#but this is still very precious to me ���

[foldingfittedsheets]

My beloved is very particular about their belongings. I was surprised when we first started dating about the scrutiny their loaned objects would be placed under when returned. Their car would be checked carefully for scrapes if someone loaded a bike into it, all returned objects were carefully and thoroughly looked over. Even now if Korben has bitten something left out like a dildo they’ll carefully look it over for damage it has one tiiiny tooth dent.

It won’t surprise anyone to learn that books they’d loaned people had previously been returned with broken spines and dog eared pages, and now it's very important to them to maintain their things in good condition. Their things weren’t treated with care and now it’s a sign of respect to them.

The first time they loaned me a book I was a little shocked that they received it back and began immediately investigating it for wear. To my chagrin there was indeed a tiny scuff at the corner where I’d put it in my bag too hastily. They said nothing, but nothing needed to be said.

Going forward I treated each book they gave me as utterly precious. I dogear my own pages but I’d never dare on a book that wasn’t mine and on their books I elevated to special protocols, handling them as gently as possible.

When it came to books I loaned them I got them back exactly as I’d handed them over. I had them read American Gods. They weren’t totally sold and I suggested the lighthearted sequel Anansi Boys might be more up their alley. It’s about a trickster god and his sons.

I was lounging when I got a call from my beloved. We usually texted, they’re not a phone talker so I picked up right away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry,” they blurted.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I was getting in my car, and I had a coffee and I was trying to juggle things and well-“

The silence stretched out.

“What?” I asked gently, afire with curiosity.

“I left your book on top of my car and I drove off. When I realized I drove back but I couldn’t find it. I’m so sorry!”

As the words sank in a laugh started rising out of me. “You lost my book?”

“I’ll buy you a new copy! It was an accident!”

“I’m not mad, it’s okay! Its just really funny, you’re always so careful.”

I then realized that they were holding themself to their own standard, beating themself up for something that to me was just a silly mishap.

“It’s really okay! I’m not mad, you can get me a new copy.”

They did, and when I chuckle about it they still pout a little like the funny part is that they made a mistake.

But honestly the thought of someone coming upon a copy of a book about trickster gods being left in a coffee shop parking lot and taking it is the funniest part. I hope they enjoyed it.

[marta-bee]

This reminds me of one of my favorite passages in the Lord of the Rings book. I'm not sure it's specifically what PJ meant to adapt in that (also beautiful) movie scene, but my mind always connected it. I'll put it below the cut.

Hope is so crucial, not just the emotion but the mental act. The will to imagine things could still be better, and to reach out for it. I think I need a few days at least before I can try for it in reality, but it did me good to be reminded about it. As Gandalf says, despair is only for those who know the end beyond all doubt, and I'm nowhere near smart enough for that.

From The Lord of the Rings:

There they sat and made such a meal as they could. Keeping back the precious lembas for the evil days ahead, they ate the half of what remained in Sam’s bag of Faramir’s provision: some dried fruit, and a small slip of cured meat; and they sipped some water. They had drunk again from the pools in the valley, but they were very thirsty again. There was a bitter tang in the air of Mordor that dried the mouth. When Sam thought of water even his hopeful spirit quailed. Beyond the Morgai there was the dreadful plain of Gorgoroth to cross. ‘Now you go to sleep first, Mr. Frodo,’ he said. ‘It’s getting dark again. I reckon this day is nearly over.’ Frodo sighed and was asleep almost before the words were spoken. Sam struggled with his own weariness, and he took Frodo’s hand; and there he sat silent till deep night fell. Then at last, to keep himself awake, he crawled from the hiding-place and looked out. The land seemed full of creaking and cracking and sly noises, but there was no sound of voice or of foot. Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his masters, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo’s side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.

[amirasainz]

Write something about Max and Kelly corrupting innocent younger reader. They treat her like a porcelain doll and make sure she is always in their sight. They are very possessive and obsessed

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

No Part 2!

Keeping her away

"Where are you going, YN?" Max’s voice was smooth yet carried a dark edge that made YN pause, one hand still on the door.

She looked over her shoulder, offering a soft smile. "Oh, I was just going to meet Jess for coffee. I thought I mentioned it."

Kelly appeared from the other side of the room, her gaze warm but intent and possessive. "Did you check in with us first? You know we just like to know where you are, sweetheart." She reached out, tucking a stray strand of YN's hair behind her ear. Kelly had the habit of always touching the younger girl. It was her way of making sure YN was safe. "You know it’s not safe out there. Besides… we kind of like having you around."

YN’s cheeks flushed at the attention, feeling a bit like a child being fussed over by parents—though Max and Kelly were only a few years older than her. Still, they always treated her with such adoration, like she was someone who needed looking after. Like she couldn't exist without the other two.

"It’s just coffee," she replied, laughing softly, "I’ll be back in an hour or two."

Max exchanged a long look with Kelly. "Come on, YN, it’s not that we don’t trust you," he said, stepping closer, his gaze softening, but carrying a possesive sparkle in them. "We just worry, you know? We don’t want you getting hurt."

"How about this?" Kelly chimed in, wrapping a strong arm around YN’s waist. "Let us come with you. We can sit nearby, give you space, but if you need anything, we’ll be right there."

YN’s expression wavered. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. They did so much for her, always checking in, always knowing exactly what she needed before she even had to ask.

"Alright," she agreed, smiling. "You two can come, but only if you promise not to embarrass me!"

Max chuckled, guiding her toward the door with a firm hand on her lower back, nearly touching her ass. "Promise. We’ll just be… there in case you need us."

The three of them arrived at the café, with Jess already waiting. When she saw Max and Kelly trailing YN, her eyebrows raised. "Hey, YN," Jess said, giving her a questioning look. "I didn’t know we’d have company."

YN shrugged, taking a seat. "They just wanted to make sure I was safe." She grinned, not noticing how Jess’s face flickered with confusion.

While Jess and YN caught up, Max and Kelly sat at a nearby table, never taking their eyes off their girl. At one point, Max leaned toward Kelly, murmuring softly, "See how happy she looks with us here. We’re doing the right thing, keeping an eye on her."

Kelly nodded, eyes bright with a crazy twinkle as she watched YN laugh. "She needs us, Max. We’re the only ones who really understand her. Nobody else could love her the way we do. Nobody could ever protect her the way we can. We are the only ones she can love, forever."

They lingered at the café, Max occasionally glancing at Jess whenever she made YN laugh too hard, his jaw tightening just a little too hard for it to be causal. Kelly, sensing his mood, placed a calming hand on his arm, trying to keep her anger at bay when she looked at her precious love and the person she called a "friend".

"Remember," she whispered, "YN will come back with us. She always does."

■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■

Later that evening, back at Max and Kelly’s home, YN spotted a new photo on the wall—one of her from the café, laughing at something Jess had said.

"Another one?" she laughed, turning to them. "You two are so obsessed with pictures."

Max smiled warmly, stepping closer to her. "You’re just so beautiful, YN. We love being able to see you around us, even when you’re not there."

Kelly leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching YN with a fond gaze. "Do you like it? We took it because it just… captured you perfectly. Don’t you think?"

YN’s cheeks heated. She felt flattered, even a bit shy. "I guess it’s… kind of sweet. I’m lucky to have you two."

"No, YN," Kelly said, stepping forward and taking her hand, kissing her cheek softly, before whisperingin her ear. "We’re the lucky ones. You’re like our little angel. You let us take care of you, and that means everything to us." Kelly's declaration of love made her shiver.

YN felt her heart skip. She’d never had anyone look out for her so closely. Sometimes her friends hinted it was… maybe a bit much, but what did they know? Max and Kelly loved her, cared for her in ways she couldn’t imagine anyone else doing. And they wanted her safe.

"So… you don’t mind?" she asked, looking up at Max. "That I need you both so much?"

Max’s gaze softened. "YN, we wouldn’t have it any other way." He put a gentle hand on her cheek. "You’re exactly where you’re meant to be."

Kelly nodded, brushing a thumb over YN’s knuckles. "Exactly. With us."

■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■□■■

Days passed, and each time YN tried to spend time on her own or with friends, Max and Kelly always found a reason to join or have her stay with them instead. They’d perfected the art of reassuring her with gentle smiles and soft words, constantly reminding her of how precious she was to them and how they didn't want anything happening to her.

One evening, YN noticed Max quietly watching her from the doorway as she arranged flowers on the kitchen table. "Something on your mind?" she asked with a teasing grin.

He tilted his head, smiling. "Nothing in particular. Just… happy."

Kelly appeared by his side, nodding as she took YN’s hand, guiding her to sit between them on the couch. "We love having you here, YN. You feel that too, don’t you?"

"Of course," YN replied, her heart warming. "I mean… I don’t know what I’d do without you two."

"And you won’t ever have to," Kelly murmured softly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before bringing her in a hug. Over YN's shoulder, Kelly shared a dark look with Max, tightening her hold on YN. A silent form of communication between them. Nothing would ever touch their YN. Ever.

[idkyetxoxo]

Davos Blackwood - The Realm's Beloved

Summary - Known for her kindness she often finds herself at the mercy of others' harshness. Yet, there's a unique comfort in knowing that with a man like Davos by her side, whose fierce protectiveness balances her gentleness, she's shielded from the world's cruelty.

Pairing - Davos Blackwood x Velaryon reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2260

Masterlist for Davos • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

My mother was celebrated across the kingdom with the esteemed title of "The Realm's Delight," a testament to her exceptional charm. 

In a similar vein, I earned the endearing nickname "The Realm's Beloved," recognized for my unwavering kindness and the warmth I brought that seemed to brighten even the coldest hearts.

In a world that often feels harsh and unyielding, I was known far and wide as a beacon of positivity and genuine affection, a true sweetheart who could bring a glimmer of light into even the darkest corners.

This very reputation was why my mother found herself in a difficult dilemma. She was torn between her desire to keep me safe and the decision to send me to the Riverlands to assess the progress being made there.

"I can make a difference," I said, hoping to reassure her. Gently, she sighed and tenderly stroked my cheek.

"I can explore whether the houses are willing to pledge their support," I continued, my voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

"I know, my sweet girl," she murmured, her voice laden with both affection and concern. "I don't doubt your ability."

"We need every ounce of support we can muster in the Riverlands," I persisted. "Cole is already marching, seeking the backing of the various houses."

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, clearly overwhelmed by the weight of our circumstances.

"I am willing to offer myself," I said firmly, causing her eyes to snap open in alarm. "I am still unbetrothed and without a marriage contract, my hand could serve as a bargaining chip."

My mother's eyes filled with tears as she looked at me, her emotions a mixture of pride and sorrow. She struggled with the notion of sacrificing her beloved daughter in the hopes of securing crucial support. 

The sacrifice I was prepared to make only deepened her anguish, highlighting the difficult choices we faced in our time of need.

Her gaze softened, but the weight of the decision remained palpable. With a gentle shake of her head, she responded, "We do not need to speak of such things yet. I would not ask that of you, my dear."

Her voice was tender, but there was an unmistakable firmness beneath it. She took a deep breath, struggling to keep her emotions in check, and then pulled me into a heartfelt embrace. 

Her arms enveloped me in a warm, protective cocoon as if she were trying to shield me from the harsh realities that lay ahead.

As she held me, her breath was steady but her heart was heavy. 

"You are so precious to me," she murmured into my hair, her voice trembling slightly. "Your safety and well-being are paramount. We will find another way, a way that doesn't require you to make such a sacrifice."

That conversation was precisely what led me to where I now stood amidst the windswept field on the border between the Brackens' and Blackwoods' lands.

The air was thick with tension, crackling with the unspoken animosities of two houses whose rivalry spanned generations. Whispers had reached us that both were eager for a fight, itching to reignite their ancient feud. 

If they did, we stood to lose hundreds of good men, lives that could not be easily replaced in these turbulent times.

As I surveyed the scene, my thoughts were interrupted by the sharp voice of a Bracken knight, his eyes narrowing as he approached me and the Blackwood men who had been accompanying me.

"Your beast has scorched one of our fields, a field full of livestock and supplies, all belonging to House Bracken," he accused, his tone laced with disdain.

I turned to him, my brows knitting together in confusion. 

"Pardon me?" I asked, seeking clarity even as a cold unease settled in my chest. 

My mother would have been furious if she knew how close I was to members of a house that had so openly declared for the usurper.

"Your dragon has ruined our land," he repeated, his voice harsher this time. I sighed softly.

"I apologize," I said calmly, trying to defuse the situation. "Please provide me with a list of what has been damaged, and I will ensure you are compensated, twice the amount owed for the sake of peace."

Instead of gratitude, the knight scoffed, his expression contorting with contempt. "We don't want your filthy coin," he spat, the venom in his voice unmistakable.

I tilted my head slightly, contemplating his words, my mind searching for a way to navigate the situation. 

"Then I am at a loss," I began, keeping my tone measured and diplomatic. "Perhaps you could tell me what it is you desire," I continued, allowing a small, disarming smile to touch my lips. 

I hoped that a bit of kindness might help ease the tension, but instead, it only seemed to embolden the men behind him.

"Aye, she's asking what we want," one of the Bracken men jeered, his voice dripping with a crude insinuation that I didn't immediately understand. His eyes flashed with something that made me uneasy, but I pressed on, still trying to maintain the peace.

I blinked in confusion, glancing back at the Blackwood men who were accompanying me. I searched their faces for understanding, but their expressions were tight, their eyes clouded with anger. 

The Bracken men, emboldened by my apparent naivety, began to laugh amongst themselves, their snickers growing louder and more lewd with each passing moment.

"Maybe she'll offer us a different kind of payment," one of the knights muttered, his gaze sliding over me in a way that made my stomach churn. 

His tone was suggestive, the implication hanging heavily in the air, though I struggled to grasp its full meaning.

"Aye, why settle for coin when we could have something sweeter?" one of them added, his voice low. His eyes gleamed with a dark amusement, and I could feel their gazes burning into me, stripping away the layers of diplomacy I had tried to maintain.

The air around us grew thick with their crude insinuations, and I felt a cold knot of dread forming in my stomach. 

They weren't just dismissing my offer, they were taunting me, mocking me with vile suggestions that I was only beginning to comprehend. 

My smile faltered, and a flush of embarrassment began to creep up my neck as the realization of their meaning hit me.

"You've got a pretty mouth for a princess," one of the men murmured, his eyes dark with something that made my skin crawl. "Maybe you should use it to beg, hm? Might be more persuasive."

They were only interested in humiliating me, in making sport of my kindness.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm despite the bile rising in my throat. 

"If there is something specific you seek," I began again, my voice strained but still steady, "I am willing to listen."

The Bracken men only laughed louder, their crude amusement ringing out across the field. 

"Oh, she's willing, lads," one of them said, his tone heavy with insinuation as he stepped closer.

"Aye," another one chimed in, his grin widening as he took a step closer as well. "I'd say we're more than willing to negotiate... in private."

Before he could get any closer, one of the Blackwood men, Davos, who had been silently observing stepped forward, his expression dark with fury. 

"That's enough!" he thundered, his voice cutting through their laughter like a crack of thunder. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes blazed with anger as he glared at them.

"You will not speak to her like that," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. There was a steel in his tone that left no room for argument, and the Bracken men's laughter died in their throats.

The knight who had spoken last faltered, his bravado wavering under Davos's fierce gaze. "We were only having a bit of fun," he muttered, trying to laugh it off, but Davos was unmoved.

"You call that fun?" Davos snapped, his voice cold. 

"Mocking a lady, a princess at that? Disrespecting the queen's blood?" His hand tightened on his sword hilt, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might draw it. 

"You will apologize, and then you will leave," he commanded, his tone brooking no dissent.

The first knight, emboldened by the tension and perhaps the madness of his own arrogance, straightened his back, standing tall with a defiant sneer.

"No, we will not," he spat, his voice filled with disdain. "The false queen's blood means nothing to us," he added, his words sharp and cruel.

The mention of my mother in such a disrespectful way sent a pang of sorrow through my heart, a deep sadness that these men could speak so callously of her.

Before I could respond, before I could even process the insult fully, Davos, stepped forward, his expression dark with wrath. 

"Then I will cut through you," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, every word dripping with lethal intent.

Before any of us could act, the sound of powerful wings flapping echoed through the air, followed by a deep, rumbling growl that made the ground beneath us tremble. 

The sky darkened for a moment as the massive form of Silverwing, my dragon, descended from the heavens, her silver scales shimmering as she landed beside us with a thunderous impact.

The Bracken knights, who had just been brimming with arrogance and disrespect, suddenly froze, their faces drained of colour as they stared up at the towering dragon. 

Silverwing, sensing the hostility in the air, let out a roar so fierce and primal that it shook the very ground beneath our feet. The sound reverberated through the air, a terrifying, bone-chilling noise that sent the Bracken men stumbling back in fear, their bravado shattered in an instant.

Silverwing's eyes, sharp and intelligent, locked onto the Bracken knights, her maw opening slightly to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. Her growl deepened, the sound vibrating in the air, promising swift retribution if they dared take another step toward me.

The men, who had moments ago been mocking and leering, were now trembling, their eyes wide with terror as they realized the full magnitude of what they had provoked. 

Some of them clutched at their swords, but their hands shook so badly they were unable to draw them.

I stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Silverwing's massive flank. The dragon, sensing my presence, turned her great head toward me, her eyes softening ever so slightly as she recognized me.

"Lykirī," I whispered, my voice firm but soothing, as I stroked her scales. Calm

Silverwing snorted, as she obeyed, her growl subsiding into a low rumble. Her body, which had been tensed and ready to strike, relaxed slightly under my touch, though her eyes never left the Bracken knights, who were now too terrified to move.

The tension in the air shifted as the Bracken men realized they were entirely at our mercy. Their arrogance had dissolved into pure, unadulterated fear, and they stood there, trembling, not daring to make a sound.

"You will apologize," Davos reiterated, his voice now cutting through the silence with a cold edge. "And then you will leave."

The lead Bracken knight, his earlier defiance utterly gone, swallowed hard, his face pale. 

"We... we meant no harm, princess," he stammered, his voice shaking as he finally understood the gravity of his situation. "We apologize. Truly, we do."

"Indeed," Davos said, not lowering his gaze or the tension in his stance. "Leave now, while you still can."

Without another word, the Bracken knights turned and fled. They stumbled over themselves in their haste to escape, casting terrified glances back at Silverwing, who watched them with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

As they disappeared from sight, I turned back to Silverwing, continuing to stroke her flank, my heart pounding in my chest.

Davos approached, his stern expression softening into concern as he met my gaze. 

"Are you all right, Princess?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine care that eased the tension in my heart.

I nodded, though the weight of the encounter still hung heavily on my shoulders. 

"Yes, thank you," I replied quietly, my gratitude extending beyond his mere intervention. There was something comforting in his presence, something that made me feel safe.

Davos tilted his head, his gaze unwavering as he studied my face. 

"You're too kind," he murmured, a hint of admiration in his tone. "Letting them go after what they said... after how they treated you. They deserved more than just a fright."

I sighed softly, my hand still stroking Silverwing's side. "And you, Ser Davos, are the exact opposite," I said, a small, tired smile tugging at my lips. "You would have cut them down without a second thought."

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head slightly, his expression lightening. 

"Perhaps," he admitted, his eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief. "But opposites attract, don't they?"

His words caught me off guard, and I felt a sudden warmth spread across my cheeks. The simple, teasing remark sent a flutter through my heart, and I looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice the blush that had crept up my neck.

"Perhaps," I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper, still not meeting his gaze. I could feel his eyes on me, and it only made the blush deepen.

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at me as if I were the only person in the world, made my heart swell with emotions I hadn't expected, emotions that whispered of a future where we were more than just princess and knight, but something far deeper, something destined.

A/n - Black cat and golden retriever but the golden retriever also has a dragon who's known to be docile and friendly to strangers how befitting!

[hanjiwuver]

Could you maybe do one of seungmin getting mad at you in public for wearing revealing clothes, ty!

Seungmin Drabble #1

*~Disobeying Dom Seungmin~*

pairing: hard dom!seungmin x sub!reader

warnings: MEANIE PANTS SEUNG! no smut but very suggestive, lots of degredation, reader is called a bitch, i think thats it.

note: personally…i could never disobey him but thats just me🐶 good luck with that tho!

heres ur order!! smut under the cut!!!!!!!!!!!

it was going to be a perfect night. your boyfriend seungmin finally got reservations for that fancy, expensive diner you’ve been dying to go to.

the only problem was..you were running a little late.

you took a nice, long shower beforehand, using all the scents you know he loves on you. laying out three different dresses on your bed, you quickly tried to decide which one would be the best fit for tonight’s important date.

one was grey, and wrapped your body elegantly with silk fabric. the second was light pink, with a high cut waist and a frilly bottom, seungmin loves that one. and the third…oh.

seungmin hates this dress. he specifically told you not to wear it in public anymore. its was a black, hollow out dress with sheer fabric and strings where there wasn’t your boobs or your ass showing. nothing different than a stripper dress.

now, you know seungmin better than anyone. and when he says he hates that dress, its not because its ugly in any way, shape, or form. no. the way you look in that dress could make even him fall to his knees for you.

it’s because of the attention it brings to HIS precious girl. seungmin isn’t an insecure man either, he obviously wants to show you off on his arm when you get all dolled up for him, but with THAT dress? you couldn’t even get a few feet away from him without being approached or even made a pass at.

he knows you would never leave him for another guy, he just can’t stand people sizing up his pretty little prey like wild beasts. so, you aren’t allowed to wear it per his rules, fine. but honestly, you’ve always wondered what would happen if you disobeyed him.

so..maybe you wore the dress anyway..how bad could this go, right? now the problem was, how to get there.

normally he would pick you up in his car, but you know for a fact he would make you change immediately. so that was out. maybe you could just text him?

minnieeee?

hi, sweet baby🩷 you ready to be picked up?

uhhh

hm?

actually min, can i drive myself and meet you there? i have a suprise for you.

uh oh.

WDYM UH OH

that can’t be good. you’re scaring me💀

ITS JUST A SUPRISE OKAY

…its the dress isn’t it?

..no actually! its a secret so you’ll know when i get there so i actually have to go now and walk my fish see you soon love you bye-

we’ll see.

your nerves are alight as you pull into the parking lot, biting your lip in fear and arousal at how seungmin will deal with you. you’ve never disobeyed him before, always wanting to recieve his sparing praise and not cause a fuss.

your heels click against the floor as you step into the new diner, looking like the most expensive thing there. the confidence you’re radiating is only surface level though, the truth is, if you had a tail right now it would be tightly tucked between your legs.

when the host tells you where seungmin is sitting, you hesitantly make your way over. he is indeed there, he smiles at you sweetly before looking down at that dress. that stupid fucking dress.

he looks back up into your eyes with a dissapointed, mean glare in his. if you were at home, that look would have you begging for forgiveness. you immediately look down, shying away from his gaze as you put your purse down and bow slightly at him.

“hey, seungmin..”

“sit down.”

the demand has you plopping down in your seat without hesitation. his tone is clear and calm, but equally cold.

“i thought i told you not to wear that dress. hm? or are you just too dumb and slutty to remember my rules?

oh. his harsh words make your thighs rub together, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“m’sorry..”

“sorry what.”

“so..so sorry, sir.”

“look at you. i do all these nice things for you, give you all my attention and look where it gets me. is my attention not enough? need it from the other manwhores here? i think you’re just too much of a slut to be thankful.”

his words have bite, making you equally feel bad for disobeying and almost drool from the degradation.

“yes sir, im a slut, sir.”

“i know you are.”

“just..wanted to see what you’d do..”

“want a punishment? is that what the dumb whore wants? hm?”

“um..depends what it is?”

“you don’t get to choose, stupid.”

“…well, what are you gonna do then?”

seungmin leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and looking at you with an amused expression. only this time do you meet his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly. seungmin scoffs.

“don’t fucking look at me.”

your eyes shoot down, just listening to him obediently. he leans forward to whisper in your ear.

“..when we get home, im ripping that slutty stripper dress off of you for good this time. then, im gonna muzzle you and make you beg for me to pound that slutty pussy like a good bitch. then lastly..you’re writing lines, sweetheart.”

sorry for ending it there..u just look so cute when ur teased<3 order again soon!🐶

[the-kr8tor]

Can I please have Cardamom and ❣️??

So basically Hobie brown and reader are spider people, and they haven’t seen each other for like a looot of time. So then, Hobie decides to sneak in and he’s just so smitten by reader that he’s just a lovesick puppy for her

So yeah, thank you!!!

Thank you for requesting! I was giggling while writing this lol

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw injury, established relationship, spider person! Reader, lovestruck! Hobie. Fluff

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

When Hobie heard through the grapevine full of gossiping spider people that you've finally come back after a month-long mission in a dimension where the only difference is that garlic didn't exist, he half sprinted all the way from the other side of the society towards the infirmary. He can already sense your presence through the door as he practically rips it from its hinges.

With the back of the door banging on the wall, doctor spider groans audibly, eyes rolling when he hears Hobie's roaring voice echo throughout the busy clinic as he calls for you.

“Your lover boy's here.” Doctor spider says monotonously while he rips away the bp machine from your arm before you launch yourself at Hobie. “Doesn't he know that he's not allowed inside yet?”

“Hobs!” You sit up, ignoring a certain doctor. Clutching your side but despite the throbbing ache, you make grabby hands at the very happy Spider-Man bounding towards you.

“Love!” He weaves around fellow spider people expertly, dodging their hands, and their yells telling him that he's not allowed inside the busy clinic just yet. His eyes are glued on you while you sit on the cot; warm hands already upon his own the second he reaches you. “Fuckin' ‘ell, who did this to you?” His smile falters as he sees the various gashes on you, some are still fresh and angry on your precious skin.

“I'm fine,” you flex your battered fingers around his palm, thumbs rubbing along his life line. “Nothing I can't handle.”

He tips your face to the side gently with his index, wincing when he sees stitches just below your ear. “What happened ‘ere?”

“Got too close to Doc's arms. Don't worry, he looks way worse than I do.” You take his wrist, flipping and placing it atop your thigh while you flip away at the hem of his glove to massage along his tensed muscle. His concerned eyes continue to scan you for injuries, frown deepening with every bandage and bruise. Sighing, you reach for his cheeks, poking each of them playfully. “Hobie, I'm good, and I'm home in one piece. C’mon, you must have stories to tell that I've missed while I was gone.”

His soft smile returns, arms reaching for your waist, rhythmically tapping your hip carefully; a nervous tick of his. With a chuckle, you let him in your space, half hugging you as he rests in the middle of your legs, back half bent, and forehead pressed atop your shoulder as he breaths you in. Soot and all.

“We found out that Gwen's allergic to peanuts in the worst way.” He finally says after a moment of languishing in your presence.

“Oh shit, is she okay?” Rubbing his back, you can see that doctor spider has had enough from Hobie's ‘intrusion’, he walks towards you, clipboard and stethoscope in hand. You wonder if he's about to use it as a weapon.

“Yeah—” he senses the doctor stalking behind him. Before he could get a word in and kick Hobie out, in one swift movement, Hobie pulls the curtains closed around your cot. “Where were we?” You can hear the disgruntled doctor huffing behind the curtains.

Chuckling, you cradle his face in your hands, thumb ghosting over his lip piercing. “I think we were about to be on doctor spider's shit list because you were about to ask me to come home with you.” You smugly say with a scrunch of your nose.

Hobie grins lopsidedly, lips reaching for the pads of your thumb to press a quick kiss on it. God, you've missed that. You missed him. “I didn't know you were clairvoyant, lovie.” He lifts you up carefully, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he carries you at his front. His arms are tucked around you, careful of your injuries. “I've been growin’ garlic for you in the garden.”

You sigh longingly, eyes focused on him and not the angry Miguel silhouette behind the curtains. “I love you.”

“You're about to love me more.”

With a peck just below your jaw, Hobie opens the portal to home and jumps in before Miguel could even finish yelling his name.

[merakiui]

https://youtu.be/9l-D2mLQVtc?si=es6jF9vLq6OQfIA6

leona being nice to sally in the event sparks something in me… yan leona drinks his respect women juice with reader but still is just ruining her life…

(link)

HE IS SO FINE!!!!!! I love him,,, when he offered to escort Sally my uterus did a flip LOL. He's genuinely so great. Drinking his respect women juice always, as he should!!! In my mind, yan Leona doesn't force you to do anything you don't want to. In fact, he'd probably even tell you you're more than welcome to leave. There aren't any chains or locks holding you back; you have complete freedom and autonomy. But then what's out there for you that could be better than him? When you really compare and contrast your options, weighing each carefully, Leona starts to seem a lot better. ^^;;;

He won't fault or blame you for coming back with your tail between his legs. If anything, he's just pleased you have some sense in you (not that he doubted your intelligence). The decision is all yours; there's no pressure but the pressure you put on yourself, so if you do end up regretting your choice then..... well. Can you really still blame him if he didn't have a hand in any of your decisions, when you made the conscious choice to stay? You know where he stands and how much he cares for his precious herbivore; he isn't going to beat around the bush with that.

Just,,,, it's a dynamic that reminds me a lot of those games where your every choice impacts the story in some way, whether major or minor. Most of your relationship with him depends on and is defined by your own thoughts and feelings and actions. And what's frustrating is that he really is genuine in everything he says and does, even if it sometimes feels like the options he presents you with are worded heavily like a very important choice.

[kimmie2me]

A Taste of Care

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pro Hero!Bakugou x AFAB!Pro Hero!fem reader

.....

The invitation to the annual Pro Hero Gala lands with a quiet thud on your desk, and you nearly ignore it, honestly – it’s one of those events everyone expects top heroes to attend, but no one actually enjoys. You wonder how the organizers can still think it’s a good idea. You glance over at Bakugou, who rolls his eyes the second he catches you even looking at it. “Not a chance,” he grumbles, turning back to whatever report he’s pretending to focus on. “Hell’ll freeze over before I show up there.”

“Yeah, but…they invited us both.” You can’t help it—the thought of skipping nags at you, guilt bubbling up. You turn the envelope in your hands, debating. “I mean, if we don’t go, they’ll probably think we don’t care or something…”

“Good,” he mutters, "Because I do not care."

You make the decision then, mostly because you can’t imagine telling someone who went through the trouble of inviting you that you just… didn’t feel like going. “Fine,” you say, sighing. “I’ll go, then. You don’t have to worry about it.”

A heavy pause lingers, and then Bakugou’s gaze snaps up. “You what?”

“I’ll go. On your behalf. It’s fine,” you insist, smiling a little to soften it. But there’s something in his eyes, and you think he feels that tug of guilt too, though he’d never say it. Finally, he just sighs and mutters, “Fine, fine. I’m going. Don’t start whining about this later.”

And that’s how you end up at the Gala, arm in arm with one very reluctant Bakugou.

.....

You’ve barely been here for an hour, and though Bakugou’s already made three attempts to pull you towards the exit, you’re still here, being polite and nodding along as people pass by, each one taking a little energy from you with their relentless questions.

At some point, a waiter passes by with a tray of drinks, and you reach out, half-relieved for a distraction. The waiter places a delicate, glass thimble of juice in your hand, barely bigger than your thumb. You eye it, perplexed.

“One sip,” you murmur, taking a cautious taste. It’s sweet and refreshing—too good, actually, like someone figured out the perfect formula for juice. The flavor surprises you, so you hold it in your hands like you’re savoring a precious heirloom, taking tiny sips to make it last.

“Hey,” Bakugou says, turning back from where he’s been roped into some pointless conversation with another hero. His eyes narrow when he sees the minuscule cup in your hands. “You tryna torture yourself or somethin’? Why’re you drinkin’ it if you don’t even like it?”

You blink, mildly surprised by his assumption. “No, I do like it! It’s just... y’know... small. And I didn’t want to—um, ask for more.” You hesitate, aware of the ridiculousness of it all. “They might think I’m being greedy, you know?”

Bakugou makes a face, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re kiddin’ me.” He sounds genuinely irritated now, and it’s impossible not to feel embarrassed, though you give a nervous smile.

“No, no! It’s fine, 'Suki, really.” You tug at his sleeve to keep him from storming over to whoever poured this pathetic excuse for a drink, though he stares at you, unamused, for a moment.

“Fine,” he relents, still looking unconvinced. But when you try to wave him off a second time, and a third, his patience visibly thins. “Alright, that’s it.” He grabs your now empty cup with a sense of purpose, muttering under his breath as he maneuvers through the crowd. You reach out, embarrassed to death that he’d take the trouble to do this.

“Katsuki, you don’t have to—please, it’s okay! Really, it’s fine!”

He gives you a brief, sideways glance, his expression somewhere between exasperation and begrudging affection. “For god’s sake, Cupcake, I’m doin’ it ‘cause I want to.”

The bartender hardly has time to react before Bakugou is right in front of him, holding up the empty cup like it’s some sort of evidence. “Listen up. This microscopic cup you handed out, where the hell d’ya even find one that small?” he demands, raising an eyebrow at the bartender, who looks both puzzled and terrified by Bakugou’s intensity.

The bartender stammers something about portion sizes, but Bakugou cuts him off, pointing to the counter like he’s about to place an order in a war zone. “Whatever you put in here, put it in a real glass this time, yeah? And don’t skimp. What is it, anyway?”

“Uh—it’s, um, a mix of, uh, passion fruit, lemon, and a hint of, uh… elderflower…”

“Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to know.” He watches as they pour the drink, nodding in satisfaction once they fill a glass you can actually hold with more than two fingers. When he finally returns, he looks triumphant, almost like he just completed some crucial, life-or-death mission.

“Here,” he says, handing you the glass with that rare softness in his eyes that he only gets around you.

And as you take the first sip, savoring the full taste this time, you glance up at him, fighting a smile.

“Y’know,” he mutters, clearly aware of his over-the-top reaction, “I ain’t lettin’ you get ripped off on my watch. ‘Specially if it’s somethin’ you like.”

You savor every last drop of the drink, finally taking fuller sips now that it’s in an actual glass. The elderflower and passion fruit mix is refreshing, and it brings a soft smile to your lips every time you taste it. And when you finish the last drop, you look up at Bakugou, feeling a bit embarrassed but grateful.

He’s watching you intently, arms crossed with a proud little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “All done?” he asks, clearly pleased with himself.

You nod, setting the glass down. “Yeah. Thanks, 'Suki,” you murmur, hoping the slight blush on your cheeks isn’t too obvious. “We can go now.”

Bakugou’s face lights up in an almost imperceptible way. He clears his throat, looking around as if anyone might overhear, but the relief is clear in his expression. “’Bout damn time.”

A couple of weeks pass, and life returns to the usual pro hero routine—patrols, training, the occasional event, and repeat. After a long, grueling day of patrol, you return home exhausted and immediately head to the shower, letting the hot water wash away the day’s aches and strains. The warmth is a balm for your sore muscles, and by the time you get out, you feel somewhat revived, if not a little sleepy.

You toss on a cozy set of clothes, ready to finally relax and start prepping dinner. You make your way to the kitchen, but as you open the fridge, you notice something unusual: a piece of paper stuck to one of the shelves. Curious, you pull it out and immediately recognize Bakugou’s handwriting, all sharp lines and bold strokes.

In the middle of the note is a hastily-drawn little doodle of himself, smirking with a thumbs-up, along with the words: “Surprise. You better not ration this either.”

You stare at the note, momentarily confused. What’s he talking about?

Then you glance down, and your eyes widen.

Sitting on the shelf, right next to the vegetables and leftovers, is a large glass pitcher filled to the brim with the juice from the gala—your favorite mix of passion fruit, lemon, and elderflower.

A laugh bubbles up from your throat, and you can’t help but shake your head in wonder. Of course he’d go through the trouble of making an entire pitcher for you. And not only that, but he left a note, reminding you not to hold back or ration it like some precious artifact.

You pour yourself a full glass, taking a long sip, and the familiar taste brings a warm, giddy feeling to your chest. For a moment, you just stand there in your quiet kitchen, holding your glass and staring at Bakugou’s note with a grin that won’t leave your face.

It’s just so… him. Thoughtful in the most roundabout way possible.

You take another sip, glancing at the time. He’ll still be on patrol for a bit, but you already can’t wait to tell him just how much his little surprise means to you.

[gothamite-rambler]

Catwoman meets the first Robin (9 currently) when he was a kid.

Catwoman stared at the young boy clad in brightly colored spandex, watching him sway back and forth with a mix of curiosity and bemusement. Her attention then shifted to Batman, whose weary expression revealed that he had anticipated her next move.

Catwoman (pointing at the kid): That's a child.

Batman: He's my ward.

Catwoman: That is a child!

Batman: He has more going for him than being 9.

Catwoman (shocked): He's 9?!

Batman (regretfully): In hindsight, I realize that wasn’t the best defense.

Robin (in a cute voice): My birthday was a few months ago! I’m Robin, and I can do flips and tricks!

Catwoman dropped her whip and clasped her hands together, admiring the adorable young sidekick. The boy looked around, confused, then waved at her.

Catwoman: He’s precious! I can't believe you have such a cute little child with you for so many reasons... but just look at him!

Robin (blushing): Huh? Aww, thank you!

Catwoman rushed over and scooped Robin up, spinning him around gleefully. Batman stood aside, confused and frustrated.

Catwoman (cooing): I can’t believe how adorable this possibly kidnapped child is! Do you know how cute you are, little one?

She held Robin in front of her, and the little boy smiled with his eyes closed, soaking up the affection. Catwoman planted a kiss on his cheek before gently placing him back on the ground. Robin stood there, not wanting to fight the villain anymore.

Robin: Batman, let her go. She’s sweet.

Batman: I should’ve waited until you turned 13, you'd be edgy and noy adorable.

Catwoman: You stay here, Robin. I’m going to have a word with Batman… privately.

Batman (exasperated): Not again.

Robin (staying put): Okay!

Catwoman walked over to Batman, gripping his arm and pulling him a good distance away from Robin.

Catwoman: I’ve loved our game of cat and bat, but why? Why the child? Why the costume? If you’re a child ab—

Batman (offended): For the love of God, he’s my son! He wanted to be Robin, he picked the suit—he’s built for this! AND I AM NOT A CHILD ABUSER!

Catwoman glanced over at Robin, who waved eagerly.

Robin: I really did want this job! I had to beg him!

Catwoman (glaring at Batman): This is still very off-putting to me, but I’m willing to believe your excuse. Now, I know I’m a fabulous cat burglar and you want to catch me, but if you’re that type of creep, we can’t possibly be together.

Batman (blushing): What? I’m not into you; I came to arrest you! Hold up, are you rejecting me if that was on the table?!

Robin giggled, enjoying the tension between them.

Catwoman: Batsy, I have standards and if you're a creepy creep then I wouldn't dare be with you. Which is saying a lot for a man like you.

Batman (stammering): I—I'm not doing this! You’re under arrest, and I reject you! There, I said it.

Catwoman: Oh, all right, take me in. But if you harm a hair on that angel’s head, I will hurt you.

Batman: Just walk forward!

Catwoman shrugged with a playful smile and walked forward. Robin scurried over to Batman.

Robin: Batman, don’t yell at the nice cat burglar.

Batman (embarrassed): Robin, not now.

[ashthewaterghoul]

’Cause It Still Makes My Blood Run Cold To Remember What I Did Before - A Banana!Verse One Shot

In the pits, Fire Ghouls were nothing if not warriors; their worth was found in defending and protecting what they held dear while fighting the threat head-on. The latter part may not be possible right now, but if Alpha could keep them all safe, shield them from the torment they’d all been subject to, he would take the looming darkness and become it. His flames were strong enough to stay burning in the dark fog he consumed, yet it just killed him a little more every time he did it. Taking him apart stitch-by-stitch and unravelling him from his very soul outwards. As time went on, he had to wonder when that last stitch would rip open, and he dread to think what the result would be. Or, Alpha has a lot of feelings after mating with Dew, and having to be oh-so-cruel to him to keep him safe from Sister's torment.

Words: 2.6k

Relationships: Alpha/Dew, mentioned Air/Earth and Terzo/Omega

Tags: Angst, feels, nightmares, self-hatred, self-worth issues, mating bond, Alpha needs therapy, suicide by drowning shown in a dream sequence, suicidal thoughts, Alpha is an asshole, but he gets better kinda, one shot, era ii Ghouls wear veils.

Inspired by @anotherbananasong 's amazing universe! I'm like 99% sure this can be read if you're not familiar but obviously I'm going to recommend her blog!!

Title from 'Missing Limbs' by Sleep Token

~~~

    Dew shot upright in a cold sweat that instantly evaporated away against his warm skin. His breathing was frantic, his heart beating from his chest and for the life of him couldn’t focus enough to feel the electricity thrumming along the bond that tied him to Alpha.

    Alpha himself was in his room deep down in the catacombs. It wasn’t the deepest as that belonged to Lake’s subterranean lair, but it was still deep. Alpha too, was deep but in his own mind. His own loathing for himself.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    Alpha did initially detest himself for ruining Dew’s life by mating with him - for desecrating something as precious as the little Fire Ghoul with the sheer and utter monstrosity that was his existence. Yet there was something so tempting and alluring about Dew’s flames dancing in his own soul that made him want to swallow his pride and just be a good mate, asshole-façade be damned.

    But that façade would have to stay for a little while. That Satan-forsaken summons to Sister’s office that would damn him and his mate to years of pain that burned deeper than any flame ever could.

    “If you even go near this mate-”

    “I’m not scared of you, you old hag.”

    “Oh, but you should be, Ghoul. He’s highly unstable right now. No one would question if he didn’t pull through.”

    “If you hurt him…”

    “Secondo and Terzo aren’t here to protect you anymore. Test me, if you’d like.”

    And while Alpha would usually see that and indeed test someone, something about the liveliness bouncing across the bond in his soul made him realise he could never let Sister hurt Dew again. The forced transformation and killing their Papas were more than enough…

    So instead, Alpha would hurt Dew. Bold displays of neglect and disinterest so there was no fuel to add to Sister’s bonfire of tyranny. He’d do everything he could to make sure Dew never fell for him, to push him away, to keep him safe.

    The long nights Alpha would spend sobbing for what he puts Dew through were only mildly comforted by the fact that he was keeping Dew safe. That’s what a good mate did, right? They kept the other safe. So, in a perverse way, Alpha was being a good mate. But then, for a second, he would acknowledge the bond that bound him to Dew and his entire being would be wracked with the desolation and misery that Alpha left the little one in. The biting words, the harsh treatment, the shunning and dismissal and cruelty that Alpha would inflict in what was his best effort to keep Dew safe.

    It worked, and he hated himself for it.

    He translated it onto the rest of his pack too. He’d rip into River for being a cry-baby, he’d contribute to Air’s status as a walking mattress, and poke at Earth for choosing such a used-up Ghoul for his mate. He’d jab at the suffocating void of grief Omega was left in following the brutal demise of Terzo, his favourite Papa and paramour, and Lake... Well, Lake wasn’t really around enough for Alpha to cause much damage which, deep down, he let himself be thankful for.

    In the pits, Fire Ghouls were nothing if not warriors; their worth was found in defending and protecting what they held dear while fighting the threat head-on. The latter part may not be possible right now, but if Alpha could keep them all safe, shield them from the torment they’d all been subject to, he would take the looming darkness and become it. His flames were strong enough to stay burning in the dark fog he consumed, yet it just killed him a little more every time he did it. Taking him apart stitch-by-stitch and unravelling him from his very soul outwards. As time went on, he had to wonder when that last stitch would rip open, and he dread to think what the result would be.

    When Earth beat him up as a “lesson” he just laid back and took it. He knew he deserved it. And he wanted it to be a lesson, he wanted to listen and be able to love Dew. But he couldn’t. Not without risking the little firefly he was trying so hard to protect. Ripping himself apart to keep Dew safe, that was all that mattered. And it certainly mattered more than any silly little feelings Alpha had.

    When news had reached the Ancients that Sister had died, Earth and Air cried in relief that maybe the cruelty the Clergy had subjected them to under her rule could finally end. Alpha took a while before he realised the same could be for him and Dew.

    From that point, he counted down the days until the little one had returned from tour. When he could feel the bond was less stretched with distance, and that Dew was home, he actually found himself smiling for the first time in… years, he realises.

    Out of a habit he knows shouldn’t need to exist anymore, he sneaks from the catacombs in the middle of the night, and up to Dew’s room. Dew had stood in his doorway, vape in hand and looking completely annoyed by Alpha’s mere presence.

    “Alpha, if you’re here to hatefuck, then I’m really not in the mo-”

    But Dew is cut off by the most gentle, yet somehow most passionate kiss Alpha had ever given him. More gentle than their night together before Dew’s last tour with Terzo, or even the night they mated.

    Alpha pulled back and both Fire Ghouls had tears in their eyes.

    It took all of about two seconds before Dew pulled Alpha down by his veil and kissed him again. And Alpha did his best to make up for lost time. He was so gentle and tender with Dew; hailing him like a deity and worshipping him like one too. Treating him so preciously and delicately and with every ounce of love and care his body could muster. Words were never his strong suit, only when they were laced with his Fire and venom, so he said everything with his body instead.

    The moment that Alpha silently opened up his side of the bond completely, for the first time ever in the years it had been there, and Dew could finally feel the outpouring of love and affection that Alpha had been holding for him this whole time, they both cried. The sheer relief on their souls from their bond not painfully weighing them down anymore made their hearts feel so full and their souls whole. Alpha’s eyes may have been misted over with tears, but he’d never forget the look on Dew’s face. He even took his veil off, and Dew cried even more. One smaller hand instantly went up into the larger Ghoul’s dark hair and he pulled him back down to kiss him, desperately holding onto him.

    Alpha’s only words were a repeat of what he hoped Dew had always known is true, “You are so loved.”

    And this time he dared to add, “And by no one more than me.”

    But it wasn’t all smooth sailing from that point. Alpha didn’t know how to be a good mate. He was a shit stain on the universe, and he deserved to be nowhere near Dew. Even the deepest pits of Hell were too kind for him. He found himself slipping into old habits of lashing out, and pushing Dew away, refusing to let such a bright spark drown himself out with Alpha’s atrocious presence.

    Often, Alpha contemplated walking down to Lake’s domain and asking him to take him to rest in the depths. He knows Lake would do it, and even if he didn’t, Alpha would throw himself down and let himself be taken by the current.

    He thought there would be a certain beautiful irony that he would die surrounded by his beloved’s true element, taken from him too soon and too violently. Dew felt his Water be eviscerated by flames, Alpha would feel his Fire suffocated by Water and leaving Dew’s to burn alone by himself. Maybe that would leave a nicer life for the little one.

    But as Dew fell asleep alone one night, that was exactly what he saw. He saw his mate as he was now; confused and scared and not knowing what to do in a whirlpool of distress and loathing - hating himself for how he’s treated his mate and pushing Dew away still. Dew saw him get up, and go down to see Lake.

    “I can’t.” Alpha said, “Take me, please. I can’t live knowing what I’ve done to him.”

    And Lake obliges. He stays completely unglamoured, fins and webbings out so he can have more power in the water. Alpha remains glamoured for the opposite reason. He wants to be weak, because he has been all along. He doesn’t deserve to be strong now, at the end when he wasn’t strong enough to stand up to Sister in the first place. Dew is the one that’s strong, not him. The little light there is down there fades as Alpha’s dragged deeper and deeper down, and his veil comes off and floats up to the surface. Alpha tries to reach for it, because it’s the same colour as Dew’s eyes. But Lake swims and pushes him down faster and faster and Alpha knows he doesn’t deserve that comfort either.

    As Alpha’s lungs burn for oxygen, his chest spasms for relief, all he can think off is the panic and confusion he feels from Dew as he races down to the catacombs, only for Lake to later present him with his mate’s lone veil. And Alpha dares to ask Dew to forgive him before his last ember dies out.

    As Dew woke, he felt as though it was real. That he’d just somehow witnessed his mate’s death through his unconscious. His mind was in such a state of panic that he couldn’t focus enough on the bond that told him Alpha was indeed still alive.

    Dew didn’t bother to put anything on his feet as he raced out of his room in only his boxers and one of Alpha’s t-shirts that was more like a dress on him. He needed to see Alpha. Whether it was him or his body or veil, he had to see him.

    He thinks his runs and sobs and shouts for his mate may have woken up Astra but he’d apologise to Air and Earth later. Alpha’s door was open and the Ghoul himself was part-way out before Dew’s heart could scream anymore.

    “Dew? What’s wrong?” Alpha asked, having felt Dew’s frenzy and sadness bleed down the bond.

    “D- don’t l- l- leave me!” Dew wheezed as he held onto Alpha for dear life, his sprint down to the catacombs combining with his panic leaving him entirely unable to breathe.

    “I’m never leaving you again, little one.” Alpha promised as he held Dew, lifting him up so they could lay in his nest.

    Dew couldn’t stop crying or get his breathing back under control and Alpha was at a loss. He remembered how he saw Earth snuggling into Air once, apparently it helps his anxiety. So, despite the size difference that would be comical in any other situation, Alpha wrapped his arms around Dew’s waist and laid on top of him, with his head on his abdomen and put his weight down so he acted as an assuring and grounding presence. It worked as Dew’s sobs quietened, and his breathing slowed to something more normal. Dew found himself fidgeting with Alpha’s hair and horns also, a mindless habit he didn’t even realise he was doing until he was back in his own body.

    As Dew calmed down and explained his nightmare, Alpha’s fiery blood managed to run cold.

    “It felt s- so real.” Dew whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek to join the rest, voice still shaking with adrenaline and emotions.

    Alpha swallowed thickly, “It wasn’t, I promise, firefly.”

    “Don’t l- let it be real, ever. Please, Alfie?” Dew asked him with big wet eyes.

    Alpha raised himself up from his living-weighted-blanket position and looked straight into Dew’s eyes, a large calloused palm resting on Dew’s cheek.

    “I won’t let it be real.” Alpha affirmed.

    “I have y- you now, and I don’t want t- to lose you, ever. Th- the bond, and having you, I- I never want to go without it again.” The little one said. And he was so painfully little as he curled up against Alpha’s chest, a pointed ear over his heartbeat and a hand over his pec to feel his warm body and steady breathing.

    When Dew’s adrenaline and post-breakdown-exhaustion caught up with him and took him back to sleep in Alpha’ arms, the larger Ghoul just hated himself more.

    For it being something he so often thought about, dare he say fantasised about, and now seeing how it just being a nightmare to Dew hurt him so much, he only despised himself more for thinking he could ever leave Dew in that much pain.

    Once he had promised that he would never make for a good mate, so he would never even try. Now, he doesn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive himself for all the hurt he caused.

    Dew is the lighthouse in the storm that is Alpha’s self-hatred. Originally, he wanted to hate Dew. For making him feel noticed, for choosing him, for luring him in like the Syren he used to be. Then he wanted to hate Dew for giving him life again, a reason to live, for being the tinder for the dying embers of his soul. Dew became the reason Alpha’s flames could burn so so bright, but then he had to repay it by stamping out Dew’s own.

    Dew had mentioned to Air he almost feels as though he’s Water again. Because he is just the most powerful tidal wave of love for his mate that he never lets up on, and he uses it to slowly corrode away the behemoth of a wall that Alpha’s put up.

    And Dew is so happy now. His flames have been burning brighter than ever as they happily danced alongside Alpha’s. Alpha doesn’t think he could ever bring himself to hurt Dew again, which he knows is a good thing. But Dew forgave him so easily, even without knowing the threat of Sister’s cruelty was the reason behind it all, and Alpha knows it would kill him if he ever betrayed Dew again. Yet now he’s seen how Dew reacts to even just a mirage of his deserving demise; how could he ever even think about putting Dew through the real thing?

    Alpha had desecrated his gift from Lucifer too many times, defiled his pure and beautiful soul with his horrid treatment. He wanted so badly to make up for it, yet he found himself completely unworthy. Despite the long and arduous process of healing they’d both go through, Alpha knows there is always going to be a very loud and obnoxious part of his mind that will always make him hate himself. And while Dew would be there to constantly adore and reassure Alpha - being the tsunami of love to drown anything else out - Alpha would often find himself listening to that obstinate part. Spiralling to the voice of unreason that told him to shut Dew out again because he truly didn’t deserve such a gorgeous little firefly to be his.

    Alpha couldn’t decide what was worse. Dew finding someone who was actually worthy of him, or giving in and loving his mate in every way he deserves and more.

One shot master post can be found here!

[girlfishes]

I think that there is a compelling biological argument that men are naturally aggressive.

This will be me yapping for way too long, but hear me out.

In many sexually dimorphic species, the males live a very short life. Think of bugs, like spiders and wasps. When males are born, they inseminate eggs and then die, or eaten, or exiled. To keep them involved any longer is a waste of resources that could be used on the females to create more offspring. Male bugs live a harsh life, because they are barely necessary except in their limited reproductive role.

Bugs are r-selective species, which means that their reproductive cycles prioritize producing as many offspring as possible with the expectation that most will die before they reach maturity. And the limiting factor in that equation is the number of females, which means that more males are created than are necessary in a 50-50 split.

As life forms become more complex, species become k-selective. This means that the energy in reproduction is put into creating few good-quality offspring. The mothers spend more time with their children, gestate them inside their bodies in the case of mammals, and stay with them until they reach maturity. It takes much longer for a k-selective species to reach sexual maturity, and males in such species are no longer anatomically inferior like they are as bugs.

The primary interest of the individual male is to make sure that his genes are passed on. But this isn’t so easy. I’m going to speak in terms of bears from now on. One male bear can impregnate 50 female bears, and those female bears will no longer be fertile for some time. Bears won’t just pair off monogamously, so male bears face steep competition. They kill each other and they kill each other’s cubs in competition to the limited females who can pass on their genes.

Now what does this have to do with humans? Well, we’ve established that in order to survive and personally reproduce, a male of any species is fighting an uphill battle due to the limited number of females and the female need to not waste precious resources on them. Both of these stem from the different reproductive roles inherent in sexual dimorphism seen across species. The males who succeed in reproducing will have necessarily been stronger and more aggressive. Basic survival of the fittest method will tell you that whatever causes these traits will be passed down.

Humans are the same. The bodies of women are largely organized around the production of large gametes and the gestation and feeding of offspring. The male body is organized around the production of small gametes. Males have been selective bread over millions of years to compete with other men and ensure that women cannot siphon resources away from them. This manifest in higher muscle mass, larger stature, and yes, high testosterone.

For thousands of years human males have forced themselves to remain relevant by crippling the lives and freedoms of women by the disabling nature of pregnancy and their superior strength. They also wage this battle psychologically, which is unique to human beings.

It is important to note that I can argue these points and still acknowledge that men do have the ability to think, feel, and reflect on their actions. If they so chose, they could turn their backs on this troubled past and start a new way of society which values individuals for their minds instead of their bodies.

This is not a fatalist dooming of all future men to forever stick to this pattern. The aggressive actions of men are borne from a deep insecurity that women do not need them. Because we don’t. But the thing is, human beings are capable of valuing each other for more than our reproductive roles or capabilities. Men need to not let their maleness define how they relate to women and each other, but let their humanity guide how they treat other humans. Only then can we leave this all behind.

If you read all of this, thanks for bearing with me.

[brotherwtf]

re mota rewatch

LAST EPISODE SQUAD GET EXCITED IM GONNA CRY AT LEAST 8 TIMES

babushka Cleven my darling you will always be precious to me

also, Gale trying to protect John until the very last minute, until his very dying breath, making sure he doesn't do anything stupid while Gale's still alive, God I've said this before on the rewatch but it's so interesting to see how the roles have switched between John and Gale, how it switched from John being the protector to Gale having to protect, it's so interesting

also will forever think about Gale and John cuddling up for warmth during the march, it's canon to me and if if it's canon to me it's canon

"you know I did believe, if there was only two B-17s left, it'd be you and me flying them," GOD ARE WE FUCKING KIDDING??? THROWING THE WORDS RIGHT BACK AT HIM TO COMFORT HIM OH GOD OH DEAR

"last few years would have been a lot rougher without you, John" GOD IM FUCKING SICK IM FUCKING SICK and I know Gale calls John by his real name more often than John does his but it still feels so soft, so fucking tender in this moment, he's talking to John, not Bucky, not Major Egan, he's talking to him specifically, and I'm going to fucking throw up actually oh my God I'm ill

and if was any other time during the war, if they weren't in this fucking hell hole, John would probably leap for joy that Gale admitted that, would probably grab him right there and kiss him, but the Stalag has fucked him up so royally that all he can muster is "same" with a tight lipped smiled and a curt nod of his head, but maybe that's enough for Gale to know that he's somewhat okay, Gale's going to make sure he's okay

I can already tell this episode is going to be a million times sadder on this rewatch than previous ones so bear with me just sobbing through it

[actuallysaiyan]

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, werewolf AU, knotting, rough sex, possessive and yandere themes, bodily fluids, oral sex(fem receiving) pairings: Werewolf!All Smite/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Reader

pspspspspspsps @cogentsummoner

He’s been chasing you for sometime. The most dangerous man in Japan, if not the whole world, has been chasing you in the forest for hours. All Smite, the Symbol of Fear…who would have guessed he was afflicted with Lycanthropy?

“P-please, I’ll do anything! I can give you money!” You try to reason with the beast that’s hot on your tail.

He howls loudly, “Shut up! You knew what this was…you knew what you were doing.”

He manages to pin you down in the dirt. This isn’t how you wanted things to go. You knew you were in love with the man, but you wanted to help him with this in your home. Not here on the forest floor. Still, you can't help but run your fingers through his hair and the fur on his back.

“You said you’d help me,” he whines against your ear before he nuzzles his snout in the curve of your neck. “Please…”

When he begs you like this, you’re not able to tell him no. He never begs for anything. Not unless he’s in a rut like this. Already he’s humping you, desperate to feel a little stimulation. His cock has been aching for so long, and he knows he’s going to knot inside of you.

“Don’t…don’t abandon me,” his voice sounds so desperate.

The kiss you share is sloppy. His tongue is so deep in your mouth, making you moan as it tangles with yours. You can’t believe you’re going to go through with this. The last time you helped him during a rut was pretty brutal. You needed to take a week off. And you weren’t just lying down on the ground and taking it. No sense backing out now, you love the man.

He peels off your clothes, his claws really close to tearing them off but he’s trying to be good to you. When you praise him and rub his fur, his tail begins to wag. Toshinori has been alone most of his life, but when he found you, it was the happiest day of his life.

“Need to breed,” he growls. His voice is starting to become distorted.

You nod and tell him he can breed you. He takes off his torn jeans, showing you the leaking member that’s eager to slide deep inside you. He spreads your thighs forcefully and then leans in to take a deep inhale of your scent.

You let out a squeal when he begins to devour you. You know he’s trying his best to get you wet to take him, despite the fact that he would so eagerly begin pounding away into you like his life depended on it. His tongue curls deep inside your pussy, reaching spots that make you see stars.

When he finds you wet enough, he’s penetrating you with a deep need. You cry out, your hands scrambling to grab onto the loose dirt beneath you to keep you grounded. Smite begins to growl as he starts off at a very harsh pace. Your insides are being rearranged by the giant beast on top of you.

“Need to breed, need to fuck…fuck and cum…fuck and cum…” he huffs in your ear as he has you folded in half.

Smite can’t help but to fuck you into the ground. Your pussy pulsates around him, making him howl in pleasure. His claws are dangerously close to piercing your tender skin. He’s growling loudly in your ear, moaning and whining that he just needs to breed you.

“Please please…gonna cum…gonna cum!” He grunts.

He pushes so deep inside of you, you swear he’s trying to enter your cervix. With the tip pressed up against such a sensitive spot, he begins flooding your little pussy full of cum. He howls loudly, and then he slumps against you.

You play with his hair weakly. He’s huffing softly, and then you feel his knot swelling inside of you. Smite grins wolfishly at you, his eyes are glowing.

“Such a precious little mate.” He kisses you. “Gonna have my pups, right?”

How can you say no?

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Past and Present

A very big thank you to @poetnix29 for providing me with a source of inspiration in the form of one of their poems (linked below). Do go check it out, especially if you're a transformers/megop fan all the poems are rly good I promise you.

I did make Megs a little crazy in this fic but I'm pretty sure eons of war will drive anyone a little crazy yea?

Megatron can't help it, his spark thrums every time the familiar flash of red and blue appears in his vision. Even though he's covered in Energon, both his and his enemies', the Prime is still a sight to behold. The Autobot leader's Energon axe swings gracefully through the air, slicing a blaster in half before tearing through metal and wires alike before coming down to deflect a blade aimed at his legs.

Beautiful, is all the Decepticon leader can think, even as Autobots hound him from all sides. They are nothing but pests, blocking his view of the only one who truly matters. He hungers to know the emotions the stoic Prime hides behind his battle mask, to taste the anger he knows for certain is lurking behind the calm facade. He loves pushing Optimus to his limits, testing the boundaries for that sweet satisfaction of knowing he is the only one who can bring the Prime to life.

"Megatron!" Ah, there it is, the oh so familiar battle cry. The Prime has finally made his way over, blue optics blazing with a fury reserved only for him and Megatron feels special. The Decepticon warlord smirks, swatting away the annoying Autobot who tries to attack him and focuses on the mech in front of him.

"Optimus," he very nearly purrs. Megatron shoves away the thought of how similar Orion and Optimus' optics look when angry and deletes it, Megatronus and Orion are dead now, replaced by leaders of opposing factions who are determined to kill one another to win this wretched war. Still, Megatron can't stop thinking of how the light reflects off the red and blue armour at just the perfect angle, giving the Prime a sense of divinity.

Said divine figure had a deep gash in his shoulder he could have well avoided had he not pushed one of his precious Autobots out of the way of the explosion, and he now places himself between Megatron and the annoying Autobot, urging the pest to run.

That damned selfless nature of his, Megatron muses, once he had thought it endearing, but now he found it irritating. He unsheathes his blade, licking his fangs in anticipation for the fight to come. The only opponent to ever get him this fired up is Optimus, and he's almost afraid to find out what happens when he kills the Prime, but it's not as though he's not going to try anyways. He knows they're both difficult to kill, they've survived time and time again where most could not, and that eases his spark just enough for him to bring his flail down with all the might he can muster.

He relishes in the way it punches through armour, smashing apart metal and ripping through wires, eliciting a grunt of pain and for a moment, he sees the bright blue optics wince in pain, but the mask quickly slips back on and Megatron has to dodge a swipe from the Energon axe. He laughs, closing the gap so that his fists can continue the work his flail has started and feels the rush of air as a fist nearly clocks him in the cheek. He retaliates with a punch of his own which also misses, and he can feel the thrill of battle coursing through his veins.

This is how it's meant to be, a deadly dance of death, a clash of weapons, an exchange of fists, nothing else can satiate him, and judging from his opponent's gaze, the same goes for the Prime. He sidesteps yet another blow, laughing at the growl of irritation from the usually calm Prime and rams into him, tackling the red and blue figure to the ground.

Optimus throws him off with a grunt, but Megatron lands on his feet, fusion cannon already charging up. Optimus quickly fires a shot of his own from his blaster, catching the Decepticon warlord in the shoulder. The Prime doesn't give him a moment to rest and charges forward, slashing open a cut on his cheek. Megatron simply grins, the sting of the wound only serving as fuel to strengthen his attacks and licks the Energon that drips into his mouth, sending Optimus reeling with a punch to the stomach area.

How does Optimus taste, he wonders, watching as more Energon oozes from the Prime's injuries. He's never been one to obsess over anything, but his arch nemesis is slowly starting to change that. He hates how all he can think about now is Optimus, from the way his hands curl into fists to the way he shifts into a defensive stance. He can see the scratches on the red and blue armour amidst the wounds that litter the Prime's frame, the little twitches of his audial finials as he tries to formulate a strategy to take his enemy down.

He grins, but it's quickly wiped away when Optimus staggers slightly. His spark aches and his lips curl into a frown, but the worry is quickly replaced by white hot hate when the Autobot symbol on Optimus' shoulder flashes into view.

Orion is no more, he reminds himself, all that remains is the traitor Optimus Prime. Still, a part of him wants to linger on the past and leave this war behind, but he knows that future has long been buried in the ashes of war. He moves to close the gap so that he can rip the damn symbol into pieces but then a blade swipes at him and he leaps backwards, avoiding the blow.

Typical Optimus, still able to fight back despite the numerous injuries that would have rendered a normal bot unable to move.

His lips curl when he sees the fire in the light blue optics that once looked upon him with nothing but pure adoration and he swings his own blade, wanting nothing more than to split the orbs apart but another figure jumps into the fray, blocking the blow. Other Autobots scramble to get their precious leader to safety and Megatron watches them go, knowing this will not be the last time he and Optimus cross blades.

This war will go on until one of them inevitably falls, even if it means they are the last ones remaining on the battlefield. Destiny has carved this path out for them, star-crossed lovers to enemies, kindred souls ripped apart by the hand of fate, and Megatron regrets nothing. He would do this all over again, given the chance, to see the look of seething fury upon the usually impassive face of Optimus Prime, to devour the look of devastation upon the Prime's face as he rips apart the innocent, to know that he would be the only one Optimus would ever think about.

He laughs, tearing open the healing injury on his cheek as it dawns on him. They are bound indeed, by the red string of fate, whether as lovers or enemies, and neither can run from the other. He will forever chase Optimus, and Optimus will forever chase him. They will obsess over each other for all eternity, never able to wipe the other's past self from their memory, but never able to stop trying to kill one another because they both know the war will not end otherwise.

Megatron laughs and laughs at this new revelation, but Megatronus weeps for the past that can never be reclaimed.

[auclairedetoru]

Hi! I saw your requests were open and I wanted to see if you could write something fluffy with Levi and a reader that’s shorter than him 🥺

Maybe something where he’s doting on them? I adore the idea of a cold Levi who’s soft for his partner and I’m part of the minority of people who is actually shorter than him lol. I see a lot of fics describing the reader as taller but not enough for the other shorties out here 🙂‍↕️

Finally. The end of the day.

Levi lets out a loud sigh as the door of his bedroom closes behind him. His head leans against it and his eyes close. After hours of training, meetings, monitoring, and doing a shit ton of paperwork, he's finally back to the comfort of his bedroom at exactly midnight.

He lifts his head back up and looks around the small space, an unfamiliar (to others at least) smile spreads on his face when his eyes land on the sleepy yet smiling person sitting on his bed.

“Welcome back home, Levi.”

God, their sweet voice makes him melt into a puddle every time. He can't believe he gets to call such a precious person his partner, he considers himself a very lucky man.

“I'm sorry I woke you up, my love.” he says gently as he takes off his jacket. They shake their head and watch him as he tries his best to take off the belts wrapped around his body as fast as possible, “it's okay, darling. I wasn't sleeping, you know I can't without you.”

Levi cups their face after he is done and leans down to press a soft kiss to their forehead. People would lose their mind if they saw the way he acts and talks to them, in fact, only the people he's closest to in the survey corps (which is very few) know about their relationship, it wouldn't even cross people's minds that the strong and stoic captain who doesn't care if he hurts anyone's feelings is dating the sweet and gentle nurse who once cried with a soldier while trying to stitch him up.

“Did you have a good day today? Any of those brats bothered you?” he caresses their soft cheeks with the pad of his thumbs, mesmerized by the way the light casts a warm glow on their face. They lean into his touch, their eyes closing in relaxation. “everything was okay. Jean and Eren even teamed up to help me carry the new supplies stock and put them on the high shelves for me.”

He chuckles softly and pulls away from them so he can quickly change into more comfortable clothes. He used to sleep in his uniform, belts and all, just in case something happens and he couldn't waste his time putting everything back on, most of the nights he didn't sleep to begin with, but ever since they started sharing the same bed, not only did he find himself falling asleep but he also invested in some soft night clothes so he can cuddle with them without any restrictions.

“Still refusing to use the stool I got you?” he smirks as he starts changing his clothes. They've been dating long enough for them to not care about being naked in front of the other.

“I don't need it! The boxes were just heavy!”

“Hmm, sure you don't,” he teases as he gets under the blanket on his side of the bed (which is obviously the one on the near the bedroom door) and pats his lap with two hands. They huff, followed by a small, almost inaudible "I'm not that short", yet they don't hesitate to straddle his thighs and nuzzle their face in his warm chest. He wraps his arms around their body and presses a kiss on top of their head.

“if you weren't so short you wouldn't be able to fit in my arms all snuggly,” he looks down at their face and smiles at the adorable sight of their cheek pressed firmly on his chest, probably so they're able to hear his heart beat, they told him before that it's their favourite sound, “look at you, you could fit in my pocket, I could take you everywhere with me.”

They look up at him with the sweetest look on their face, their pretty eyes soft and affectionate. He wishes he could freeze this moment and stay like this forever, no titans, no fighting, no heartbreak, just him relaxing with his beloved in his arms.

“Can I stay in your heart instead? I think I'll like it there more.”

Levi lets out a shaky sigh. He's not one to get emotional, he can't even remember the last time he cried because it's been so long, but at that moment he feels a tug at his heart strings and a lump form in his throat. He never thought he'd ever have someone who loves him unconditionally, who would stay up till the late hours waiting for him because they want him to be the last thing they see before they close their eyes, whose presence felt the closest to what he heard others describe as home, who looked past the walls he has up and saw someone worth all their patience.

“You know I can't have you stay anywhere else. I love you more than I've ever loved anything in my life.”

“More than tea?” they teasingly raise an eyebrow making him chuckle.

"Yes, my love. More than tea," he replies, gently brushing a strand of hair away from their eyes.

“More than cleaning?”

"now I don't know about that...”

“hey!”

Levi laughs loudly, a deep and hearty sound he never imagined would come from him before he met them. Their melodic giggles join his, filling the air with a positive energy he only experiences around them. At that moment, he feels his heart fill with a great amount of happiness, a feeling he always thought he didn't need, but now can never live without, and it makes him realise that he is now complete.

In the past, he thought that when he'd feel complete he would let go of everything, even life itself. But now, the thought of being separated from the love of his life terrifies him, and for the first time, he wants nothing more than to continue living and breathing, even if it means fighting those ugly monsters every single day.

Is life easy right now? No, Eren Jeager is still a big pain in his ass, and the whole situation with the titans keeps getting worse and worse, but now he gets to come home to moments like these, and they simply make everything better.

I lost the plot and didn't make this very focused on short!reader but it's there nonetheless! I love soft Levi who's a totally different person around his love 💕

[mossspond]

just want to say that it's so very sweet what you're doing with the fursona art

a doodle someone made for me still feels precious and gets looked at all the time over a year later, so i know this is going to make so many people so happy

thank you for doing this, drink some water, stretch your hands

Thank you! Its nice to have a lil joy to give when things are looking down. Hope at least one of these hit home for someone!