#and/or have rarer powers' who cares!!

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Okay so, I obviously am not even close to reading acosf but ive been seeing a lot of posts about it and nessian and it made me think about some stuff. Why is it that Nesta seems to trigger Cassian's insecurities in the intense way that she does, but none of the other inner circle member do? Like, his biggest insecurity is his bastardhood but hes fine with Rhysand calling him that when hes introducing him to Feyre because? hes doing it in a friendly way? I guess? Idk, i think if he cant handle Nesta calling him that when shes using it as a synonym for asshole then I dont he should be okay with Rhysand doing it in a 'friendly' way but whatever. Also sidenote about his introduction to Feyre, iirc one of them said some line about how all illyrian bastards are basically brothers but then Rhysand is also their brother in all but blood, so for a brief moment I got these crossed wires where I was like "wait, is Rhysand trying to claim bastardhood when he was not only not born out of wedlock but was born as the result of a bond ordained by god" and I dont think thats the case, I think "cassian and azriel share a kind of brotherhood through their bastardhood" and "rhysand, cassian and azriel are adoptive brothers" are supposed to be wholly seperate statements, although it is pretty weird how that line seems to imply that the former is the main reason that Cassian and Azriel are brothers, as opposed to the fact that they were raised together when they were children. very weird, but that might just be me

But lets get back to Cassian. Another thing he seems to be insecure about is the fact that he's a brute or seen as nothing but a brute, judging by the fact that thats something he brings up in that big monologue after Nesta and Eris' dance, but again, I feel like the rest of the IC lowkey treat him like hes a brute and kinda stupid even if theyre not outright saying it. And like, Im pretty sure Amren has outright said it. Not to mention that whole thing with him taking Mor's virginity which, she wanted to sleep with him because he was the strongest warrior which is technically complimentary, but I feel like it should have a similar impact to the overtly negative brute-insults because its similarly putting a lot of emphasis on his physical strength and kindof dehumanizes him (not to mention the fact that its pretty racist, both in-and out-of-universe). Also, i dont think this was ever explicitly said in the text as the reason for why Mor picked him over Azriel, but doesnt it kinda feel like she picked Cassian because he was 'lower'? Like, obviously their backgrounds are quite similar with both of them being bastards but Azriel was the son of a nobleman while im pretty sure Cassian was from like a poor commoner family, and I could definitely see her picking him just to make sure shes thoroughly 'ruining herself' by having sex with someone she as the lowest of the lowest of the low, yknow? And like, even if thats not why she did it, these fuckers dont communicate and Cassian seems insanely insecure so I feel like he shouldve had the same process as I just had, and it shouldve affected their relationship negatively but thats not the case, Cassian is just like "no thoughts, head empty, pagelong internal monolgue about how beautiful and kind Mor is"

I was gonna write another paragraph about the illyrian racism but this post is getting kinda long and I think you've gotten my point by now: the ic can do whatever they want with things that touch on Cassians insecurites and he will not care and continue sucking up to them with nary even a second thought, but if Nesta even exists in his vicinity, it ticks him off so badly. And why is that? Because...... she has rich person-vibes? i guess? Thats it, its just vibes. And Im not the first person to point this out, but the text is really trying to make nessian seem like this rich lady/poor boy dynamic and like Cassian is punching up because "Nesta is like a queen" and its like, yeah, emphasis on the 'like' there because shes not actually a queen and she doesnt hold any power over this guy!!

[mv1simp]

Haunted ♥️ Part 1 of 2

Alpha!Max Verstappen x Reader (Omegaverse AU)

READ PART TWO HERE

it’s where we go, it’s what you see (I know if i’m onto you, you must be onto me)

As Mercedes’ rookie female driver, you garner a lot of media attention, even more when you reveal you haven’t presented. You don’t care about true mates or presenting - all you wanted was the championship. You’d be a lot closer to it, if it wasn’t for the dominating Alpha Max Verstappen. But after your late presentation, you two realize there’s a lot more to your bond than competition.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, primal themes, dom!Max, Sub!Reader, enemies to lovers. WC: 5.4k

Triumphantly holding the trophy up in your hands, you beam at the sea of black and white fans who scream their approval. Winning your second race after having fought your way throughout the season as the new Mercedes driver was an unforgettable feeling - sealing in that it was your talent, not luck that got you the first. And no one had given you a harder time and held up your long overdue win than the reigning world champion - Max Verstappen. Turning to your right, you reward him with a smirk as your national anthem finally plays instead of the Dutch one.

He doesn’t hide his frustrated glare at you from his P2 podium that instinctively makes you want to sprint away and hide in your safe garage behind Toto. You’re a bit annoyed he’s still taller than you, even though you’re on the highest step. One of the downsides of being 5 foot compared to Max’s tall 6 foot frame - but that hasn’t stopped you from finally taking the win from him and proving how deserving of your seat you are, you remind yourself.

As the first female driver in decades, you’d sent shock waves through the paddock when Mercedes had pulled you out of the F4 pool and straight into their seat after the loss of their golden boy, Lewis Hamilton, to Ferrari. What had been even more shocking was the fact that you were an Unpresented female in a sport that was almost exclusively dominated by Alpha males.

Like the majority of premier athletes, most of the drivers had presented from a very young age as Alphas. Unsurprising - given the traits of ruthless competitiveness, aggression and passion that came naturally to Alphas. And out of all this group of already highly dominating drivers, Max Verstappen was the alpha, well known for his perfect instincts, the ultimate apex predator. His early career was famous because of how, at 17, his intimidating aura had been enough to make grown men racing on the same track give way to the younger alpha. This automatic submission Max was able to elicit from others was one of the many, many benefits that came with being an Alpha in society - especially for one such a powerful as Max.

So when you - who was not an Alpha, or even a Beta, but rather an Unpresented - showed up to the paddock for your first ever race and then ended up somehow going wheel to wheel with the reigning world champion by Lap 20, jaws dropped and headlines were rapidly printed. Presenting as an Alpha was rare, an Omega even rarer - with the majority of the population being Beta. However a small population also remained Unpresented, spending their whole lives without any sign they belonged to any gender. Essentially, you were like a scentless Beta - but just several rungs below on the social ladder as Alpha commands had minimal effect on you. It could be worse, you had mused when started racing - you could have been born an Omega.

Omegas were a rare breed and highly sought after. With their attributes of being sweetly nurturing and natural carers - they made the perfect match for protective Alphas. Of course, as the world had historically always been ruled by Alphas, in turn Omegas had been stereotyped as the soft, submissive, delicate ones who needed to be closely guarded in society’s eyes.

So it had been suprising to you that there were not one, but two Omega drivers on the paddock this year. Yuki Tsunoda made sense, you supposed, with his slight frame and pretty features giving him away. But he certainly swore so aggressively up and down the track he’d have the commentators asking if maybe he had been assigned the wrong group. Alex Albon had been much more surprising with his very Alpha-like build - but given his quietly confident aura and gentle nature compared to the other drivers who were always aggressively arguing, it made sense looking back. And it had been even more surprising when he announced he’d found his true mate and Alpha, his girlfriend Lily.

Really, you were grateful you didn’t have the drama that came with being assigned a presentation. Even if it meant you would never have a true mate, you could live with it if you could have a shot at being world champion. But goddamn Max Verstappen, with his intense gaze and powerful aura that even you would feel tickling the back of your neck, across the paddock, would keep getting in your way. Your first P1 though, 2 months ago in Japan, you hadn’t let him win and successfully defended him off. It was the only advantage of being Unpresented - unlike the other Alphas and Omegas on the track, you were the least affected by his suffocating presence and used that to your advantage when pulling dangerous manoeuvres that vexed the Dutch driver to no end.

And he’d certainly let you know it after your first win - after a neutral indifference to you when you approached him on your first day to greet him, unlike the majority of the drivers who’d curiously flocked to the first female one. But after you took P1 from him, he claimed angrily, with dirty fucking moves, what was that overtake on the 2nd corner- you’d formed an instant dislike of him. Just because you didn’t bend to his will like everyone else?! Just because you’d won using the same move - you pointed out to him furiously - that he’d used to overtake you on the last race?

The pair of you had become quick rivals, butting heads more and more as each race went on and providing lots of great content for the media which ate it up. Sometimes Max would confuse you into thinking you were friends - occasionally murmuring helpful advice as you watched the post race highlights in the cooldown room, or shutting down sexist questions you’re repeatedly asked in the driver interviews. You’d think this was the warm, caring Max that you’d heard existed off the grid. But then you two would have some racing incident or the other and he’d be back to the fire breathing lion he usually was.

That first P1 in Japan had been bittersweet to you - because after your argument with Max, when you’d gone back to your hotel to admire your new trophy, you’d started to becoming increasingly unwell for a few days and had high fevers. You hadn’t even realised what was going on until your Beta coach banged on the door demanding to be let in, before saying you were finally presenting, 5 years late, as an Omega.

You’d been shocked and upset, of course, leading to a very traumatic first heat in a foreign country where although the desire and lust hadn’t been intense, the longing for an Alpha to comfort and protect you as you cried and whined has been so overwhelming. You had never wanted to feel anything like that again, so disempowered - so you had sworn your manager to secrecy and after a very private meeting with you, your teammate George Russell, your managers and a very concerned Toto Wolff - you’d tearfully told them what had happened. You’d expected to be dropped from the team, but they had taken one look at your distress and instantly calmed you down. Mercedes will most certainly not be dropping their very promising rookie, who had just taken P1 at her 4th ever F1 race, Toto had reassured you firmly, exuding calm confidence as he handed you a tissue. George’s large hand rubbed warm circles on your back and within a few minutes you’re laughing at jokes the two tall Alphas made to cheer you up, unable to resist the urge to protect the small Omega in front of them and using their scents to soothe you.

Regardless of how understanding your team principal had been, the fact was it would be terrible PR for you to publically present as an Omega female and risk the loss of sponsors. Given that the first heat after the presentation was notorious for being especially painful in an effort to attract a fated mate from the very start, Toto had guided you to a discreet specialist doctor to ensure the world continued to believe you were Unpresented. You’re relieved, hating the idea of being stereotyped as something delicate and pretty to be protected when you were anything but. You literally drove like a suicidal madwoman at 300km/hr for a career! So you’d promptly been started on high strength suppressors to avoid any issues with a first heat happening in the middle of a race weekend, and a couple sprays of sweet perfume later no one would be any the wiser if they picked up on any residual Omega scent that the suppressors couldn’t block.

So here you were now, celebrating your second win in Barcelona with a few of the drivers and friends at a 3 story club downtown. Although you’d been enjoying drinking and laughing with your friends, you’d been unable to stop the shivers that ran down your bare spine from your rival’s intense gaze, still simmering with anger, across the dancefloor where he was talking to Lando. You hated the way that you still felt so affected by him, by his scent that always seemed to drift over to you, always smelling more and more heady each time you saw him. And the urge to submit to him was just stupid and desperate, you thought, rolling your eyes and taking another shot. It turns out your “slutty inner omega whore” as you had not-so-fondly dubbed her, seemed more interested in having a strong Alpha’s dick inside her, instead of hating said Alpha for trying to run her off the track. Multiple times.

And tonight, the suppressants were clearly not doing their job because you couldn’t control the way you squeezed your thighs together, panties suddenly damp with the thought of an alpha like Max keeping his eyes on you - instead of the girls who had been throwing themselves at him the second he’s entered the club. You tell your inner slut who delighted in this attention to get it together, because the attention was likely murderous rage from the competitive Dutch champion at losing a race. Forcing yourself to ignore the prickles down your spine, you take another shot instead and head back to the dance floor.

Many, many drunk dances with your girlfriends later, you found yourself safely dropped off at the hotel. Pressing the button, you waited patiently for it to come down, fanning your face because you felt strangely hot in the night chill despite having left the club. And then you feel it - that heady, dominating aura that makes you want to fall to your knees. Spinning around, you see Max standing there, dressed in a rare outfit of a fitted white tee and tight pants, accentuating his broad shoulders and thick thighs. Fuck, you had forgotten Redbull was staying in the same hotel as your team this weekend.

He smirks at you, asking if you’d had a good night celebrating, because it’ll be the last win he’ll let you have this year, Princess. You despised the nickname he’s given you over the Redbull radio one race, and how it had stuck in the media too - the pretty little Mercedes princess. You give him an unimpressed glare and tell him to fuck off, Verstappen as you get in the elevator, staying right by the front with your back purposely to him. As the doors close, you can’t help but notice through the reflective wall how Max’s dark gaze unabashedly wanders down your body, enjoying the sight of your curvy, petite form dressed in a backless halter satin minidress and stiletto heels that accentuated your thick ass. Forbidden delight curls in your abdomen from the thought of an alpha as strong as Max finding you desirable. A deeper part of you - one that you would never admit to anyone - can’t deny that you desperately wanted Max to want you, having always idolised him before you joined F1. That when you’d picked out this dress you wondered if Max was going to be out tonight, if he’d see you in this outfit…and find you pretty.

And you’d never, ever admit that recently you woke up with damp thighs and lingers of a dream of being underneath a dominating blonde Alpha, his voice deep and accented as he whispered for you to take it all for me, prinses…

Again, you promptly tell your inner slut to close her mental legs - just in time as the elevator opens before both your floors to let in a large group heading to the upstairs bar.

They’re a drunk, rowdy bunch of businessmen and you’re in no mood to be felt up - and you find yourself moving beside the protective aura of Max. You scowl at how you couldn’t seem to control yourself around the taller man then find yourself surprised when he moves to cover you from their curious gazes. His wide shoulders block out their view of how enticing you look as he crowds you into one corner, his back to them. You nervously make sure you don’t stare anywhere else but straight ahead at his toned chest, your heart beating at 200bpm as the desire that’s pulsing through you being this close to him. Especially when he’s decided to look so fucking hot tonight, that intoxicating deep scent making you light headed, like luxurious velvet running down your skin, like burnt amber, smoky and woody from the embers of a winter's night fire. That wicked inner omega of yours can’t stop purring at how your scandalous choice of dress gives Max a generous view down your cleavage.

The elevator comes to a stop with a sharp jolt on the businessmen’s floor, startling you out of your thoughts and you find you’ve placed a manicured hand on Max’s toned abs to steady yourself. And as soon as you touch him - the first time you’ve ever laid hands on him, you realise later - electricity crackles in between you both. His scent becomes all the much headier to you - as if all the same flavours had suddenly become 10 times amplified. It makes you whimper and again, your body betrays you with the fresh wetness that suddenly drenches your panties.

The change in the air is instant, tension clearly palpable as you nervously peek under Max’s arm and realise the group of businessmen aren’t leaving the lift - and instead all their eyes are turned in your direction with lustful gazes. You shiver but don’t hesitate to glare at them as you tell them to get out. They don’t move, looking entranced at you, when a low, threatening rumble from Max’s chest makes it very clear that you are not to be messed with - unless they wanted to go against the strongest Alpha in a 100 mile radius. Slightly tilting his head to look back at the group, Max’s narrowed eyes and threatening aura makes them run off with their figurative tail between their legs.

The elevator closed with neat ding, moving back up, and suddenly you realised you were in a very compromising position with your rival - who had definitely noticed the very Omega-like addictive, sweet smell you were giving off as a supposed “Unpresented” female.

Verstappen- you say anxiously, frantically thinking of what to say to convince him to keep your secret. But all thoughts are cut off when Max unexpectedly leans down and buries his face into your neck, making you gasp. Your hands grab his shoulders to push him away, to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing. But the words don’t even make it out of your mouth because your head is spinning from his lips now pressing kisses against your delicate collarbones. Somehow, you’re finding yourself winding your fingers in his blonde locks, which were just as soft as they looked.

By the time the elevator reaches your floor, you’re almost falling to the ground from the sensation but Max easily supports your weight against him. He’s guiding you out of the lift and trapping you against the nearest wall - and following immediately with his hard body pressed right up against your soft one. You’re whining that he needs to stop, what is he doing, you’re in a hallway for anyone to see, but he cuts you off again with his husky voice as he breathes out that this scent, your scent, princess…fuck, I’d thought it was perfume or something but it’s all you, isn’t it? I can’t get enough of how intoxicating you are.

Tilting your head back with his strong hands, he bends down to the opposite side now and shuts up your half hearted protests by licking a line straight up the column of your throat. Oh my god, your inner omega was having the time of her life right now. Max, you murmur weakly, and he sharply inhales as your gazes meet. The dark hunger in his eyes is clear when he tells you to say that again.

And when you sweetly call his name again, he’s kissing you, still leaning against the wall in the dimly lit hallway, and you automatically moan into the passionate kiss because it feels so good, so right as his lips moved against yours with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

But when the lift dings, signalling another arrival to your floor, Max turns to look with narrowed eyes at the potential threat and you’re reminded of how wrong wrong wrong this is and how you’d lose all your sponsors if the media found out about this scandal. So you use his second of distraction to use your small frame and slip under his arms, hastily swiping your card and slamming the door behind you when you enter.

Heart beating, you lean back against the door as your replay what just happened over and over, your hands running over your tingling lips where Max’s - your rival - has just been a second ago. Across the other side, Max leans against your door just the same. He’d let you escape his hold - for now - but he wouldn’t next time, because he knew what it meant to smell a scent so divine it made him want to destroy anything that so much as glanced in your direction. That made him lose all inhibition and pin you against a wall as he desperately resisted the urge to bury his fangs in you right there. You were his fated mate, he thinks with relief, pure joy and warmth spreading across him with the idea of having you as his mate. The one who he’d not thought he’d find at age 26 after meeting countless women. And yet here you’d been the whole time, right in front of him, the only driver who drove him so wild on the track. He'd never thought about why the pretty little Unpresented driver was able to generate such strong responses from his Alpha unusually quickly. With a backwards glance to your room where you safely hid, Max wandered away, contemplating how he was going to claim his Omega who hated him.

Meanwhile, the kiss has sent you into an absolute flurry of panic, trying to come up with ways of convincing your rival to keep your secret, having no idea why he suddenly found your scent irresistible. Your half baked plans came to an end when Max texted you the next day to meet him in the hotel lobby to talk. No fucking way, you texted back furiously, so you can get me alone and kiss me again without my permission?

You’d flown back to Monaco an hour later, ignoring Max’s replies. Clearly, he seemed as troubled by this…situation as you were, and judging by the fact you hadn’t woken up to headlines about you secretly being an Omega, it seems Max was keeping your secret - for now, at least. And you were terribly confused by how good his kiss had made you feel, even though you were furious with how he’d done it without asking, as if you belonged to him.

So you decide to ignore Max for the whole week, but when he shows up at your apartment door unexpectedly, you couldn’t hold him off. We need to talk, he’d said tersely, and that’s how you found yourself on the apartment rooftop - surprised that Max hadn’t barged his way into your apartment. In fact, he stood well away from you, leaning against the railing and looking out towards the setting Monaco sun over the pristine Mediterranean waters as you watched his back uncertainly. Just when you were going to ask him what he wanted, he began telling you the story of how his Alpha father, Jos, had claimed his Omega mother, Sophie before she had been ready. You tilted your head, confused. You were very familiar with that particular media scandal - where Jos had deliberately performed the claiming, the ancient ritualistic tradition of an Alpha marking an Omega as theirs - in the peak of Sophie’s career, and had illegally used their mating bond to manipulate her into early retirement and focus on the family instead. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, of how no court or laws could protect an Omega fully from the abuse of a controlling Alpha.

I- I know about your parent’s story, it was quite…anyways, why are you bringing it up now? Max didn’t answer your question, turning around instead to face you. You felt that same fluttering beating of your heart as his intense blue gaze locked in on your doe eyed brown one. After she was able to get the divorce, he continued, she finally found her true mate. And she told me about the difference she’d felt, in how my father and her mate had treated her, how one had made her into the wife he wanted and the other had protected her as she chose to life she wanted for herself.

You’re truly confused now about why he’s still on this topic, and tell him that you’d even spoken with his mother when you began racing about her advice as a female on the track, and you’d expressed your sympathies for how hard it must have been to have her career tarnished so early by an abusive Alpha. Being her son was one of the few things you actually respected about him. Thinking he was foreshadowing what he was going to ask of you, your scent became sour with anger. So, out with it, Verstappen, you demanded, what’s your blackmail plan, I know you know about me being an Omega, are you going to make me promise not to try for P1 because you can forget it-

Max cut you off then, stepping forward and making you tilt your head back to look up at him. You wanted to step back so desperately, knowing what happened last time he was so close - but that inner omega vixen of yours was far too satisfied with the reassuring, soft spicy scent Max was now gently emitting. You hadn’t even known he was capable of anything other than the intense scent he used to dominate on the track.

No, schat, Max says softly. I’m not going to tell anyone anything you don’t want shared. Or use it against you. I wanted to tell you my parents story…to show you my father is the kind of Alpha I don’t want to become. I don’t want anyone to go through what my mother did. You can literally feel your body relaxing from his reassuring words, with the way he had called you darling in Dutch for the first time, from his soft look and scent. And it pisses you off to no end, that he can use his biology to make you feel like this - you’d had no idea the effect from an Alpha could be this strong on you. You realize you’ve involuntarily said that out loud when he tells you it isn’t normal for you to react this intensely to an Alpha, but it’s because it’s him that you’re reacting to. At your perplexed look, he’s reminded that your parents are both Betas and you had very limited knowledge of presentations, compared to his own family which were exclusively Alpha-Omega mates for generations.

Because…because we’re rivals? You ask, those sweet doe eyes of yours blinking up at him and making the urge to protect you bloom deep in his chest. Unfortunately for his inner alpha, he was about to cause you a lot of distress with his next words.

Because - Max swallowed, because, schat, we’re true mates. I’m your Alpha, if you’ll have me.

The distress that comes off you is instant and makes Max want to jump off the balcony railing, if it means ending your despair. You’re stammering out your shock, confusion, and then just straight denial at his claim, insisting it can’t be true - but he watches you with an apologetic expression, only speaking after a long time once you’ve let out all your conflicting emotions. He softly explains why it was true, that you might not know because your own parents weren’t a true match but what happened in the elevator, the reaction to each other’s scents - it was the first step to prime you two for the claiming.

He can see the colour drain from your face, flushed caramel skin now going pale as your distress turns to pure rage, steeped with fear - of him, Max realises. So that's why you're pretending to be so nice, isn't it? you question hotly, so that I say yes to your claiming just for you to use it order me to leave racing? And you'll act like its so different to your parents-

Max can't bear this foreign pain in his chest any longer, each furious word from you twisting a knife into his heart. His inner alpha is screaming at him to comfort and console you, so he does just that by stepping forward again and taking your small form into his large arms, forming a secure hold around you. Your annoyed shriek is muffled against his toned chest, but after a few seconds you calm down once he says, sounding so unusually desperate, he will never do the claiming until you ask him too, even if that's well after your racing career finishes. You pause, hearing the genuine sincerity in his words, and somehow deep within you a sense tells you that Max is telling the truth. As his warm, large hands soothingly rub circles on your back, you find yourself closing your eyes and lean into him, your french manicured hands pressing against his firm muscles and hearing his strong heartbeat through his chest.

You stay like that for a long time, slowly processing everything he's told you, until the sunset disappears over the Monaco horizon and the bright city lights emerge. At some point his arms have wrapped around your soft waist, one hand firmly on your hip and the other cradling your head against him, softly stroking your dark curls. If anyone had told you a month ago that you'd find yourself in this position with goddamn Max Verstappen you'd have laughed them off the track. But here you are, your inner omega purring with satisfaction at the secure embrace of your strong Alpha. You find yourself returning his comforting embrace by tentatively moving your small palms up over his pecs and across his ridiculously broad shoulders, looping around his wide neck. You hear Max's breathing hitch as he feels your shy touch, and then he’s hit with your delicious scent as your new position exposes your neck. It's the same as in the lift - so sweet, like exotic Indian jasmine on a hot summer night, like burnt sticky vanilla in the stroopwafels he adored as a kid, on the rare days he was allowed to go to the park instead of karting. But this time, your scent is even more inviting as your desire for him is stronger, and he doesn't fight his instincts and buries his face into your delicate neck again. He inhales deeply and leaves you gasping when he starts leaving lazy, soft kisses in the hollow of your throat. This time, you can't bring yourself to pull away, your fingers gently threading into his hair as you tentatively call out V-Verstappen, this is-

That's not my name, prinses he rumbles lowly, Dutch accent slipping through as he continues moving up your neck, leaving hickeys with flicks of his tongue and gentle, teasing nips of his sharp fangs - teasing, but not puncturing your tantalising caramel skin. And when you sweetly moan Max for him, looking up at him with those wide brown doe eyes, heady with desire, and a pretty red flush across your full cheeks, he meets your plush lips with his own. There's no hesitation this time, your fingers tangling into his messy blonde locks as you kiss deeply. His large hands running across your body make you feel like you're on fire. And when he grabs a hold of your thick ass, squeezing it like he owned it and and pulling you even closer to him, you're gasping and moaning sweetly into his mouth. He doesn't hesitate to slide inside your parted lips, completely dominating the kiss as he easily takes control over your tongue despite your efforts to battle against his.

Max, this is so wrong you say breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure as his large thigh parts yours, your skirt sliding up as thick muscles come into contact with your aching core. You're certain he's going to be able to feel the wetness rapidly pooling between your own legs. Then why does it feel so right, prinses? He cockily responds, squeezing your ass greedily again and moaning himself when you start grinding against his leg, your wetness dripping past your soaked panties and ruining his pants. Fuck, he was never going to take these off, so he would always have the intoxicating scent of how sweet you smelled when you were so desperate for him, hmm?

The harsh ringing of your phone you'd set on a nearby table startles you. Max ignores it, flexing his thighs up against you to tempt your self control again as your inner Omega begs you to let the Alpha - your Alpha - claim you right here, right now, for all the world to see. But through the haze you see your boss's face flash on the screen and suddenly you're reminded of what's at stake. Snapping to your senses, you stumble away from Max's strong hold, making him growl in annoyance as he reluctantly releases you from his arms. This is why I didn't want to talk, you hiss at him, but he can tell from your scent you’re more conflicted than angry. Because you- you cutely flush, -we can't control ourselves for more than 5 minutes without something like this happening. You gesture to the space between you two as he watches you inquisitively, taking in every small movement with a tilt of his head like he was a lion stalking a deer. Stay away from me from now on, Verstappen you say with a scowl on your pretty face, pointing right at him, his sharp blue eyes not missing the slight tremor that gives away how affected you feel by him. I need to focus on winning this championship and not your…slutty Alpha seduction techniques.

He lets you go, smirking as you practically sprint away down the stairs to avoid any further temptation, enjoying the view of your generous ass from behind. Using his thumb to brush the dampness you left on his pants, he licks it away, chest lowly rumbling in approval as he confirms you’ll taste just as sweet as you looked, as you smelled. Next time, he promises his disgruntled inner Alpha.

After all, it was only a matter of time before he claimed you - it was a question of when, not if. The dark, controlling parts of him wanted to lay his claim on you right now, knowing that you desired him and would be unable to resist if he wanted to have his way with you. But you’d be so much sweeter, more pliable, more eager for him if he waited until you came begging.

He’d have his fun in the meantime.

READ PART TWO HERE

[sundeathh]

Spicy Headcanons 🌶

MASTERLIST

Featuring: Shota Aizawa • Words: 1.3K+

CW: NSFW | 18+ only. MDNI. Kink description, explicit sex language, implied heterosexual dynamics.

Shota has a sensitive neck and ears. All it takes is a kiss on his neck or a lick on his ear to make him melt. He's also weak to nibbles or whispers - it turns him on a lot, and if you dare to do any of those things, you better not stop there.

Shota is a switch. He likes to take control in bed and enjoys being dominant, but he also likes to be on the bottom and be taken care of from time to time.

Shota can be quite the demanding one, but when he's not dominating, he likes to be gentle and sweet. He can act pretty much vanilla when he's stuck in a rough routine. (It doesn't mean it won't be good, though.)

On the other hand, he can engage in hard-core stuff as well. Gotta a rough, BDSM kink? Talk it out – he's in the game.

He likes to spank you and punish you when you're being a brat. (You're always a brat just so he has an excuse to punish you). 

Aizawa didn't have toys of his own aside from ropes he bought to use on you. He's not against using toys, though – if you have them and want to use them, he'll do so; if you'd like to acquire a new one, he'll buy it, too. It's just something he didn't have before you asked for it.

He sometimes lets (or explicitly asks) you to take the lead. Sometimes, he's just so tired and stressed out from work that all he wants to do is get home to have you ride or go down on him.

And how he loves your lips there! Don't get me wrong – he loves to give you oral, too. (In fact, he'll drive you mad and have you begging whenever he eats you out). But honestly, if he had to choose, he'd say he would rather receive it than give it. Your mouth is just too good. 

He has high stamina and can go on for hours, but oral is something that can bring him to climax and wear him out quite fast if you're not careful enough to let him last longer.

When he feels like himself, he usually goes for the second round. But when he's exhausted from work, he'll want to finish after the first. Sometimes, he goes for the third one, but it's rarer. He feels rather tired after the second one. Usually, when he goes for the third, it's way quicker than the other two.

Aizawa has a praise kink. He likes pet names, little compliments, and to be told about how good he is and how great he's making you feel. He wants to prove his worth, and hearing you praise him makes him feel good about himself. 

He loves your thighs. He'll squeeze them, nibble them, suck on the inner sides, and kiss all the way up to your core to have you squeeze his head between them.

Hair pulling is a must. Both yours and his. If you do it the right way (mild force but firm grip right above the nape), you might even yank a moan out of him. 

Shota likes to be marked and to mark you. He'll make sure to leave at least one hickey somewhere in your body every time you're intimate (usually, he leaves more than one). He doesn't like to show it around, of course. But he likes knowing he has a mark you left on his skin under his clothes. 

He didn't know this, but he has very sensitive nipples. Once you find out about this, it's a whole new world of pleasure you can unravel on his body for him. But be careful! It's a new sensation to him, and he can become easily overwhelmed at that spot.

He's not opposed to pegging. In fact, he likes it – but only if it's done with care and gently. He won't let you do that if he doesn't trust you enough for fear of getting hurt.

Shota LOVES to tease. To make you beg for mercy. To have you whimpering his name, hoping he'll grant you what you so desperately need. It makes him feel powerful to hold your pleasure like that. He'll let you reach your peak afterward, but not without a long road of pleading. 

However, when it's you who is teasing... God forbid the punishment you'll get once you're done with him. He is an absolute BRAT when he's getting teased and will misbehave a lot. (Still loves it in the end).

Aizawa doesn't care much about giving you anal – he'll probably never ask for it. He doesn't see much sense in putting unnecessary strain on your body, especially that you might not be comfortable with. So, if you actually like it, you'll have to ask him directly. (Maybe even talk to him beforehand, to let him know clearly that he won't hurt you).

Because, yes, he's terrified of hurting you unintentionally in that sense. He'll immediately stop if he senses that you're uncomfortable at any point.

And when he does inflict pain on you intentionally because he knows you like it, he'll always start gently and progress slowly to see your level of comfort. He will always check on you.

Talking is another must. Shota takes sex very seriously, and that's not something he does with just anyone. So, before you get to that point with him, you'll have to make things clear and set boundaries for the both of you to be comfortable.

Shota is not very vocal when he's on top since he gets too focused on pleasuring you. Usually, he only makes some low grunt sounds, depending on the intensity of the moment. When he gets closer to climaxing, he'll hold back his moans, but you'll still know he's getting close because his breathing gets a lot heavier and louder. And sometimes, he growls when he finally comes.

However, if you're the one on top, he can relax further and it becomes easier for you to get a moan out of him. Still, they're usually low and breathy. 

On the other hand, he LOVES to hear your voice. Whether you're moaning, whimpering, or whispering, it gets him really aroused and makes the whole experience a lot more enjoyable for him. He will also praise you for that quite often. 

Shota also has a breeding kink. The thought of getting you pregnant with his child makes him excited, but he'll never push it if you're not into the idea. Still, he likes to come inside you and will ask your permission for him to do so once you become regular with each other. He'll stop asking once you two get close (he tends to let you know when it's coming, though). If you don't like having him spreading his seeds inside you, he'll pull out and finish on your belly, back, or thighs. 

Shota is not open about which position he likes the most, but you can tell which ones he enjoys since he often goes with the missionary or horizontal cowgirl positions. He likes to have your bodies pressed together and to see your face when you're intimate. He loves the sense of intimacy and connection it gives him.

He's not very talkative during aftercare. However, he'll always ask you how you're feeling and if you need anything (like water, for example). He'll get up to provide you with whatever you ask him and will help you clean up, but afterward, all he wants to do is cuddle with you in silence and stroke your hair or rub your back. 

He also loves it when it's you the one caressing, but he might fall asleep pretty fast that way, so he doesn't always let you do that because he feels guilty for leaving you awake.

In general, Aizawa believes that sex is not something banal one does with just anyone but rather an activity to do passionately with someone he trusts and cares about.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

[trulycertain]

On Dragon Age & Accents

(My unhelpful tuppence, as an English player.)

One small thing I wish had come up in Veilguard from previous games: the accent worldbuilding. It wasn't always consistent - DA:O only seemed to care about country or race, anyone non-human being generically North American and anyone human being mostly RP English unless they were Antivan; for regional accents, they seemed to purely use them for effect or go with VAs' natural ones. (There are about two bandit NPCs who seem to have badly-done Midlands English accents purely because they're not meant to be very bright; thanks, love Canadians reinforcing that stereotype. Anders being Lancashire seems to be pure coincidence because of his voice actor - you rarely ever hear the accent in any consistent way in other NPCs, and it's completely ignored in his very Southern DA2 recast.)

But by DA2, there seemed to be definite trends: Free Marches could be RP English or North American depending where you came from; dwarves tended to sound North American but there were exceptions for some people raised on the surface; elves tended to be either Welsh or Irish, which matches the "very old culture with a linguistically completely different root from Trade/English". Starkhaven is most definitely Scots.

And then DAI! DAI, my love.

DAI kept DA2's trends, while finally giving us more complexity and regional accents, albeit limitedly (and still with some inconsistencies). Finally, we have a (vaguely Germanic) Nevarran accent! And Miranda Raison did such careful work constructing it! The Avvar, Ferelden's mountain folk, sound Northern English. I'd hazard a guess that several sound Yorkshire, actually - this matches the whole "the Orlesians got up there less" lore in real terms; Northern England and Scotland, particularly Yorkshire, was under Viking rule longer than the South, which became Norman-conquered earlier, and there are subtle dialectal differences to this day. (Similar thing happened with the Celts and Romans, and the Avvar are blatantly Celtic and Pictish). There's a reason that RP ("neutral posh") English is Southern, from the seats of power. Cullen's from Honnleath, somewhere smaller and less Orlesianified, and while it's softened by the character's travel and the VA's own posher bents, there are moments the Northern English accent gets leaned into, a little similarity with the Avvar. It's a coincidence but it works so well, lore-wise. Sera's VA sounds... Derbyshire? I think? which is Midlands/Northern border and sounds more than Northern enough to keep a consistent Fereldan sound. And in terms of NPCs? A lot of Fereldan NPCs suddenly start turning up Northern, albeit less broad in their accents! Have a listen round the Crossroads. I remember Gaider mentioning Dorian wasn't originally meant to be Indian, they sealed it for sure when they cast Ramon Tikaram, at which point everyone went, "Yup, let's run with it", cast his dad accordingly, and Gaider figured that Dorian was either part of a pretty big migrant population (which, other than the Dorian Gray reference, the fact his name roughly means "from across the sea" also makes sense), or quite a lot of Tevene folk natively were. Considering Tevinter started as essentially "mage Rome" and morphed into, even according to the writers themselves, "mage Byzantium" and it's very close to Seheron, which I feel is North Africa/Middle East influenced - Tevene folk being akin to folk of Turkish, Middle Eastern, Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Sri Lankan and Bengali backgrounds makes a ton of sense.

It is... exceedingly rare to hear working-class British accents in fantasy series at all (unless Brits make them, and then we're still often peasants or generic NPC #2, a la Origins). It is even rarer to have a fantasy series bother to keep immigrant accents and show the moulding of them through the generations. And I can only think of one other video game that has consciously cast British Asian actors, that's how rare it is even in games that supposedly care about representation - despite the fact that Asian folk make up something like 30% of our population.

Now: would I like some more background on why some accents in the Marches sound British and some don't? Yup! Would I have liked to have more regions in the elves' Irish accents and the dwarves' NA? Yup! But do those really matter? Nope! They would have been lovely icing on the cake, but the underlying cake was great. The plot didn't need it. It didn't have to be perfect, and the filtering of British culture through Canadians, and strategic anachronism? Those are things I love about Dragon Age. I loved how much they seemed to be trying and how much they were thinking about the lore. And I loved hearing a "British accent" that finally made sense to me, not played into the long attempts by toffs to stamp out everything North of London or outside England.

And then Veilguard sort of... forgot about it most of it? Adored that we could play as a Geordie! I really, really love them continuing pointed casting of folk with British Asian ancestry for several Tevinters (*waves lovingly at elek and neve*). But then... uh... look! Working-class Tevene people with generic Mancunian accents! To show they're working-class! That's fantastic progress... for Origins. But lore-wise, by DATV we've already shown that Manchester and Northern English accents live... *points at Ferelden* somewhere over there. We're back to "Tevinters mostly sound like generically evil English folk", as in DAO and bits of 2, which, sure, Dorian doesn't contradict - but then why not have everyone sound Southern, like him? Or add a different tint to it? And no, I am not saying everyone should put on bad "ethnic" accents, and I do appreciate the number of American, English and Mediterranean accents in Tevinter showing a very Roman "you're a citizen of the Imperium but you might have been born in one of its several countries" - but…

Gideon Emery's slight Afrikaans tint made a ton of sense with Fenris and what part of Tevinter he was meant to be from, even if it was unintentional; Jennifer Hale's take on Krem was going for English but came out more Aussie to my ear. Something like those could have been really interesting. But that also means that, including Fenris, we've now had several slaves with an accent that reads... quite posh, to English ears. Same with Neve, who is supposedly proudly from the shithole part of Minrathous, but she and several others have very RP "posh" accents (while others like Tarquin and Elek are Mancunian). Now, not everyone picks up their local accent! I am one of those people! I ended up cursedly plummy for a long time! But... we had hints through the series that Tevinter class markers would be very different from Fereldans', but they're now the same, for some reason?

Add that to the fact that they didn't want to make even one VA suffer through doing the Nevarran accent... See, it makes total sense for Emmrich, who's a posh professor who's done a lot of international study and would probably have learned Common as a second language with a very generic, "neutral" accent; he also was very concerned about appearances with his class background and trained himself not to give much away. And I'm sure the Mourn Watch has international students. But no Nevarran NPCs sound pointedly Nevarran? Not a one? Kal Sharok has hints of something interesting going on but it's rare, and the Anderfels is just... full of sad English and American-sounding people. Rivain is supposedly Caribbean and there are a bunch of actors of Caribbean descent they could've cast, but we only have one NPC sound even slightly so? That's when it stops being "Trade is taught with a neutral accent and there are a lot of Fereldan immigrants and slaves in Tevinter" and starts feeling handwavey.

Basically: I wouldn't mind if we'd gone with most fantasy games' "Eh, we cast broadly based on sound, stereotype or none of the above"; I'm very happy to just go with it. However, DAI told me to pay vague attention because the accents meant something. Then DATV has heel-turned and is telling me "Nah, go with it" the way Origins did. My ears are... confused, to say the least. And we're back to "'working-class' has one accent, and characters with something to say who aren't cast as stereotypically plucky underdogs are all Southern and posh", which just... makes me really sad. I don't hear people who sound like me, my family, or my friends growing up, in Dragon Age anymore. I did hear they had a different voice director in DATV, so maybe it's that?

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi again, i am in need of you help. How do you write a loyal knight character? A true devotee of their charge, but not so much it turns dog-like.

Writing Notes: Loyal Knight Characters

Hi, you can consider using some character tropes as a guide. Found a few examples for you:

"Knight in Shining Armor" Trope: The medieval knight who fights baddies, whether villains, knights, or dragons, and in The Tourney, charms ladies without deliberately seducing them, behaves honorably, and saves the day with his sword; but also, any hero who behaves similarly.

The "shining" originally referred to the way his armor and weapons were kept in good condition, as opposed to the rust that accumulated for less competent knights. Most knights will be depicted wearing plate armor, despite it appearing relatively late in the era of knights. Them using a Knightly Sword and Shield is also pretty likely, though the usage of plate armor with Knightly Sword and Shield is actually historically inaccurate since shields were considered redundant while wearing plate armor.

"Lady and Knight" Trope: The brave, chivalrous knight defends and falls in love with the fair lady.

"The Paladin" Trope: Paladins are warriors dedicated to furthering the cause of all that is good. Holy crusaders, they combat the forces of evil wherever they are found, and defend the helpless as much as possible. Above all else, paladins are good.

"Knight in Shining" Tropes

This is the set of tropes that cluster around Knight Templar: the forces of light in hardcore mode, excessively or otherwise.

This mentality is all the way over on the Idealistic side of the Sliding Scale of Idealism Versus Cynicism.

The Trope Codifiers are the Chivalric Romances of the medieval Matters of Britain (Arthurian Legend) and of France (Charlemagne) — especially the innumberable fantasy novels and verse epics of the 15th through 17th centuries which were based on, set in, or vaguely inspired by the older Carolingian myths.

The Arthurian myths have a less militantly idealistic style than the Carolingian ones; the Arthurian work most completely of this style is Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

This pattern is rarer outside of Europe (and before the Middle Ages) than within it.

The closest analogue to European chivalry was bushido, the code of the Japanese samurai, but the Japanese code emphasized loyalty to one's lord, even to the point of doing evil,

while the European one emphasized loyalty to one's conscience, even to the point of treachery.

Of course, that doesn't mean that non-European heroes can't act like this—and it doesn't mean that European heroes always do, either.

The Roman-derived tradition of "My Country, Right or Wrong" was always present in Europe.

Originally, the word knight was a job description with no connotation of high birth or status: it merely meant a warrior who was skilled and wealthy enough to fight on horseback, and owed their service to someone powerful.

The English word knight is derived from an Anglo-Saxon word for "servant", while most other European languages use a word meaning "horseman" (e.g. German Ritternote or French chevalier).

The word began to take on new meaning in response to social changes at the dawn of The High Middle Ages: the flourishing of merchants and cities gave them new wealth and power to compete with the nobility, while the increasingly independent Catholic Church became more assertive in trying to curb the misbehavior of the warrior class.

In order to maintain their distinction from the class of people who worked, and to reconcile the violent nature of war with the ideals of courtesy and piety, the nobility and gentry absorbed the military role of knighthood while turning it into a more exclusive and regulated order.

A noble child would usually start as a page in order to learn discipline and manners, spend their teenage years as an arming squire taking care of a master's horse and equipment, and when they had grown into a fine warrior, they would be recognized as having earned their spurs. Not everyone became a knight through such careful grooming, though.

Commoners could be rewarded with knighthood for exceptional service, and rulers facing a shortfall of heavy cavalry would sometimes make laws requiring anyone who possessed a certain amount of property to present themselves to be knighted whether they liked it or not.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Hope this helps with your writing! More research might be needed for literary/historical accuracy.

[bundoesnotcompete]

Reader is an Aeon. Possible oocness with Sunday. Roughly 1900 words. Not proof read. See end for author notes. Edited some more errors on 9/8/24

Many of the humans called you the Aeon of Sleep or Dreams. While you did sleep quite a bit, that is not what your true power was. You were truly the Aeon of Control. Though humanity did not remember the time that you were Control, instead only knowing you as sleep.

Instead of using your powers to control things in the universe, you chose to sleep. Of course, you had created a massive dream world that would put Pencony to absolute shame. You didn't want to be bored like you were in reality. The beings on the planet you slept on had constructed a massive temple around you. It was dull colored, soft on the eyes so it did not glitter in the eternal moonlight.

Sleep was your escape from the boring reality that was the early, isolated stages of humanity and the universe. While the birth of aeons such a Qlipoth and Oroboros did catch your eye, they were dull. They had no fun and so you grew bored again with reality. You decided that the humans needed a bit more fun in their lives in that moment.

So you turned the entire world into a massive dreamscape, your most devout followers helping care for and bring others to the world.

Of course, life got more intresting once Akivili connected your little dreamscape to other worlds. Although you remained sleeping, you kept eyes everywhere. The rise and fall of civilisations, aeons, and everything was getting more intresting. In fact, sleeping made it easier to watch events unfold.

Your followers were soon dubbed "Sleepwatchers" and "Dreamgivers" by many of the other civilisations. Of course you had extremists in your followers, but you paid little attention to them even as they caused havoc. You weren't one to try and play favorites, afterall.

Of course, you did visit many in their sleep. From the smallest child to the occasional aeon. Yaoshi and Aha being your most favorites, they knew how to have fun.

Of course as your cult expanded, you decided that you may need an Emanator to keep things in check. It hadn't taken you long to find a good one to help run the show on your dreaming world. You allowed your first Emanator to become their desired form and run your world. They have been doing so for thousands of years now.

When other Aeons would try to consume you into their path, you wiped them from existence and consumed them. The humans had taken notice to that and knew you were powerful.

You weren't always a pleasent aeon. Often if you grew tired of some of your followers, you would give them good dreams before killing them. It only fueled your extremist though, they craved the dreams you would give them. The feeling of being loved and having good dreams before they were killed deepened their devotion.

Your Emanator had asked to be able to deal with them, but you denied them. You did not have another to fill their place. You reassured them when they protested. Perhaps when another caught your eye you would give them their duty and your Emanator could hunt the extremists down.

You took a more human form when you visited dreams, most were unable to tell that you were an aeon.

Like right now, the man you were talking to in Penacony was unable to tell that you were an aeon. You took the ice cream he handed you and found a spot to observe.

Penacony was impressive considering it was manmade. You could tell the dream had its massive flaws, but the small area that was fully constructed was in good shape. It could take them hundreds to thousands of years to even accomplish what you could do in minutes.

It was here that you spotted him. Sunday.

You would be a liar if you said that he wasn't pretty. While that was part of what caught your eye, the true thing that caught it was his path. Aeons often had the ability to see who or what path someone or something followed. The path of dead or consumed aeons was rare, new followers even rarer. His path was that of Order, but Ena had long been consumed by Xipe.

How did he get onto that path, you wondered.

You began to quietly watch him after that. You often pretended to bump into him occasionally and starting conversation with him. He did not seem to pick up on your godhood and you were alright with that.

For years following you first encounter with him, you managed to grow a sort of friendship with him. Though you never were truly friends, you knew him and he knew you. If he happened to see you and he wasn't busy, he stopped to chat with you or sit somewhere with you. You never got to be true friends with him until he started too seem your company.

You were not great with emotions, but you loved his company. You knew that.

For another year, you two grew close. You got to see Sunday for who he truly was and not who he had to be. He was a bit controlling, but he loved deeply and cared deeply. He only wanted what was best for everyone and everything. He was what humans called a people pleaser, even if he didn't show it. While he did know when to put his foot down and put an end to something, he still wanted the best option for everyone.

The dreamscape of Penacony shifted. You felt it shifting, crumbling, rebuilding. Sunday was up to something. Though he did not show you what it was, you could still see it from your bird's eye view. You wanted to see it in its entirity. So, one day when you were visiting him, you told him you had to return home for awhile.

"I'm needed back at the Dreaming Home. I cannot delay any longer." You had said to him. He seemed disappointed by that but wished you well. That was your final meeting in your human form for awhile.

You watched as Sunday put his plan into place. You understood now why his path was of Order and not of Harmony. You watched as he almost fufilled his dream. As he almost ascended to goodhood. But, he could not do it, for the others would not have it.

The Astral Express Crew fought and defeated him, his own sister fighting against him. While you did not blame them for fighting back, you knew what would happen to him.

You knew this emotion as anger. How dare they touch one of your favorites like he was filth. He only wanted what was best. Did they not see that?

No. You would not allow it.

Pulling Sunday into your own dreamscape wasn't hard. He laid asleep for awhile in the still water- like fluid of your dreamscape. You waited for him to wake. You floated atop your cloud as your hundreds of eyes shifted around the dreamscape. He finally stirred after awhile.

"Where am I?" He thought aloud.

"You finally awake. Sunday, my friend, how are you?" Your hsunting voice echoed thoughout the dreamscape. He stood up and looked around. You could see the caution and weariness quickly growing. You spoke again.

"What is it that you jokingly called me? Your Angel?"

"What is this?" He demanded taking a few steps in a direction. Always so guarded. Perhaps your other form would do? You spawned in your friend-shaped body behind him. Taking a few steps foward, you hugged him from behind.

"I thought you'd know my voice and not be so guarded." You felt him stiffened in your hold and he turned his head to look at you. Shock was quickly coloring his exhausted features. You let go and let him fully turn to you. He opened his mouth and you cut him off before he could question you.

"I am known a the Aeon of Sleep, or Dreams to some. That's how I was able to drag you here, my friend." You took a good at him. He looked rough and worn down. You could see Harmony and Order had abandoned him.

"Look at what they've done to you. Even THEY abandoned you." You cupped his face and faced to his ear wings. "Oh I had been so excited even you were about to ascend. You had such good intentions."

"You were an aeon the whole time?" He asked, face returning to a slightly bewildered neutrality. You returned your hand to your side.

"Of course. Do not think that the me you met was my false self. I do not make friends often, Little Bird."

"Why?" He was quickly being overwhelmed. His soul crushing defeat had ruined his emotional state. He was hurting, you could see that.

"Being friends with you? I was merely curious at first, but i came to enjoy your company. Dragging you here? To offer you something." You shifted slightly, your more human form turning into clouds for a few moments. He looked to you as if saying to go on.

"Join me. Harmony and Order have abandoned you, but I will not. Do not take this as pity. I want you by my side." He did not let the shock slip onto his face this time, but it rippled throughout the dreamscape.

"I am imprisoned by the family. I need to see justice through." Sunday protested weakly.

"Justice for what? Wanting what is best for your people? There are people who have done far worse then you that they need to worry about. I will take you to my planet and there you can decide what you want. You are my friend Sunday." You responded. He saw him debate internally. "They will never welcome you back to Penacony. They do not want you, but I will take you. I want you, not for power, but who you are. It may be hard, but the Dreaming Planet will always welcome you. What say you?"

He deflated but came to a decision.

"I will go with you." You gave him a beaming smile before hugging him. Cradling him as you shifted forms and he left the dreamscape. Yes, you had much work to do.

--------

When the Astral Express caught wind of Sunday's Disappearance, they had all been slightly alarmed. Robin had told them that there was no sign of him or how he escaped.

The express had come up with a theory. There had been an Aeon watching them fight Sunday. Everyone felt it. Perhaps the Aeon had something to do with it?

Stelle informed Robin that they would keep an eye out for him. She thanked Stelle and they left it at that.

The Astral Express was heading for is next destination, The Dreaming Planet of Somnus. They would remain unaware of Sunday's Whereabouts until they entered the City of Sopor. Only then would they find out that he had been chosen as an Emanater of the Aeon of Sleep. Later, the crew discovered that the aeon was actually the suspected lover of Sunday back in Penacony.

Good for him, the crew collectively agreed.

"It would make a good story. The Sleeping God is Actually my Lover?!" March had joked.

Sunday had tried to defend himself from the teasing, but your laughter in his mind had stopped him.

"Yes. A wonderful story. You and I have a good story, my love."

--------

End notes:

I just randomly wrote this snippet. Not used to Sunday's character sorry for the oocness. I just wanted to get this out of my mind. I hope you enjoyed it.

Edited on 9/2/24 i found some errors while rereading

[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok so something I'm currently obsessed w thinking ab:

Your every day man in early konoha reacting to the sealing (and arguably enslavement) of the biiju.

But like. Specifically while juggling the idea of old japan, heavily superstitious, yokai exist and we must respect them and their rules / traditions Or Else type energy.

> also bringing into play the idea that after the biiju are sealed, suddenly yokai are so much rarer to see (possibly bc of the giant gaps of chakra out in the world where the biiju were supposed to occupy, killing many yokai bc the balance was thron off or smthn. Possibly bc they're just all scared and retreating from humanity out of caution) so like. POV you trap THE yokai of all time. THE big guys. And suddenly all of the yokai are slowly dissapearing. Not a good omen.

I do not think the sealing of the biiju would be seen as any sort of of good thing by most people. But also he only did it bc Kurama attacked first. But also like. Some people are for sure going "if the kyuubi wanted us dead, it would have been better to only die at its hand, than trap it and prolong it's power and hatred. You have invited Evil into our homes and we will inevitably be punished for this transgression against nature."

Especially thinking ab more wild / nature-y clans like the Inuzuka, Aburame, Orochi, Hatake, who are possibly even more spiritual when it comes to specifically nature spirits vs bigger clans who worship specific gods

Theyre like. This is absoloute blasphemy. It's unnatural. You've meddled with the order of the world. Were all going to die.

Meanwhile like, maybe the younger, more ambitious people are a bit more "woah we trapped a demon !!! Our village is so powerful, now no one can stand up to us!" And on board w it

It could be cool if there's like a genuine divide between people ab it

And then this also helps to herald in this new era of less yokai and a lot more acceptance of using the biiju as tools

For the few surviving elders from the time in later Konoha, it's still an occasional topic of argument. Even if it caused an overall benefit, many still grumble ab it not being right— not bc of the ethics, of course, no one really cares about that. But like. It's unnatural. You're inviting insane bad karma onto the entire village rn. Throwing the karmic balance all the way out of wack. There's almost no fucking yokai anymore clearly u fucking kicked mother nature in the balls.

But yeah just. Reactions of people to Kurama being sealed (and then the subsequent news of more and more biiju also being sealed) while keeping in mind the heavily spiritual culture and traditions of the era

Could be fun

[boopshoops]

TWST OC INTRODUCTION - TCOAV

Salem Lee - The Profane and the Sacred

Name: Salem Lee

Nicknames: Maybell, Ichthys

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bi-Sapiosexual

Birthday: June 29 (Cancer)

Age: 19 in canon TWST age, 21 in TCOAV AU

Height: 5'3 or 159cm

Voice Claim(s): Carolina Ravassa

Twisted from: ;)

Unique Magic: "The Witches' Sabbath" The witches' sabbath was once described as a nocturnal gathering to perform rituals for demons, now it is used by Salem to call upon others for aid. Using her familiar, Eugene, some of the surrounding nature can be pulled towards his body, morphing into what is essentially a black hole. Once absorbing enough material, Eugene can transform into a pitch black beacon. This solely alerts other magic users in a twenty-five mile radius to her location, and those who are around the beacon during its activation receive is a significant boost in power, along with less blot accumulation. However, the spell cannot be activated while she and Eugene are separated.

Grade: N/A

Job: Waitress (with hairdressing and baking commissions as a side)

Hobbies: Writing, baking, cooking, tarot reading, good old-fashioned reading, magic study.

Likes: Chocolate Pave, anything chocolate really, spring, summer, herbology, mycology, witchcore, goth music/style, lunar science.

Dislikes: Improper self care, being dismissed or ignored, nutella, mainstream sns, the dark, a messy environment, too much free time.

Fears: Losing loved ones due to negligence, being ghosted, not being taken seriously by those she loves, heights.

Summary: Moon fae, known for maturing similarly to humans and forgoing excellence in magic to trade for even longer life spans, are rare. Even rarer, however, are those like Salem, who work tirelessly to reclaim their magic in a magicless land. The results of her efforts? A sputtering, gooey, feline familiar with a tendency to absorb anything and everything.

Despite her typically serious and down to earth personality, this has landed her in trouble a good handful of times. She's no stranger to chaos, or the cops for that matter, but despite all of this, she is a gentle old soul with an endless capacity for care. She believes magic is the perfect means to keep her friends and family out of trouble. "No magic" seems like a stupid law in comparison when it could keep them all happy, healthy, and safe.

This belief does come with more downsides than simply breaking the law, though, as her abilities are quite... limited. While Salem has an unending passion for the craft, she also tends to overestimate herself. With her main focus being on fortune-telling and clairvoyance, she will often find herself extremely paranoid by the little things, given the (more than likely) chance her predictions are incorrect. Even with how much this may drive herself and her close ones crazy, she is, in the end, just trying her best.

Character Playlist - Outfit Inspiration - Moon Fae Info Post (TBD)

Author's Note: Salem has been around for awhile- though I never quite use her as often as I should. It felt like everytime I tried to insert her into some new AU, something would come up :P Anywho, She is a rather neutral character. She doesn't care a bunch about morality as long as it follows her own code- which, hey, I guess explains how she could end up with and be exes with Yuu Shi. Aftermath of doomed yuri? ya. Unfortunately she has not been transported outside of Dusk Summit like my other characters, so it will be awhile until there is more content with her. bUT i still wanna do more with her rather than just have her be "Yuu's ex."

[messiahzzz]

as much as i dislike the dialogue option that leads to this scene, i genuinely appreciate gale's response. it is easy to overlook what he is actually trying to convey here and is instead commonly dismissed as him being "overdramatic" or as a display of his bruised ego.

player: it was fine. gale: i see. gale: well, fine is... fine. nobody weeps because the weather is fine. no monarchs were overthrown because their ruling was fine. no artworks were burned because they were not masterpieces, but merely fine. player: would you have rather i lied? gale: the dignified thing for me to say is 'no. of course not. forthrightness before all.' but honestly? yes... i would have rather you lied. gale: i'm just a man. an imperfect one, with needs, wants, and flaws by the bushel. a fragile vessel in which to place potentially world-ending power. gale: perhaps it would be better to not shake such a vessel. gale: forgive me. these were already trying times before elminster delivered his missive. now, for me at least, they are potentially end times.

gale is no stranger to introspection. despite having his natural blindspots, he is fully aware of his flaws and imperfections. he lacks an inherent sense of self-preservation, displays impatience on occasion, can be hypocritical, has trouble handling pointed criticism well, and has a tendency to respond in passive aggression if he feels his competence is brought into question. he seeks admiration and is known to not honor his limitations and own safety for the sake of receiving praise.

gale: [...] people have always commented on my confidence, sometimes my over-confidence, and in one particularly cut throat assessment at university - my 'abject and incorrigible self-delusion.'

gale is not blind to how he is perceived by others, nor does he dismiss their conclusions without careful consideration. instead of deflecting he simply takes what they dish out and files it away for later contemplation and inspection.

player: because you acted the idiot. and paid the price for it too. gale: as always, i endeavor to be invigorated by your candour, rather than eviscerated by it. gale: blunt as your summation is - it's correct. i dared to call myself an archmage while acting the apprentice. the hallmarks of a most excellent idiot, unfortunately.

player: i can't say i share the same high opinion of you, gale. gale: always bringing such candour to our conversations. some would think twice about mocking gale of waterdeep, but you just go straight for the gut. nodecontext: playing along, making fun of himself gale: i like that about you. it's one of your rarer qualities, though i fear my ego can take no more of it tonight. nodecontext: cheerfully accepting the brush off, not taking it personally

needs, wants, and flaws by the bushel.

gale craves as mortals do. for relevance, safety, consideration, loyalty, care, acceptance, and love. he's desperate, he's angry, he's petty and hurt and lonely. he's contradictory, and at times inconsistent. he's afraid, he stumbles, he yearns. if he loves, he does so with all his heart but forgets to extend the same love to himself. he gains understanding only to disregard it later. he is absorbed yet devoted. he expects kindness but is bewildered when it is extended to him in turn. he's neither a perfect colleague, a perfect companion, a perfect lover, nor a perfect husband. he's just another human who's trying to navigate and make sense of the world. who is silently hoping for his soul to be handled with tenderness and care, to finally be seen for who he is —no need for performance or pretense — and to be unconditionally cherished nonetheless.

a fragile vessel in which to place potentially world-ending power.

he knows the burden he carries. understanding that even a momentary lapse in judgment could spell catastrophe if he doesn't exert tight control over his emotions at all times. he knows what is at stake should he lose the composure he painstakingly had to master. a mere moment is all it takes. this self-assessment isn't an "indirect threat" intended to subject pressure on tav or solicit pity, it's a stark acknowledgment of the truth. he is a fragile human, housing powers that should've never been his in the first place.

player: unbelievable. did you ever think what would happen if the tadpole got the better of you? gale: every waking moment. every dreaming moment too. but there was no way out.

he is also keenly aware of how his (former) colleagues perceive him, following his fall from grace.

player: bold. few would dare to reduce a goddess to their 'muse.' gale: i am, after all, the villain of the tale.

this line in particular is one i often think about. it makes me wonder about the extent of information gale received from the outside world after locking himself in his tower for an entire year, setting magical wards so no one but tara would be able to enter. did he hear the whispers? ("shunned by the goddess of magic herself, of course, it was only a matter of time before he flew too close to the sun.") were his colleagues ridiculing him, applauding mystra for cutting off the rot at the source? how did he arrive at the assumption that he is perceived as "the villain" and not the victim?

player: you must have been lonely, with only tara for company.. gale: sometimes. but i imposed it upon myself, after all. i set up enough wards to keep an army at bay, never mind the few colleagues who sought to inquire about my welfare.

or is this solely his own harsh judgment of his folly? that there is no chance anyone would meet him with sympathy, kindness and understanding after what he had wrought. he was too greedy, too impatient — selfish in arrogance, ravenous in ambition. letting delusions of grandeur guide him. he brought it all upon himself with his lack of patience. entirely convinced of his success and skill, blind to the possibility of failure. now doomed to drag innocents into the abyss with him. the hallmarks of a villain, right? after all, who would truly believe him that his ambition hid no ill will?

players: by rights. i should kill you. gale: perhaps that is what i deserve, but you deserve no such thing. [...]

[libraryraccoon]

Fallen Angel

TW : bad english, english isn't my first language. It's just a try of Headcanon.

Gender : Male

Pronouns : he/him

Y/N L/N was a good angel, always followed the rules, no matter how crazy they were.

So why was he fallen, you might ask.

They discovered his google history, it was that bad that even Adam question himself if what he was seeing was true or no.. It, unfortunately, was.

How Y/N was even a angel in the first place was a mystery.

But, after landing in hell, he decided to redeem himself, and what better way to do that than the Hazbin Hotel ?

(It's a lie, he decided to go to the Hazbin Hotel because it was free and because there was a porn star in it)

Charlie greeted you warmly, asking you a few questions about why you were a fallen angel, although she stopped when she saw that you were uncomfortable about it.

You were securing the hotel with Vaggie, you took care of it at night while she did it during the day.

Vaggie took a long time to trust you, thinking you were some sort of spy sent by the angels. She only began to trust you months later, when she saw you treating Angel Dust from the wounds Valentino had done to him.

Angel Dust was suspicious of you at first, it wasn't until he came home late at night, hurt, and you helped him heal that he started to trust you. You said nothing while treating him, asking no questions; not that you needed it, the injuries spoke for themselves.

After that, you started healing Angel Dust regularly, your angelic power was based on healing, something that helped a lot.

Sometimes you and Angel would just have hot chocolate at the bar late at night. At times like this, you spoke very little, and when you did, it was small, simple discussions.

Sometimes it happened that he talked to you about what Valentino was doing to him, and you had to try to reassure him, although that wasn't really your strong point. You always wanted to throw up in those moments, or to kill Valentino. You also, at one point, hesitated to sell your soul to Alastor in exchange of him killing Valentino.

Alastor you find interesting, it's not every day you meet a fallen angel after all. And it's even rarer to live under the roof of two fallen angels.

He tried to take your soul, unfortunately without success.

Most of the time he saw you, you were always helping out at the hotel, whether it was its residents or just doing some small tasks, like washing the dishes. Alastor respects you a little for that.

In fact, the moment he was really interested in you was after you helped him. You found him having a panic attack, it was his mother's birthday and he couldn't stop thinking about her, how much he had disappointed her. And, like any good soul, you helped him.

Obviously, Alastor threatened to kill you if you ever told anyone what happened.

It was after that that he noticed that you were helping everyone in the hotel, even Niffty. You were like a father for the residents of the hotel, some of them (Angel Dust) don't even hide that they saw you like a father, calling you "dad" like if it was normal (it was).

Alastor would be lying if he said he didn't see you as a father figure.

Niffty at first see you as a bad boy, just like all the other boys of the hotel.

But after she realize that you was just like Charlie, an angel disguise as a demon; or a fallen angel in your case.

You weren't even going to drink at Husk's bar !

And, strangely, you helped her in her work at sometimes. You didn't even say anything when she pulled out one of your feathers !

She didn't know if she love you, or hate you. So she take both.

Either Niffty was looking at you like she wanted to murder you, or you were talking to each other like the best best friends of Hell.

Nobody at the hotel know what to think about you two-

Husk didn't know much about you. Surprisingly, because as a bartender, he generally knows a lot about the people who come to tell him about their misfortunes. But not you. Because you didn't come to the bar.

The rare times you went there it was to have hot chocolate or tea. Do you know what a bar is ? Is there even one in Heaven ?

He was curious as to why you were fallen, especially since you didn't seem to have an ounce of bad in you. But he won't ask any questions, waiting for you to say it yourself.

You were a bit like a second Charlie, but more mature and without the problems. You were always helping people, listening and reassuring them.

Husk often came to see you to talk about his problems, his past, how much he regretted making a contract with Alastor. You were always understanding, trying to reassure him.

You were a good person for that.

Sir Pentious trusted you from the start.

Sir Pentious loves you like his eggs. You always help them, always listen to them and never judge them. You were the only person in the hotel, along with Charlie, that he was sure wouldn't hurt him.

You even gave him ideas for weapons to protect himself - like this google history that would even scare God !

Lucifer didn't trust you.

You were kind and helpful, but Lucifer didn't trust you, even if he wanted to.

Compared to the others, he knew why you were fallen, because of this google history which even scared Adam.

He didn't know exactly what was inside, but he was more than curious - especially since it gave Adam nightmares.

He honestly thought about showing your search history to Adam the next time he sees him, just to traumatize him a little more.

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

A Little Surprise

Summary: Through an unfortunate series of events, Lucifer has been transformed into someone much younger, much freakier, and much different. It's Mammon's job to take care of him. 5k words.

Disclaimer: NOT DEMONCEST. JUST BROS BEING BROS.

Notes: hey guys. This is my first ever (posted) Obey Me fanfic. If it's bad. No it's not. Baby Lucifer looks different because I headcannon that he did. If you disagree that's okay but I don't want to hear it. There are a lot of personal headcannons in here that you will have to pry from my cold dead hands. Also, Baby Lucifer is like, a freak. And vaugely autistic. (I'm so nervous about posting this please think it's good.)

“Run that by me one more time.” Mammon has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the Demon Prince, heir to the Devildom Throne, with nothing less than malice in his eyes.

“It seems that there was a mishap involving him and Solomon.” Diavolo looks shy somehow, cowed. Even Barbatos looks wary. It’s rare for Mammon to get genuinely angry, rare for him to talk in any way that is not casual and lighthearted, and it’s rarer still for Lucifer to be absent.

“Yer aware that there ‘re very few curses that work on my brother?”

“Yes. I am– I am truly sorry, Mammon. I hadn’t realized that there would be this much trouble.”

“He’s only been tellin’ ya for ages how untrustworthy he finds Solomon.” Diavolo flinches back slightly, “But sure. ’S no way you coulda known.” Mammon can see Barbatos about to step in and defend his master, and he holds up a hand to stop it. Unlike his brother, Mammon holds no allegiance to either of them. His loyalty is to his brothers, he only cares for Diavolo because Lucifer does, and currently, there is no Lucifer.

“Just. Tell me where he is.” His arms are still crossed over his chest and they remain that way as he follows the two through the Castle. For once, he doesn’t even consider stealing anything, doesn’t flinch at the ghostly noises that filter through the halls, he just silently follows the two people who are supposed to be powerful enough to protect his brother. The two people who failed.

Unsurprisingly, the room that Diavolo had unofficially converted into a study for Lucifer is a mess. Mammon knows that Lucifer’s study at home isn’t exactly neat, but he also knows that his brother’s pride would never allow him to dirty someone else's home. Especially if that someone else is Diavolo. Still, he hadn’t expected the room to be in its typical pristine condition when he learned what had happened. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected there to be a room at all when he checked his D.D.D. and saw Diavolo’s name flash across the screen instead of Lucifer’s.

Standing in the corner of the room is Lucifer, although this Lucifer is much younger and much smaller and brighter, and standing in the opposite corner is Solomon, cowering and silent in a way that is entirely uncharacteristic. To be fair, Mammon would be cowering too if a fledgling Lucifer was staring at him. From what Mammon remembers hearing, before Michael was created, Lucifer was alone. It was just him and Father for a long time. Michael says Lucifer didn’t stop becoming off putting until Sariel was created, and even then he was weird.

“Who are you?” Lucifer’s voice is booming and loud and fills the whole room. He doesn’t open his mouth to speak and Mammon is hit with the sudden realization that he hasn’t learned he can yet.

“I’ve already told you! I’m a sorcerer! My name is Solomon and–”

“Lies.” Solomon flinches back at Lucifer’s words even though the latter hasn’t moved an inch. “Solomon is not born yet. He is to be a great king full of wisdom. You are not him. He does not exist.” Mammon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Lucifer.” His brother’s head turns slowly towards him.

“Who are you?” There’s the boom again, shaking the walls of the room, knocking trinkets older than Mammon off of the shelves.

“I’m… I’m yer brother, Mammon.” He takes a step towards Lucifer’s corner and watches and Lucifer’s wings fluff up to make himself bigger. He almost forgot how brilliant they were, all six of them, brilliant and white and pearlescent. He forgot a lot of things about his brother’s angelic form, apparently. Like how his eyes are an unsettling shade of blue, and the white-blonde of his hair. He forgot how much Lucifer changed when he fell, God’s favorite, disgraced for all eternity.

“I do not have those. Yet. I will be getting some soon.”

“Yeah, I know. Somethin’s wrong and everythin’s all topsy-turvy. I promise ‘m not lyin’ though.” He takes a step closer.

“My brother, you said?”

“Yup.”

“Hmm.” Lucifer eyes him, sizes him up and down as Mammon finally gets within touching distance. He knows that even in this much younger, much smaller form, he would lose in a fight to his older brother. He thinks Lucifer must know this, too. There is a moment of silence where the two stare at each other, before Lucifer walks closer to him and headbutts his hip.

“Thank you for finding me. I do not like it here.” The top of Lucifer’s head barely reaches Mammon’s waistline and he’s going to hate that everyone knows he used to be shorter than Luke. Mammon snorts, patting his head gently.

“Of course. Yer my brother after all. It’s my duty.” Lucifer nods resolutely and grabs Mammon’s hand. He’s cold, but then again, he is even as a demon, so that’s nothing new.

Lucifer does not acknowledge Diavolo as they leave, he doesn’t comment on the way Barbatos is most certainly a demon, and he doesn’t mention the demonic energy he can feel radiating off of Mammon. He simply steps through the portal Barbatos created and stays quiet.

–

Levi is currently pounding on Mammon’s door. Mammon owes him 500 Grimm for not telling Satan that he was the one who broke a shelf in the library and Levi intends to collect.

“Mammon! I know you're home! Open the door!” There's a lot of weird scuffling on the other side before the door opens a crack and he's met with a singular blue eye.

“What?”

“You owe me.” He watches that eye roll and the door shuts for a second before a hand is shoved through the crack and Grimm is being unceremoniously thrust at him.

“Here. Now go away.” The door shuts again and Levi stares at the colored wood and immediately pulls out his phone.

Everyone Except Mammon

Levi: guys. Mammon just paid me back.

Satan: ?????

Beel: maybe he finally came to his senses

Levi: it's Mammon

Beel: yeah okay

Levi: he also wouldn't let me in his room

Levi: like he didn't even open the door all the way

Levi: he only opened it a crack

Asmo: do you think he's hiding something?

Levi: it's Mammon 

Asmo: yeah okay 

Asmo: so what should we do? break in?

Belphie: we could ask Lucifer?

Levi: he's with Diavolo on business

Belphie: it's Mammon 

Levi: yeah okay

Levi exits the chat and opens his contact for Lucifer. He doesn't usually let it ring more than once when it's his brothers. He hates to be left out of the loop and worries for them even if he hates to admit it. Levi’s call goes to voicemail, so he tries again. And again. Lucifer doesn't pick up at all.

Levi: Lucifer isn't answering his phone

Asmo: what

Levi: I called three times

Satan: I didn't curse his phone this time 

Beel: Belphie?

Belphie: nope

Levi: should we call Diavolo?

Satan: no

Satan: we should ask Mammon

Levi pounds on the door again and is met with more cursing and shuffling on the other side of the door.

“Mammon? What's happening in there?”

“Mind your own business!”

“Your business is my business!”

Levi: he won't let me in

Belphie: then wait until he leaves and sneak in or smth 

Levi grumbles to himself and resolves to wait. Mammon is gonna get hungry eventually, his chance will come.

It takes longer than he wants for Mammon to leave his room, his own door cracked open so he can hear when Mammon’s door opens and shuts. He’s halfway through a boss battle in his latest RPG when it happens and he, regrettably, has to pause. Mammon won't stay out of his room for long, especially if he's hiding something, but it isn't hard for Levi to push open the door and shut it behind him and come face to face with Lucifer.

“Oh, shit.” Levi stands in front of the closed door and stares. Lucifer stares back, except it isn't the Lucifer he knows. He's not tall and imposing, he doesn't have freaky carmine eyes or jet black hair. He doesn't have four wings because he ripped all six off when he Fell and then two sets came back. No, instead his brother is short, shorter than Luke, and still imposing. His brother has bright blue eyes and white-blonde hair and six wings and he's younger than Levi has ever known him. Obviously, he snaps a picture.

“And who might you be?” His brother's jaw moved up and down like a puppet but his voice sounds like it's coming from inside of Levi’s mind. He forgot Lucifer could do that.

“Uh. I'm Levi. Leviathan. We're brothers.” Lucifer's expression doesn't change past its neutral state, but his wings flutter happily.

“I have many brothers? I must be very blessed.”

“You could, uh, you could say that, yeah.” He takes a step forward before deciding to sit on the couch. The door opens the second he does.

“Hey, tyke. I got some food–” Mammon stands, arms laden with snacks that are most definitely Beel’s as the door swings shut behind him.

“Hello, Mammon!” Lucifer's wings flutter again.

“Hey. Levi, what a surprise! Why are you in my room?” He walks over and dumps the snacks in front of Lucifer and he trills happily before ripping something open and chowing down.

“You were hiding something. So, I had to check.”

“What if I was hidin’ a girl in here or somethin’?”

“Except you aren't ‘hiding a girl in here or something.’ You're hiding Lucifer.” Levi gestures wildly towards him and then stands. “What did you do?”

“I didn't do anythin’. Diavolo called and when I got there he was like this.”

“He's a baby!”

“I'm aware!”

“I am not a baby.” They both jump at the volume of Lucifer's voice. “I am already thousands of years old.”

“You look like a baby,” Levi says

“I am older than your feeble mind could ever understand.” Lucifer crosses his arms across his chest. He sounds defensive, like he's had this argument with someone before. It's the most emotion he's displayed all day.

“Yeah, sure.” It's fun to tease Lucifer, and even better when they can get away with it. Levi opens his mouth to say something else when Mammon gives a loud sigh.

“This ‘s why I didn't tell any of ya. Yer all gonna use it to be mean to ‘im.”

“He deserves it.”

“He's literally an infant.”

“No I am not.”

“O’course you aren't,” Mammon soothes, “Yer very big and very strong.” Lucifer preens. And Mammon gives another sigh.

“Levi, get outta my room.”

“I just got here!” 

“Don't care. Get out.” Mammon starts pushing him towards the door, shoving him forward despite the fact that Levi is dragging his heels along the floor. He forgets how strong Mammon is sometimes.

“C’mon! Just let me stay in here! I didn't do anything–” The door shuts loudly in his face. He pulls out his D.D.D.

Levi: I figured out what Mammon was hiding

Asmo: and what might that be?

Levi: image sent

Asmo: holy shit

–

In an impressive show of restraint, none of the brothers come knocking on Mammon's door. He expects it, because Levi is a blabbermouth and his brothers are nosy, yet it doesn't happen. Instead, he gets to spend the next hour trying to get Lucifer to talk normally instead of that weird way he used to communicate with Father. He is mostly unsuccessful.

“We'll work on it.” Lucifer frowns at him, a perfectionist even as a child.

“I would like to leave this room.” He says, and it sounds a little more normal.

“What if, and hear me out, we didn't do that?”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“I do not like that answer.” Mammon groans and flops backwards on his couch. Damn Solomon and damn Diavolo for getting him into this mess. And while he's at it, damn Lucifer for being such a weirdo.

“Mammon, please?” Lucifer leans over him until his blue eyes are boring right into Mammon's. He doesn't think Lucifer blinks for a straight minute.

“Yer gonna go out regardless of if I say it's cool or not, aren't ya?”

“Indeed.”

“Fine,” he sits up and rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms, “I'll take you to the music room.”

“Music? That sounds wonderful.”

“Yeah, yer a big fan. Well, you are normally.”

“Let us go.” Lucifer’s wings flutter again and Mammon wonders when his brother learned to add inflection into his voice, when he learned to use his facial expressions. He wonders if it ever gets tiring for him to use them now, if he's ever exhausted by the effort it takes to be himself.

Mammon trods down the hallway and Lucifer floats behind him.

“It is dark here.”

“Yeah, we hadta move.”

“I see.”

They enter the music room without much fanfare except Satan is there playing the piano. Lucifer sways happily to the music and floats over to Satan.

“Hello. This is beautiful. What are you playing?” Mammon stifles a laugh at the way Satan nearly jumps out of his skin. Lucifer isn't speaking directly into minds anymore, but it does sound like a disembodied voice is speaking just a little too loudly right next to your ears.

“You've never heard of a piano before?” Satan's voice is full of snark.

“No.” Satan and Lucifer stare at each other for a minute before Satan grumbles and goes back to playing. Mammon goes and sits on Satan's other side.

“You guys never said he was so bright.”

“He is the Morningstar. You thought he just got that name for fun?” Satan shrugs in response, fingers still dancing along the keys.

“We look so similar like this.” 

“I don't think so.”

“Don't be condescending.”

“You look more like Lilith than anyone else.” Satan stops abruptly and Lucifer lets out a sad trill.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Mammon bats Satan's hands away and takes over, playing an old lullaby that Lucifer taught him once.

“Oh!” Six wings ruffle, “I know this one!”

“I don't,” Satan says.

“He used ta play it for me when I was younger. When I couldn't sleep. I don't think anyone ‘cept the two of us know it, to be fair.”

“He's never played it here.”

“He doesn't play the piano anymore.”

The song finishes and Lucifer puts his hands on the keys.

“I would like to try.”

“Knock yerself out, bud.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you can go ahead and try.” Satan says and he moves so that Lucifer is in the center of the bench instead of him.

It's almost uncanny the way he plays. Repeating the song Mammon just finished with no error. It's just like him, to be perfect at something on the first try.

“Was that good?” He asks, blue eyes looking at the two of them imploringly.

“‘Course it was.” Mammon says.

“It's you,” Satan crosses his arms over his chest, “it wasn't anything less than perfect.”

“I am sure there is room for improvement.” Lucifer preens despite his attempt at humility. Mammon and Satan share a look over the top of his head.

–

Lucifer wants to go outside next. He all but begs until Mammon relents, and then basically drags him out the front door.

“There is a garden.” He’s mesmerized by the flowers.

“Yeah, ‘s yours. Most everything here is yours, actually.” Outside of their rooms there isn’t really anything the brothers own for themselves. Nothing they put effort into maintaining. Nowhere they spend their time. The library is shared by both Satan and Lucifer, and even though Belphie spends his time in the Planetarium, Lucifer is the one who does the upkeep.

“What are these?” Lucifer’s hands are gentle as he strokes along a petal of a rose.

“They’re roses. You grew ‘em yourself. Created a new breed ‘n everythin’.”

“That is wonderful.” He turns to look at Mammon. “Do you like them?” He stills for a moment. He doesn’t think Lucifer’s asked for anyone’s approval ever. He just does what he likes, what he thinks is best, and deals with whatever consequences happen by asserting his intellectual superiority.

“Yeah. Of course. They’re beautiful.”

They continue their walk through the garden, Lucifer “oo”-ing and “ah”-ing at the different Devildom flora. They come across one of Satan’s stray cats that Lucifer pretends not to know about and he laughs, bright and tinkling. It sounds like wind chimes. Mammon watches his face split open into a smile so bright it hurts to look at before fading into something softer but no less radiant. He doesn’t think he’s seen him this full of joy or wonder ever. He wonders when the last time Lucifer was unburdened.

They come to the center of the garden, where a bubbling fountain sits and find Belphie lying in the grass, staring at the stars.

“Hello.” Lucifer’s voice is less loud now that he’s had more practice, but it still fills the space like he’s talking at you from every direction at once. Belphie tilts his head in Lucifer’s direction.

“Hey.”

“Who are you?” Lucifer leans over him, blocking his view.

“Belphegor.” He pokes the side of Lucifer’s knee and chuckles when Lucifer twitches.

“Are you one of my brothers?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I have so many! It is nice to know I am no longer lonely.” Lucifer pauses for a second. “Not that Father is bad company.”

Belphie hums and puts his hand on the top of Lucifer’s head, pushing him out of the way of the sky. Lucifer squawks and Mammon is definitely going to mock him for it when he goes back to normal.

“That was rude.”

“You were in the way.” Lucifer huffs slightly and tilts his head up to stare at the sky, leaning so far back he almost falls over. Belphie laughs at him. “Lay down, dummy.”

“I am not dumb,” he lays down, wings curling over him like a blanket. “I am incredibly intelligent. Although, there is still much I have to learn.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Belphie’s dry tone makes Lucifer huff again, grumbling softly in irritation. Mammon sits down on one of the benches behind them and looks up too.

“There are many more stars than the last time I looked,” Lucifer says.

“I’d imagine they haven’t formed yet.” Lucifer hums and continues to gape at the full sky. “You see that one?” Belphie grabs Lucifer’s hand and uses it to point at a constellation. Mammon knows which one he’s looking for before he’s done guiding Lucifer’s arm.

“Yes.”

“You and I made that one together.”

“Wow.” Lucifer’s voice is soft, quieting so that it sounds like it’s coming from him instead of from everywhere. He turns his head to look into Belphie’s eyes. “It is radiant. You did a good job.” Belphie sputters at the praise.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You should be proud of your achievements, Belphegor.” He redirects his gaze back at the sky, finally tucking his arm back between his body and his wings. “Creation is a beautiful thing.”

–

The thing about Lucifer’s stare is that it’s always been incredibly unsettling. As an angel or a demon, if he looks at you for long enough, you’re going to spill your secrets. Mammon has only ever known Barbatos and Michael to be immune to the effects. It’s somehow worse now that he’s small. Maybe because there’s no reasoning behind it. He’s not staring to get information out of you, or to get you to behave, he is simply observing. He’s doing it now, watching as Asmo gets ready to leave the house.

“What is that?” He’s standing directly over Asmo’s shoulder, alternating between staring at the side of his face, peering at him through the mirror, and oggling over all the cosmetics Asmo has on his vanity. Mammon is playing on his phone, lounging on Asmo’s bed because Asmo got tired of using him as a test subject half an hour ago.

“It’s blush.” Asmo dips a fluffy brush into it and places it on the highs of his cheekbones.

“What does it do?”

“It makes it look like I have color on my face.” Asmo puts a hand over the half of his face with blush and points in the mirror. “See how my face kind of looks colorless here?” He moves his hand, “Now, I look all rosy.”

“Wow. That is amazing.” Lucifer leans forward more, like getting closer to the mirror will help him see better. “Can I have some?” The question makes Mammon almost drop his phone on his face and makes Asmo still. He meets Lucifer’s sharp blue eyes with his own.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I would like to be colorful, too.” Asmo snorts unattractively and mumbles something Mammon doesn’t hear. He rummages around his desk until he finds a different color blush, something more suitable for Lucifer’s pale complexion.

“Here.” He swipes the brush across Lucifer’s cheeks and nose and Lucifer giggles. Wind chimes tinkling through the air again. Asmo smiles and brushes some across his nose just to watch him scrunch it up.

“That tickles.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

They sit like that for a while, Lucifer watching Asmo do his makeup and then asking what it’s for. Asking for Asmo to do the same to him. It makes Mammon think of the times before RAD was fully built, when Lucifer still had time for all of them. It makes him think of before, right after the twins were born, when by some miracle he was around for long enough to know them. Lucifer’s been busy since before Mammon was thrust on him, since before Mammon was created, he must be so tired.

“What are you doing this for?” Lucifer has shifted so he’s sitting halfway in Asmo’s lap, forcing the younger to work around him and his wings.

“I’m going out.”

“To where?”

“I’m going to hang out with Solomon.” The answer makes Lucifer’s wings ruffle unhappily, makes him cross his arms over his chest.

“I do not like him.” His voice has shifted so it’s louder again, coming from multiple places at once now that he’s upset.

“I know.”

“Then why do you hang out with him?”

“He makes me happy.” Asmo sets his things down and pets the top of Lucifer’s head, fluffing through his hair in a way that Lucifer would never let him if he were himself. At present, the casual affection makes a chirp rise in the back of his throat and he leans into the touch like a cat.

“Oh,” he considers this for a second. “I suppose that if he makes you happy, it is okay.” Asmo laughs.

“You’ve said that before.”

“It is an easy choice. You are happy. That is what matters most to me.”

“He looks so different,” Asmo meets Mammon’s eyes through the mirror, “but I guess his goals have always been the same, haven’t they?”

–

Lucifer insists on walking Asmo to the door and staring down Solomon silently as they leave. It makes Mammon laugh and Solomon almost piss his pants. Asmo rolls his eyes at the whole ordeal and kisses Lucifer’s forehead as he leaves. Neither of them take a picture of the way his cheeks flush at the action, just like neither of them set it as his contact photo.

“Mammon,” Lucifer tugs on his sleeve as they make their way back to Mammon’s room, “I am hungry.” Mammon sighs and redirects them to the kitchen.

They find Beel in there, gross and sweaty from a workout, and angrily rummaging through the cabinets.

“Mammon,” he does not sound happy, “where are all of my snacks?”

“Uhhh.” He’s seconds away from slinging Lucifer over his shoulder and sprinting out of the kitchen when Lucifer moves over to look in the cabinets and recognizes something.

“Oh,” he pulls out a bag of chips that only Beel eats, “I had some of these earlier. May I have them again?” He’s looking at Mammon and Beel is looking at him and Mammon sends a prayer to the Demon King that Lucifer manages to survive this because he doesn’t know what he’d do without him.

“You.” Beel’s face is slowly turning red. “You ate my chips.”

“I had not realized they were yours. They are very good.”

There’s a moment of silence where Lucifer stares up at Beel and Beel takes several deep breaths in and out.

“That’s the last bag.”

“Would you like it, then? Mammon will surely find me something else.”

“No,” he sighs, “I guess you can have it.”

“Thank you!” He smiles again and Beel squints against it. “That is very kind.”

“You always say you hate that flavor.” Beel watches Lucifer tear into the bag like he hasn’t eaten in days. Save for the snacks Mammon gave him earlier, he probably hasn’t.

“I do not know why I would lie. These are very good. My favorite of the ones Mammon provided me with earlier.”

“They’re my favorite, too.”

“Would you like to share?” Lucifer offers Beel the bag and pouts a little when Beel shakes his head. His fingers and cheeks are covered in chip crumbs and he’s generally making a mess. He looks adorable.

Beel grumbles and looks at Mammon unhappily,

“You’re lucky.”

“Most definitely.”

“I’m going back to my workout.” Beel grabs something from the fridge that has Mammon’s name on it and makes to leave the kitchen, and Lucifer floats behind him.

“Where are you going?”

“To the gym.”

“What is a ‘gym’?”

“Uh. Follow me, I guess.” And he does. Lucifer watches in wonder as Beel returns to whatever set he was on, insists on trying the equipment, too. “Hey, do you wanna try something?”

“Yes!”

Beel sets himself up for a push up and gestures for his brother to sit on his back. Lucifer finds it delightful, wind-chime giggles ringing through the gym. It almost makes the stench of Beel sweat bearable.

–

Beel has usurped Mammon as little Lucifer’s favorite just because Beel is carrying him around the House on his shoulders.

“That’s not even fair! I can carry him!” Mammon walks slowly in front of Beel on purpose, not above tripping him to get what he wants.

“But you aren’t.” Beel walks deftly around him and Lucifer laughs at the way Mammon runs to catch up. He’s lucky he’s cute.

“Hey!” Levi’s door bangs open and it startles Mammon enough that he shrieks. “I want to hang out with him, too.”

“Levi,” Lucifer wiggles himself off of Beel’s shoulders, “we met earlier, yes?”

“Uh,” he doesn’t seem to know what to do under the weight of his brother’s stare, “yeah. We did.”

“I have done an activity with everyone. What is your activity?”

“We could play a game?”

“Like hide and seek? I do not like hide and seek.” Lucifer crosses his arms over his chest in a way that makes him look almost petulant. “Father always wins.”

“No, I was thinking we could play, uhm. Devil Kart.”

“I do not know what that is.”

“Good, maybe I’ll actually beat you this time.” Levi’s words make Lucifer ruffle in displeasure.

“I do not like to lose.”

“No, you definitely don’t.”

Levi pulls the three of them into his room and turns on the TV, feiging surprise when everything is already set up.

“Will you teach me how to play?” He considers it for a split second.

“No, you’ll figure it out. Afterall, you’re not a baby right?” Lucifer lets out another unflattering squawk followed by grumbles about fairness.

Despite the fact that no one taught him how to play, Lucifer proceeds to beat them all at the game in a way that is unsurprising but extremely annoying. Levi pouts and sighs about it, Envy leaking into the air.

“Do not fret, Levi. I am sure there are things you are better at than me.”

“Don’t lie, Lucifer. You’re good at everything.” Levi sinks further into his tub and jumps when Lucifer’s head pops over the rim.

“I do not believe so. I think I am bad at spending time with my family.” Lucifer’s face twists into a frown. “I did not think I was one to squander such blessings.”

“Well, it’s not like that’s your fault,” Levi rushes to comfort his brother, only because seeing his usually neutral face in anything except that or a smile is discomforting. “You have a lot of responsibilities.”

“Then it is not your fault I beat you at the game then, is it?” A mischievous twinkle lights up his blue eyes, “I must have what they call beginner’s luck.” Levi sits up suddenly, reenergized.

“Yeah! Obviously! There’s no way I’m letting a baby beat me in my own domain.” He grabs a controller again and Lucifer resolutely doesn’t mention the fact that he’s no longer a baby.

–

By the time they all turn in, Levi has managed to beat Lucifer once. Coincidentally, that’s when he kicks them all out of his room, claiming tiredness. The timing works out, because Lucifer is rubbing his eyes tiredly and stifling yawns. Mammon has to restrain the urge to coo several times.

The walk from Levi’s room to Mammon’s is a short one, but Lucifer still seems too tired to make it, so of course, Mammon carries him there. He sets his brother into his bed and goes to lay on his couch when a tiny hand grabs at his wrist.

“Mammon?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Sure.” Mammon crawls under his covers and pretends like this isn’t the first time in a long time he’s cuddled with his brother like this. There’s quiet, and Mammon thinks that Lucifer must be asleep when he says something.

“Thank you for taking care of me today.”

“It’s nothin’.”

“It is not. It is everything.”

–

Mammon knows his brother is back to normal when he wakes up because he is both no longer the big spoon and because baby Lucifer didn’t have this many muscles.

“Mammon,” his brother’s voice is deeper and for once feels like it’s coming out of his body instead of out of thin air.

“Mmh.” He doesn’t move away from the cuddle. Lucifer’s arms seem to tighten around him.

“Thank you.”

“‘S whatever.” He hears Lucifer let out a huff at his easy dismissal and decides to ignore it. His brother’s arms are nice, comforting. It’s been a long time since they’ve hugged like this, since he’s been able to rest in the safety of Lucifer’s hold. He misses it.

“I have to get up.”

“Nah.” Another sigh. Lucifer only shifts to get more comfortable.

“Don’t tell anyone that I’m doing this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

–

It doesn’t matter that Mammon didn’t tell anyone, because the two of them fall back to sleep and when Beel comes to fetch them for breakfast he takes a picture instead of waking them up. 

Lucifer has to pay Asmo not to post it.

[bloodyinkandquill]

Venomshank x hawk-hybrid pet Reader

ok i actually asked katz-ke for help on this one because like the last one i had no ideas sorry requester, however they helped and gave me some good ideas that definitely gave me more motivation and ideas for this one in general, so thanks again katz!!! you’re amazing i adore your stuff id anyone here doesn’t know who they are go check them out, anyways onto the hcs

- How did you end up here? No genuinely you went from a pet to a deity to instead dating said deity, you’re out here living some simps dream

- You’ve always had an unusual power, hybrids weren’t rare, winged hybrids were on the rarer side, usually only stemming from receiving a blessing from one of the deities, but you were, and on top of being an avian you also could transform into an actual hawk, which was basically unheard of, you also had a rather unique coloration when in bird form, darker then your average hawk with an interesting pattern on your wings

- Which is how you ended up one day in your hawk form, chilling and enjoying being a bird, what? It’s nice to escape the responsibilities of adult life for a little while and you can eat bread a shit, you were chilling when suddenly another bird flew up next to you, at first you thought it was a crow but that didn’t seem right, a raven? No it wasn’t that either, it seemed an odd mix of both corvids but larger and, almost a dark green rather then black, but living in Crossroads you see odd shit a lot so you didn’t dwell on it

- Well that bird seemed to want you to follow it a few minutes later and it lead you to a dropped container of fries, aka the jackpot, you happily started eating them but noticed the other bird wasn’t doing anything, you shrugged it off, probably just already ate its fill and was letting you have yours, after eating you did some sort of appreciative dance, you weren’t fluent in bird language let alone weird corvid language so you hoped it conveyed your thankfulness, you were about to fly off when suddenly the bird changed into a demon, no that’s not it, into one of the Swords

- Holy shit, was all you could think as he scooped you up and started flying away with you but now in his demonoid form, alright this was happening, you must have intrigued him as a bird if he was taking you somewhere, you just let it happen and pretended to still be a regular old bird, maybe if you seemed normal he’d get bored and let you go

- Nope you were now in his temple in a, rather fancy, bird cage, this was not on your weekend itinerary, for a few days it went that he or one of his temple workers would feed you and give you toys and enrichment, you could sort of fly around the cage but it wasn’t big enough to transform back and therefore display you were not a bird, least Venomshank seemed kind enough

- After a few days stuck inside the cage he appeared and said, basically talking to himself, that he should let you out for a good fly, the second he took you out of that cage you transformed back into your demon form with an almost traumatized look on your face as you turned to look at him and his horrified expression, after a conversation he was apologetic about taking you as a pet since he didn’t really you were a demon not an actual bird, you said it was fine but gods you missed having arms

- From there you agreed to live at his temple, you had nowhere better to live and he was offering a free room in exchange for taking care of the birds that resided in the gardens surrounding it, this was one of his smaller temples but it was surrounded by gardens and therefore lots of birds, he’d stop by and check in with you and the rest of the happenings every once in a while, he slowly started to check in more and more until one day suddenly you were dating, you weren’t complaining you just weren’t fully sure how you got there honestly

- Oh my gods you never knew the wonder of preening, you’d never gotten close enough to another demon to preen your wings when in demon form, and definitely not close enough to a bird to preen you in bird form, however now that you had someone who had wings in demonoid form and could also become a bird, he knew exactly how to preen you in both forms and it was heaven, you of course preened him back which he was thankful for, with not seeing Sword as much as when he was a kid he didn’t get a chance to be preened as often so he was so thankful to have someone to help him preen again

- Maybe you didn’t quite have the corvid bird brain of gifting shiny things but you still did have a slight bird brain to the point that you did enjoy collecting and gifting small trinkets and sparklies, and Venomshank being some weird version of a corvid had that instinct but stronger, so you both end up gifting each other small things you find, especially when you go flying together in bird form, which is basically your go-to date, if either of you notice something interesting while flying you’ll dive down and grab it, give it to the other who turns demonoid for a moment to put it in their pocket then back to bird form, luckily the items don’t disappear neither of you know where any of your stuff like clothes or items go when you go bird form but you mutually agreed not to question it

- With the flying dates you also enjoy flying through one of the regions or preferably Crossroads and finding the tallest building around and flying onto the roof to look at all the beautiful lights at night, maybe you’ll switch back to demonoid form but sometimes you prefer to stay as birds where everything looks so much brighter and shinier to your bird eyes, its beautiful and it’s nice knowing that you two are maybe the only two people to ever see the views with a demon brain but bird eyes

- With living in his temple you went from a regular room to the best room in the temple, technically speaking it’s supposed to be his room but before you he almost never spent enough time in that temple to need to use the room, so it became yours and his, which does mean it’s full of a few of his things, which with your slight bird brain only means one thing, nesting, on the floor you set up a nest big enough for both of you to fit in full of pillows, blankets, clothes, and some of the items you gifted each other, and on the desk and actual bird nest, slightly comfier, still sized to fit both of you but this time in bird form, it’s less used but still nice to have

- Since he’s well, Venomshank one of the swords he has to leave for occasionally weeks at a time, which makes you more thankful for the nest to have something with his scent and feathers in for when your missing him, once he returns from his duties you’ll be in that nest for at least the next two days together, not that you mind but if anyone walks into the room they’ll see a mess of feathers and the occasional body parts making so many freaking cooing sounds

- Speaking of cooing sounds both of you make bird noises in and out of bird form, it’s more common in bird form but it’s still not uncommon to coo or squawk in demonoid form, you coo and trill with each other, make squawks and chirps, sometimes it sounds like a gods damn bird sanctuary when you’re both around, you also can sort of communicate with the bird noises which is nice as well

- He gives you a necklace or earring, with just one of his feathers, it takes you a moment to realize it’s his shiniest best feather, not quite a proposal but more of a promise ring, you wear it with pride and do the same finding your best feather to give him in exchange, he puts it in his hat and somehow when in bird form you now both have a feather, not attached to you but buried into your feathers so it doesn’t fall out, of each other’s, he has one of your hawk feathers and you have one of his… corvid feathers, neither of you understand the logistics of how that works but again you have up questioning it

hope this is good again thanks so much katz-ke for the help!! this was fun to write once i got into the groove of it honestly, alright i made a deal with myself once i wrote this id let myself reread a fanfic i love so im off to do that toodles

[evanbuckleyrecs]

Any recommendations on hurt-comfort Buddie that will make you cry? HEA please!

I started to answer this but accidentally clicked on a Tumblr link so I gotta start over 😂

I haven't read Buddie fics in a while so these are a bit older. (I'm going to catch up soon! I've just been in a phase where I'm either reading Teen Wolf fics or physical books)

Also haven't updated my bookmarks yet. Sadly a lot of great authors I'd normally recommend have turned anti-Buddie since April and I'd rather not promote them in Buddie posts if they're not safe to follow anymore as a Buddie fan.

Please check the tags of a fic before reading in case something is triggering for you!

the things that haunt me in the middle of the night by justhockey

2,4k, rated G

He gasps for breath and it feels like a reflex - like coming up for air after being sucked under. Like a desperate, manic thing.

He’s safe, he knows that. Knows he was never really in much danger anyway. But the sound of it all - the waves, the rain, the crashing and the thundering - it echoes in his head, ricochets through his bones. It lives inside of him, he guesses, even after all these years. That fear, the exhaustion, the crippling terror of finding the surface only to realise that Christopher was gone.

He rubs at his sternum, tries to breathe deeply, tries to blink away the memories of the day the water nearly took everything from him.

I let my guard down by bucksclipboard

6,5k, rated M

"It didn’t stop. Buck went from hoping the packages were from someone special to suspecting someone was toying with him. The hopeless romantic in him was slowly wilting. When he opened the latest letter, suddenly he was not so sure his secret admirer was of the good-natured kind. "

or: who needs police protection when you have eddie diaz by your side?

Cut me slack (I've watched your heart stop) by kat_atthewisco

Rated G, 5,4k

“Well, unfortunately I am calling you specifically for your role as Mr. Buckley’s power of attorney. He does need a couple of decisions made about his care that he’s not fit for at the moment. If you’re able to get here soon that would be best, I can’t tell you much over the phone.” To her credit, Deirdre does sound apologetic, and Eddie’s panic has begun to ratchet back up.

“I’ll be there as fast as I can, is he- please, how bad?” Eddie repeats.

In which Eddie gets The Call from Cedars-Sinai while he's off work thanks to a healing injury. Being Buck's emergency contact is suddenly a very real thing.

Never More To Leave Here by devirnis

Rated T, 10,2k

"Can you remind my brother that we were supposed to get lunch?” Maddie asks.

“Uh sure,” Eddie says slowly, confused. “But why don’t you just call him yourself?”

“I did, a couple times, but he didn’t answer. I assumed he was still with you?”

Eddie thinks back to last night, to Buck specifically making plans to go back to his own place so he wouldn’t be late for lunch with Maddie. Buck had texted him when he got home, just a simple night :) that still made Eddie’s heart flutter, so obviously Buck had made it back to the loft… But there haven’t been any texts from Buck all morning. Not that that is necessarily unheard of, but especially over the last few weeks it’s become rarer and rarer for even a few hours to go by without Eddie’s phone dinging with a message notification from Buck.

A small tendril of worry curls around Eddie’s ribs.

BTHB: locked up & left behind

Diagnosis: Dumbass by snarkymuch

Rated T, 2,7K

Christopher scrunched his face, then stopped rummaging through his pack to grab something from the ground—something that turned out to be his phone.

“No, nope—who do you think you’re calling?” he asked, trying to reach for it, but Christopher had already hit the button, dialing someone—whom he’d bet anything was his father.

Christopher pulled away, out of reach, phone to his ear, then a moment later saying, “Yeah, I’m okay, dad—yeah, I know—no, but he fell out of a tree—”

“He is fine, though!” Buck yelled, hoping to stop the inevitable freakout from Eddie. “Eddie, do you hear me? I’m fine!”

--or--

Buck takes Chris out for a light hike, somehow ends up falling out of a tree, and Chris patches him up while waiting for his dad to arrive.

Presumed Dead by inkonmyheartandonthepage

Rated G, 4,4K

The fresh air was supposed to have been good for Buck. A small hike that he had done a million times. A nice hike that gave him a workout and at the same time allowed him to sift through his thoughts and feelings and to focus on what he really wanted.

Instead, he’s stuck in the middle of nowhere at a rest stop watching some asshole drive away in his jeep.

OR

The 118 crew arrive a fender bender only to find it's Buck's jeep on fire and the body inside dead and burning.

The monsters turned out to be just trees by Ink_Dancer

Rated T, 8,4k

Buck and Eddie are searching for a missing person, and they're already lost in the woods when Buck gets injured and makes their situation a lot more complicated. With the sun going down, they're forced to spend the night outside, with only each other for warmth and shelter.

(set post-buck's recovery from the firetruck, but no other specific time markers. nebulously within the show's canon.)

It's what my rotting bones will sing when the rest of me is dead by heartbeatdiaz

Rated T, 12,4k

"Eddie? Eds, can you hear me?” Buck rubs his knuckles against Eddie's sternum, a little too harsh, a little too desperate. "Eddie!"

Eddie croaks out a weak, barely there, whine as Buck's knuckles do the trick and his eyes open in slits.

"Evan?" He chokes out, his voice so hoarse and raspy that it must have been hurting his throat. "You're real?" He whispers in awe, his hand twitching as his side like he wants to reach up to Buck— touch his face— but he's too weak to do that. Eddie's brow furrowed but a small smile graces his lips, barely there. "I didn't give up. I made it home to you."

or;

the one where a call goes wrong and leaves everyone thinking eddie was dead, buck finds about the will through a letter and comes to some other revelations in the process.

and in which eddie finds his way back home and finally gets to be happy with the love of his life.

BTHB Prompt: Missing and Presumed Dead

Let me go by tawaifeddiediaz

Rated T, 8,1K

For the first time since he met him, he wasn’t sure where Buck was, and it was driving him insane. His shift ended three hours later than Eddie on Tuesdays, and today, he had texted saying that he was going to pick up groceries.

After that, he hadn’t returned back home.

Kindness: What Connects Us by FandomLife54

Rated T, 9,6k

Still off balance, Buck slams his left heel onto the roof, heaving forward to catch the collar of that yellow shirt. And there’s no conscious decision making here. It’s all instinct, and he’s grateful for it. If he’d given his overzealous mind the chance to consider another way, he would have missed his shot. Instead, his arms hurl the boy into the hands of another survivor...

And his right foot misses the edge.

OR

Buck catches Chris before he rolls off the firetruck, and it's him who falls back into the retreating waters of the tsunami. Unconscious and seriously injured, he's unaware that his team has been searching for him, never giving up as the days pass.

A leaf falls on loneliness by iimpossible_things

Not rated, 11,1k

Buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “I’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. Really, he doesn’t. The 118 has too many good, kind people for that.

But every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to Eddie or Bobby or Hen or Chim, he hears Eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.”

—you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting—

So each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence.

And I watched a part of myself die 'cause no amount of freedom gets you clean by himbobuckley

WARNING: rape/non-con. Rated T, 10,2K

Buck goes out drinking after a particularly tragic call and the night takes a turn for the worse when he's targeted and assaulted. Struggling in the aftermath and unsure how to handle it, Buck tries to distance himself from his friends and family, believing that with time he can simply move past it on his own. Eddie notices something is wrong with Buck and desperately tries to get through to his friend, fearing the worst.

or:

Buck goes through the fucking ringer. eddie notices something's horribly wrong. you can contact my lawyer for emotional damages.

or:

“I heard about what happened yesterday,” Eddie says softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. And that I didn’t know. I should’ve gone out with you, or made you come over, or-”

“Eddie,” Buck interrupts. “It’s- it’s okay. I just went out drinking. It’s fine.”

“Drinking alone?”

“Yeah,” he stammers. “Yeah, alone.”

“Hey listen, why don’t you come over tonight? We can do a movie night. And… I have something to tell you.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Buck murmurs, feeling the tears welling up again. “I don’t think I can tonight.”

“Hey, wait Buck-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Blue skies by spaceprincessem

36,7k, rated T

“Most babies are born as accidents,” She says suddenly, like she’s decided that Buck has passed, that she can trust him with this.

Buck doesn’t really have an answer because that question hits way to fucking close to home. A year or so ago he would have said, yes, I was an accident, so I know how that goes, but Buck knows better now. Knows that he would almost give anything for that answer to still be yes. Evie’s finger works under the seal to rip it open, a stack of important looking papers dumping out onto the table in front of her.

“Not me,” she says without looking up as she organizes them into a neat stack, “I was engineered.”

And.

And Buck’s pretty fucking sure a giant, cataclysmic hole has ripped right open, dragging him down to the earth’s core where he vaporizes into dust.

{or Buck meets another savior baby and everything comes crashing down}

Leave The Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania

Rated M, 44,4k, fandom classic

“We’re here for our grandson,” Helena says.

“Chris is still sleeping,” Buck says.

“I meant, we’re here to take him back to Texas,” Helena clarifies.

“Yeah,” Buck says. He’s too tired, way too tired to be tactful. “Over my dead body.”

--

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed.

While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

Over The Age, Over Again by mintedwitcher

Rated E, 16,5k

EXCERPT:

He would’ve fallen down the cliffside if it hadn’t been for Bobby on the winch. Because that… that’s Buck’s jeep. There’s no denying it, no mistaking it. That is Buck’s jeep. Hanging almost sideways off a ledge, the driver’s side doors flung open with the force of the fall. And further down… no. No it can’t be… a man, smashed against the rocks. A massive pool of blood. But Eddie can see the familiar white sneakers against the dirt.

No Sight For Heart Eyes by znks

Rated E, 20,5k

“Buck, Karen, and Eddie stayed on the couch and talked while the kids settled on the floor to draw. It all felt so wonderfully normal that Eddie found himself forgetting that he hadn’t just closed his eyes in serenity as he leaned against Buck.

That’s what made the spell breaking so painful.

“Dad! Look! I drew the firetru- Oh, wait, it’s okay you can see it when you’re all better!” Christopher said it so cheerfully, not even hesitating before going back to swapping out pens with Denny.

But Eddie felt it like a shot to the chest.

He couldn’t see his son’s drawings.

Buck and Karen had barely paused in the conversation, but Eddie could hear how strained it became, both of them obviously knowing exactly how heartbreaking the moment had been. Buck’s arm wrapped more tightly around Eddie’s waist, chin resting on his shoulder.”

losing your sight for a week sucks but at least eddie has buck to guide him through his healing or at least through his own house

This has inspired me to go read more recent hurt/comfort Buddie fics! I haven't been super active on this account but hopefully I can update this soon :)

[snarky-art]

Compilation of some ceremony/festival wear and regalia for each of the planets/cultures the Winx are on.

General info on the celebrations these are for below the cut! Some have more info than others😅

On Solaria, there’s a celebration for when the big grain harvest is done.

Grains and oils are SUPER important on Solaria.

Their plants they use for oils collected all year, but there are some versions of oil that are much rarer and some that are imbued with other aromatics like florals and cinders. The rarer oils are usually reserved for higher ranking peoples because of pricing and scarcity, but a few dynasties ago, the choice to have a few days where it’s available to everyone during this festival (which takes place over 3 days) was made and that’s been the standard, even when the yield for crops for that oil has been scarce.

When it’s a poor season for it, It’s the job of those in power to limit their intake so that the public can enjoy it no matter what during this holiday.

Wrestling matches where the body is covered in oils are held for entertainment as are other tournaments for feats of strength and athletics. There are also performances, street food (prioritizing grain based foods), artisan stands, the usual stuff like that.

At the end of the 3rd day, if there’s enough oil that season, the Solarian equivalent of apoxyomenos is done on them. If there isn’t much oil, typically just a dab applied to the tips of the ears is done. These are done by those who work and worship in The Temple of the Suns.

For this festival, there’s a lot more leniency on what can be worn by the leaders so this is just one of many outfits that Stella could wear.

On Domino, the majority of flowers bloom in the middle of the year during their equivalent of summer when it’s warmest out, and then they die very quickly, some managing to live for about a month, others lasting only a few days.

A week long celebration is held at the beginning of this season that celebrates the flourishing of life and its abundance, giving thanks to The Great Dragon for it.

It can also acts as a fertility festival for those who wish for it to be that for them, special prayers and journeys made to The Great Tree that is said to be where The Great Dragon is sleeping under. Offerings and thanks are given and wishes for luck in child rearing are given there and also at alters at home or in other places of worship where a representative who works with The Flame and lives in constant worship to The Great Dragon blesses the being who has come to request aid in this task.

A tied piece of cloth that overlaps before being tied into a knot must be present somewhere on the outfit to represent life and the way overlaps and is interconnected with the world around them and others.

There are 2 times a year on Andros in the mainland area when the tide goes far far out, one in their summer season and one in the colder season.

The first one is an example of what could be worn during the warmer one, the middle could be for either depending on if the cape sleeves are removed or kept on, and the last one for the colder one. Pelts from an otter like creature are what the fur bit is.

This takes places for a month the way they measure their time.

Each month during the middle when it’s at its peak there’s multiple days where people set up stands and have celebrations on the wet sand where the ocean normally is

During the warm month it’s a midway celebration giving thanks for the first chunk of their year and then wishing well for the rest of the year by celebrating The Moons for giving abundant resources and care for their people.

The month has an ending ceremony when the tide returns and they give formal thanks to The Moons on the shoreline and pray for blessings and good health for the rest of the year.

The one in the colder season is their end of year/new year celebration.

Same set up but they are celebrating their whole year this time and are readying for their rebirth to start the year off fresh.

This time they give thanks in the water, which is colder and this is to show dedication to The Moons and show proper respect for them giving back the water for them to start their year off.

They then all go under the water and rise back up, cleansed by the water their Moons returned to them, ready for the new year.

The Androsians on the islands away from the mainland have a different celebration during these times for their shoreline being heavily reduced due to the tide coming in.

Some Lynphean variations that are typical for Flora’s area for a holiday where they celebrate the hatching of the serpents (mentioned in this post) they see as carrying the energy of the great tree that connects the planets in their system. It’s a month long event as well with specific days for dancing and a large celebration at the end of it with feasting, stories, and more dancing.

Lots of variation for this one too so I’m just doing the one that has elements more common in Tecna’s area.

Main thing that all of the variations have though is footwear that has a bird talon pattern on the bottom that leaves marks and gloves with bear paw patterns and claws attached.

During the coldest and darkest month, the biggest bear native to the Zenith sleeps during it.

Old beliefs were that this bear swallowed the sun to stay warm and comfortable while it rested.

There’s a type of owl looking bird that can mimic speech on Zenith and is highly revered culturally.

An old tale says it came to the people of Zenith where it saw them struggling to stay warm enough during the harshest weather that Zenith had ever seen due to the bear swallowing the sun, and taught them to harness their magic and imbue it into tools and their clothes to keep them warm. It then talked to the Zenithians about the bear, and together they came up with a plan with them to trick the bear into giving it back the sun so the beings of the planet wouldn’t have to live in permanent darkness and unbearable cold.

The bird would squawk and cry loudly outside the bear’s sleeping space, waking it and making it think there was easy prey.

When the near came to it, ready for a fresh meal, the bird quickly extended its long neck and took the sun from its belly, flying away to take the sun back to the sky.

This cycle repeats every year, the bear chasing the owl until the owl gets tired and then it eats the sun again.

Part of this celebration is a long run where people lineup and race.

This symbolizes the run the bird does to keep the sun up.

To celebrate, you wake up early and stay up all day and night and a big get together for the community in a large traditional hut is set up for it. The story of the bear and the bird is told by an elder and a communal feast is held.

Different tech is shown off as appreciation for the bird’s wisdom helping them get through the coldest time on the planet throughout different smaller huts that are outside of the giant one. It’s where a lot of kids show off their first gadget they’ve made, and it’s usually something simple like a heat enhancement piece, but it’s still a big deal and great moment of pride.

The race takes place last and welcomes in the next day.

The garb here on Musa’s form is for The Singing of The Whales, because we all know it’s an official holiday in canon.

There’s a lot of variation for Melody too but the main thing is the colors.

The Whales are colored similar to spotted koi fish and their most defining feature is big red circles on their cheeks, which is also why the red circles on either side of the mouth is there in a lot of traditional Melodian makeup looks and symbolizes being loud and proud, projecting the songs and voices of The Whales.

The colors used for this festival are reds, oranges, golds, blacks, and whites to match them. Wooden beads painted red are worn often too, typically as necklaces and bracelets, and are considered a necessary part of garb for holy figures that are dedicated to The Whales. They follow them year round and attend to their needs (such as medical aid if one gets hurt or providing additional food if it’s needed) and make sure they’re protected as well.

The flowers on the outfit example here on Musa is basically a spider lily, but it has 2 stamen with red orbs on the end, and because of that it’s associated with The Whales, the stamen with the orbs looking like the circles on their cheeks. Any floral motifs can be used for the outfits for this festival though, that one is just very common given its symbolism.

There’s street food and stands and Whale Dances (which are like Lion Dances, but instead they look like whales lol). Chewy cakes made of rice flour and filled with sweet and savory fillings in the shape of little whales are especially common and sweet fried dough balls covered in a hardened red colored sugar glaze are another popular treat.

Everyone gathers to watch The Whales when they come by and they pay their respects. In Musa’s area, this is done through silence, deep bows, typically on one’s knees, and offerings tossed off the cliff sides. These offerings are typically flowers, feathers (traditionally, birds were said to use their wings to make the winds to carry the songs of The Whales. In certain areas of Melody certain birds might be associated with this duty in particular, such as Cranes in the area Musa’s mother was from as mentioned here on the Mythix post I made. In Musa’s area, all birds are celebrated for this task but it was originally believed a finch like bird with round red spotted cheeks are especially attentive to this task due to the cheek spots), and leaves.

[midnight-talescape]

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽(𝒵𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝓍 𝒪𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓁𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)

Kinktober Day 15: Size Difference (sorta)

Brooooo u guys don’t understand I had like two more story planned the last two days but I couldn’t finish one and the Mewtwo one was literal garbage so I gave up 😭😭😭

So anyway heres the Zestial one that I promise, never in my life do I want to see thee thy and other similar language again I want to die.

I want to write egg laying so bad, but I shouldn’t.

Warning: egg laying, bdsm, bad use of Shakespeare language, ooc, etc etc you get the point not for kid

Genre: filthy filthy smut

Word Count: 3.2kish

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Everyone have heard the rumor…

A powerful overlord who can grant ones wish in exchange for their soul and entertainment…

Zestial watched in silence, a dangerous smile on his lip as he thought back to the other overlords who have already sold their soul to you.

And how broken and shattered they become when their soul was returned.

The pain and agony they felt as they realize that they no longer entertain you, that they no longer deserve to be your toy.

When they realize that true desperation is when they can no longer feel your imprint on their soul.

As he heard the tell tale sound of butterflies, Zestial knows what he want…

As insane as it sound, he want to be own by you.

To become the most important soul you own.

｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡

You hummed as you walked out of the shadow, stopping in front of him and doing a curtsy before greeting him.

“Hello, Zestial right? I’m here to make a deal with you for your soul.”

Zestial green eyes flick to you, his smile raising by a fraction, not at all surprise by your request. before he lean in closer to you. His tall, imposing figure loom over you, his black cloak billowing slightly in the choleric air of the Pride Ring.

"A deal, a pact, a contract. It is all a matter of give and take, is it not? So tell me, what dost thou offer in exchange for my soul?"

The lime green spider on his cloak seemed to dance and twitch with anticipation almost as if alive, the glimmer in his eyes matching with Zestial’s as he spoke.

Unfazed, although uncomfortable with how close he was to you, you take a few step back before answering, “What will you like in exchange for your soul? I can give you anything I can give.”

His smile grew as he watch you back away, a low chuckle escaping his throat. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you once more, wanting to be as close to you as possible.

"Thou art a curious one, are thou not? To offer such a tantalizing proposition without first knowing the desires of the one thou seek to bargain with.”

His gloved hand reaches out, gently tucking a strand of your black hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“I crave not wealth, for I have already possessed much. Neither doth the power of the underworld intrigue me. No, what I do seek is something rarer than gold or gems. It is something intangible, yet just as precious."

The overlord's head tilts to the side, his gaze roaming over your form as if inspecting you, to memorize every curve of your body. "I offer thee my soul, my power, and my allegiance for as long as thou wants, if in return, thou wilt grant me one year of servitude. One year of unadulterated attention and affection from thee alone. Day and night, under thy tender care."

He extend his hand towards you, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. "Will thou accept my offer?" His eyes stared unblinkingly at you as he waited for your answer, his body trembling slightly in excitement,

“I accept your proposal.” You said almost immediately, shaking his hand without hesitation,

A year of your endless and boring existence, for a soul who will bring you entertainment. It was a deal you had no reason to decline.

With a snap of your finger, a beautiful clear crystal float out of your chest and stopped in front of him. Silently asking for Zestial to sign the deal.

Zestial reach out and gently took the crystal heart from your hand, cradling it in his large palms, studying the intricate etchings and runes etched elegantly along its surface.

"Thou art truly a generous one, to accept my offer so readily," he purred, his voice low and smooth as silk. "But know this, sweet one, I am a possessive creature, and thou art now bound to me."

He close his fingers around the crystal, feeling its warmth seeping into his skin as he began to forge the deal.

"I, Zestial, hereby pledge my soul, my power, and my allegiance to thee. In exchange, I demand thy servitude, thy care, and thy affection for one year. My signature is my binding word, sealed with my very essence."

As if on cue, a swirl of dark energy emerged from Zestial's chest, coiling around the crystal before sinking deep into its core.

Zestial let out a groan, the weight of his soul leave his body was both terrifying and exhilarating. After a few moment he calm down, his four eyes glowing and his breathing slightly ragged. In a instant as if unable to control himself, the overlord brought the crystal close to his lips, kissing it gently as if in a trance.

“D-don’t do that.” You pant out almost immediately, practically snatching the crystal back and placing it back your chest. Your skin flushing lightly as the sensation of his lip seems to be imprinted on your own soul,

Zestial doesn’t feel the least bit apologetic at his actions, finding your flustered state utterly charming.

"Apologies. Dost thou find my words unsettling, sweet one?" he asks, his eyes blinking almost playfully, "I assure thee, I merely meant to express my gratitude. For my soul is thine, and I, in turn, claim thee as mine. Mine to cherish, mine to protect, and mine to...possess."

His hand reach out, cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb brush over your lower lip, applying just the barest hint of pressure.

"But if thou art so easily undone by a mere glance or caress, then I fear what thou art in for during our year together."

His other hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you flush against his tall frame. The heat of his body seeped into you as gaze at your lips, then back up to meet your own. "Shall we seal our pact with a kiss, my dear? To mark the beginning of our arrangement?"

It was a absolutely scandalous request, especially for a gentleman like him. But he couldn’t resist. He want to know what your lip feels like under his.

Were they as soft as they look?

You look up at him, a rare moment of confusion in your eyes.

It was a odd request.

Or at the very least no one had dare ask that of you before.

But you nodded, after a moment of hesitation. You did agree to be his for a year, and you honor your deals.

You waited for hum to lean down to your height, before placing a chaste kiss on his lip, it was supposed to be quick and easy. But as you pull away, you felt him place his hand on the back of your head.

Zestial's eyes fluttered shut as he deepen the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a slow grace. He tasted of tea and something distinctly otherworldly, a flavor unique to the demons that inhabited the depths of Hell.

After a long moment, he reluctantly pulled away, leaving you breathless and flushed. He licked his lips, savoring the taste of you still lingering on his tongue, a grin spreading across his face.

"My, my... Thou art a delightful surprise," he purred, his voice husky with desire. "I cannot wait to unravel the many secrets thou holdest."

With a flourish, Zestial swept you up into his arms, cradling you against his broad chest. "Come, let us retire to my abode. I would hate for any to interrupt our little... celebration."

He carried you through a portal he summoned and you soon arrived in his bedroom. You let out a muffled groan when he dropped you onto his bed. His lip curling as he watched you bounce slightly on the plush bed, your form sinking into the silk sheets.

His knee press into the mattress as he lean down, caging you beneath his tall frame. His hands came to rest on either side of your head, his face mere inches from your own.

"Thou art as delicate as a flower, yet with a strength that belies thy fragile appearance,"

His eyes grew dark as he stare at your delicate neck. He lean down almost hungrily, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of scorching kisses in their wake as he tore at your shirt.

“Zestial…” your voice tremble as you pant out his name, instinctively arching your neck wanting to get away from his kisses.

Zestial smile against your skin as he heard the breathy moan escape your lips. He can feel your pulse racing beneath his lips, a delicious flutter that only stoke the flames of his desire. His hand trailed down your body, fingers splaying across your stomach, teasing the waistband of your pants.

"Shh, my sweet. There is no need to be afraid," he purred, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Just relax and let me take care of thee."

Without warning, a silken thread of webbing materializing between his fingers. In one swift motion, he wrap it around your wrists, binding them together above your head.

He lean back, leaving you bare before him. Your skin marred with scratches and love bite as he admire his handiwork with a grin. "There now, is that not better? Thou art positively radiant, all tied up and helpless like this."

You struggle unhappily as you were tied to the headboard. The thread was thin, but strong, holding firm against your movement and digging into your wrist.

“I don’t like being tied up…” you complain softly, trying not to tremble as you felt his sharp claw on your thigh,

Zestial's eyes gleamed with wicked amusement as he watched you squirm beneath him, your protests only serving to fuel his desire.

"Oh? But thou art so beautiful like this, my sweet," he purred, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. "Bound and helpless, at the mercy of my whims."

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "And as for liking it... Well, that remains to be seen, doth it not?"

His eyes rake over your form, drinking in every dip and curve. His hand gripping onto you, fingers digging into your thigh as he muse to himself. "I wonder... Shall I devour thee whole, or savor thee bite by bite?"

You open your mouth to say something, but he didn’t give you time. The next thing you know, his face was between your legs as you arched your back. Pressing your pussy into his mouth as you cried out, your leg wrapping tightly around his head as his tongue delved into your wet cunt.

"Mmm... Thou taste divine," he groan against your pussy as you grind into him, "I could feast upon thee for hours, days even."

Without further word, he buried his face back in between your legs. He could taste your arousal on his tongue, a intoxicating flavor that only spur him on. His tongue swirl around your sensitive bud, flicking and teasing until you were writhing beneath him.

His hands grip your hip tighter, holding you in place as he feasted on your cunt. He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, your moans and whimpers music to his ears. His actions were fueled by pure hunger, an insatiable need to taste and claim every part of you.

He want to hear you fall apart, want to feel you clench and spasm against his mouth as he drove you to the brink of ecstasy. His eyes lock onto yours, watching you with a predatory intensity as he continued his relentless assault on your cunt.

“D-don’t— too much!” You cried out, your body filled with unfamiliar sensations,

It was ironic.

As a demon who gain power through emotions, this was something you have never felt and least of all familiar with. You felt like your body was melting and all you can feel was his tongue in your pussy.

He could feel your control slipping, your defenses crumbling with each flick of his tongue and press of his lips, your body arching and writhing beneath him. Could sense your confusion and pleasure, and it only excite him further.

"Shh, my sweet," he purr, his voice a low, soothing rumble against your core. "Just let go. Let me take care of thee."

He felt your body tense, coiling like a spring ready to snap as your moans grow louder and desperate. He could feel your climax building, your walls fluttering around his tongue as he push you towards the brink.

With a final, hard suck, he sent you hurtling over the edge. Your body convulse, your thighs clamping around his head as you cried out in ecstasy. He lap and lick, prolonging your orgasm until you were a boneless heap on the bed.

As you pant on the bed, your skin glistening with sweat, he sat up licking his lip. "Mmm... Thou art exquisite when thou art undone. I look forward to doing that again... and again."

You let out a broken sob at his word, your leg still shaking as you try to come down from the high. You felt like your body was no longer yours, and the night haven’t even started.

After all this was just the beginning, and he was going to ravage you to the fullest.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, another strand of webbing shot out, binding your ankle to the footboard. He could feel the power thrumming through his veins, fed by your emotions and excitement. It was intoxicating, addictive even. You were now fully at his mercy, spread out and vulnerable before him like a feast waiting to be devoured.

"I could get used to this view," he said as he pull back, his eyes hungry as he stare at your bound form. "Thou art a work of art, my sweet. And I intend to worship every inch of thee."

His hand trails down your body, fingers ghosting over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He could feel your body trembling beneath his touch, anticipation and fear mingling together in your veins.

You grit your teeth as you felt his cock head nudging at your entrance, the taper head forceful and insistent. You wanted to close your legs, the sheer size of it making you wonder if it will even fit, but the web left you unable to move. So you can only watch as Zestial sank deep inside you, your scream swallow by him as he kiss you.

He groan into the kiss as he felt your tight heat envelop him, your walls clenching around his cock. He could feel your body tense beneath him, your screams muffled against his lips as he sank deeper and deeper into your welcoming warmth.

He broke the kiss after a few seconds, watching you with a predatory intensity as he began to move. He started slow, giving you time to adjust to his cock, he could feel your body softening, yielding to him as he filled you again and again.

"Thou feel divine, my sweet," he groan, his pace becoming more erratic, more desperate. "So tight and perfect, like thou were made for me."

As he started to pick up the pace he could feel your body responding to his thrusts, your moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment.

“S-stop…” you managed to beg out, before you felt yourself cumming again,

Not even getting a chance to catch your breath before he was pounding into you again. It was only till you started losing count, did you felt his thrusting getting erratic as he get ready to fill you with his cum.

With a wail, your body tremble and shake as you felt Zestial crammed his cock into your womb, spilling his cum into you with a grunt as he tightened the web on your limbs.

You didn’t know how long it lasted, you just felt so so full. You couldn’t think or make a sound, your brain practically fried with unfamiliar sensations and pleasure.

Your face was wet with tears and your hair messy as it cling to your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so weak and vulnerable.

Not that you can remember much by this point.

After a few minutes, you let out a soft whine as you felt his cock still buried deep inside you. You look up at him your voice hoarse and broken as you ask,

“Are you not pulling out?”

Zestial laugh as he felt your body go limp beneath him, the sight of your overstimulated form feeding him just as much as the physical pleasure you brought him.

"Pull out, my sweet?" he repeated, his voice a low, husky rumble. "Whatever gave thee that idea? I have no intention of finishing our little... encounter so quickly."

To emphasize his point, he gave you another particularly hard thrust. You wailed and he could feel your walls fluttering around him again, your body still sensitized from your earlier climaxes.

"If anything, I intend to fill thee even further. To see thee swollen with my seed, my mark etched upon thy very flesh."

His hand slid down your body, coming to rest on your lower belly. "Wouldst thou like that, my sweet? To be bred and claimed, marked as mine for all to see?"

As he said that he ground his hips against yours again, and you felt something hard and ridged prodding at your entrance. With a sadistic smile, Zestial pushed forward, and you felt a strange, bulbous shape sliding into your womb.

Seeing the shock and confusion on your face, he stroke your belly softly, “Don't worry, my dear. These eggs are but a mere token of my affection for thee." his touch gentle compared to the brutal and lewd action he’s forcing upon you.

One by one, your womb was filled with his eggs. After a eternity, the last of them enter your womb and with a hint of disappointment Zestial pull out of you.

A whimper fell from your lip as he cut you free from his web, your body landing on the soft bed again as you immediately curl up. You can feel the eggs floating in the copious amount of cum inside your womb, pushing against each other and grinding against your sensitive wall. It was a absurd feeling, like you’re actually filled with his young.

Humming softly Zestial pulled you against his chest, his cock already hard again as he pressed it against your ass. Ignoring your instinctive struggle he whisper in your ears.

“Come now, my sweet. Be good and bear my eggs, for thou canst do that for me, canst thou not?”

Before you could answer he was already ramming his cock into your ass, his hand wrap around your throat as he begin to fuck you into oblivion.

You were going to lay those eggs eventually, but he certainly don’t mind fucking you through it. After all the night is long and you will be with him for a long long time.

[throughthetwistedmirror]

Marrying for Love ~ *Malleus Draconia*

Summary: As Crown Prince of Briar Valley, Malleus is expected to become King one day. However, he still needs to find a partner to rule by his side. And that's where you come in...

Pairing: Malleus Draconia X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 731

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

Taglist: @savanaclaw1996 @goseew

A/N: An early birthday present for him because we share the same birthday.

You have met a lot of princes in your life, but none were quite like Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley.

He was a rare kind of mage and beauty and an even rarer kind of gentleman. He cared deeply for his people, his friends, and his family. He didn't really have enemies wherever he went. His magic was incredibly powerful and he wielded it well. He was soft-spoken, intelligent, humorous, and compassionate. Malleus was born to be a Prince and strived to prove he was worthy of being King of Briar Valley every single day.

There was just one obstacle in his way: marriage.

According to the customs of this ancient kingdom, he couldn’t ascend the throne until he was married. It was the chink in his relatively perfect armor. Even though he was considered the perfect man throughout the realms, Malleus was hopeless when it came to finding a suitable partner, at least in Lilia's eyes. Sebek was still under the impression it was the other party who had the problem, not Lord Malleus. 

Sure, Malleus could talk to people, but he couldn’t flirt and couldn’t understand flirting to save his life. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to understand the subtleties of romance, much to Lilia's displeasure. He thought he taught him better.

Really, it was no surprise his parents, with the help of Lilia, arranged a match for him.

And that’s where you come in.

Oh sure, you know how to flirt and be coy and romantic with others. But after spending one evening with Malleus, you knew it wasn’t going to work with him. And you’re nothing if not adaptable.

From the first moment you met him, you knew he craved an honest relationship, where you didn't play games and you were very clear with your intentions from the start. You took it upon yourself to just get to know him, all of him, and not just the parts he wanted you to see. It was a start. And he found it was something easy he could do. While you learned more about him and what made him who he is, he learned about you. And what surprised him the most was the fact that he genuinely liked you. And that you genuinely liked him too.

Time was ticking down and you found that this idea of an arranged marriage didn’t seem so terrible. However, you were still worried. Slowly, Malleus was learning how to flirt and be romantic. You were afraid he wouldn’t need you anymore, he wouldn’t care about you anymore as much as he did when you first met. You liked that he needed you. He made you feel wanted and loved. But what if he found someone better?

You kept your worries to yourself. Being the Crown Prince of Briar Valley, Malleus had enough to worry about. You didn’t want to complicate your relationship with him in any way. Nevertheless, in the privacy of your room, you wished that Malleus would be yours just like you were his.

So you can imagine your surprise when he invited you on a stroll through the royal gardens one day. Sure, the two of you often went walking in these gardens, but it usually wasn’t until after all of his royal duties were complete. It was the middle of the day when he sent for you, not late evening after dinner like normal. Though you were confused and more than a little anxious, you did not want to keep him waiting. Quickly, you found him near the entrance to the gardens and the two of you began to walk together, arm in arm.

Malleus eventually stopped in a small pavilion surrounded by your favorite flowers. He sat you down on one of the benches and began a long-winded speech, which wasn't a common occurrence for him. He went on and on about how even though your relationship started as an arranged marriage, he felt something more for you. He thought of you as less of a companion and more of a lover he wanted to treasure forever. He explained that to him, you were the perfect partner to spend the rest of his life with. However, he didn’t feel like he was actually engaged yet.

So he asked you a question:

“Will you marry me?”

And of course, you said, “Yes.”