

some of your followers were new, and you wanted to ensure they understood the depth of your relationship with sydney. so you made a decision; it was time to sit down for a more heartfelt conversation about your coming out story and the experiences you both shared navigating your lives together.

the following night, after a long tiring day filled with engagement and a repeat of that joyous exchange of laughter, you set up your camera for a “get unready with me for bed” video.

the lights were dimmed, and the ambiance in your bathroom felt cozy—slippers on your feet, hair pinned back by your pink headband, and your skincare products lined up on the counter cast in soft shadows. 

it was an intimate setting, one where you could be vulnerable and share your truth.

as you began applying your cleansing balm, you took a deep breath.

“hey everyone, it’s Y/N. I thought it would be a great time to address everything that’s been going on. I want to share a little bit about my coming out story and what it means to be married to the incredible woman that is my wife, sydney,” you began, feeling the familiarity of camera anxiety dissipating as you focused on the sincerity of your message.

you continued as you moved through your skincare routine, gently massaging the balm into your skin. 

“you know, coming out isn’t a one-time event. for me, it first began in high school. there were hints that i was gay around the age of 14 but i didn’t accept that until i was 16.. keep in mind, i was terrified, just like many others who start to accept that they’re gay. my school experience was not easy, and I had moments—cruel whispers, bullying, rejection. thankfully, my parents were accepting when i came out and i was able to lean on them for support along with my friends. i also found solace in art and creativity.” 

pausing for a moment, you looked down at your skincare products, lost in thought. 

“but then came moving to munich. it felt like a fresh start. that’s when I met sydney through my mutual friend, klara, who also plays with sydney and oh my goodness, she was captivating! so full of passion and life. she pulled me in with her laughter, and not to be corny or anything– but it felt like the universe conspired for us to find each other. loving her was just so easy; it felt effortless. her loving me felt so easy and loving her felt the same.” 

as your vulnerability unfolded, the likes and comments increased.

 

using a luxurious night cream, you gently applied it to your face while you spoke candidly, reflecting on your marriage. 

“syd and i have been married for three years now. we got eloped before having a ceremony a year later.. i’m not even kidding when i say that every day is filled with joy, support, and a deep respect for one another. it makes me so grateful because i thought my life was over when i first started to suspect that i was gay and catching feelings for women. with my wife, sydney inspires me with her dedication. she is so passionate when she is playing football on her club and national team– the way she pours herself into everything she does.” 

then came the part that had been weighing on your mind. looking directly into the camera, you took another deep breath. 

“I know there are some comments out there that reflect hate, misunderstanding, and a refusal to accept love in its many forms. to those hateful people, I say: disrespectfully, go fuck yourselves.” a smirk graced your lips before you laughed. you are never known for swearing in your videos, usually only swearing with your close peers while in casual conversation. 

“love is love, and if you can’t accept that, you have no place to be following me, a gay woman.”

the enthusiasm of your voice resonated with your audience, and you felt the weight lift. you began to share advice for those struggling with their identities.

“if you’re in a situation where you feel alone or scared, know that you’re not. find your community, speak your truth, and hold on to the love you deserve. don’t let anyone dim your light. being true to yourself is beautiful, and no one can take that from you.”

as you finished your skincare routine, the sincerity poured through your last words. 

“thank you all for being part of our journey; your support means everything. please continue to uplift love wherever it takes shape, and remember that we are all worthy of love, no matter what form it comes in.” you concluded with a genuine smile, and the warmth you felt radiated through the screen.

the video ended after that and a rush of fulfillment washed over you watching the video—a feeling of peace knowing that you had shared your story authentically and embraced the support from your community. 

the comments section overflowed with love, connections ignited among those who shared similar experiences, and others who were just here to celebrate who you and sydney were.

in the days that followed, your bond with your followers deepened. newfound friendships blossomed, and more importantly, the vocal support poured in from every corner of your online community. 

the journey continued to blossom as you shared snippets of your life with sydney, including her playful moments with your pets, cooking meals together, or even just sharing lazy afternoons on the couch. you came to look forward to posting every video, each one serving as a vibrant reminder of the love you both cherished, and nothing could ever take away that feeling.

masterlist

[cheesecakethots]

Part 2 to this.

He had never been so caring for another, the guard noted. Lord Scaramouche was not the caring type, after all.

Despite that, the man had watched the lord express actual worry for you, the one huddled away in his tent as he barked orders at soldiers to find medicine, make warm soup, and heat up water. One of them had had his fingers broken for making the food too cold for the harbingers liking.

On the very few occasions the guard was permitted inside the tent, he had caught glimpses of the lord knelt beside your feverish figure in bed, the back of his hand softly resting on your forehead. If they had been any longer in finding you…

The few medics in camp were situated nearby, with any and all injuries not held by you being mostly ignored for the time being. You had barely been conscious for the past few days, slipping in and out, with some mumbled and confusing phrases leaving chapped lips.

The guard is brought out of his memories when Lord Scaramouche passes him, dramatically parting the tent covering and entering with a few quick strides. He immediately makes a beeline for your cold, limp body tucked away in bed.

Scaramouche places a hand to your cheek. His frown deepens, and you groan, glazed over eyes opening only a fraction.

“M…Mother?”

A sigh escapes him. His soulmate really is pitiful… and weak.

“… You’re safe now,” he mutters, surprised for a moment at the tinge of emotion in his own voice.

“Do… I have to help c…cook dinner?”

“No. You’ll never be doing that again.”

“Oh… okay…” A yawn leaves your throat.

“Go to sleep.”

“Can we have… chocolate later? I bought some… to share,” you murmur, trailing off until your breathing becomes light, and your eyes fully close.

The lord sighs. A shiver wracks through your body, despite the multiple animal hides you have on. He’s certain that his men have destroyed the surrounding ecosystem just to keep you warm, but, oh well.

He stands, hesitantly turning away from you. You need more blankets, maybe some more soup, anything to keep the fever from taking you away from-

Oh. His eyes widen, and he glances back to you, and then at the shaking hand pulling on his fingers.

“Don’t… leave me…”

You’re still asleep. It’s not as though you’re conscious and would know if he left, is it? It’s not as though your plea is anything more than some deluded fairytale in your mind, is it?

“I won’t.”

Curses.

Curse him, and curse you for awakening something he didn’t think he had, something in his chest that for centuries he was sure was simply an empty void of nothing.

He wants to scoff and leave you here, to tell you that he has no need for someone as weak as you in his life. He wishes he had left you tied to that tree and just kept moving, that he had never felt the touch of your skin against his own. That he had felt absolutely nothing, that he hadn’t felt a stab of fear for the first time in a long time when carrying your freezing cold body back to camp. It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for a long, long while.

The next morning he leaves you alone for a short time, an hour at most. He regrets it when he comes back to you standing on two wobbly knees, the parts that make him up jolting at the sight.

“What are you doing?!”

You flinch, yelping when you abruptly turn to him and lose your balance. Hands, ones that send a feeling of static and electricity straight to your very core, are soon grasping onto you, holding you up before you can hit the ground.

“Are you daft?” The man spits out, visibly aggravated.

“Wh-What? What?”

“Get back in bed. I won’t ask you again.”

You don’t move, the sensation that comes with his touch only growing the longer the two of you stand.

“You’re… you’re…?” You whisper, eyes widening.

He pauses, the irritation in his expression dropping a little. After a beat, his lips part.

“… Yes.”

“We were in the woods, right? My village, they…”

Any softness on his face is wiped away the moment you mention your old home, and the people that resided in it. No longer waiting, he lightly pushes you back, leading you into the makeshift bed below. A blanket is soon wrapped around your quivering shoulders.

“Eat this,” he orders, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it close to your lips.

Chocolate.

“I’m not-“

“Eat.”

You tentatively take it from him, and the atmosphere grows awkward, at least for you, while he watches you chew on the rest of it.

“Thank you, it was delicious,” you tell him, truthfully. You haven’t had chocolate in a long time, as it was simply too expensive for your family to afford. Your mouth curves downwards into a frown.

“Rest.”

You don’t. You’re not sure if you can.

“My family, they let them take me. They didn’t… they didn’t stop them. They must…” A gasp is torn from you, and you meet his eyes once more. “How long has it been?”

“… Three days.”

You begin rise to your shaky feet, “I-I must go back, they’ll think that I’m-!”

He pushes you back down effortlessly.

“Are you a fucking fool?”

You can’t help but flinch at the absolute venom in his tone, but he isn’t done yet, towering over you.

“What do you think will happen if you go back, hm? That they’ll accept you with open arms, or they’ll send you right back to where I found you? Or, better yet, maybe they’ll set you alight there and then, rather than troubling themselves in having you freeze to death, they’ll instead watch you burn. Would you like to test if your family would spare you from that? Hm?”

You have never felt this small in your entire life.

“I-“

“Enough.” It appears the question was rhetorical, and your mouth closes, quickly feeling very dry.

His chest shudders with each deep breath he draws in, and he closes his eyes shut for a moment, seemingly trying to calm himself.

“Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. Don’t ask me anymore stupid questions,” he turns on his heel, most likely deciding that he has something better to do. However, before he fully departs, he pauses at the entrance to the tent, still not looking back at you.

“You deserve better than that village, than that family who threw you out as though you were nothing to them. Know that I do not plan on doing the same, and that you… aren’t nothing to me.”

The intimidation you feel from him dimishes when you catch sight of the pinkish tinge to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t wait for your response, swiftly departing. You miss the few words of parting he gives you, as you tuck yourself into bed.

“Besides, it’s not as though you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

[eudaimaniacs]

delicate (hugh jackman x reader)

word count: 641 words

notes: i've been thinking about making pedro pascal fanfiction but don't know where to start. also, i want to make a fanfic about hugh's character on kate & leopold (higly recommend!). additionally, it's almost midnight here and i need to sleep (scroll through tiktok mindlessly and simp over hugh jackman). enjoy reading!

The night in New York City was a symphony of beauty. But amid it all was a void, a longing for Hugh's comforting presence.

The lonely space occupied the right side of the king-sized bed. You missed the long, interrupted nights spent in Hugh’s embrace. The feeling of his arms securing and comforting your worries. The scratch of his beard tickling your exposed neck. Hugh’s soft snores as you hear the beat of his heart. Your combined bodies embraced, sleeping soundly until the New York sunshine woke the two of you.

Yet, the life of an actor demands relentless dedication. You admired Hugh's commitment to his craft, late-night studies, and relentless practice. His talent was undeniable and shone through in every role he took. But the sacrifices he had to make were the hardest to bear.

He was practicing for a new movie and filming will start in two months. You were used to the hectic schedule of a famous Hollywood actor. However, the emptiness on Hugh’s side of the bed made your heart swell a bit. You wanted him to sleep with you until the sun decided to wake the two of you. It’s been a month of Hugh practicing his lines until the night. The long, uninterrupted nights were on break; however, you wanted to change it even if it was only a night.

In your sleepy state, you struggle to open your eyes and adjust to the darkness. You put on your slippers and made your way downstairs. Hugh's soft, deep voice slowly fills your ears. His tired yet concentrated silhouette makes your heart skip a beat. It was attractive and admirable. You didn’t want to ruin Hugh’s focus and dedication but wanted him to rest and sleep with you.

You tiptoed, not wanting to scare or anger him. You weren’t quite sure what to say. You can’t command or ask him to go to bed and rest. Although Hugh valued time for the relationship, he wanted to balance his personal life and work.

“How are you doin’ there, Hugh?” You murmured and rubbed his back. Hugh sighed and closed the script as he focused his attention on you. You softly smile and apologize for interrupting him.

Hugh lightly chuckled and muttered, “It’s okay, honey. I’ve been practicing hard for this movie.”

You sat on his lap as you ran your fingers through his hair. You tried to soothe the exhaustion Hugh had accumulated this month. Even when he was tired, Hugh was still the sweet and gentle partner and person you knew.

“You need to sleep, Hugh,” you lean on his chest and feel the warmth of his heart. The tired man kissed your forehead and massaged your back. With Hugh's embrace lulling you, you wanted to fall asleep in that chair.

You stood up and held Hugh’s hand to lead him to the bedroom. He wanted to return and practice his lines but knew you realized he needed a well-deserved rest. You squeezed and rubbed his veiny yet soft hands. You couldn’t wait for Hugh to embrace and sleep with you all night.

Hugh discarded his shirt as he lay down with you on the bed. You grab the comforter and wrap the two of you in it. You snuggle in his chest as Hugh once again embraces you.

You tiredly sighed and whispered, “Oh, how I missed this.”

“Me too, [Y/N],” Hugh yawned as he combed his fingers through your hair. You lightly giggle as you give him a goodnight kiss. The last thing you heard before dozing off was Hugh’s soft snores. The beauty of the New York night was now complete. The void of Hugh’s presence was gone, and he was next to you. He looked peaceful as he took the well-deserved rest.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[sassenach77yle]

I DON’T KNOW how long I had been sitting there, head in my hands, listening to the loud buzzing of bees. But I heard footsteps coming down the path and managed to lift my head. “Are ye all right, Sassenach?” It was Jamie, the large box of medicines and bandages in his arms. And from the look of alarm on his face, it was reasonably obvious that I didn’t look all right. I couldn’t muster the energy to try to look all right. “I just—thought I’d sit down,” I said, flapping a hand helplessly. “I’m glad ye did.” He set down the box on the yellowing grass and came to crouch in front of me, examining my face. “What happened?” “Nothing,” I said, and without warning began to cry. Or, rather, to leak. There was nothing of the sobbing, convulsive, racking nature of weeping; tears were just streaking down my cheeks without my approval. Jamie nudged me over a little and sat down beside me, wrapping his arms around me. He was wearing his old kilt, and the smell of the dusty wool fabric, worn thin with age, made me utterly dissolve. He tightened his grip and, sighing, pressed his cheek to my head and said small, tender things in Gaelic. And in a little time, the effort to understand them gave me a tenuous grip on myself. I drew a deep breath and he released me, though he kept an arm around me for support.

“Mo nighean donn,” he said softly, and smoothed hair out of my face. “Have ye got a hankie?” That made me laugh. Or rather emit a sort of strangled giggle, but still . . . “Yes. At least, I think so.” I groped in my bosom and withdrew a sturdy square of much-laundered linen, on which I blew my nose several times and then wiped my eyes, trying to think what on earth to offer as an explanation for my disordered state—of mind, as well as body. There wasn’t any good way to begin, so I just began. “Do you ever—well, no. I know you do.” “Likely,” he said, smiling a little. “What do I do?” “See the . . . the void. The abyss.” Speaking the words reopened the rent in my soul, and the cold wind came through. A shudder ran through me, in spite of the warmth of the air and Jamie’s body. “I mean—it’s always there, always yawning at your feet, but most people manage to ignore it, not think about it. I’ve mostly been able to. You have to, to do medicine.” I wiped my nose on my sleeve, having dropped my handkerchief. Jamie pulled a crumpled hankie out of his sleeve and handed it to me. “Ye dinna mean only death?” he asked. “Because I’ve seen that often enough. It hasna really scairt me since I was ten or so, though.” He glanced down at me and smiled. “And I doubt ye’re afraid of it, either. I’ve seen ye face it down a thousand times and more.” “Facing something down doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid of it,” I said dryly. “Usually quite the opposite. And I know you know that.” He made a small sound of agreement in his throat and hugged me gently. I would normally have found this comforting, and the fact that I didn’t merely added to my sense of despair. “It’s—it’s just . . . nothing. And so much endless nothing . . . It’s as though nothing you do, nothing you are, can possibly matter, it’s all just swallowed up . . .” I closed my eyes, but the darkness behind my eyelids frightened me and I opened them again. “I—” I raised a hand, then let it fall. “I can’t explain,” I said, defeated. “It wasn’t there—or I wasn’t looking at it—after I was shot. It wasn’t nearly dying that made me look in, see it yawning there. But being so . . . so bloody frail! Being so stinking afraid.” I clenched my fists, seeing the knobby bones of my knuckles, the blue veins that stood out on the backs of my hands and curved down my wrists. “Not death,” I said at last, sniffing. “Futility. Uselessness. Bloody entropy. Death matters, at least sometimes.” “I ken that,” Jamie said softly, and took my hands in his; they were big, and battered, scarred and maimed. “It’s why a warrior doesna fear death so much. He has the hope—sometimes the certainty—that his death will matter.”

“What happens to me between now and then doesna matter to anyone.” Those words swam out of nowhere and struck me in the pit of the stomach, so hard that I could barely breathe. He’d said that to me, from the bottom of despair, in the dungeon of Wentworth Prison, a lifetime ago. He’d bargained for my life then, with what he had—not his life, already forfeit, but his soul. “It matters to me!” I’d said to him—and, against all odds, had ransomed that soul and brought him back. And then it had come again, stark and dire necessity, and he’d laid down his life without hesitation for his men and for the child I carried. And that time I had been the one who sacrificed my soul. And it had mattered, for both of us. It still mattered. And the shell of fear cracked like an egg and everything inside me poured out like blood and water mingled and I sobbed on his chest until there were no more tears and no more breath. I leaned against him, limp as a dishcloth, and watched the crescent moon begin to rise in the east. “What did you say?” I said, rousing myself after a long while. I felt groggy and disoriented, but at peace. “I asked, what’s entropy?” “Oh,” I said, momentarily disconcerted. When had the concept of entropy been invented? Not yet, obviously. “It’s, um . . . a lack of order, a lack of predictability, an inability for a system to do work.” “A system of what?” “Well, there you have me,” I admitted, sitting up and wiping my nose. “Just an ideal sort of system, with heat energy. The Second Law of Thermodynamics basically says that in an isolated system—one that’s not getting energy from somewhere outside, I mean—entropy will always increase. I think it’s just a scientific way of saying that everything is going to pot, all of the time.” He laughed, and despite my shattered state of mind, I did, too. “Aye, well, far be it from me to argue wi’ the Second Law of Thermodynamics,” he said. “I think it’s likely right. When did ye last eat, Sassenach?” “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not hungry.” I didn’t want to do anything but sit still beside him. “D’ye see the sky?” he said, a little later. It was a pure deep violet at the horizon, fading into a blue-black immensity overhead, and the early stars burned like distant lamps. “Hard to miss,” I said. “Aye.” He sat with his head tilted back, looking up, and I admired the clean line of his long, straight nose, his soft wide mouth and long throat, as though seeing them for the first time.

“Is it not a void there?” he said quietly, still looking up. “And yet we’re no afraid to look.” “There are lights,” I said. “It makes a difference.” My voice was hoarse, and I swallowed. “Though I suppose even the stars are burning out, according to the Second Law.” “Mmphm. Well, I suppose men can make all the laws they like,” he said, “but God made hope.

The stars willna burn out.” He turned and, cupping my chin, kissed me gently. “And nor will we.”

The noises of the city were muted now, though even darkness didn’t stifle it entirely. I heard distant voices and the sound of a fiddle: a party, perhaps, from one of the houses down the street. And the bell of St. George’s struck the hour with a small, flat bong! Nine o’clock. And all’s well. “I’d better go and see to my patient,” I said.

118 THE SECOND LAW OF THERMODYNAMICS ~ Written in my own heart's blood

[lexosaurus]

Here's my first piece for The Void Yawns Softly (chapter 5) by @lexiepiper with art done by @k-beckerart (@q-gorgeous)

As a HUGE fan of media like The Martian (I've read the book I think 5 or 6 times now?) and the Interstellar soundtrack, I was beyond excited to see this fic for @invisobang. The fic is AMAZING and I tried really hard to do it justice!

Also accompanying this fic are my other two pieces: Vlad's Theme and Mars

[zesty4zenin]

“𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞?”

YANDERE!DOUMA X MALE!READER

SYPNOSIS: Douma’s cult offered him a pretty little thing. And for the first time in awhile, he doesn’t want to eat it. He instead wants to keep it with him! Forever.

WARNINGS: gore, cannibalism, implied forced marriage, and that’s it!

A/N: I’m trying a different style for my works..… you guys like it or should I go back to my regular style? :3

IT WAS just another day for Douma.

He greeted his followers with a casual hello, letting them shower him with worship and adoration. Among the rituals of his day, he indulged in the elaborate fake food he meticulously prepared, relished the real delicacies that satisfied his demonic cravings, and of course, savored the taste of women who fell under his spell.

Then, as the day waned, he retired to his quarters, pretending to sleep. It was a routine he followed diligently, day after day, without fail. Occasionally, a follower would discover his true nature as a demon, but Douma disposed of them swiftly, consuming their flesh without a hint of remorse.

And through it all, he felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

His life was a repetitive cycle, void of any genuine emotion or thrill.

The monotony was occasionally broken by the desperate pleas of those who realized the horror of what he truly was, but their fear only provided a fleeting amusement.

As the sun set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Douma lounged on his throne, surrounded by his devoted followers. He observed them with a detached curiosity, wondering what it would be like to feel as they did. They looked up to him with such reverence, unaware of the fate that could befall them at any moment.

One follower, a young woman, approached him with a gift, her hands trembling. "Lord Douma, I brought this for you," she said, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and adoration. Douma accepted the gift with a smile, masking the indifference behind his eyes.

"Thank you," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with charm. "Your dedication is always appreciated."

The woman blushed, stepping back into the crowd. Douma's smile lingered as he watched her, already planning her demise for when her usefulness had ended.

As the night deepened, Douma continued his charade, maintaining his facade of benevolence and divinity. Yet inside, he was as empty as ever, each day blending into the next, the endless cycle of his existence.

But something in the air tonight felt different, as if a change was approaching.

Yeah, right.

Nothing has changed since all these years he’s been a cult leader, so why would it change now?

He shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes, pretending to go to sleep, something he was no longer able to do.

THE NEXT DAY..

Douma 'awoke' with a yawn, stretching his sinewy limbs beneath the dim, crescent moon that cast a faint glow through his chambers. His eyes, devoid of human warmth, flickered with the remnants of a dream he couldn't quite recall.

He sighed softly, the memory of sunlight teasing at the edges of his consciousness, a distant echo of a time when such mundane sensations held meaning. But those days were long gone, replaced by the hunger and power that came with being a demon.

As he began to rise from his makeshift slumber, a soft knock interrupted his thoughts, followed by a timid voice outside his chamber door.

"Come in!" he chimed, his voice carrying an almost playful cadence as he settled onto his ornate throne, unfurling a delicate fan with practiced grace.

As the door swung open, revealing two of his devoted women worshippers, their smiles widened as they beheld Douma lounging regally on his throne. Their eyes sparkled with adoration as they stepped forward, barely containing their excitement.

"We have someone new to introduce to you, Lord Douma," one of them gushed, her voice tinged with reverence.

The other nodded eagerly, stepping aside to reveal you standing in the doorway, bathed in the faint moonlight that filtered through the chamber. Your presence seemed to stir something within Douma—something he hadn't felt in centuries.

His eyes, usually cold and indifferent, widened imperceptibly as he took you in. For the first time in his existence, a strange sensation gripped his heart—a version of what humans called love.

It was possessive, consuming, and entirely his own.

"You've caught my interest," he murmured, his voice a low, mesmerizing purr as he studied you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Douma didn't usually take much interest in his male worshippers. They were typically predictable and lacked the intriguing nuances that made him want them, for entertainment or pleasure. Their devotion was unwavering but bland, their actions all too similar to one another.

But you? You were different. There was something about you that drew his attention, something that set you apart from the rest. Your demeanor, your presence—it stirred a curiosity within him that he hadn't felt before.

Douma leaned forward, his fan brushing lightly against his chin as he observed you with a growing curiosity. "What is your name?" he asked, his voice dripping with a sweet, almost mocking charm.

You hesitated for a moment before answering, "[Name]."

Douma's lips curled into a slow, almost predatory smile. "[Name]… Welcome," he said softly. "I sense there's something special about you."

The two women glanced at each other, surprised by Douma's unusual interest. They had never seen him react this way to a new follower, especially not a male.

"Come closer," Douma beckoned, his gaze unwavering. As you stepped forward, you felt an inexplicable pull toward him, as if his very presence demanded your attention and obedience.

He waited for you to come closer, his eyes darkening with a possessive glint. "You’re very pretty for a boy," he cooed, his voice a silky whisper that promised both danger and allure.

The women by his side beamed, pleased with their lord's approval. Douma, however, couldn't tear his eyes away from you. For once, he felt a genuine interest, a twisted form of fascination that threatened to consume him entirely.

The women exchanged glances, their smiles widening even more as they saw the intense focus Douma had on you. One of them couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

"Lord Douma, do you like him?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and awe.

Douma's gaze never wavered from you as a slow, almost predatory smile curled his lips. "Yes," he replied softly, his eyes gleaming with a strange light. "I do."

The women, thrilled by his response, bowed deeply before making their way out of the chamber. "We shall leave you two alone then," one of them said, her voice tinged with satisfaction.

As the door closed behind them, the room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustle of Douma's fan as he flicked it shut. His eyes, now entirely focused on you, bore into yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Come closer," he commanded, his voice low and hypnotic. "I want to get a better look at you."

You took a hesitant step forward, feeling the weight of his gaze as if it were a physical touch. The air seemed to grow thicker, charged with an electric tension that was both thrilling and terrifying.

Douma's smile widened as you approached, a twisted satisfaction playing across his features. "Tell me, [Name]," he purred, his eyes locking onto yours with a possessive hunger. "What is it that you desire most?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the intensity of Douma's gaze pierce through you. "I desire love and companionship," you confessed, your voice steady but filled with an underlying sorrow. "My fiancée abused me, and my family despises me. I've been searching for a place where I can belong."

Douma's expression shifted subtly, a flicker of something darker passing through his eyes. He rose from his throne and stepped closer, his movements smooth and almost predatory. The air around him seemed to grow colder as he approached.

"Love and companionship," he repeated, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo in the chamber. "Such simple desires, yet so elusive for many." He reached out, gently lifting your chin with a finger, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Tell me, [Name], do you believe you can find that here, with Eternal Paradise?"

His touch sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and a strange sense of comfort. "I… I don't know," you admitted, your eyes searching his for any hint of genuine emotion.

Douma's smile widened, a twisted blend of compassion and malice. "You will find what you seek here," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise. "I will ensure it. You will be loved, cherished, and protected under my watchful eye."

His words, though meant to be comforting, carried an underlying threat. There was no escape from his grasp, no turning back once you stepped into his world. Yet, in that moment, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope, however twisted it might be.

"Stay by my side, [Name]," Douma continued, his hand sliding from your chin to gently cup your cheek. "And I will give you everything you desire."

"You'll never be alone again," Douma continued, his eyes burning with a fervent intensity. "I will give you everything you desire, and more. All you have to do is trust me."

His hand dropped from your cheek, but his eyes never left yours. The room seemed to close in around you, the air thick with a tension that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Do you trust me, [Name]?" Douma asked, his voice a soft, seductive purr that promised both danger and salvation.

"Yes," you replied, the word slipping out a bit too eagerly as relief washed over you. Douma's laughter rang through the chamber, a low, amused sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Good," he said, his smile widening into something almost predatory. "I’m glad you trust me. Because I trust you too."

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he gestured for you to join the other worshippers who were still lingering outside. "Mingle with the others for now," he instructed, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. "There’s something that I have to do right now."

As you reluctantly turned to leave, you couldn't shake the feeling of Douma's eyes following you, his presence lingering like a shadow in your mind. The other worshippers greeted you warmly, their admiration for Douma evident in their every word and gesture.

Meanwhile, Douma remained seated on his throne, his mind spinning with possibilities. You had stirred something within him—something he hadn't felt even when he was human. It wasn't just desire or possession; it was a twisted fascination that threatened to consume him.

As he watched you mingle with the others, a dangerous smile played across his lips. "Yes, [Name]," he whispered to himself, his eyes glinting with dark intent. "I think I’ll keep you until you turn bitter and old."

With that thought, Douma leaned back in his throne, his mind already plotting the next steps.

—

It was later that night, the temple quiet as everyone else had drifted into peaceful slumber. But you were restless, feeling the need to speak with Douma before you finally lay down to sleep. Dressed in your nemaki, you made your way through the darkened halls to his personal chambers, a sense of devotion and eagerness driving you forward.

"Lord Douma?" you called out happily as you opened the door to his chambers, but the room seemed empty, silent. Strange. Douma was usually there, a constant presence. Undeterred, you stepped inside, the soft rustle of your nemaki the only sound breaking the stillness.

As you ventured further into his chambers, a faint, metallic scent reached your nose, causing you to pause. Your heart began to race, a sense of foreboding settling over you. Pushing forward, you followed the scent until you heard the unmistakable sound of squelching and chewing.

Frozen in place, your eyes widened in horror as you came upon the gruesome scene. There, on the floor, lay your fiancée, her body ripped apart, bathed in a pool of her own blood. Douma was crouched over her, his mouth stained with crimson as he devoured her remains with a chillingly serene expression.

Time seemed to slow as you stood there, your mind struggling to process the sight before you. The warmth of the room felt like ice against your skin, the reality of the situation hitting you like a physical blow.

Douma looked up, meeting your eyes with a detached calmness that sent a shiver down your spine. "Ah, [Name]," he said, his voice disturbingly casual as he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "I didn't expect you to be up so late."

His eyes gleamed with a dark satisfaction, the earlier hatred now replaced with a twisted sense of possessiveness. "It seems I've taken care of a little… inconvenience," he continued, his tone devoid of remorse.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear, shock, and betrayal swirling within you. "Why?" you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.

Douma's smile remained disturbingly serene as he stood, stepping over the remains of your fiancée with casual indifference. "She was getting in the way," he explained, his tone almost gentle. "She's in a better place now."

Tears welled up in your eyes, the horror of the scene overwhelming you. You turned to run, desperate to escape the nightmare, but before you could take more than a few steps, Douma's hand shot out with inhuman speed, gripping your arm and pulling you back to him. Panic surged through you as his iron grip held you in place, his eyes locking onto yours with an unsettling intensity.

"There's no need to be afraid," he murmured, his voice deceptively soothing. "I did this for us, [Name]. I learned what love is just for you. You should be grateful."

You struggled against him, your tears flowing freely now, but his hold was unyielding. "Let me go," you pleaded, your voice breaking.

Douma's expression darkened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "No, [Name]," he said firmly. "You need to understand. I did this out of love. Say thank you."

His words were a command, not a request. You felt his grip tighten, the pressure making your heart race even faster. "Say it," he insisted, his voice playful but strained.

Trembling, you forced the words out, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

Douma's smile returned, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good," he said softly, releasing his grip slightly but not letting you go. "See? That wasn't so hard."

He pulled you closer, his other hand gently brushing away your tears. "Now, remember, [Name]," he whispered, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "You belong to me, and I will always take care of you. No one will ever come between us again."

Douma's eyes softened as he gently brushed a tear from your cheek. "Now, go back to sleep, [Name]," he instructed, his voice taking on a calming, almost hypnotic quality. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, the metallic taste of your fiancée's blood smearing against your mouth, making you shudder.

With a shaky breath, you nodded and slowly walked out of his chambers, your legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. Each step felt heavy, your mind struggling to process the horrors you'd witnessed. When you finally reached your room, you collapsed onto your futon, curling up in a ball as silent tears continued to stream down your face.

Meanwhile, back in his chambers, Douma returned to the remains of your fiancée. He crouched down beside her, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. With deliberate, almost reverent movements, he resumed his feast, tearing into her flesh with a disturbing ease.

The room filled with the sickening sounds of squelching and tearing as Douma devoured her piece by piece. His hands were slick with blood, his lips stained crimson as he chewed methodically, savoring every bite. He stripped the flesh from her bones, consuming it with a fervent hunger that bordered on ritualistic.

Douma's eyes flickered with satisfaction as he continued, his sharp teeth effortlessly ripping through muscle and sinew. He relished the metallic tang of her blood, the warmth of her flesh, the way her body yielded beneath his grasp. For him, this was more than sustenance—it was a declaration of the lengths he would go to ensure you remained his.

As he finished, Douma sat back on his heels, surveying the remnants of his meal with a satisfied smile. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his thoughts already returning to you and the twisted love that bound you to him.

"Sleep well, [Name]," he whispered to the empty room, his voice carrying a promise of both protection and possession. "Tomorrow is a new day for us."

—

A year had passed since that horrifying night when you discovered Douma's true nature. The memory of him devouring your fiancée haunted your dreams, but you had long since stopped trying to escape. Each attempt was met with swift retribution, either from Douma himself or one of his loyal followers. In the end, you surrendered to your fate, resigning yourself to the life Douma had crafted for you.

Now, you sat on the throne beside him, a symbol of your reluctant acceptance. Douma lounged comfortably, sitting cross-legged with an air of regal nonchalance, while you knelt next to him, holding onto his arm and leaning into his side. The weight of his presence was both a comfort and a chain, binding you to him in a way that was inescapable.

"Look at our paradise, [Name]," Douma said softly, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he gestured to the room filled with worshippers. "Isn't it beautiful?"

You nodded, your eyes distant as you gazed out at the devoted followers. "Yes, my lord," you replied, your voice subdued. The title of "lord" felt foreign on your tongue, a constant reminder of the twisted love that had ensnared you.

Douma smiled, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. "You see, this is what true love is," he murmured, leaning closer to you. "A bond that cannot be broken, a connection that transcends all else."

You forced a smile, your heart heavy with the weight of your circumstances. "Yes, Douma," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "You belong to me, [Name]," he reminded you, his voice a playful purr. "And I will protect what is mine."

The worshippers around you continued their adoration, oblivious to the dark undercurrents that flowed between you and Douma. To them, you were their new lord, the perfect partner for their divine leader. They couldn't see the fear and resignation that lurked beneath your surface, the silent cries for freedom that had long since faded into acceptance.

As you leaned into Douma's side, you felt the cold metal of his fan against your skin, a constant reminder of his power and control. You were bound to him, forever trapped in the eternal paradise he had created, a paradise that was nothing more than a gilded cage.

ahh, that was my first time writing for demon slayer !! Was it good ? Did I write Douma decently ? 😭 also, I am writing chap 2 for yan!fem!Toji story :3

requests are open. . . — made by zesty4zenin on tumblr only!!

[emberdew]

Astronaut Danny Fic Recs 🚀

Happy Moon Day! Here are a bunch of fics where Danny is an astronaut or just goes to space that I like:

One-shots and Two-shots

Astro-Ghost by Kimcat || 8k One-shot

Don’t Crack Under Pressure by @raaorqtpbpdy || 4k Two-shot. (Also Haunted, a 2k one-shot.)

Amongst the Stars by @going-dead || 4k One-shot.

Spaceman by Workparty || 7k One-shot.

Wow, tough crowd. by @the-random-phan || 4k One-shot.

Space by GhostWriterGirl1 || 2k One-shot.

Deep Space Deep Trouble by @thatstomorrowsproblem || 1k One-shot.

The Moon is Haunted by @princessfanonanona || 1k One-shot.

Fly me to the Moon by @jadenoryuu || 5k One-shot.

Astronaut Aykroyd by I_Am_Toast || 1k One-shot.

Earthrise by @unendinguroboros || 1k One-shot.

Multichapter

Space Case by @torscrawls || 20k Complete multi-chap. Danny starts doing his homework on the moon base and it keeps going from there. I think it is really funny that Danny just refuses to explain things lol.

The Void Yawns Softly by @lexiepiper || 50k Complete multi-chap. This mystery space horror story is really cool!

Secret Studies by GenericAuthorName || 70k Complete multi-chap. This is a really interesting story and one of my favorite parts is Jack Fenton and Phantom going to the moon together. Also the "dissection" tagged was not what I expected, lol.

Kwan the Astronaut by kakawot || 65k Complete multi-chap. Both Kwan and Danny are astronauts and they go on an interesting dimension-hopping journey after Danny has to take the ISS into the Ghost Zone.

Close Encounters of the Ghost Kind || 25k Complete multi-chap. A really delightful story that starts with Phantom being discovered on the ISS and ends with some nice reveals.

Space Ghost by @murderthecat || 4k Complete multi-chap. Danny goes to space and saves some astronauts from aliens. I love the implication his dimension is the “Amityville” one which means Danny the main character of the whole dimension.

Crossovers

The Phantom Martian by @lexosaurus || 92k Incomplete multi-chap. This crossover with The Martian is amazing! I love Danny and Mark’s relationship.

Stalking Astronauts: Gotham's Latest Social Media Craze! by @tachvintlogic || 54k Complete multi-chap. This is a really interesting twist on the usual DPxDC adoption trope where Danny is afraid of being adopted, and he doesn't need to be because he's an adult and a successful astronaut. Tachvintlogic actually has a few other cool astronaut Danny fics, including The Conspiracy Board to Danny's Heart which I think is funny.

I'll be updating this list as I read/remember other fics where Danny goes to space, so feel free to send recs or promote your own fics! Last updated: 7/20/24.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Their child is getting bullied at school.

Ugh, anon. Are you trying to break my heart? Are you trying to make me ache? I think you are. I really think so especially with a prompt like this.

Firstly, I love some Task Force 141 Dad prompts, headcanons, etc. It's so indulgent on my end. I adore picturing them as fathers. Personally, I see them all as girl dads but that's just me. I didn't do that here, but I still headcanon it. Enjoy some protective 141 daddies.

Presented in four drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings: swearing, hurt/comfort, mentions of bullying

Word Count: 400

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny breathes deep. He needs to calm down.

Johnny goes to one knee, staring into his son’s eyes. “What happened?”

The story drives his irritation higher. It’s frustrating. And nothing is being done about it.

Johnny should be an adult about this. He should let the school handle it. But he also knows that bullies are slick. They don’t want to be caught.

And sometimes all they need is a physical reminder.

��If it happens again, you form a fist. Like this.” His son nods. “Hit them here. Got it?” Johnny points to a spot on his face.

“Got it.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle softly knocks on his daughter’s bedroom door.

She glances up.

“Can I come in?” She nods and Kyle enters, sitting on the bed of her bed. “Your mum told me what happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“She pushed first.”

“I believe you,” Kyle says softly. “I taught you stand up for yourself.”

“I did.”

“I know you did, baby.” He gently cups her cheek and leans in, placing a kiss on her forehead. “But come to me first. Allow me to help. Okay?”

She leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Love you, baby girl.”

John Price

“Enjoy your lunch?”

John’s daughter nods. “Yep.”

“Did you like the blueberry muffin your mother packed you?”

“Yes.”

“And your sandwich?”

“Perfect amount of jelly.”

John frowns. “I know you’re lying, dove. Your mum packed a peanut butter brownie and a turkey sandwich.”

His daughter goes quiet.

“You’re not eating your lunch. Why?”

She bites her lip and John drops to her level.

“Talk to me.”

The words spill out of her, and John goes cold. Someone is taking her lunch, leaving her with absolutely nothing.

John nods, pulling her in for a hug. “I’ll take care of it, dove.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon has to bite his tongue and clench his fist. His irritation is rising. His wife places her hand on his thigh, squeezing it with reassurance.

“It’ll be fine, Simon,” she murmurs.

“Someone hurt my little girl. Our daughter is being punished. I want some fucking answers.”

“I know. But if you go in guns blazing, it won’t help. She’s already upset.”

Simon sighs heavily. His wife is right. He needs to calm down. Being combative won’t help anything.

“And you won’t confront the parents?”

Simon bites the inside of his cheek, growling. “If it stops.”

“Simon.”

“Promise,” he says.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @daemondoll @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@pearljamislife @ash-tarte @eternallyvenus @spookyscaryspoon @vrb8im

[darthannie]

kinktober day two: somnophilia with raymond leon

pairing: Raymond Leon x f!reader word count: 712 warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, somnophilia, basically dbf (dad's business friend) a/n: Writing somno is a challenge for me but I'll accept it every time. Enjoy!

Kinktober Masterlist

Your father had more than enough time to set you up for centuries. He gave you 50 years as a gift for your 25th birthday. That was around the time you met Raymond Leon. He was a timekeeper hired by your father to investigate a string of time theft going on in his company.

He spent a lot of time at your house, working out of one of the offices your father had set up on the estate. He was never home, so the house was completely void of anything stopping you from being with Raymond. 

You and Raymond had set up an arrangement. Not quite a relationship, but you were his and his alone. He wasn’t the doting man you’d always wanted, but there was a thrill that ran through your body whenever you were around him. 

His dark hair and light eyes did a number on you. The first time you felt his hands touch your smooth skin was a day you’d never forget. Since that day, he had you, hook, line, and sinker. And because of you, he had all the time in the world. 

On one particular day, he found you asleep in your bed under a fleece blanket. That’s a shame, he thought. He had expected you awake and waiting but, making the most of it, he thought he’d play a little game. He wondered how long it would take for you to wake up. 

He removed his trench coat and reached for your blanket. He dragged it off, slowly revealing your naked body. He breathed out and blood rushed down to his dick. He took this as an invitation, a bright green light telling him “go”. 

He started by softly grabbing your breast, feeling your soft skin in his hand. He pulled down his pants and started stroking himself, contemplating his next move. You breathed out softly and hummed. She must be dreaming, he assumed. 

You rolled over onto your side, arching your back and making your ass more prominent. He would’ve thought you were awake if it wasn’t for the way your wrist went limp when he picked up your arm. 

Now with the assurance you were fast asleep, he got bolder, and spread your ass so he could get a better look at you. He laid on the bed next to you to get in the just right position where he could put the tip of his cock in you. 

He hummed at the feeling of him stretching you out ever so slightly. He tried his luck and pushed in slowly. He got as far as he could before stopping as you began to stir. 

You stretched out your arms slightly and yawned. Raymond felt you clench around him. You were in a daze and unaware of what was going on. He pulled out and slowly, slowly thrust back in. That earned him a soft moan from you. 

He shifted his body in such a way that he was now over you, watching your face as he fucked you. You were coming into consciousness as he picked up speed. You breathed in, about to say something a little too loud, and Raymond put his hand over your mouth.

“Shhhh. Go back to sleep,” He cooed.

He removed his hand and laid down behind you, lifting your leg, and spooning you as he thrust deep inside you. He held your arms close to your chest.

You moaned quietly and he placed his hand over your mouth again. You didn’t know if what was happening was real but you didn’t want it to stop. You let him fuck you in your drowsy state, not opening your eyes again. 

He pulled out and came on your thighs. He looked down at the mess he made and was satisfied. He laid with you for a while, dragging his thumb back and forth on your arm.

After a few minutes, he got up and got himself put together again. He threw a washcloth on the bed and checked his time. He walked over and grabbed your arm, giving himself an hour for good measure.  

He leaned over to your ear and said, “When you decide it’s time to wake up, clean yourself up and get dressed. Your father’s here.”

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylumm, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting, @queenofstresss

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)

[lets-try-some-writing]

Pursued

It's Halloween night, and Rafael is more than ready to settle in for the night at base with his friends. Unfortunately, Rafael is not so lucky as to rest peacefully. Instead, something darker has plans for him.

(In honor of Halloween, enjoy a little horror story I have composed for you lovely lot. Might not be for you if you can't handle suspense.)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Lights off.” Arcee cut the power with a firm but not unkind declaration. Rafael snuggled up in his sleeping bag, smiling as the smallest of the Autobots trecked further into the base, leaving him and his friends to rest after their night of running from door to door. There had been discussions about going home for the night, but after a lot of pleading from Miko, Optimus had seen fit to let them stay, for which Rafael was more than a little grateful. He’d rather not wake up to find half his goods from the night’s rampage around town gone and likely hidden away in his siblings dressers and lunch boxes. 

Being the youngest was the worst sometimes.

“Goodnight guys.” He called out softly, earning a series of murmured replies from Miko and Jack, who both seemed far too exhausted to mutter anything coherent. Rafael smiled, contented at the sound of their breathing as it eased and slowed. 

His mind calmed, his heart slowed in its previously nervous fluttering, and before long, Rafael found himself yawning. The dark void of the base’s roof was comforting enough that the pull of sleep didn’t feel far off. He was safe, in a base filled with his friends and guarded by some of the universe’s most powerful bots. Everything was fine.

He was fine.

His eyes started to close, and as they did, a faint murmur echoed in his mind. He couldn’t make out the words, not entirely. But just before he drifted off, a single sentence rang out crystal clear, almost as if spoken by someone right by his ears.

‘I will make you regret helping them.’

Fear shot through every part of his body in one jarring sensation that sent him all but careening to his feet. The floor was cold as he stepped out of his sleeping bag, and the darkness of the base felt all the more ominous. He wasn’t tired anymore, not in the slightest. Something was wrong. He couldn’t pinpoint quite what it was, not at first.

And then he looked around.

Miko and Jack were gone. Their shoes were undisturbed, and when Rafael hurried over to touch their discarded sleeping arrangements, he found that their sleeping bags were stone cold, as if they’d not been in them for some time, if at all. He couldn’t help but clutch one of Miko’s stuffed animals, the blue bear that normally hung from her belt. As he stood and looked around, the only light that he could see came from the dim glow of Ratchet’s console. There was no sound aside from his breathing, and it only served to make Rafael clutch the bear even tighter.

“Hello? Guys?” His voice rang out eerily, only serving to have his hair stand on end rather than comfort him. There was no reply to his plea. Not a sound or a whisper. It was all… silent.

His heart raced as he looked around, double checking to be sure he was seeing things right. Was he dreaming? It didn’t feel much like a dream. The air was too chilly, and the floor was far too cold against his feet. He was no stranger to nightmares, but none of them had ever felt quite like this. Not nearly so real. 

"This... this is fine. I just need to find one of the bots.” He attempted to reassure himself, pitching his voice up a notch with faux cheerfulness even as he fumbled to grab his glasses. Once they were firmly in place, he strapped on his shoes, socks forgotten in his relative haste, and made his way to the ground. 

He did not let go of Miko’s bear.

“Ratchet? Bee?” His voice rang out in the empty base as he moved, his small feet pattering as if in mockery of his own existence. The base had always felt like a second home, but given light only from the far off console, it felt as though he were intruding on the home of giants, or perhaps things not meant to be disturbed. 

He tried not to acknowledge the way his eyes threatened to well with panic induced tears as he passed the console and made his way toward the long hall leading toward the bots and their personal rooms. He’d never been in any of them, but maybe if he wandered that way, someone would hear him.

“Guys? What’s going on?” Again and again he called out as he walked. He received no response, not even once. And yet, the farther into the base he moved, the more uneasy he became. Where silence once reigned, there were now faint sounds, pattering in the dark that felt so much heavier than his own steps. For brief moments, he thought he saw the outline of Miko or Jack behind him, but travelling in the increasing darkness made him doubt his own eyes, poor as they were.

Louder and louder, the noises rang out. Rafael clutched the bear even tighter as he recognized the heavy marching of one of the bots. Eyes blazed in the dark, cycling and viewing the world like spotlights. He didn’t know who it was, but as bright blue eyes gazed down on him, Rafael felt nothing but fear.

“You should not be here. It is far past your bedtime.” Arcee’s voice echoed in the hall, but Rafael found no comfort in it as the spotlights grew nearer, her voice even louder.

“Let me take you back to your bed. You are up far too late.” Her shadowy form drew nearer, and as it did, her shining eyes let Rafael view small portions of her frame. As a clawed hand reached out for him, Rafael’s eyes widened in horror as he caught sight of so much red splattered across her fingers.

“Come now. Don’t be afraid.” Her voice was sweet, but Rafael didn’t hesitate to run. He dropped the bear in his haste, and in the brief moment he took to look back, he saw Arcee’s claws digging into the concrete where he once stood, the bear shredded between her talon like fingers.

“Rafael.” Her voice rang in warning, but he merely bit back a scream of terror as he darted around a corner, frantically searching for an escape. Her heavy steps thundered behind him, increasing in loudness and speed as he frantically searched.

“Rafael.” Another voice joined the chorus, another set of heavy steps getting in line with the march. Rafael’s breath came heavy and labored as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him, trying not to trip over anything in the void that spread out before him. What was going on? What was happening?

Why was Arcee covered in blood?

He shook his head, fighting back tears and sobs in equal measure as he felt along the wall, searching for a door, a vent, anything he could shove himself into to avoid his fate.

“RAFAEL!” He heard Ratchet and Bulkhead, and somewhere amidst their near-shrieking voices was the unmistakable binary of Bumblebee’s voice. They were all so close he could practically feel them, their feet so loud in hitting the ground that all else was deafening. Their glowing eyes lit the world around him, but as they did, he could sense them closing in. Why wasn’t he faster? He had to be faster!

He screamed and sobbed as Ratchet’s foot came about an inch away from squishing him into paste. He threw his arms up over his head, despite knowing it would do nothing as he ran. His glasses were barely staying on and his vision was blurry from tears. Their steps were so loud and their eyes so bright that everything was a mess of sensation. His lungs burned, his legs ached as his feet pounded against the ground, trying in vain to gain some sort of distance.

As their eyes all focused on him, Rafael could feel cold and cruel realization sink in.

He was going to die here unless he acted and did so fast.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, leading Rafael to frantically use the lights of his prusuers to scan the walls.

There, a vent. It looked small, perfect for him.

He readied himself, taking in as much air as he could before he threw himself to the side, just in time to avoid Bumblebee’s foot colliding with his body. He skidded across the ground, watching as the spotlights started to scatter, searching for him once more. Rafael didn’t take more than a second to recompose himself, uncaring of his bruised knees and side as he crawled to the vent. He silently thanked Miko for undoing most of the bolts in order to get around as he tugged on the thin metal covering, forcing it open.

He just about threw up in sheer terror as every single one of the bots focused in on the source of the sound, watching as Rafael shoved his body into the small tunnel to escape their gaze.

“Come back out here, you little-!” He didn’t know who was talking; all he knew was that it was deafening as he crawled deeper into the vent, desperate to get away. Everything hurt, and his head pounded from the constant noise. He could hear the bots chattering behind him, one of them screeching in outrage. His body shook in primal terror as one of their eyes glared into the vent, lighting up the entire space for a brief moment before what he could only assume was a curse escaped their mouth.

He didn’t stop. No matter how much his body ached, he forced himself to crawl ever deeper. He was cold, his knees were bleeding from his brush with death, and his head rang from the screeching of his pursuers. But on he went, not stopping until he’d gone through enough twists and turns to feel even somewhat safe. He paused by a vent cover, not sitting too close for fear of being grabbed but still near enough to wait for light that didn’t come from watching eyes.

Something was obviously wrong with the bots. Mind control, maybe? Or perhaps it was another Makeshift incident. It wasn’t them. It couldn’t be them.

It couldn’t have been real blood.

"Jack, Miko, please be okay.” Rafael shivered, his teeth chattering as he brought his knees up to his chest. He sniffled, wiping away mucus and snot that threatened to run down his face. He tried not to think about how much it hurt.

He just had to wait. Once morning came, he’d be safe.

“Rafael.” He heard his name again, this time softer, less cruel. But that fact hardly registered as he frantically threw his hands up to his ears, praying to every higher power out there that he wouldn’t be found.

He had no such luck.

“Rafael, it’s Optimus. I know you are scared, but you must listen to me.” No no no no no. He wasn’t dying here.

“Leave me alone!” Rafael screamed, trying to drag himself further into the vent. But before he could, the nearest vent cover was torn off, and the blazing light stopped him in his tracks. He turned to look, drawn in by the glow against his will. It was Optimus’s eye; that much was certain. But instead of glowing blue, it glowed white.

“I am here to help you, Rafael. I wish to assist you in escaping this nightmare, but I cannot do so unless you let me. Without your consent, the grip he holds over you is too strong for me to tamper with.” Most of the words flew right over Rafael’s head, but the sheer calming presence of the Prime eased him enough that for a brief moment, he felt safe again. Hesitantly, he moved closer to the opening, and as he did so, Optimus moved back.

As he stuck his head out of the opening, he looked down to see the Prime watching him quietly. The vent was right next to where he and his friends had been sleeping less than an hour ago. To him, it seemed more like a mockery than a relief.

“You will be safe with me, at least for a time.” Optimus held up a hand, but he did not smile. It was unnerving, but far less dangerous than the rest. Quietly, he slid from his safe haven and onto Optimus’s hand, watching the Prime fearfully as he carried them both toward the console. The faint glow of the device was a welcome comfort as it drove back the darkness.

“Listen to me, child.” Optimus’s voice was deep and almost guttering as he set Rafael down on the edge of the console. Their eyes met as Optimus stared down at him, blinding white, both a comfort and a deadly warning.

“On nights such as these, the Unmaker stirs. His essence runs with more fluidity, and those who have been touched by him are more susceptible to his designs.” Optimus’s eyes shifted, the delicate mechanisms turning like the facets to some grand key that Rafael could not comprehend. Still, he nodded as he tried not to focus too much on the noises of the bots slowly working their way back to the main part of the base.

“You were touched by his essence, and because of that, he has gained a degree of influence over your mind.” Optimus raised a finger, gently touching the top of Rafael’s head. It was soothing, but there was a lingering weight that left him itching to move as the Prime continued.

“I have used my influence to reach you in this place, but there is little else I can do.” The steps of the bots grew louder, and Rafael started to shrink in fear. He looked around, frantically searching for his pursuers. But Optimus’s words drew him back.

“Listen to me. Unicron feeds off torment. To escape this place, you must take a leap of faith.” The sounds grew closer. Rafael shook so much he could hardly process what Optimus was saying. What was he supposed to do?

“He will keep you here, trapped until you fight back. Face the doom that awaits you with honor, and he shall have no satisfaction.” He wanted to scream as Optimus stepped away from the console, the comforting light of his eyes fading as the Prime moved to stand at the far end of the space, observinging in silence.

“Wait!” He wailed in fear as the bots entered, their eyes all falling on Rafael like he was some sort of prey animal. Every single fiber of his being demanded he run, but as he looked over to the Prime, he saw Optimus mouthing the words over and over again, as if forcefully silenced.

‘Face the doom that awaits you with honor.’

He stood on the edge of the console, watching with tears blurring his vision as the bots gathered around. They stood like judges, staring into Rafael’s very soul as their towering frames crowded above him. The fear was overwhelming. He could already feel his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, threatening to burst from the stress of it all.

“No more running, little mouse.” Ratchet spoke up, and as he raised his hand above Rafael’s head, he saw blood staining his digits too. His legs shook, his body chilled. Time seemed to slow, and as it did, Rafael found himself presented with two choices.

The console behind him was clear. If he bolted, he could hide and run back toward another vent, hopefully escaping in time. He’d done so once; he could do so again. But if he ran... would it really change anything? Optimus said this was Unicron’s work. Could he really escape the power of a godlike entity?

Looking past his pursuers, Rafael saw Optimus watching, still as stone. And yet as he observed, his mouth continued to form silent words.

‘Face the doom that awaits you.’

Tears gathered in his eyes again. The urge to run felt like it was drowning him. But against every instinct, Rafael stayed still. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stared up at Ratchet’s hand as it began to lower. What if this was real? What if Optimus was wrong? What if this was where he died?

‘Face the doom that awaits you.’

The hand lowered. Eyes glowed brighter as laughter echoed all around him. And yet, whenever Rafael looked at Optimus, the words continued on endlessly. 

‘Face the doom-’

“Face the doom.” He murmured the words that ran on repeat in his head. They drowned out the laughter as Ratchet’s bloodied hand drew ever nearer.

“Face the doom.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his arms, trying not to focus on the dampness of his clothes that came from exertion. 

“Face it with honor.” His voice was barely a squeak, his entire body shaking like a leaf. But with all the will he had left in his soul, Rafael forced himself to stand still.

“Face it with honor!" In a burst of courage, he opened his eyes and glared just as the hand came down on his head. There was momentary pain, then blackness. For a brief moment, there was nothing except his screaming thoughts, telling him again and again that he’d failed and that this was his end.

Then he woke up.

He shot up with a gasp, clutching at the plush surface of his sleeping bag. His entire body was drenched in sweat, his breathing fast and erratic. And yet, as Rafael looked around in a daze, he saw that Miko and Jack were sound asleep next to him, both perfectly safe and at ease.

“You did well, Rafael.” Optimus’s voice washed over him like a soothing tide, and before he knew it, comforting white eyes let their gentle glow grace him once more. 

“The Unmaker shall trouble you no more. You have broken free of his grasp, at least for this night.” Optimus leaned closer, his face coming up near to the bars separating the platform Rafael was on from the rest of the base.

“Rest now. We shall ward off his foul machinations.” Optimus’s eyes flashed, a surge of colors and hues shifting into place before it returned to that chilling, and yet oh so calming, white. Despite the terror, Rafael found himself relaxing back into his sleeping bag, unusual exhaustion washing over him as the Prime sang a song he couldn’t understand.

“We have fought him once, and we will do so again. Be at ease, child of Earth. Your duty is done.” With those final words, Rafael again found his eyes closing.

And this time, there were no whispers.