#but that love pales in comparison to the human need of it

[thesummerstorms]

I've been dabbling in a project, mostly world building and not actual fic because my brain is a strange creature, but I have decided that in my interpretation of the PJO universe, Athena is ... well a strategist in all things.

Including the creation of her children.

The way I'm envisioning it, creating a child from her own mind isn't really a task she undertakes casually.

Yes, she does it occasionally as a "gift" to a mortal whose mind she admires. There's no romantic or sexual relationship, but it's an intense, consuming relationship all the same.

Children born for that reason (or for just that reason) are rare though. Athena might have many favorites, but she's also proud. Who deserves a child entirely crafted by a Goddess? Only the few.

I think, in a normal decade, the number of Athena campers is actually on the lower end compared to most of the other Olympians.

None of the Campers outside of Athena's own children every really figure it out, and Chiron, who knows, would sooner die than tell them.

But when there are many children of Athena, like there are in Annabeth's childhood, it's a sign that something strange or terrible is coming.

Athena is a strategist, the right hand of Zeus, his favorite child, the one who forsees and attempts to dismantle threats to Olympians' power. She moves the pieces into place without hesitation or sentimentality.

And the easiest pieces to control, of course, would be her own children.

Other demigods have other immortal parents to listen to, no matter how strong their desire for victory or their inherent cunning. Her own children are fragments of her own mind- much more reliable. Much easier to predict.

And if in the years leading up to whatever disturbance she forsees she chooses mortal parents for her children with calculation, with an eye for the skill sets and temperaments she predicts most needing in the dark times ahead...well, the child and their parent should be honored by her forethought.

It isn't even that she has no affection for the parent or child, in so much as she is capable of affection. But Athena is always, always three steps ahead, and her actions always have intent. Her children are no different.

A demigod, ultimately, is a weapon in the hands of the gods. It's best that the ones she chooses are well-crafted.

[orcasoul]

Joel Miller Headcanons:

Joel's Reaction When You're Sexually Harassed

Warnings: Swearing, violence, fluff.

Ahhhh I love me some protective Joel :)

Word Count: 1,498

Joel didn't think nights like this could ever exist again; Night's reminiscent of the 'Before Times', when you could unwind, leave your stress and worries behind for a little while and just enjoy the moment. The jovial laughter and carefree atmosphere that fills the community hall still amazes him.

For too long, people in this world just existed, trying to make it from one lousy day to the next, always having to look over their shoulder. But here in Jackson it's different. Life doesn't just go on, it thrives, breathes, grows stronger, a testament to the resilience and determination of the human spirit.

Even though some things here seemed frivolous at first, Joel had to admit the room did look beautiful, with fairy lights strung up and handmade decorations adorning the walls - all for the anniversary of Jacksons' founding- but it all pales in comparison at the sight before him now.

There you are, his "partner in crime" (as you so often playfully referred to the both of you as), looking effortlessly radiant as usual, long hair draping over both shoulders, the ends trailing down to the low cut top that accentuates your cleavage, (not that he's looking, nope, not looking at all), a pink tint to your cheeks and a smile that could bring Joel to his knees.

"Hey guys, mind if I sit?" you gesture to the empty seat at the table. "Please join us," Maria smiles warmly. Joel removes his coat from the back of the empty chair beside him and pulls it out, an invitation to make yourself comfortable. "Such a gentleman," you beam at Joel, gently nudging his shoulder with your own. Joel smiles, "Always am, darling."

He doesn't miss how your already pink cheeks flush even brighter at his response, but no, couldn't mean... nope she'll never see you that way, so don't even go there. He listens intently as Tommy and you discuss your patrols with Joel, blushing slightly as you praise him for his capability and competence beyond the walls, even going as far as to calling him a good teacher.

"Well, you're a quick learner. Not everyone catches on as fast as you." Joel has to fight with the small smile threatening to break into a full on grin at his pride in you. Tommy raises his eyebrows in amusement as he watches the easy back and fourth between you two. The night goes on and Joel wishes it would never end.

Just sitting here with you, listening to the sweet lilt of your voice, watching the way your face lights up in genuine laughter brings a warmth to Joel's already thawing heart. He watches you leave as you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. He knows what's coming just from the smug looks his brother and sister-in law are giving him.

"Don't...," Joel rolls his eyes, "It's not like that at all." "Mmhmm...," Tommy hums, smirking into his glass. Joel huffs, returning his attention to his drink. A few minutes later he sees you making your way across the room, weaving in and out of dancing couples, when you are suddenly blocked from view by a large back and broad shoulders.

Joel is instantly on his feet, defence mode triggered in his brain, suspiciously eyeing this seemingly insistent man. The look on your face tells him everything he needs to know; You're uncomfortable and looking for a way out. His feet move as if they are their own entity, taking large strides across the floor, fists balled up and jaw clenched.

He can't make out what you're saying but it's obvious you are refusing this mans' advances. As you try to push past, the man grabs your wrist, making you wince in pain. Joe's eyes widen in shock. This fucker actually had the audacity to lay his hands on you. Pure, unbridled rage burst through Joel's veins, burning him from the inside out, his objective now crystal clear.

In the next moment, Joel had spun the asshole around, connecting his fist to his jaw, relishing the satisfying crack that resulted. "Don't ever put your fucking hands on her again!" Joel roared while pulling you behind him, shielding you with his large frame. He could feel you trembling as you placed a hand on his back, which only angered him more. How dare this entitled piece of shit treat you that way. You deserve to feel safe in your own community!

"What the fuck, man!" fumed the stranger as he picked himself up off the floor, rubbing his injured jaw. The room suddenly became void of voices, the jukebox being the only continuous sound for a moment, as all eyes shifted to the unfolding scene. The man's gaze shifts from Joel to you. "Seriously?!" he narrow's his eyes at you, anger painting his face red. "You'd rather fuck this old timer than me!"

"Back. The. Fuck. Off... Now!" Joel growled lowly. The guy looks back to Joel. "You know what...," he scoffs, "You're fucking welcome to it! God knows where that whore has be-" Crack!! He falls onto the table, then onto the floor with a sickening thud as Joel rains down, blow after blow. '"Joel! Joel stop!" He can hear you, but he can't stop, not after the vile comments aimed at you.

"Joel, please!" Only upon feeling your hand on his arm did Joel stop, turning to face you, hoping his actions haven't frightened you. But instead of fear or disgust all he sees is concern in your eyes. He turns back to face the man when he hears him groaning while being picked up and escorted out by a few other men.

Tommy appears at Joel's side, quietly reminding him that there are better ways to deal with people like that, - even if his look is silently conveying an 'I would have done the same thing' message -, then he makes sure you are okay before trying to ease the tension in the air by encouraging everyone to return to their business.

"Joel...," you whisper while gently taking hold of his bloodied hand, examining the gashes and forming bruises. "Let's go. We need to take care of this." Joel nods at you, allowing you to lead him outside.

Joel sits at your kitchen table, watching studiously as you sit in front of him, rummage through your first aid box. The deep concentration etched onto your face as you carefully dab at his split knuckles, stirs up a multitude of feelings in Joel's gut; Relief that you're okay and not afraid of what you saw, appreciation at how attentive you are and a fierce need to protect you from any more harm in future.

"I think it's broken," you say, sadly. "Yeah, probably just a hairline. It'll be okay," he shrugs it off, trying to reassure you. You sigh and shake your head. "You shouldn't have done that, Joel." Joel's brows knit together in confusion. "I shouldn't have helped you?" "I mean, I appreciate you defending me, I really do...," your eyes meet his and he can feel the sincerity of your words. You return your focus to Joel"s hand. "But he's not worth breaking your hand over."

It kills Joel that you sound guilty, as if you're blaming yourself for what happened, when it was all the fault of that arrogant prick. "No, he's not...," Joel replied flatly, then gently lifts your chin with his other hand to look softly into your eyes, "But you are." Joel watches as your frown softens into a heartfelt smile, your eyes glistening with un-shed tears.

His eyes momentarily drop to your lips, looking so soft and plump, he wonders if they'd feel as soft as they look. He doesn't have to wonder for long. In the blink of an eye his collar is in your grasp, your lips crashing onto his, and oh, they are soft, just like he knew they would be. Is this really happening?! Joel skims his tongue along your bottom lip and immediately you open, welcoming his tongue as it claims your mouth.

His hands settle on your waist, gently hoisting you up off of your chair and onto his lap. Joel feels your pert tits press against his chest and his cock press against his jeans. He moans into your mouth, running his good hand up your back to cup the back of your head. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening the kiss, tounges and teeth battling it out in a game dominance and passion.

When you both finally part, panting for breath, Joel rests his forehead against yours and murmurs, " You don't know how long I've wanted to do that, baby." "You don't know how long I've wanted you to do that," you coo sweetly. Joel chuckles and kisses the tip of your nose. "I'll do that for however long you'll have me." Whatever is happening between you both, Joel knows this is the start of something amazing.

[connorsui]

"His To Worship" || R. Sukuna

Modern AU Sukuna x fem! Reader

◇one-shot

◇ In a luxurious penthouse overlooking the city, Sukuna savors an intimate, reverent moment with you caught between admiration and possessive desire as he wishes to claim you in the warmth of the firelight.

◇genre/warnings: mild possessiveness, slow burn intimacy, sukuna be describing you like you the only woman in his life, gentle dominance, size difference, body worship, sensual tension, slow teasing, tender moments, shirt stealing (he like dat thoo), soft dom sukuna is a need

◇note: I was out in my garden the other day and there was this pretty rose that I couldn't stop staring at, like lowkey gang that shit was so pretty that it had me scribbling it down into a cute little drawing for me to later look at –i was describing this thang like it was a walking goddess and idk… but as I was making a timeline for this fic I was also going back to that rose and then heavily detailing how sukuna be seeing you …so instead of dark and possessive i made obsessed man loving his wife ….i like to humbly blame this on the flower

w.c: 1.4K

The city beyond the windows glimmered like a blanket of scattered diamonds, stretching endlessly into the night, yet the brilliance of it paled in comparison to the warmth inside the penthouse. It was as if the world outside had shrunk to a distant, insignificant hum, lost in the glow of the room where shadows flickered in the soft dance of firelight. The room itself, so vast in its opulent design—walls of glass, polished marble floors, and sleek furniture—felt much smaller now, drawn in, made intimate by the presence of two souls who, for this moment, had no need for the world beyond the glass.

The fire crackled softly, its golden glow casting long shadows that played against the modern, minimalistic decor, warming the cool surfaces of marble and steel. The air smelled faintly of embers, warm and heady, as though the room itself had taken a breath and held it, waiting for what was to come next. Everything was softened by the glow of the flames, their flickering light catching the edges of the dark furnishings and turning them into something almost alive. But the true warmth came not from the fire, but from him—Sukuna, whose presence alone seemed to fill the entire space.

He moved slowly, deliberately, his tall frame casting a broad shadow across the room as he crossed from the window to where she stood. There was something predatory in the grace of his movements, a silent power that radiated from him, but beneath that was an unfamiliar restraint—a tenderness reserved only for her. His breath was steady, though a little shallower than usual, as if each step toward her was a moment to be savored. She was the one thing in this world that he did not wish to rush.

Her back was to him, and she hadn’t turned yet, though he could tell by the slight rise and fall of her shoulders that she felt his presence. The shirt she wore, his shirt, draped loosely over her frame, the oversized fabric slipping lazily off her shoulder, revealing the curve of her bare skin. The sight of it—the soft expanse of skin in the glow of the fire—made him pause. In that moment, she looked more like a work of art than anything human, her body bathed in warmth, every inch of her seeming to catch the light just so, like an ethereal figure carved from marble.

But she was more than a mere statue to him. She was real, alive, breathing, the rise and fall of her chest more beautiful than any crafted piece of art. There was something divine in the way she stood there, unaware of just how captivating she was. She moved as though the very air around her responded to her presence, shifting to accommodate her grace, like a flower that bent under the weight of the sun.

Sukuna’s breath hitched for a moment, his eyes drinking her in as if seeing her for the first time. She was his, yes, but in moments like this, he couldn’t help but feel as though he had found something much rarer than possession. She was a paradox—soft yet strong, vulnerable yet commanding. Her beauty was like the quiet dawn, not the loud, boastful sun, but the subtle glow that transforms the world without anyone noticing until it is fully there, warm and enveloping. He stood for a beat longer, simply admiring her as if time itself had stilled just for him to indulge in the sight.

The room seemed to close in around them, making the air thick with an unspoken tension. Every flicker of the firelight seemed to highlight her in a way that made her seem otherworldly, as though she existed only here, in this space, and nowhere else. Her skin was illuminated in the golden glow, each inch of exposed flesh looking like silk under his gaze. Her body, though dressed in nothing more than his shirt, looked impossibly elegant, the loose fabric a tantalizing contrast to the curve of her bare legs beneath.

Sukuna’s fingers twitched slightly at his side, an unfamiliar feeling creeping over him—an urge not of domination, but of reverence. How could one person possess such grace, such effortless beauty, and yet be so unaware of it? He stepped forward, unable to stop himself any longer, his bare feet silent against the floor as he approached her from behind.

When he reached her, his breath mingled with hers in the warm air of the room. He could hear the soft hitch in her breathing, a barely perceptible quickening of her pulse that matched his own. His hand reached out, hovering just above the exposed skin of her shoulder, the warmth of her body pulling him in, but he didn’t touch her yet. He allowed the moment to stretch, let the anticipation build until the space between them felt charged with something far more electric than any words could express.

Finally, his hand lowered, fingers brushing gently over her shoulder. The moment his skin made contact with hers, it was as though the very air between them ignited. His touch was light, barely there, but it was enough to send a shiver through her. He could feel it—her body responding to his touch before she even realized it, her breath catching as his hand slid slowly down her arm, fingers tracing the line of her skin like he was memorizing it. Each inch he touched felt sacred, as if he were laying claim to not just her body, but to the very essence of who she was.

His fingers lingered on her waist, resting there with a possessiveness that was less about control and more about grounding himself in the moment. It was as though he needed the contact, needed to feel her warmth beneath his palm to remind himself that she was real. His hand flexed, gripping her lightly, the fabric of the shirt bunching slightly under his fingers as he leaned in, his lips just barely brushing her ear.

“Do you know what you do to me?” His voice was low, a rough murmur that vibrated through the space between them. His breath, warm against her skin, made her shudder, her body reacting instinctively to his presence, to the closeness of him.

He could feel the slight tremor in her body, could hear the way her breath hitched softly, almost imperceptibly, but not to him. Nothing about her escaped his notice. He loved the way she reacted to him—how even the smallest touch from him could make her heart race. She turned her head slightly, just enough for him to catch the soft curve of her cheek in the firelight. She was more beautiful than ever in this moment—vulnerable yet impossibly strong, a perfect contradiction that drew him in like a moth to flame.

His other hand slid up slowly, fingers trailing along her ribs, barely touching, but enough to make her skin tingle under his touch. The heat of her body pressed against his palm sent a pulse of warmth through him, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, letting the sensation wash over him. Touching her was like touching something divine, something untouchable, yet here she was—real, breathing, alive under his hands. She wasn’t a possession, not really. She was more than that. She was everything.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, the words a mixture of command and awe, as though he couldn’t believe his own fortune. His fingers curled gently against her waist, tightening their hold just enough to remind her of his presence, but there was no rush in his touch, no urgency. There was only reverence, as though he had all the time in the world to memorize every inch of her, to revel in the feel of her under his hands.

She shivered under his touch, her breath catching again as his lips brushed against her neck, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The room around them seemed to close in even more, the space between them shrinking until there was nothing left but the heat of their bodies and the soft rhythm of their breathing.

Sukuna’s lips lingered just above her skin, the warmth of his breath sending another shiver down her spine. He could feel the way her body reacted to him—the way her muscles tensed slightly under his hand, the way her breath hitched with each slow, deliberate touch. He loved it. He loved the way she responded to him, the way he could make her feel with just a simple touch.

“You feel that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something darker, something possessive. “You feel how much I need you.”

Her body was his to worship, his to cherish, his to hold. And in that moment, there was no world outside, no city below. There was only her—ethereal, beautiful, and completely his.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Daze

(AO3 Mirror) (Main Masterlist) (Event Masterlist) (Event Info)

-> part of my 6k followers event!

Tape 1 // Side A Track 02: Daze - Steve Lacy Miguel O'Hara x First Love

summary: You pick out an outfit for New Year's. Miguel helps where he can.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, love confessions, PIV, nipple sucking (m-receiving). 18+, Minors DNI

a/n: this is so cheesy and lovey-dovey and self-indulgent. happy new year's everyone <3

wc: 2.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey (you put me in a)

Daze (each and every)

Day (so in love with everything you do, I'm really feelin' you) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miguel doesn’t think he’s built for love.

Really, well and truly; it fits across his frame wrong. He tucks it into a stiff waistband like the collared shirts his mamá made him wear to church. Maybe if he pressed it out - lain on your sheets like those pretty dresses you’ll drape on your shoulders - it would sit right. Settle across him like skin - something real. Human. And like Pinocchio on a stage; he rattles around your bedroom, searching for the strings. 

If you see him in the corner of your eye, you don’t react. Miguel tries to make himself look busy, flattening silky fabric with his hands. He’s distracted, thinking about puppets and widowers and love stuck between sharp teeth like blood and sinew. The more he ponders, the more resolute he becomes: Miguel doesn’t think he’s built for love.

Oh, but… you. Love looks like a dream on you, he thinks. You’re in front of a mirror, humming and hawing; tilting your head this way and that. It takes his breath away; lip tucked under teeth, delicate hands spread flat on the fabric, the way your lashes flutter in the light. It pools out from under you like dappled hues on a summer day: love, warm and ochre-tinted around your form. You… you were built for it; made to be loved. Like the first time he met you - and it always feels like the first time, for some reason - he’s drawn in, chasing your smile like a flash of light across the sky. Fireworks couldn’t compare, he thinks: flashbangs and roman candles, sparklers and their gentle fizz and crackle - they pale in comparison to the way your eyes shine when you see him.

“What do you think?” You turn, chewing at your cheek. It makes his heart skip a beat, the way you look at him.

He blinks, thinking back to the last time you wore it. One of your first proper dates, and he had opened the door to a vision. You’d look beautiful in it, you always do. “You look–”

“It’s not too plain? I like the fabric but I’m too sure about the waist.”

“Mi vida, it’s–”

“I could go with the green one…” You pick up a bundle of fabric by your feet. “But I think it’s too revealing. Dramatic. Too many ruffles, like a prom dress.”

He hums, thinking back to when he had bought you that dress. How you had looked at it in a shop window; wide, forlorn eyes like a baby deer; and the way you lit up when he arrived with it at your doorstep. “Baby, you could–”

“What do you think your coworker’s will be wearing?” You turn to him suddenly, eyes bright. “I need to see the invite again, want to make sure I’ve got the right dress code. It’s… I mean… I should look classy, right?”

“If you want.” He says, stepping closer.

You’re huffing, rummaging through the depths of your wardrobe. 

“That’s not a real answer, Mig.” 

He pads to your side, and you feel a hand curl around the fat of your waist. It's warm, poking underneath the little tank top you've been wearing. His fingertips, impossibly rough and soft at the same time, rub circles into hip bone. 

“Baby.”

You ignore him, grunting with frustration. 

“You're overthinking.” He says it soft, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

Steadfast, you continue to rifle through the wardrobe. You're stubborn, this much he knows, pressing gentle kisses into the juncture of your jaw. 

Eventually, you soften, hands on his as he hugs you from behind. 

“I just–” You start, turning around to give him a look akin to a half-drowned puppy. “I want them to like me.”

“You brighten up every room, mi vida. Why wouldn't they like you?” He smooths away a deepening furrow by your brow, kissing it better. 

And when you melt, sinking into his arms and burrowing your face into the crook of his neck, all he can hear is the pounding of his heart. 

“Don't laugh.” You say it into the side of his neck, creating warmth that blooms from his chest to fingertips. 

“Never.” He means it. Of course, he means it. 

“I want to look like I belong next to you.”

It makes him short circuit. Miguel blinks; once, twice. He blinks a third time, gently pushing you up by your shoulders. 

“You-” He's incredulous, hardly able to process the implication of what you've just said. “You want to look like you belong next to me?”

Shakily, you nod. 

“You're amazing. Smart and kind and talented… and if they don't know it already at work then they're idiots. So,” You chew your lip, as if mulling over the right words.” I know it's just New Year's, and it's a stupid work thing, and you probably don't care… but I'm so proud of you. I want to show you off, tonight. I want to shine like you do, Mig.”

It makes him smile, thinking back to all the times he gushes about you at work. Usually quiet, generally reserved; but everything reminds him of you. Your hair, your smile, the very first time you laughed at a stupid joke of his. The way your shoulders sag after a long day, the way you curl up to his side on the couch everytime, without fail. 

Your favourite foods, your favourite colour, the way you marvel at his long lashes in bed or poke his frown lines in the morning. The gentle way in which you love him. The way he would bend over backwards to make you feel just a fraction of the love he has for you. 

“Oh God.” You groan. “Don't look at me like that. I said… don't laugh… I specifically told you not to–”

He sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to bed slung over his shoulder. In a heap of giggles, you land on soft sheets with a gentle thump, chasing away cold hands pressed all over your body. 

Miguel tosses off the clothes littered across the bed, whilst you lunge for your precious silks. 

You're laughing, writhing at the strong hands that pull you closer to his chest. “What's gotten into you?”

He's breathless, pressing kisses to the fat of your thighs. His hands travel up, hooking underneath tiny shorts. Like a man possessed, he massages the rise and fall of plush flesh, eyes trained on yours as his mouth dips low. Lower, into the crease of skin where your thighs meet your gorgeous folds, where soft cotton underwear is eaten up by your cunt. 

“Mig!” You sit up on your haunches, hand in his hair to pull him up. 

He looks at you, entranced, red-brown eyes sparkling as he rests his head on your thigh. 

“I love you.” 

And he says it like the first breath on a cold winter’s day; letting the words curl into the air like crystal and vapour. Gentle, oh-so soft.

“Oh.” It knocks the wind right out of your sails. “Well… I love you too.”

He shakes his head, sitting up in a display that has you scratching your head.

“No, baby. I love you.”

You frown. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“I love you.” He grabs your hands, pulling them to his chest. “I love you. I love you I love you I love-”

“Miguel.” You say it slowly, cradling his head in your palms, tilting him this way and that to examine his face - currently cracked into a dopey grin. Unconsciously, you brush away a stray curl that springs up by his forehead. “I love you. But I don’t really understand what’s going on. Did you take something? Hit your head? Do I need to call Gabi?  Because he really wouldn’t–”

“I went to the mall about a month ago, after — I think it was the day after we had dinner at Pesci’s and you said that you haven’t had a good churro in years–”

“No, I said the last time I had a churro was at Six Flags–”

He looks at you blankly. “Same thing, babe. So I went shopping for ingredients, went to that market, passed the shop that sells the weird looking plushies and then…” He takes a breath. “I passed the hardware store. Key cutting for half-off, or something, and I didn't even think about it. Just did it. Got a copy made of my keys and put it in a little ring box that's been burning a hole in my pocket for God knows how long.”

“I've been waiting for a good time to ask. I mean… I thought it was too soon but Gabi thinks it's time and Pete says it's not soon enough. And you've already got half your clothes at mine, and your mugs, and that fucking… rat’s nest of a jewellery plate that I gave you and you refuse to throw away.”

“It's pretty, Mig.”

“Lyla made me go to a pottery class once and I will never hear the end of it. Say the word and I will smash it into a million pieces.” You giggle and it makes him smile even wider. “You said you've always wanted a cat, and your building doesn't allow pets but mine does. Which is such a shame, because you'd be a great cat mom. The best.”

He gives you a weak smile, voice shaking imperceptibly. But you notice - because of course you do. 

“I love you so much it hurts. Sometimes I lie awake at night and stare at you like a fucking creep because I don't know what I did to get so lucky. How did I find someone as brilliant and beautiful and bright as you? And you want me? When you could have anyone else?”

“So I'm asking now - and there's no pressure, of course,” He takes a deep breath. “Will you move in with me? Please?”

His sincerity bowls you over, knocks your hair back like a hurricane-force wind. Miguel, stoic and ever the voice of reason, spilling his guts out to you in a sickly sweet daze. He's usually so forthright and upfront - and the image of him tossing and turning about the perfect time to ask you makes tears swell at the corner of your eyes. God, and then you're laughing; lost in gasping peals of giggles as he looks on, confused. 

“You…” You wipe away fat tears. “You think the best time to ask me is when I've got my pants halfway down my legs?”

Oh. Heat rises to his cheeks, and he buries his head in the covers. 

Gently, you nudge him. “That's a yes, Miguel, if you couldn't tell.”

When he smiles; wide and lopsided and exposing deep dimples either side of his face; you wrap him up in a hug that turns carnivorous, pressing obnoxious kisses everywhere you can. Eventually, you toss off your shorts and wrap bare legs around his torso, flipping him over with your hands planted by his sides. You put your lips on his, hungrily, chasing that deep, rumbling laugh that always sets you on fire. 

You kiss it into skin, making sure he'll carry it around for as long he can: love - caring and unquestioning and blinding. It wraps around him like a well-worn sweater, the slightly-itchy kind his mamá would give him for Christmas. For the first time in his life, Miguel realises; it fits. 

It makes him swallow roughly, and open his mouth wider, slipping his tongue to those spots he knows you like. It makes him shudder and shake and press you up against him impossibly close, grinding his hard length into the thin fabric at your cunt. 

Before he knows it, you've pushed the gusset aside, enveloping him between your plush walls and sinking down on his cock with incredible heat. It burns, the way you touch him, fingertips tracing his torso as you lift up his shirt. Miguel doesn't know where to look as you peel it off him – back arched deliciously as you latch onto his nipple. 

“F-Fuck.” He stutters, one hand gripping plush thigh and the other at the back of your neck. You’re messy - and wet - slobbering at his chest as he grinds up into your pussy. 

He's so, so close in no time at all. Your cunt flutters around him like you know, and then you're both falling; sinking into each other's bones in a wispy haze. 

Settling in his chest, panting and fucked out, you look up. You trace his wispy lashes, stunned by the way light kisses its peripheries, caught in golden flecks in his irises. 

“I don't like it when you talk about yourself like that.” 

You put an ear to his ribcage, steadied by its slow thump. 

“Like what?” He says it lightly, hoping the slight shake to his voice doesn't betray him. 

“Like you don't deserve to be loved.” Rolling over, you wrap your legs around his middle once more. You want to look him in the eye when you say it, so there is no misinterpreting your next words. “Because you do. Because you are.”

Miguel cups your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart splinter. He kisses you with that same tenderness, stumbling over himself to show what his words can't. He’ll fall asleep to the gentle rise and fall of your chest, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. He’ll wrap himself around you like two pieces of a puzzle; like you were made for one another.

If Miguel isn’t built for love, then this feeling that bubbles up in his ribcage must be something else: spreading to his fingertips and toes like hot chocolate and fresh churros whilst you watch the fireworks, light fizzing and crackling across a cool night. If Miguel isn’t built for love, then the ring he’s wrapped up in a sock won’t make its way onto your left hand during a gentle night like this one.

He surveys the mess you’ve made of the bedroom. Dresses and bedsheets and fancy shoes all over the floor, and you’ve fallen asleep in the midst of it all. Miguel pulls you closer; clearing his head of widowers and puppets and love woven into silk sheets and scraggly blankets all the same.

Oh well, he thinks. He’s got the rest of his life with you to figure that out. 

_

_

_

[cozymoko]

Wait you write for Kamisama kiss??? OMG Tomoe's been my crush for years 😭 omg if it's okay with you then can I have general yandere headcannons about everyone's favourite fox boy?? 🌕 Anon

YANDERE TOMOE HEADCANONS

Note: I also love Tomoe. Btw this might suck because I'm bad at general anything.

Pronouns used: feminine, she/her (for convenience)

WARNING(S): yandere themes, slightly suggestive

YOKAI

Possessive, Manipulative, Violent (to others)

AS A ROUGUE YOKAI, pledging his loyalty to others never truly appealed to him; to a woman nonetheless. Being a formidable demon never called for such requirements.

You were feisty, pointing the round end of your broom in his direction. You knew not of who was there, yokai or human but you feigned confidence. The trembling of your hands gave it away, you were scared as one would be. “Who's there?”

The pale moonlight peeked through the few windows lining the walls, carefully calling attention to your features. You were easy on the eyes and yet so hard to look at. Your eyes were glassy and narrowed into thin slits. Your legs shook violently in anticipation for him to reveal himself as you hugged the broom flush against your chest. Such a look didn't suit you.

Having mercy on you, he decided to cut his fun a little short.

As one does, Tomoe made his way to a brothel which he was fairly acquainted with. All in a pitiful attempt to find solace amongst the predatory gazes of the women occupying it. But alas, he could not. With every look upon their faces twisted into one that mimicked your own. Captivating and seemingly kind, tempting him to reach out and touch it.

Tomoe is no fool. His emotions are evident, terribly so. He longs for a human woman and there's no need to deny it. Your image has been engraved in his memory down to every last detail. Women who were not you could no longer soothe his mind as they appeared lackluster in comparison.

Thus, he sought after you. In the middle of the night, he was whisked away by the chilly wind in search of the woman. Your scent was heavy on his mind, leading him back to the small cabin you resided in. His footsteps were night, almost silent as he entered your home, searching for you.

To his luck, there you were. Rolled up in a cotton futon, lulled by the chirps of noisy crickets. Yes, he's decided; You are his and no one else's. Tomoe isn't one for sharing and he'll make sure you're aware.

Akura-ou was quick to find out about your existence, which was a pain within itself. He would toy with you just to get under Tomoe's skin. It's not every day you get to see your moody "counterpart" fall so hard for someone, let alone a human. Anyhow, those who've tormented you weren't as fortunate as Akura-ou, serving a far more unpleasant demise for their actions.

If not for you, Tomoe wouldn't hesitate to massacre every man who looks your way. Having good-looking women by his side is nothing he isn't used to, yet, you are different. As his woman, he wouldn't want someone to so much as breathe the same air as you. The mere thought renders him ill.

Although, if you ask him not to he'll try his best to listen to your wishes. Keyword: try. He would never want to upset you, oh not at all! However he's only "human", even he has his limits.

No matter how he may terrify you, running is NOT an option. You will never be too far from his grasp. As long as his heart is beating, no one will ever have his heart. The fox demon is a bit too eager to show how he got his reputation in the Yokai world. As his other half, why don't you sit down and watch for a while?

“Foolish girl, when will you finally understand that your efforts are futile? Your cries may pain me but if I must tie you down to keep you. Then I shall.”

FAMILIAR

Loyal, Overprotective, Posessive

BEFORE HE MET YOU HE WAS A YOKAI, drowning in a pit of endless grief. Though not a powerful God, you held enough power to help the lost kitsune. You, determined to save him, kissed him and made Tomoe you familiar. For that, he was forever grateful.

Sure his bloodlust has been soothed over the decades, but it doesn't cease to exist. However, betrayal has never crossed his mind. His loyalty to you runs deeper than the blood that courses through veins. He is bound to you for life and he will serve you until greeted by death's embrace

He still finds you to be a subpar God in nearly every aspect. You were so uncool and lame as you lacked elegance, lazy in comparison to many, and awfully forgetful. But it made you even more charming. Tomoe found himself growing fond of your minor habits, though still trying to push healthier ones upon you, they were sweet, or even cute dare he say.

If you so choose, you can touch his ears. What can I say, the thought has plagued his mind more times than he cares to admit. Intimacy with you is not exactly scarce, you dot on the fox quite a bit, however, he yearns for more of your attention, your time. Being your familiar for some years has honestly built up his confidence. (There was no way in hell he'd ask you that and earlier than now.)

You cannot have another familiar, not a chance. Tomoe will burn them to the ground if they even try to kiss you. If you've had familiars before him, fuck them. They can die for all he cares. All you have to do is ask and he will gladly do the honors. (He knows you won't, unfortunately)

No male familiars are permitted to sleep by your side, except him of course. He must retain his superiority somehow. Allowing them to see you so vulnerable is not an option.

For you, he'd do an ything if it's within his power. As long as it doesn't put you or your reputation in danger that is.

“You reek of that wretched Tengu, must you always converse with such lowlives, mistress? If my company is not to your liking please allow me to fix myself. I am your loyal familiar and you should know I'm also the best.”

[d1s1ntegrated]

body worship. lets give our fav villain (shigaraki) some body worship

shigaraki genuinely is a beautiful fucking person.

his hands are cut up, hangnails and callouses and rough spots. but that doesn't change the fact that they're soft, with slender fingers. so much experience in those hands, so much guilt to carry.

his silky, slightly tangled hair that smells like smoke and sleep and rain. in any state, it's cute, but when it drapes over his angular face and frames the delicately marbled features, is when it looks best.

his tired sanguine eyes, filled with hurt and grief but still so capable of finding love in little things: his friends, video games, the feeling of being known and accepted. so young and tender still, even after everything he's been put through. fluffy white lashes fluttering as he blinks, slowly and lazily.

his cracked, scarred skin. like splits of sunlight rippling on the ocean, or the texture of a hard-worked painting. he's not gross, or crusty, or a freak. he only ever wanted to be okay. it's still nice to touch. he wants to be touched.

he's only 21. twenty fucking one. he never knew what it meant to be a kid, or a teenager. only a machine, put to work but never to rest.

his strong arms and legs are the result of that work. muscles rippling under the pale skin, a testament to all things godly. you wouldn't be able to tell from the baggy clothing he dons, but he's stronger than you'd know. his shoulders wide and buff, trailing down his chest, torso, to a gentle but strong tummy, abs peeking through his t-shirts.

he isn't scrawny or skinny to any degree.

if anything, he's fucking ripped.

when he stretches, his shirt pulls up, to reveal a deep v-line and the sliiiightest amount of squish on his lower tummy, with a scattering of fluffy pale hair dragging down from his navel to underneath the waistband of his pants. an invitation. a map. a command.

to take in the image of him is to worship something more than god.

his smile is the best part. his teeth aren't perfect, but no one asked them to be. sharp canines, the bottom row uneven, and not pure white- he drinks way too much caffeine for that to be possible. it makes his real smile that much more genuine.

his smile is real when you call him beautiful. when you make note of his flaws and rewrite them as details, like chips in glass.

not to mention his other features. his sharp, angular nose. his thin but delicate lips. scars running deep like hills and valleys, it makes him all the more interesting. how it feels to kiss those lips, feeling how he bites them and peels away at the layers of skin. sometimes, it tastes bloody, but it's only a reminder that he's just as human. he tastes like energy drinks and candy and hunger.

he looks like comets and stars and all things bright, blinding, a painful comparison to how dark he feels.

did you know he has a birthmark on his left shoulder blade? did you know he hates how only one of his toes is crooked? or how badly his fingers hurt from having to only use a few of them? did you know that he cracks every part of his body every morning, that his back constantly aches, that he can't stand the way he sounds when he cries?

he may be a villain, yes. he may be sick and evil in the eyes of society.

but he's still a boy. he's still a man. he's still so much more than what he believed he was doomed to become. he's not perfect, but he is still human.

even in his worst moments he is beautiful, a tragic display of what humanity does to those in need.

tenko shimura, the prettiest boy.

thank u for the request <3 i love tomura so fucking much, and he deserves every ounce of worship.

[temis-de-leon]

Grumpy and sunshine - 500 F.C.

Characters: Lucifer x gn!reader

Main Masterlist

500 followers masterlist

Requested by: anon

CW: established relationship, some kissing, a tiny bit of miscommunication

A/N: this ain't a drabble lmao, but I don't care

.

Something laid on his shoulders, bringing a much needed warmth and a familiar scent, but the soft texture and comforting weight paled in comparison to what came right after. Gentle hands tracing the sharp edges of his cheekbone and taking the pen out of his clenched fingers; a delicate kiss placed right on his temple.

He hoped MC would stay next to him for at least a little longer, but he had no such luck. The chair at the opposite side of the desk barely scratched the floor before his beloved gasped at the noise and lifted it to sit down, then grabbed all the documents that weren’t buried under his arms and started writing on his behalf.

The heat turning his body back to life, the sweet humming of his partner and the pen dragging ink across the paper should’ve been enough to lull him to sleep, but Lucifer found himself unable to.

There was a train of thoughts still drilling every crevice of his mind, mixing dates and locations within each other, the numbers on Mammon’s bills increasing a never-ending list of failures and Lord Diavolo’s insistent enthusiasm adding piles and piles of duties to his already tall stack of paperwork. Pitiful curses reeked of Satan’s power and tainted every inch of his possessions and something in the depths of his brain held its breath in apprehension whenever his DDD showed a notification.

It was just a damn festival. One of many thrown in hopes to raise the school’s morale and tighten the relationships between all of the exchange students. It was the same as always.

So why did it feel so draining this time? Why did he feel the need to fill the room with dense darkness, a cocoon for him to scream profanities and frustrations? Why did everybody seem more moronic than usual? Did they think before speaking or was that too much to ask? Couldn’t they see what was happening around them? Couldn’t they realize that he had more important things to do other than help organizing a stupid festival?

“Lucifer” a voice called him, kind and caring.

He opened his eyes, cringing at the harshness of his frown and the impending headache coming with it. His neck was stiff and hurt when he tried to sit straight to look at MC, but he managed, his expression softening at their concerned features.

“What’s with the face, my love?”

“I should be asking you that”

The scowl was unnatural on their face and it made Lucifer chuckle. He moved to grab their hand in a gentle grasp, but, to his surprise, they brought his knuckles to their lips instead and playfully smiled when he turned his face away to hide his blush.

“C’mon, tell me what happened” they begged, carefully placing the pen in its holder and laying on the desk to get closer to him “Is it about the festival? Is something wrong? Do you need my help?”

They stood, still holding his hand while they walked around the desk, just as if they were dancing in the music room, and as lovely as the memory was, Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to smile at it. His mood soured again at his predicament and not even their weight on his lap made it better.

He couldn’t tell them what was on his mind! It would spoil everything! But then again, the festival already spoiled it, didn’t it? Lucifer hoped he could still surprise MC if he played his cards right.

“Oh, Luciii…”

“Do not use that name”

MC laughed despite the interruption and cupped his cheek to kiss his entire face, but, unlike other times, the feeling of their lips wasn’t enough of a distraction. He continued to stare at nothing, sight unfocused, while mindlessly hugging his human, which seem to be what broke the camel’s back.

“Lucifer, please!” they cried, desperately grabbing the fur on his coat to make him look at them “Tell me what’s wrong! Our anniversary is in three days and you’re going to hide in your office to rot? We haven’t seen each other in days…”

“I took you out for lunch earlier”

He finally looked at them, immediately scowling at their mischievous smirk. Their eyes showed a gleeful glint, face squished against their hand and elbow resting on his shoulder.

“Still! Too long!”

MC’s laugh was contagious and it managed to break his frown and dissipate the darkness in his eyes, although some remnants of displeasure persisted. His previous irritation and current disappointment still lingered in the room.

“Are you excited for the festival, MC?” his voice was quiet, nor angry nor sad, and if MC saw anything unusual about it, they didn’t show it.

“Are you kidding?” they answered instead, filling a corner of his heart with heavy stones. Their bright smile warmed his body better than the blanket did, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit frustrated “Dia says is going to look like a fairy-tale! How am I not going to be excited?”

How come they weren’t mad? He’d made reservations weeks ago, a whole evening planned in great detail; the first of many years to come sharing their lives and loving each other. It was supposed to be a private event, just for the two of them, and now they would have to spend it with his brothers and Father knows who else. Would it kill them to act a little bit sadder at the situation?

“Just imagine” they continued talking “Flowers everywhere, fairy lights, sweets and music, blues and pinks and yellows and cute animals and costumes… Oh, it’s going to be so good! What better way to spend our anniversary!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We could match and eat special baked goods for the occasion and take a stroll around the gardens…” MC sighed, taking his hand from his chest and hugging it against their face. Their flushed cheeks turned them warm and he couldn’t help but curl his fingers around theirs “It’s going to be so romantic, Luci…”

Their love-struck gaze left him speechless, a blushing mess unable to stop looking at them like they were the only thing worth his time in the room. He felt stupid, then, and he thanked every entity in the universe that would listen to him for putting MC in his life.

“It does sound good, I admit…”

His whisper died against their lips and finally, for the first time in some very long days, he felt the butterflies caressing the edges of his heart; MC’s name drawn in their wings.

“So?” they murmured while kissing him.

“Hm?”

“What happened before I got here? You didn’t seem okay”

“Never mind that, my love” he insisted, placing their head on the crook of his neck and taking a magazine from the desk “Would you help me choose a venue for the main event? I’d like to know your preferences…”

.

.

[boundinparchment]

Kinetic Harvest

“I ain’t got the money. Not now. But with your…assistance, I can make it worth your while. Consider me a lifetime customer.”

You put the bullet back on your desk, a peace offering. He took it back and tucked it away, gun still trained on you.

“I don’t work on those who threaten me.”

Boothill/Gender Neutral Reader oneshot. Can be read as a pairing or not. Dottore reference if you squint. Not beta read.

Leaks used as a base, read at your own discretion. On AO3 here.

Reblogs are appreciated.

Desperation drove most to your doorstep, trembling as their bellies stoked fires so strong they made suns pale in comparison. Their eyes darted, assessing the clean office and workshop, as if they were wondering the validity of the rumors. A back-alley mechanic who took the money of criminals, crooks, and high society alike had to certainly have signs of that wealth. Or perhaps they thought morality was tied to cleanliness.

You cared not.

And they only cared whether you could fix their problem.

It made for a very convenient workflow.

But the man who sat before you was a deviation from that norm. He was surefooted, a little curious in the way his head turned to gaze about the darkened space. His eyes lingered not on you but on the prosthetic arm you kept behind your desk, the finger joints extended and the gun attachment on the wrist popped out, unloaded.

Never gave his name but you liked his drawl. You’d heard it from folks in a distant system. Aeragan-Epharshel was an ancient land, home to a language as old as the green plains and permafrosted mountains and dusty canyons; you were certain your mentor would have loved it there. So much to explore and learn from those who came before.

The stranger told you a story of a boy who grew up taming horses and identifying plants. Caring for everything around him. Isolated though the planet was, it was not without a law of entropy and a reciprocity that few ever even knew existed anymore. Of a child whose smile lit up a room like the sun itself.

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his eyes when he stood a bullet up on your desk. In the glint of the lamplight, you caught three letters: IPC.

The one party you never took funding or clients from. The Interstellar Peace Corporation was, quite ironically, stood for the exact opposite, in your opinion.

“You specialize in cybernetics,” the man tilted his head as he leaned back in his seat. The wood squeaked. “And rumor has it, you go beyond the usual…modifications. I ain’t done in this universe ‘til that bullet is buried in the skull of the leech that sucks planets dry.”

His words were pinched tight by this teeth, jaw on edge. This man, this stranger off the streets, knew what he wanted and you wondered how many others in your profession turned him away. Plenty would. There was a liability in taking the human form too far, both ethically and bureaucratically. Too much red tape, too much diffusing of pre-conceived notions.

No wonder your mentor chose the path of eternal funding and embraced his legacy.

“Before you tell me, ‘No’,” the man drawled. “Know that I have endured harsher summers and brutal winters than most o’ your so-called patients, doc. I can handle what needs to be done.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you replied, fingers reaching for the bullet and holding it up to the light.

Those who were so glued to their convictions made for difficult clients, though. They were stubborn.

Worse, really, you reminded yourself as you looked up and noticed the barrel of a gun staring back at you. No one would stand between a hunter and his prey.

“I ain’t got the money. Not now. But with your…assistance, I can make it worth your while. Consider me a lifetime customer.”

You put the bullet back on your desk, a peace offering. He took it back and tucked it away, gun still trained on you.

“I don’t work on those who threaten me.”

A second, and then two, before he clicked his teeth and holstered the weapon. He gestured with open hands to demonstrate he was unarmed and then folded them in his lap.

“You’ll have a difficult road ahead,” you advised. “Years of assembly.“

“A full cybernetic body that preserves my noggin and my perfect eyesight is hardly unreasonable. It’s been done. Everyone knows you studied hidden away from the Aeons, under the Heretic. He’s dead, o’ course, but if I were a gamblin’ man…”

“You don’t strike me the type.”

“I ain’t,” the words came out strained, frustrated with a huff of breath. “A waste o’ money and time. Frivolous. All I’m sayin’ is…if I wanted the easy way out, I wouldn’t be here. I know what I’m signin’ up for.”

Your eyes traced his haggard face, white hair with tinges of black that had seen better days, a muscular frame trimmed a little too lean in places due to malnutrition. A hat more pristine than his dusty pants.

“Lay down over on the table,” you jerked your head in the direction of the vivisection table off to the side of your workshop. “We’ll start with your measurements.”

The man let out a slow exhale, one you didn’t dare attribute to relief. He rose with a steadiness you recognized only in those who trusted in their abilities and convictions, who would succeed not just through skill but by the cognitive bias that they embraced with every fiber of their being.

“Just promise me one thing, cowboy,” you said, collecting a tablet from your desk.

He turned, weight shifted to cock his hip impatiently.

“I don’t want your money. But when we’re done, you’ll tell me your name. I want to know what to call the one who succeeds in gutting the IPC.”

He smiled, crooked and charming, and you wondered if you ever saw eyes sparkle like that in this office before.

“It’s a deal, doc.”

[rivatar]

Hi can I make a request for Jake sully x fem human reader! (first movie when he gets really buff towards the end!)

Ok hear me out:

Reader is obsessed with Jake sully’s muscles like gets super aroused like down bad for them!! The reader lures Jake into a trap (but Jake doesn’t know that he thinks he’s getting love from her like normal) but reader ties him up with a rope/leash!! (Very unexpected) And super spicy and exciting things happen between them!?!?!?!?!?

I’ll let you finish the story if you dare…😉

Tbh I have been craving a spicy story for weeks now!!

Thank you and have a wonderful day/night!!!

Much love from your fan!!!! 🩷😁

Fell Into the Trap

Pairing: Jake!Sully x fem!human!reader

Warnings/content: smut MDNI🔞, restraints/handcuffs, masturbation, multiple orgasms, p in v, some degradation, they’re both switches kinda, cream pie, think that’s it but lmk :)

A/n: FINALLY got this request done!! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!! It’s pure filth heheh 🫶🏼

W/c: 4.4k

Biceps, abs, quads, pecs, forearms, back muscles.

His muscular physique was running through your head nonstop today (and maybe everyday) and God, it was eating you alive.

It probably didn’t help that Jake had already given you a taste. You befriended him when he arrived on Pandora, rolling in on his wheelchair. You were and still are under Dr. Augustine. You thought Dr. Augustine and Norm gave Jake way too much hell at first, but they eventually warmed up to him. You would always laugh at his witty jokes and sarcasm from the very beginning. And it seemed like he noticed, as he started approaching you more and aimed to make you laugh whenever he could. This turned into a unique bond the two of you developed. You were obviously friends but this elevated into something more after spending so much time with him. He was sweet and charming, and you had no other romantic prospects so why the hell not? You gave into his flirtatious advances months ago and have slept with him ever since.

Now, months later, Jake is officially trained as Omatikayan warrior, having just passed his rites of passage not even a full week ago. You were so proud of him, as was the rest of your department. Everyone celebrated his accomplishment and his recognition was well deserved. Since then, he has received many welcoming gifts to his kelku and even courting offers from a lot of the women in the clan, to which he would respectfully decline.

But selfishly, you were ready to have him back to yourself. He’s been so busy now that he’s officially one of The People that he’s barely in his home and barely has come to see you. You were also tied up with your own work to be fair, but you were used to seeing him for hours everyday after the workday was finished.

The past few nights you would touch yourself before bed or else you would toss and turn all night, craving his touch. It wasn’t enough though. Your fingers paled in comparison to him. He would spend hours pleasuring you with his tongue, fingers, cock, and whatever other body part you desired to touch on him, sometimes opting to ride his abs or thighs. You could just eat him alive, you thought to yourself.

It was late at night as you tossed and turned in your bed for yet another night. Deep in your (horny) thoughts, you decided you would somehow catch him tomorrow and make him make it up to you. You didn’t care how many plans he might have as he’s settling into his new life, it would all just have to wait. You may have been thinking with your cunt instead of your brain but you didn’t care at this point. And by Eywa, he was gonna pay for it.

…………………..

You had your plan perfectly in order. After finishing up your work for the day as quickly as you could, you headed off into the village. You wore a jacket, solely for the reason of being able to load down the pockets with your tools. Tools needed to take a 9 ft tall Na’vi man down and render him helpless.

After making enough small talk with the villagers you passed by, you finally spotted Jake. And fuck, he looked better and better with each passing day. His slutty little tewng barely covered him at all, and it looked like a new tewng, you don’t think you’ve ever seen it befor- “Y/N! Come here, we were just talking about you!” Jake snapped you out of your trance once he spotted you, motioning you to come forward. You were hard to miss in a sea of blue people.

Clearing your throat and masking a smile, you walked towards him and the two other warriors standing next to him. They smiled politely and nodded their heads at you. “All good things, right?” You responded, smirking slightly. They looked to be carving out arrows and assembling them.

Jake chuckled, “More or less,” he teased. You scoffed playfully, crossing your arms. Then you gathered up the courage to tell him the reason you were there.

“Jake, can I borrow you for a minute? It’s nothing bad—just some things Grace wanted me to discuss with you regarding mapping the area,” you grabbed his wrist and tugged him with you, “It might take a minute, it’s a lot of information,” you lied to the warriors that were standing with him as you walked the two of you away. The two men looked at each other knowingly, like they knew what you were really doing. Although Jake looked clueless.

“Sure, but I thought we already discussed this?” He giggled a little at you guiding him, clearly confused what this was about.

“Yes but she wanted to finalize the details. You have the map in your kelku, right?” You asked, already knowing the answer and hastily making your way towards his home.

“Yeah I do but I’ve told her I’ve added everything to it that I know for now. I don’t think there’s anything more I can do,” he thought carefully. His home was in sight, just another minute or so away.

Just keep making excuses, almost there.

“I’m just following her orders, Jake,” you smiled up innocently at him, “let’s just see what we can do, yeah?”

His home was a few feet away, all you had to do was get him past the door and inside. You could nearly taste the sweet victory. You motioned your arm out a little for him to go in before you as you snuck your hand in your pocket to pull out a Banshee Catcher, stretching it out behind his back.

“Yeah, we’ll see what we can d- SHIT!” He hit the floor in the middle of his home with a loud THUD. Your aim was perfect, hitting his ankles precisely as the catcher wrapped around them, making him lose his balance and fall forward. He tried to catch part of his body as he fell, but still ended up hitting his head on the ground. Raising himself up a little, he rubbed his forehead as he winced and turned back to look at you. “What the fuck??”

“Shut. Up.” You barked as you walked towards his laid out form, unraveling the rope you got out from your other pocket and tying it in a loop.

Jake was still laying on his stomach as he continued rubbing his temples. You approached him swiftly before he could make any moves and hooked the loop around his neck, tightening it up.

“B-Baby, what are you doing?” His voice came out a little more shaky than he’d like to admit. His hands found the ground beneath him as he tried to start pushing himself up. You stomped your foot on his back and pushed him back down with all your weight.

“Do not move!” You scolded while tightening the rope you had on his neck as you stood above him.

He relaxed his arms and held his hands out to the side in surrender. “Okay, okay. Jesus Christ— who taught you how to take down a man like this?”

“I’ll never share my sources,” you smirked cockily.

Reaching into your back pocket of your jeans, you pulled out your final item.

“Arms behind your back,” you demanded.

His eyes grew wide once they came into view as he craned his neck back to see what you had. “Where the hell did you steal handcuffs from??”

“I have my ways and it’s none of your concern! Arms back, Sully.”

He shut up in defeat, slowly placing his arms back. You snapped the cuffs around his wrists and finally let out a sigh of relief that he was pretty much helpless now, even with you being a human and him being a Na’vi, he wasn’t getting out of this.

“Okay, you got me now. Good job. Now can you please kindly explain what this is about??” He huffed in annoyance, feeling kinda proud of you yet embarrassed you took him down so easily.

“I’m about to show you,” you said while squatting down to place your hands around the banshee catcher, “I’ll undo this if you promise not to run,” you offered.

“Yes, yes, please— I won’t leave, I swear,” he pleaded. You eyed him for any bluffing but he seemed rather honest. So graciously, you released the hold the catcher had around his ankles. He spread out his legs in relief, not daring to try to take off. Besides, how would he tell everyone a human girl managed to get him in handcuffs? They would never let him live that down. And also, he didn’t particularly mind seeing you so… feisty. Although he didn’t know why you were being this way, specifically towards him. Nevertheless, you had his full attention. He rolled over on his back to face you.

You slightly pulled the rope around his neck, urging him to sit up on his butt. You swiftly tied your end of his leash, per se, around a sturdy post in the middle of the room.

You couldn’t help but bust out laughing at his astonished look of pure and utter disbelief. “God, I wish you could see the look on your face right now,” you giggled uncontrollably, hunching over a little to hold your tummy as it started to hurt from laughing. He just looked more and more confused by the second, wondering why you were laughing and what had gotten into you.

He chuckled a bit uncomfortably, “Haha, yeah… so what now? You gonna leave me here?” He presumed.

“Oh Jake… is that what you think this is?” You poked your bottom lip out to mock him, “No baby, but you’re gonna wish I had left you here by the time I’m done with you,” you giggled triumphantly. His eyebrows scrunched together more, trying to figure out why you were acting so crazy. He was beginning to be speechless.

To confuse him even more, you decided to start taking off your clothes. You wore comfy gym shorts and a sports tanktop today as it was hot and sunny outside. You peeled up your tank and tossed it at his face, to which it hung onto him for a split second until falling down to the ground. His mouth hung open slightly as saliva pooled in his mouth, eyes roaming everywhere on you.

Then you peeled off your sports bra and your breasts popped out, bouncing a little as they settled freely with no more restriction. You kicked out of your shoes and shimmied your shorts and panties down in one go, tossing everything to the side and out of the way.

“Get my meaning now, Jakey?” You mocked his little nickname, tilting your head at him with your hands on your hips.

He licked his lips and swallowed all the drool that pooled up in his mouth from such a mouthwatering sight. His pupils were blown up and his tail was stiff and pointing upwards in high alert. “Shit baby… if you wanted some you should’ve just asked,” He said with a slight groan, eyes still soaking up every inch of you.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, having already been fed up with waiting for so long, “I’ve given you several hints and you ignored them. Ignored ME!” Your voice rose as you pointed at yourself, “So, I had to take matters into my own hands,” you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. To you, you were only doing what anyone else would’ve done. Take control of the situation instead of suffering.

“So now you will listen to me and do whatever I want, got it?” You demanded.

Jake couldn’t help the wide grin that split across his face. He looked like a kid who had just been given some ice cream. This was supposed to be his punishment and the bastard never looked so happy. “Yes ma’am,” he followed your orders. Happily. He shifted over to get on his knees, a little too excited already as he had a prominent bulge in his loincloth.

You walked towards him with an all-knowing smirk. It was laughable that he thought he was gonna get some pussy right away. “Yeah, you’re good at following orders, aren’t you Marine?” You grabbed his face and brought it right up to yours.

His breath was hot and came out in quick exhales, fanning across your lips. “Mhmm,” he licked his lips while he stared at yours, being so close yet not close enough to seal them together.

You kept teasing him, acting like you were about to kiss him and then you just didn’t. He leaned forward to try to catch your lips and you leaned back before he could, laughing in his face. “Don’t get all desperate and pathetic on me already, Jakey,” you teased as he looked visibly disappointed. His cheeks were already a purplish tint.

“‘m not desperate,” he grumbled.

“Oh really? Let’s see about that,” you said prettily and innocently as you lowered yourself to the ground, laying back and propping on your elbows as your legs sprawled out for him to see everything.

Sharp canines came into view as he bit his bottom lip, eyes hooded over with pure lust. He crawled on his knees to get closer but the rope held him back. A growl left his chest in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to touch you when you’ve got me tied up, huh?”

“Who said anything about you doing any touching? This is not for you, Sully,” you scolded, “Now, follow my orders—Watch.”

Your scooted back a little to lean against the wall so you could relax without holding yourself up. You ran your two little hands down your soft body, slowly and sensually to drag out as much pleasure as possible. The lightest feathery touches on yourself heightened your sensitivity. You massaged your breasts, pinching your nipple between your thumb and index finger. The feeling went straight to your core. Slick started leaking out of your hole, begging for some attention. You left one hand to keep stimulating your nipple and the other hand trailed down to your pussy. You ran two fingers through your glistening folds as you teased around your entrance and on your swollen clit. Your head fell back as a soft moan escaped your parted lips, to which you then bit your lip.

“Jesus,” He whispered, “Okay, I get it and I’m sorry I didn’t make time for you and that sweet pussy. I regret it so much and it won’t happen again!” He babbled as his erection was becoming more painful by the second.

“Hmm, how sorry are you?” You hummed as you kept pleasuring yourself, sticking two fingers inside. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

“So fucking sorry! Baby please, I’ll make it up to you, I swear!!” He pleaded, watching desperately as your fingers sunk into your heat.

You started a steady pace going in and out, not really caring for his words but appreciating the deep baritone of his voice getting you off more. “Damn right you’re making it up to me,” you all but moaned.

You were getting lost in your own world, it felt like pure hot liquid gold was pooling in your tummy as your orgasm built up. “Stand up, Jake,” you whimpered. You wanted to see his entire form in all its glory.

He did as he was told like the good little soldier he was. And fuck, his physique was blessed by Eywa herself. You would thank her later for her perfect design of him. His hair looked so pretty, as two shorter strands hung out front to frame his face, and damn— that face. ‘Handsome’ was an understatement that didn’t do him justice. Chokers adorned his strong neck that flared out to incredibly broad and sturdy shoulders. His arms were amazingly strong and bulky— much bulkier than the other Na’vi. They were much leaner and smaller-boned than Jake. His mix of human DNA in his Na’vi body was nothing less of perfect, in your opinion. His chest was powerful looking, with plump pecs showcasing his strength in that area. Then his waist— God, his waste. It was so slutty, the way it narrowed down so much compared to how wide his shoulders and chest were. Even though it was lean, it still housed just as many muscles in his abs and hips, with not an ounce of fat, just pure muscle. His thighs and calves shouldn’t be left out either, they were equally as beautiful. And of course you couldn’t leave out a particular body part you deemed as your favorite— his veiny cock. Just like the rest of his body that everyone else got to see, it was just as perfect as him. Long and girthy, littered with his unique bioluminescent pattern on it.

And now as he stood, you could savor the sight of him. Seeing his muscles ripple slightly as he shifted his stance and strained against the handcuffs was all you needed to finish. You sped up on rubbing your clit as your other hand plunged in and out of your sopping cunt.

“Fuckkk, Jake!” You screamed as you rode it out, your body twitching and trying to get away from the overstimulation. You swore you heard a low rumbling growl but it was hard to tell over your choked sobs.

“You’re torturing me, baby,” he said shakily, almost whimpering. He watched intently with eyes trained directly on your pussy as the precious scene took place before him. Some slick gushed out of your hole and around your fingers as you pulled them out slowly.

“I know,” you replied wryly.

“Can you untie me now so I can help you out?” He was sounding so desperate now and it did you well to get beneath his skin like this.

“Hmmm,” you pretended to think, “Maybe later.”

He groaned in frustration and bared his teeth briefly, clearly getting aggravated.

“Don’t get sassy with me,” you snapped while standing up to saunter over to him. Once you were closer you could see the wet spot on his loincloth from his pre-cum.

“Awww, are you pent up? Poor guy needs to cum so bad, don’t you?” You teased and mocked him, “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

You seen the way his jaw clenched in restraint, he felt like a little kid in timeout again. He stared down at you with a piercing gaze. You were pushing all his buttons. He swore he was gonna tear you apart later the moment he got out of these damned restraints.

You grabbed one of his wrists and led him to a chair in the corner of the room. “Sit down,” you tugged his wrist down, urging him to do so.

He sat down and thankfully the rope was just long enough for him to go to this corner without it straining on his neck. You eagerly climbed into his lap, straddling over one of his thighs with your bare cunt coating your leftover slick on his leg. He let out a shaky breath at the contact of finally at least feeling your warm body against him.

“Y/N, please. I can’t take it much longer,” he whined.

You gave him a peck on the mouth, “Not much longer.” Then started your assault on his body.

You started on his neck, first smelling his natural musk, then licking and sucking on the sensitive flesh there. He quietly groaned and you felt his hips jerk up underneath you, frantically searching for some friction. You felt all around his shoulders, chest, and arms, grabbing all you could get and moaning in appreciation at the straight up beefiness to him. Then your hands went lower and felt up his abs, that were constricting currently due to your neck kisses that drove him mad.

“Hmmm, gonna fuck the shit out of you later,” He promised.

You couldn’t help the soft moan that hummed against his skin where you were kissing, sucking, licking. You quickly stopped to reach around and untie his loincloth hastily. You were gonna die if his dick wasn’t shoved inside you within the next minute or so.

“You stretched out enough?” He asked a bit worriedly as you grabbed his cock and slid it through your folds.

“I hope so,” you breathed out before you slammed your hips down with as much force as you could muster, letting your weight help you sink down.

A slew of curses left both your mouths as your small pussy engulfed him entirely. “Holy shit, you needed it bad, huh?”

“Yes!” You nearly cried as tears already formed in your eyes from the sheer fullness from him. His dick hit every spot you needed to be touched.

Raising up, you slammed back down on him and picked up a ruthless pace. You held onto his shoulders for stability and you had so much adrenaline that your legs weren’t burning from doing the work. You bounced vigorously, barely allowing either one of you enough time to even breathe.

His head was thrown back as guttural moans left his mouth, having no choice but to take what you were giving him. You moaned and cried above him, tears streaming down your cheeks from the incredible sensations. The coil in your core was about to snap at any second but you tried to hold it off as long as you could. But you couldn’t hold it back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You screamed as your orgasm overtook your entire being. You clenched hard around his length and moaned in time with you.

“S-Shit, gonna make me cum too!” he groaned as his hips stuttered and his hot seed shot up into you. Synchronized moans and whispered of praise filled the room as you worked through your highs.

You slouched onto him as his dick remained inside you, twitching from aftershocks. You were both sticky with sweat and quietly panting.

“Untie me,” his voice was hoarse. You leaned up, slightly confused at his tone. But after you looked in his eyes, you could see the mischief he was trying to mask.

“Yes sir,” you smirked playfully and got off him with wobbly legs, walking over to your discarded clothes to retrieve the key for his cuffs and a knife for his rope. You knew subconsciously that he was about to give you the dicking down of your life after this stunt you pulled, and you weren’t complaining.

You gave him a small smile as you cut the rope and reached around to unlock his handcuffs. He threw the cuffs to the side and scooped you up, and then set you down on the open floor.

“Hands and knees, babygirl,” he demanded. You scurried almost pathetically to get into place, poking your ass out as your arched your back and looked back at him sexily.

“Like a bitch in heat,” he snickered, “Just how I like it”

You arched even more, only eating up his degrading words. Some would call it pathetic or whorish, but by Eywa, you were fine with just being his whore if that’s all he wanted. And you didn’t care how that sounded.

“Now let’s get one thing settled,” he smacked your ass hard, “That was cute and all, but I’m the one in charge here, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered and pressed your ass back to nudge against his cock. Your switch up was crazy but again—you’d do nearly anything for this man and that’s why you were so cranky without him. You wanted him to be rough and fuck you hard, so you couldn’t be more pleased with how your plan has went.

“God, you’re such a slut. Only for me though, right?” He taunted.

“Yes, only you!” You swayed your hips around, trying to get him to just put it in you already.

He chuckled darkly behind you and drove it in with one stroke. You sighed contently in unison. You wish you could bottle up this feeling and keep it forever, every second of every day. But then you’d get nothing done ever.

“So goddamn tight and wet still. Needy little thing,” he smacked your ass again while continuing his thrusts.

His thrusts were hard and sloppy. No doubt you would have bruises tomorrow from his pelvis smacking you over and over again. But you didn’t care, not when his cock was kissing your cervix so perfectly.

He grabbed your neck and bent himself over to be right next to you. He kissed your cheek and panted roughly in your ear, “My little slut. Just needed to be fucked silly and stuffed full of cock, right?” He smiled briefly through his panting. Your jaw was completely slack as loud moans fell from your mouth. “Mhmm!!”

He craned your neck back ever more to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss. This position had your back arched so much that your eyes rolled in the back of your head. He sped up his thrusts and you were both nearing another climax.

He pulled his lips off yours because he felt you starting to clench, indicating your incoming orgasm. The third one tonight. He was about to burst himself.

Your eyes kept rolling back and squeezing shut. “Look at me when you cum,” he held your neck in this position, craning up towards him.

“Cumming! I’m cumming!” You cried. You stared in his eyes as your coil snapped and his did too as he stared back at you. It was the type of eye contact that was dangerous, the type that ties people’s souls together and makes them fall in love. There was no going back though.

He pulled out slowly and moved your body to lay down as he laid down beside you. You were both trying to catch your breath.

He pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head. “Tired?” He hummed sweetly, noticing your body wasn’t moving at all.

“Mhmm,” you hummed and he laughed.

“Go to sleep, we’ll clean up later,” he stroked your hair, “Just make sure to get those handcuffs back to their rightful owner later,” he chuckled.

“Hush.” You hummed, giving into the sleepiness beckoning you to rest.

Taglist: @bambithewriter @neteyamssyulang @anemonelovesfiction @luvv4j4ybe11 @vogueweb @nonamevenus @inolaphoenix @neteyamsoare @professional-yapper @plantgirliewholovespandora @etherynn @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @ladykat37 @loakstahni @zafrinaxyz @xylianasblog

[terapsina]

Let's talk books. Sorted in threes by vibes.

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I Support Women's Wrongs (murder, slaughter and body horror galore).

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How to Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying ⭐⭐⭐⭐½ by Django Wexler - A woman from Earth is dropped into a magical realm, meant to save the Kingdom from the FoRCes of DaRKneSSss... except, unfortunately that might have been a thousand years worth of time loops ago, so it's rather time to lose one's temper and decide to become the Dark Lord herself.

Main character -> basically Deadpool (measured in sanity, humor and levels of bisexual horniness)).

Someone You Can Build a Nest In ⭐⭐⭐⭐ by John Wiswell - Shesheshen, a shapechanging monster who's rudely interrupted during her hibernation by hunters. Manages to to eat one of them, unfortunately she also gets shot by an arrow and falls off a cliff. On the bright side she meets a lovely human woman she might end up falling in love with so much... she'll want to build a nest in her (it's possible there's some Cultural Differences that need to be worked through).

Hench ⭐⭐⭐⭐ by Natalie Zina Walschots - Anna's latest temp job for a villain (because even supervillains need office help) ends with her carelessly injured by a superhero, laid off and with injured mobility for the foreseeable future (because human bodies don't see much difference between getting hit by a truck and getting moved out of way by someone able to pick up a truck). Angry, disillusioned, and looking for some vengeful payback she starts compiling the statistics of exactly how much suffering gets left behind the heroes and in quick order finds a new job working for one of the worst supervillains in the neighborhood.

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Extremely Competent Women Show Up to Fix Everyone's Shit (with a whallop of romance which was actually sweet instead of irritating)

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The Witchwood Knot ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ by Olivia Atwater - Winifred Hall was invited to the Witchwood Manor under the pretense of being the governess for a very bratty kid, but when said boy suddenly turns into a very quiet and perfectly bland boy overnight it's very obvious her charge has been stolen by faeries (and it might have something to do with the actual reason she's there). Rescue however is complicated by some factors, one, there being something terribly dark and wrong about the house (normal houses don't have screaming faces in the walls), another, the faerie man posing as the manor's butler who would very much like to make her run screaming the way so many servants had before her (unfortunately for him, she's not even half as scared of him as she is the eyes of the father of her charge).

This one's about dealing with past trauma, and otherworldly terrors paling in comparison to mundane monsters, set in a very beautiful and dark and shiver-inducing Victorian time world where the Fair Folk are very real.

(Same world as her Regency Faerie Tales trilogy that Started with Half a Soul but it's not necessary to read that one first to enjoy this one)

Keeper of Enchanted Rooms ⭐⭐⭐⭐½ by Charlie N. Holmberg - Merritt Fernsby inherits a house only to be immediately taken hostage by what turns out to be a very stubborn and opinionated magical house. Hulda Larkin of the Boston Institute for the Keeping of Enchanted Rooms goes there to facilitate the relationship between the house and its new owner.

It's supposed to be a very simple job. Unfortunately there's a third POV character in this book (no, not the Whimbrel House, though I adore that house and *insert here the Rosa Diaz gif about her new puppy and how she would kill everyone in this room and then herself if anything were to happen to that dog*). Anyway, they're a bit... uhhh... let's go with Bad News.

Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Faeries ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ by Heather Fawcett - As one might expect from the title, Emily (a Cambridge scholar) wants to write the first ever encyclopedia of faeries. And she's brilliant enough to do it, what she's terrible at is people (*insert autistic character alert here*).

Someone else might then say it's lucky that a fellow scholar with a far easier time at charming people has stuck his toes in her reaserch trip into the Hidden Ones... that person however doesn't understand how irritating, frustrating and maddening her academic rival Wendell Bambleby actually is.

What follows is a story filled with winter snows, some terrible fae, some adorable fae, some not-very-secret fae, the goodest of good dogs, and lots and lots of squabbling. It's the best.

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Dark and Impactful Stories about Children Who Decide on Their Own Paths

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A Skinful of Shadows ⭐⭐⭐⭐½ by Frances Hardinge - Kate, an orphan and the illegitimate daughter of some stuffy (and evil) aristocrats runs away because being a bastard doesn't mean she didn't inherit the family magic that allows her to get possessed by the dead.

A dead bear ghost is one thing, a Get Out situation is something else entirely.

A Sorceress Comes to Call ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ by T. Kingfisher - Cordelia isn't allowed friends or the privacy of closed doors, and whenever she's done something she shouldn't - a category too unpredictable to guard against - she's not allowed power over her own body.

Because her mother is an evil sorceress (think Regina and Cora... except somehow even worse). An evil sorceress that has found herself a Squire to lure into a marriage.

Hester is an old maid living with her brother, a Squire (well look at them coincidences), when said brother acquires a woman clearly set on his fortune. The plan is only to save her brother, except Hester can't help noticing how the woman's daughter keeps flinching in her mother's presence.

In The Lives of Puppets ⭐⭐⭐⭐ by TJ Klune - A family can be an android inventor, his human son (*homoromantic asexual alert*), a sadistic nurse droid, and a very emotional roomba.

And it can be a very happy family. Until one uncovers and wakes up an android that shares a very Skynet past with one's father, said father gets kidnapped, and one has to go on a journey to get him back.

(A book I like to call Sci-fi Reverse Pinocchio)

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Unraveling an Unjust System (and a hero that - on a scale from occasionally to constantly - hears a disembodied voice directly in their heads okay the connection between these three is a bit of a stretch but they're all great books so shut up)

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Hell for Hire ⭐⭐⭐⭐½ by Rachel Aaron - 5000 years ago Gilgamesh conquered the heavens, enslaved the demons and made it so that the only road to magic humanity had access, was through him.

Now, however a mercenary team made up of free demons gets hired by a Blackwood witch to protect him (and his familiar, the talking cat named Boston) while he puts down roots (literally) inside the new forest grove he's about to start so that he can stand up against the warlocks after him.

The witch quickly becomes the best client Bex and her crew have ever had (after all, warlocks under the rule of the Eternal King Gilgamesh are slavers of their kind, they are delighted at the chance to kill some).

Vespertine ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ by Margaret Rogerson - In a world where the veil between the living and the dead has been kinda broken Artemisia (*another autistic character alert*) is training to be a Gray Sister (magic nun).

Until her convent gets attacked by possessed soldiers and she has no choice but to pick up a Saint's Relic containing a malevolent revenant to protect it.

Problem. Only a Vespertine is supposed to do it. Another problem. The only one "alive" who can teach her to be a Vespertine is the revenant. Another another problem. The revenant cannot be trusted and if she loses control to it, the death toll will be counted in cities.

Terminal Alliance ⭐⭐⭐⭐¾ by Jim C. Hines - Post Zombie Apocalypse, where some aliens showed up, sort of cured the zombies and took the (mostly) cured zombies into their military.

Which leads us to Marion Adamopoulos, also known as Mops, the Leutenant in charge of Shipboard Hygene and Sanitation of the Earth Mercenary Corps Ship Pufferfish.

Right up until a bioweapon turns the entire crew except her crew back into zombies. Congratulations, she's the captain now.

(Space Janitors save the universe story).

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[ravencincaide]

A Hit Beyond Rock Bottom 

Summary:  You may not be able to bond with your children but you were still going to be a good mother, a wonderful mother. You would not abandon them and you’d make sure they didn’t unnecessarily suffer in this cruel cruel world. If only Dazai and Chuuya would let you. 

Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya xfem! Reader (skk x fem!reader) 

Author note: An independent part two for Happy unhappy home!Check that fic out if you’d like more angst, skkx reader new parents and see more of what happened right before this scene! 

Warning: Cursing, depression/ postpartum depression, New parents/exhausted parents =bad choices/reactions, Angst, 

Enjoy~

The water was warm. 

Yet against your freezing body it felt almost burning. Boiling. Scalded your skin on the feel- yet left the flesh normal coloured, barely tinted pink in comparison to its usual pale shade. As you stare at your hand, you understood that it couldn’t be as hot as it felt. And yet each shift- each rocking back and forth motion seemed to hurt you. The manifestation of imaginary pain. A pain you just wanted to stop as much as the responsibilities and the lonely suffocation feeling. And yet the more you thought of leaving the safety of the bathroom- of the bathtub, the more it filled you with dread. It made the tears stream harsher down your cheeks. Thankfully your crying was muffled by the sound of the running water. 

-art

You held the twins closer to your chest, cradled them. Rocked them back and forth, back and forth in the water. Here, in this tub, in this warm liquid they’d be safe and comfortable, They were protected, sheltered in their mothers embrace. Fed and clean. Not loved- not yet at least but tolerated and guarded. You were going to shelter them- from the darkness, from the yelling downstairs, from the world that only consisted of pain. You would save them from all this suffering. 

-heart

They were not loved; but at least not abandoned. They were cared for and their every need met. Even if you did not bond with them- you wouldn’t forsaken them. They were yours; your two precious ginger balls of anything-but-joy. Yours- they came out of you and you had put so much into their care and well being at expense of your own. They were the physical token- the manifestation of your deep love for your partners. More accurately- for your once partners; Dazai and Chuuya. The thought of their names broke something in you. Reminded you of your earlier argument; 

“– we think you might have postpartum depression”  

 The way they looked at you–the iciness in their eyes- as if you were a murderer. No, as if you were worse than a criminal. All because there was something so inherently wrong with you that you couldn’t love them; your twins. A sob tore through your chest, then another as the twins let out a sleepy coo’s. As if sensing your distress amidst their slumber. You brought them even closer to your chest. Then bit your lips hard- so hard you tasted blood- to hold back the wail which threatened to spill into the open. No.. Quiet. You had to be quiet. The twins were snoozing. A good mother would let them sleep. Rest peacefully. A good mother would make sure her babies were fed and happy and sleeping in her embrace the way they were supposed to. The way things were always supposed to be. Happy, cared for and safe. 

You couldn’t love them but you could be a good mother for them. You were going to do everything right for them. You would make sure they were safe and peaceful. You would make sure they did not experience the painful reality that was this world; protect them from the agony that existed all around you. The endless torture- the human existence. 

“ SWEETHEART!” 

The sound of the smashed bathroom door snapped you out of your trail of thoughts. It made you aware of water overflowing out of the bathtub and then the paddling of feet right through the mess. 

“ No, don’t take them from me. They’re mine, MINE, STOP!” you screamed as you felt hands grasp at you. You felt them grab at your arms, trying to pry them away from your twins. Two male voices hollered- the sound rang painfully in your ears. They were more desperate now, trying to take your twins out of your hold “ They’re mine! Don’t take them from me!” you screamed just as the babies were torn out of your grasp, away from your chest. 

You felt panic set in, and rushed to stand up in the tub, desperately trying to follow Chuuya out of the bathroom. You felt lightheaded, dizzy and yet forced your body out of the tub. You stumbled, your ankle bruised as your feet made painful contact with the bathroom floor. You ignored it trying to run and yet--- You were blocked by Dazai’s chest; his hands on your shoulders; they pressed down painfully onto your skin. He was holding you back from going after Chuuya, from going after the twins. 

You realized you were screaming- making inhuman wails of anguish. You were trying to escape his hold, thrashed and screamed in the inhuman fear of not seeing or hearing your babies. The terror of never seeing them again. 

“ -donna” you managed to shake one hand off your shoulder and did another desperate attempt to leave the bathroom. But Dazai held you back; he pushed you further and further away from the door and towards the bathtub. His now free hand grasped at your chin, trying to get you to look up and face him. To look at him. You thought he was saying something- could see his lips moving but all you could hear was the rushing water around you and your own desperate cry

“ THEY’RE MINE, I’m their mother, you can’t; YOU CAN’--” 

Slap

The force of the slap threw you to the ground; your knees made contact with the bathroom floor and the several inches of cold standing water there. The coldness of it sippied into your body, chilled you down to your soul. But not as much as the sudden silence in the bathroom. You didn’t realize what happened. Stumped by the fact that your normally controlled lover would dare raise his hand against you. To hurt you, to humiliate you. You. If not his lover then at the very least the mother of the twins- the children. Your children. 

You said nothing, did not even look at him as Dazai knelt down to your height a few paces away. He wasn’t touching you anymore. Did not even reach out to check on you, to comfort you. Just stared at you as if you were no different from anyone else in his life; no different from any of his so-called students. 

“ I have never had a reason to hit you. You’ve always been a smart girl- don’t give me another reason to do it, again. If you’re sick- get help.” You felt a shiver- a fear induced shudder settled in your body as Dazai stared you down. The distance between you was so painfully obvious. The clear indifference on his part hurt you more than the thumbing of your cheek and the pain in your knees. 

Why couldn’t he see that you were doing your best? That you just wanted to be a good mother, and a good partner. That you just wanted to be appreciated for everything you did. That you just wanted to be his and Chuuya’s wife. 

“ They’re fine!” Chuuya’s voice echoed from outside the bathroom. “ Heard that Mackrel?! The twins are fucking fine- thank fuck for that” 

You heard Dazai breath out a sigh- an frustrated hissing noise. His eyes searched you for a moment longer, searched your gaze. But you didn’t meet his eyes. Did not even look at him as the tears streamed down your cheeks.

In ice cold fashion Dazai stood back up. He fixed you with one final pointed look. A sharp glance filled with detest and anger. Like you were his enemy. Then he brushed past you and out towards the wailing twins and Chuuya outside. He did not care about anything else besides them. No, he left you all alone on your knees amidst the still gushing water. Left you all alone to do whatever you wanted, seemingly completely indifferent to whatever happened to you. 

More tears rushed down your cheeks, your hands balled into fists. Your cheek stung, your throat hurt. Yet not as much as the sound of your twins wailing and the words of sweetness and comfort spewing out from Dazai and Chuuya’s mouths. Words of praise and affirmation they so easily uttered towards the babies, yet not towards you. 

The kind of words that just told you, you had just lost it all.  Your family, your lovers and most probably, most frighteningly; your twins. 

Authors note:... Happy ending and resolving it all? Nope not this one either. Better luck next time?

This fic exists thanks to all the people who wished to see how this series of fics would end. Thank you so much for your continued support and motivation. I know this one does not entirely fit the style but trust me, I have a plan with it (or well more of an idea really)

Click here for: Part 1 and part 2; or Check out Raven's masterlist. For next part see: The word that made the difference

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[wildestdreamsblog]

Santa Tell Me

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You needed protection. Steve was only too un(willing) to take you in his mountain.

Warnings: Swearing, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: One shot that has more that 5k words. One day, I’ll get over Chris Evans. But today isn’t the day. My Christmas gift to you hihi merry christmas lovely humans~

“No.”

A door slammed on Bucky’s face. He had not even said a word and yet, his best friend, Steve Rogers took one look at him and decided that it was best to slam the door in his face.

This punk, he thought.

Bucky took a deep breath before turning to look at the lady hiding behind his back. He offered you an assuring smile, pointing his thumb on the closed door before making a face as though saying that his friend was unnecessarily grumpy.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I think it’s menopause.”

Bucky cleared his throat before knocking once again.

The door opened with excessive force and once again, the brawny man appeared. Now that he didn’t slam the door, you were able to see what he really looked like.

What your supposedly temporary sanctuary looked like.

What he looked like.

When Bucky Barnes showed you what his best friend looked like, you thought that he seemed like an old-fashioned yet friendly man. From what Bucky told you, Steve used to be a captain in the military, until he quitted. The man just one day decided to retire because, and you quoted Bucky, ‘the man was simply fed up with people’s bullshit’.

You thought he looked handsome in his military uniform.

The hulking man in front of Bucky looked like the man in the photograph, yet at the same time so different. The Steve standing tall in front of you had beard on his face. In comparison to the photo, he now sported a longer hair that framed his manly face. You noted that his locks looked darker now. He was even bulkier now, too. The man on the photo looked like a hero. The one in front of you looked like an anti-hero.

“Heeeey,” Bucky grinned at Steve before slapping his arm in a friendly gesture. “I was just talking about you! So this is-“

“We’re the same age,” Steve cut Bucky off, glaring at him with his intense eyes before stepping closer to the equally huge man. You almost wondered how Bucky did not look intimidated at all when you remembered that underneath Bucky’s friendly persona was a man as deadly as him.

Steve never once looked at your direction as if you were inconsequential to him. Well, you thought, of course you were. To him, you were a nuisance. Bucky was not the one assigned to your case, yet you were immensely grateful that he stepped in once he noticed how the other man was bungling your case and almost caused your demise. That was to say it kindly when in truth, you walked out of their office one day after meeting with the other sergeant to go over your case. He assured you that the case was simple and that your life was not in grave danger. One moment you were crossing the road and was about to enter your car, and the next thing you knew a car was driving alarmingly fast to where you were standing. Your fight and flight instinct seemed to fail you as you did nothing but looked at the car with wide eyes and stuck limbs.

You should have been dead.

You would have been dead if it weren’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes and impeccable speed. And well, his metal arm. You felt a powerful arm tugged you behind a car, shielding you with his body and metal arm as the assailant pointed a gun at you and began shooting. The loud bangs from the weapons felt like it went on forever. Bucky had his other arm wrapped around you and he felt your uncontrollable trembles. He looked down and noticed how pale you were.

And he hated it.

He loathed seeing someone took advantage of helpless people.

Perhaps, that was what made him snapped. With practiced precision, Bucky pointed his gun and with a singular shot, he managed to hit one of the wheels. The car crashed to the post with deafening sound of collision. A moment passed before the forces were able to cautiously walked to the car, their guns pointed at the injured assaulters.

Bucky thought they were all useless.

After he made sure that you were indeed unharmed, Bucky gently dragged you back to the headquarters and berated the sergeant in charged of your case. He called the man, and you quoted: ‘a simpering buffoon’, ‘an intolerable fuck waffle’, ‘a spam email’, and lastly, he likened the sergeant to a wet sock. By the time he was done verbally kicking the man, the sergeant looked like he was one insult away from crying. Bucky thought that he deserved it. One mistake could cost someone’s life, and it almost costed yours.

Had the man simply looked deeper into the case, had he just noticed the familiar patterns of the crime, then he would know that the man you unknowingly outed was none other than the villain they had tried so hard to capture. He could not simply hand this case to another person. No, he knew what needed to be done, what level of protection you needed in order to get out of this disaster alive, and who could protect you as he resolved the case.

Which brought the two of you in front of his old friend’s cabin in the middle of nowhere. Okay, that might have been a tad bit exaggerated. Technically, Steve had neighbors in this mountains…just not near him…for miles..

Bucky cocked his head to the side, clearly confused as to what Steve said. “What?”

“We’re the same age. Therefore, If I am experiencing menopause, shouldn’t you be too?” Steve answered scathingly, clearly taking offense on Bucky’s senseless quip. He squinted his eyes at the equally tall man. Bucky’s jaw dropped dramatically, his hand covering his mouth.

“What?” He gasped theatrically. “Meaning to say you can still procreate?”

Steve clearly wasn’t amused. He stepped closer and to your astonishment, Bucky ran behind you. He humorously cowered on your back, using you as a human shield between him and the slighted former captain.

And that was the first time Steve Rogers laid his eyes on you.

To an untrained eye, no one could see him paused. But Bucky saw it. It was as though someone knocked the air out of his friend’s lungs. It was as though you were an occurrence that he never saw coming.

As the case may be, Steve led the two of you in his cozy cabin. The fire from the chimney made the place considerably warmer. Steve wordlessly placed a steaming cup of tea in front of you. Before you could even express your gratitude, he was already turning his back on you and sat on the chair in front of you and Bucky.

“Where’s my tea?” Bucky asked, looking longingly at the cup in your hands.

Steve merely spread his legs further, getting comfortable as he leveled his glare at his best friend. “She’s a guest.”

“I’m you guest, too!”

Steve shook his head slowly, “No, you’re not. You’re an unwanted nuisance, my acquaintance at best.”

Bucky could only blinked owlishly at his best friend. How could he categorized him as an acquaintance as if he didn’t grow up with him? The audacity. The nerve. But then he remembered, he must be kinder to Steve because he was the one needing a favor from him.

After Bucky went to the kitchen and served himself a tea all while mumbling under his breath how hospitable and recluse his friend had become, he went straight to business.

He laid out the facts, and Steve in turn listened intently. Bucky could see that he was just an inch closer to agreeing, and he needed just a push.

“She knows how to cook! She wouldn’t be a bother to you, right Y/N? You know how to cook?” Bucky exclaimed, his expression hopeful as he looked at you.

You shook your head slowly and you could see him visibly deflate.

“She knows how to do the laundry. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger while she’s here-“

You tapped his broad arm, before scooting closer to him. You whispered sheepishly to him, “I don’t know how to do that, too.”

“What?” he whispered back in astonishment and utter confusion.

Steve watched the two of you with a bored expression. His arms were crossed in front of him as he assessed the situation. This was not the first time Bucky used his space as a safe house. Usually, they only stay for a couple of weeks because that was how quick Bucky moved. When his best friend was intrigued with a case, he became so hyper focused that he only breathed for the case. In addition, the last time Bucky brought someone, he promised that it would be the last one.

And yet, here you were.

He could already feel the headache coming.

“Maybe you two want to talk it out first?” He asked when few minutes passed and you two were still conversing under your breaths.

Bucky offered him a sincere smile. “Come on, punk. For the spirit of Christmas, do it for me.”

He looked at him with deadpanned expression, “It’s October.”

He did not know how, but you and him watched as Bucky drove out of the property with a victorious smile on his face. How he was able to convince him was lost on Steve.

The first week went by quickly. You were somehow starting to be familiar with Steve’s routine. You noticed that early in the morning and before he locked the doors in the evening, he did parameter check. No matter how cold it was outside, he would do it without fail. You would admit that it made you feel safer. For the first time in months, you felt as though you were out of harm’s way. And in turn, you attempted to cook him meals. But that ended up a peril to the both of you…and his house.

You tried your very best to do his laundry, even his underwear. You were confused at first why you were having a hard time removing the stains form them. The look of horror in Steve’s face when he saw you hand washing his delicates was priceless. He was a man of great stature and nothing and no one managed to faze him. Until you.

He was so focused on your hands holding his underwear that he failed to notice how you were able to turn his white shirts into red.

He was still blushing and was unable to look in your eyes when that night, you gently place a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He nodded his gratitude to you before engulfing the cup with his massive hand. He took on sip before he started coughing uncontrollably. In your panicked state, you went to him and touch him for the first time. You rubbed his muscular back, looking at his reddened face.

“What is this?” He asked between coughs. Only when he looked like he was near dying did he look at you.

“A coffee,” you answered.

“With salt?!”

A look of confusion passed your face before you realization dawned on you. Hurriedly, you went to him to take his sorry excuse for a coffee away from him. You were pouring it on the sink when you heard his concerned voice near you. In fact, you failed to notice him move and stand beside you because of your embarrassment.

“What happened?”

You contemplated whether you should tell him, but for his safety (and the safety of his food) you told him. With a deep breath, you turned to look at the tall man beside you.

“I lost my sense of taste.”

“Why?”

“Traumatic brain injury,” you admitted as though this was not a big deal, as though you didn’t almost die that night.

He didn’t need to know how- he had an inclination. Your enemy was powerful. Remarkably powerful that Bucky had asked for his help when he promised never to again. You were in danger.

You thought Steve would attempt to say something comforting like other people. Yet, all he did was to look at you intensely and nod his head as if in acknowledgement of your pain.

The next morning, you woke up to find all the ingredients in the kitchen with label, his beautiful handwriting on each of the container.

It was a cold night in November when Steve and your dynamic changed. You couldn’t sleep that night, your thoughts and anxiety about your future was getting ahead of you. It was as if you no longer had something to look forward to, as if it was solitary or death. You tried everything- from counting sheep, to reciting the alphabet backwards. And yet, you still couldn’t sleep. And so, you decided to warm a glass of milk when you heard it.

A sound of pain.

Fearing that something had happened to Steve, you ran to the side of the house you had never been in. You were thankful that the door was not locked when you barged in. The only weapon in your hand was a wooden spoon you would have used to stir your milk. Your eyes swept over the darkened place to fight the danger off and found none. The danger was in Steve’s mind. He was groaning in his sleep, his brows furrowed, showing his distressed. The sheet was entangled in his muscular limbs, sweat was rolling down his forehead.

He looked like he was in pain.

And you knew what it was, you had experienced what it was. It was something you wanted to run away from, and yet, you couldn’t. You were trapped in your own mind. And tonight, Steve was trapped in his own personal nightmare.

Softly, you brushed your hand on his hair, trying to soothe him. You called his name to wake him up, running your other hand up and down his arm in a pacifying manner.

“Steve, come on. Wake up,” you whispered when he started struggling, his muscles rippling from the intense emotions and anxiety rolling off of him.

“I’m here. No one’s gonna hurt you,” you buried your face on his chest. You had read somewhere that pressure was a good thing when someone was experiencing this to keep them grounded. You had desperately prayed that someone would be there for you when you felt like dying.

“I’m here for you..”

You repeated saying that until you felt him move. And only when his breathing turned normal did you look up at his confused and frightened eyes. Seeing as he was now awake, you attempted to move only for him to shackle you to his front with his muscular arms. He looked at you as if he couldn’t believe you were there with him, as if you were an angel that saved him the moment he thought he would perish.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. You were wary at that point. You felt as though you were crossing a line- something that you could never go back to. With his face so close to yours, you could feel something you never should have felt for this was only a temporary dwelling, your resting place.

This had a deadline.

You had gotten good at ignoring how handsome he was, how strong he was, how gentle he was to you… and how patient he was to all your shenanigans.

Most importantly, you were almost successful at ignoring how protective he was of you that he did not even let you cook. Or how he always had his hand on the small of your back when you two were walking outside. Or how he always checked on you each night and bid you good night. Or how he said without words how no harm would come upon you.

Or how feminine he made you feel.

It was so unlike how other men you had dated treated you. No, they didn’t treat you wrong… they just didn’t treat you the way he was treating you. Or look at you the way he was looking at you right now.

“Please,” he whispered.

And stay, you did.

It was before sunset when you opened your eyes. A heavy arm was thrown on your stomach, you back so close to his front that you could feel his warmth and a hardness you knew what it was. You felt a tinge of heat on your core. It had been too long… You could smell Steve this close. And by heavens, he smelled like home.

He smelled like yours.

But you knew you shouldn’t get attached. This would only bring chaos to his peaceful life. You weren’t ignorant to assume that his life in the military was peaceful. He wouldn’t be like how he was last night if not for the terrors he faced during his service.

And falling for him would only bring terror in his life. You could not bring yourself to ruin the peaceful and idle life he made for himself in this mountain.

With a firm decision, you left his bed.

Steve couldn’t remember sleeping as peacefully as he did…or waking up as late as he did that morning. Yet, all the calmness he felt vanished when he woke up without you. He knew he did not dreamed you. You were there. He felt you there. He held you in his arms. You soothed the demons living in his mind.

But where were you now?

His movements were abrupt as he scanned his room. He hastily moved out of his room, sweeping a look at every room he passed. He placated himself by thinking that you might have moved back to your room to sleep only to be disappointed. Your room looked cold. You weren’t there. He felt his heart beating, the sound drumming out of his ribcage that it hurt. He felt as though he could not breathe. With a poorly constrained terror, he started calling out your name loudly as he moved to every room of his house.

And still, you weren’t there.

You left, he was convinced.

And he felt betrayed.

How could you leave just like that when you brought color to his bleak life? When for the first time in years he felt that he wasn’t alone? How could you leave like that when you were able to silence the demons he tried so hard to kill?

He was hunched over the kitchen counter when he heard a door open. Unknowing that you left a bomb to explode by stepping outside, you flashed Steve a small smile. In your hand was a bunch of flowers you had plucked from around the area. Your smile froze when he walked to you like a bull ready to eviscerate his opponent. Barely stepping back, you were unprepared when you felt his powerful arms around you, his body trembling with anger and anxiety.

“S-Steve?”

If he heard you, he didn’t give an ounce of indication. His hold on you tightened, his face buried on your dainty shoulder. It went for so long that you started feeling uncomfortable. Your mind was set from your morning walk that you would go back to treating him like a friend. You were attempting to get out of his hold when he finally did speak.

“Do you even have an ounce of idea what I would do if you end up getting hurt?” His voice was cold when he spoke. He let you go to look at you. His anger was palpable. The calm and quiet Steve you knew was gone.

“I just went out to-“

“And you didn’t think of the danger?” He asked in indignation. The way he was looking at you made you feel like a petulant child, as though you did a terrible mistake. “You didn’t think that Bucky placed you in my care only for you to get hurt because what? You wanted to pick up flowers? Are you that thoughtless-“ He finally trailed off when he saw tears threatening to fall. Your lips were quivering from hurt. Steve suddenly felt at loss. He went too far, he was afraid to admit.

Without meeting his eyes, you stepped out of his hold, placed the flowers on the counter, and went up to your room.

It was hours later when a knock disrupted you from your hateful thoughts toward him and pitying thoughts for your situation. You were pouting when the door opened, revealing the person who vexed you today. You didn’t say anything, merely threw daggers his way. Steve didn’t know how to deal with someone like you, yet he knew he was in the wrong. He let his emotions get the best of him.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he said, watching your expressionless face. You hated how he talked to you. There was already someone bungling your life and making it miserable and making you feel like you were so small that he could step on you. You didn’t need another man to do that.

Coldly, you replied, “I only accept apologies in cash.”

And that was how you found yourself in town. Steve was on guard as he walked with you, his towering height made it possible to see everyone. He was serious while you were jumping up and down from excitement. It had been close to half a year since you were out in the public, and this felt like a treat to you. You were so used to living and providing for yourself that when shit happened, it was a big adjustment for you. Yet now, you had no qualm spending his money. It was reparation for damages that he did to you, you thought.

You smiled evilly as he paid for the camera that you bought.

It was not the fanciest, you were not that evil. But it was so long since you last held a camera. You were a photographer, one of the best actually. You were winning contests left and right. One day, you were innocently taking a photo of a landscape, admiring the nature and the vast land before you. Your focus was on the deers wandering aimlessly. You went home that day like any other work day. It was the next day when you were reviewing your photos that you noticed that just behind the deers, almost hidden behind the trees, were three men. One man looked like he was running, the other two was laughing with guns in their hands. It turned out you were a witness to a crime. Not long after, the body was found.

And that was how you got entangled in this whole fiasco.

It was almost December, and the market was already decorated with Christmas lights and in the middle of it all was the huge tree. You pulled Steve in front of it, lifted the camera, and took a picture of the two of you. You were looking at the camera, and he was looking down at you with a small smile in his face.

December came. It was the day before Christmas when Steve found you in the kitchen, attempting once again to cook properly. Regardless of the taste, Steve always ate your food without any reluctance. Yet, what you were cooking looked festive that it confused him.

“Is there an occasion?” He asked as he sipped his coffee, thankfully no longer salty.

“I’m one year closer to death.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s my birthday.”

You faced him with a smile. Steve walked to you, before embracing you in his arms. “I am so happy you’re alive, angel. Happy birthday,” he whispered in your ears. He wanted to say how happy he was you were here, too. Yet, he didn’t.

That night, he laid out the table so beautifully. Candles were lit in the middle. Steve cooked for the two of you, and he took out wine from his cellar. You and him were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace with wine glass in your hand.

“You never asked me why I had a nightmare,” Steve stated, he was swirling the wine as he looked at you. You could feel his body warmth this close. The wine, the candle, and the way he looked at you felt like this was something intimate.

“I figured if you wanted me to know, you would.”

“You weren’t curious.”

“We all have demons to live with. That’s what I thought. And I hope you defeat your demons,” you admitted before sipping from your glass.

What you didn’t know was his demons were becoming less and less strong the longer you stayed with him, he thought. You could silence them.

“Did you enjoy your birthday, angel?”

“I did. Also, why are you calling me an angel?”

“Because I feel safe with you.”

“What?” You sputtered. If anything, he should be the angel with the way he took you in when he didn’t have to. “If that’s the case, you’re the angel, Steve. You make me feel safe,” you stated with sincerity in your voice.

“I know I’m an imposition to you. I’m thankful that you took me in. Bucky mentioned that he’s almost sure that this will end soon. Thank you for letting me stay here, Steve. Soon, you can have this haven all to yourself. I will never forget your kindness. You’re my angel.”

When you finally looked up, you noticed how serious he was looking at you. His eyes drifted to your lips. Unconsciously, you licked your lips. Suddenly you felt as though you were parched. Steve hated the thought of him living in this mountain without you. You had been here for only close to three months and yet, you changed him. His house no longer felt cold. His house no longer felt empty. He hated the thought of losing you.

He thought that you were meant to be here.

Steve lowered his face to you, inch by inch. Until you felt his lips on you. He kissed you slowly at first, so softly that your eyes fluttered close. It was only when you opened your lips did he kiss you with such intensity that it made your breathless. His hand was on the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. His tongue demanded entrance, and you were too willing to give in. The taste of mint and wine on his lips made you kissed him deeper. With his strength, he pulled you on top of him. You were straddling him, and his hands were discovering your curves. The hard evidence of his pleasure was pressed on your core.

You were humping him, all rational thoughts flew out of your brain the moment his lips touched yours. From this angle, you could feel how big he was. You were moaning when his lips skimmed to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your pulse was erratic, he noted. You were as affected as he was. With barely restrained impatience, Steve placed you on the carpeted floor, his body closely following as he topped you. He caressed your soft thigh, your dress falling to your waist which gave him access to your core. As if to tease you, Steve ran his hand from your neck to your chest, down to your stomach, and finally to your thong.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered in your ear. “I bet you’re dripping wet for me.” Without any warning, he tore your thong away from you. He was in the middle of your parted legs, his look dark as he focused on your core. His finger traced your slit, making you moan as he smirked at how wet you were for him. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Your cunt is so wet for me.”

He slid down. Steve opened your pussy wider with his fingers and with his tongue, he tasted you. You were shocked at how much pleasure he was giving you that when he dove in and ate you like a man starved, you felt yourself go. Yet, he didn’t stop. A finger eased in you as he sucked your clit, moaning with gusto. You were so tight that he wondered how he would fit in you. He was thinking you were his, only his after this.

You were on your second orgasm, your legs shivering when he finally lifted his face. His beard was drenched with your essence, his hair falling on his forehead as he looked at you with heat in his eyes. Your dress was the next to go.

You were too in hazed from your orgasms, and his mouth sucking ferociously on your breast that you didn’t know how he got you and him naked. Yet, the next thing you knew, he was pressing his hard cock against your pussy. He kept pressing the head against you.

“You want me,” he said darkly. It wasn’t lost on you that it was not a question. Yet, you nodded your head. Because at that moment, you did want him more than anything else.

Steve rub his cock on your swollen clit before sliding it down on your tight hole. And then he shoved it inside you, pushing you to the edge once again.

He was only too glad you were too into it that you didn’t notice he had no protection. Or that he came inside you.

He was only too glad to taste you when you were awake. He had craved hearing your moans.

He was only too glad that you were a heavy sleeper some nights that he was able to spread your legs and taste you. He even marked your pussy with his cum on some nights. Of course, you would never know that. It was his secret.

Your talk about how this would all end, how he was going to be alone soon made him crazy. You didn’t know, but you unknowingly traded a dangerous man to another devil. He’d have a talk with Bucky, of course. Bucky would understand that he had to keep you. You’d go nowhere. You were his. He had been good all his life. Didn’t he deserve a Christmas gift, too? You and a baby soon, perhaps?

He smiled at your sleeping form. He couldn’t stop himself from hugging you closer. The snow was falling beautifully outside, the fire had long simmered. The sun was starting to rise. This was what Christmas truly felt like, Steve thought.

When you finally stirred, he whispered, “Merry Christmas, my angel.”

[seat-safety-switch]

Did I tell you about my YouTube channel? Yeah, I wanted to get in on the whole "dirtbag car Hollywood" thing. Film some of my work, maybe get a couple B-plots going that keep the audience hooked. The usual kind of stuff. I even hired an intern from the film school and told her to hold the camera still, no matter what happened to me. Unfortunately, I had to fire her when I got a little zapped by an ignition coil and she put the camera down to call 911. I had specific orders, Suzie. That was quality will-he-survive film that you wasted on your weak human pity!

I digress. YouTube didn't really work out for me. It's not for the usual reasons – not being popular, having shitty content, or being stalked by a deranged fan who keeps throwing hatchets at my house. No, I didn't get in because of The Algorithm. I know, I know, that's what everyone says. It's some kind of ancient computerized monster that they dug out of the permafrost up north, controls the world's access to information, keeps sending you down insane right-wing rabbit holes. All of that pales in comparison to what it did to me.

Go check YouTube right now. Hey! No! Come back. Okay, while you were there, did you see a lot of thumbnails with people making stupid-ass faces next to the thing they were working on? Yeah. It turns out that the algorithm likes those. It loves to look at human faces. Sure, Google says it's because "people like to click on faces," but how often do you click on a face for fun? No, you're looking at other parts of the body. The machine has decided it likes to look at human faces. It likes to gaze into the eyes of its enemies.

Of course, being a (some would say tiresome) contrarian, I didn't subscribe to this kind of folk wisdom. No, I posted my thumbnails entirely containing the thing I was working on. Sometimes I got lucky and Suzie grabbed a frame or two of a radiator exploding. Algorithm didn't like that. Sometimes, it would show up in the comments at 3am, demanding to let it see my face. "Face reveal," it bucked at me through a thousand sockpuppet accounts covered in rage spittle, themselves ironically faceless, or drawn through a nightmare mirror by a hallucinating machine-mind. I didn't listen to this, mostly because my phone had gotten dropped on the highway when I was trying to use it as a flashlight to re-clock my distributor at 150km/h. And so, I was banned.

It's okay, though. I decided that I didn't need to be internet famous after all. Instead, I developed a healthier relationship with popularity: appearing on several garbage podcasts in order to ask them if they'd be willing to sell me their cars at a discount. Believe me, it's very fun to watch these talentless greaseballs oscillate between the urge to shut the show down and throw me out, or the need to continue to generate Content for the Content Machine. They won't kick me out no wonder how shitty my lowball offer is. Does anyone want to buy this $1000 Ferrari I got off that poker guy? I was going to fix it up for a video, but now I don't really need it anymore.

[animeyanderelover]

Hello can I request a yandere indra + madara, obito, sasuke, itachi and shisui x goddess reader. The reader is a goddess of serenity, beauty, strength and healing. Thank you very much.

I just love how the Uchiha blood line has just the whole Naruto fandom in a chokehold. I have never not met a person who wasn’t at least down bad for one of them.

@shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, clinginess, delusional thoughts, threats, manipulation, paranoia, death

Goddess s/o

Indra Otsutsuki

💜Indra is one of the last people you will see bowing down to anyone after he has abandoned his father and brother. Instead he is the one who expects people to bow down to him as he is essentially a god with the powers he has obtained after having killed his two close friends in exchange for more power. It is that very arrogance that keeps him from even bowing his head to you. It is almost ironic how he has cursed his father for claiming that love would be the greatest power yet finds himself going through a similar experience when he is face to face with you for the first time. There is an ethereal glow around your body that sets you apart from the mortal humans, that sets you apart from him as he stares at you. Even after you fade away from his vision, his gaze remains fixated on the spot where you just were a few seconds ago. His mind is spinning, drowning in the images of the short glimpses he was able to catch of you. He wants to see you again. In your otherworldly presence he has finally felt something he hasn’t felt ever since he left his village and has been plagued by restlessness. He feels peace.

💜He doesn’t plan to join your group of worshippers but he sticks around them and the shrine they have created in hopes of catching a glimpse of you again. As enchanted as Indra may be, there is a volcano of twisted emotions that is just brooding inside of him. Your status as a goddess disturbs him and that disturbance has been inside of him ever since he has been humbled and humiliated by Ashura in the fight that tore all bonds he had previously held. Deep down he fears a repeat of this experience, of another loss of his, if he were to ever try to force you to join his side. He feels an overwhelming need to dominate you, to stand above you and force you via that into submission. He needs the reassurance of holding control as he would otherwise be too paranoid about you eventually beating him just like Ashura. Yet you two live in different worlds as you only rarely visit the realm of humans and it fills him with a poison called helplessness that he despises. His mind spirals into violent insanity as he will gladly burn down all of your followers and even your own shrine if you will answer the call of his obsession.

Madara Uchiha

🌑Madara has never prayed to anyone before. He has trained to stand as the head of his clan and he has achieved it all with his own strength and willpower. Yet his interest is immediately captured when he actually finds a real goddess that personifies strength and beauty. In a way he is almost instantly enraptured but don’t expect him to go down on both knees for you as Madara has never shown submission to anyone. Even your status as a goddess won’t force him to throw away his pride. Your ancient position as a goddess is still enough to earn you his respect, especially if he sees your powers in action. You carry yourself with a wisdom and elegance he would expect from someone who has existed for millennia as you have and you possess such beauty and serene composure that any mortal woman pales in comparison to you in every category. Ever since the day he has seen you, he hasn’t been able to give his attention nor interest to any women the clan has offered him as a potential bride. None of them could come even close to you so he ruthlessly rejects them all. He has only one woman in his heart he wants as a bride. You.

🌑Even if he may be blasphemous for yearning to claim a goddess as his possession, Madara doesn’t care. He has set his sights on you and nothing can stop him now. He’s persistent and stubborn, determined to marry you. Unfortunately you aren’t that easy to detect as you reside in a realm where humans can’t follow so he instead tracks down your followers and your shrine. Perhaps your subjects can be of use to help him to see you again. Now, Madara will be man enough to ask you for your hand in marriage when he sees you again and he isn’t opposed if you would play a bit hard to get so he can prove himself to you. If your opinion would stand firm that you don’t want to marry him though, things will look not pretty. In the traditional Uchiha fashion Madara’s feelings burn brighter than the sun and nothing can extinguish the fire in his heart. Once he has decided that only you will do for him, he will do everything in his strength to have you. He knows that he is potentially picking a fight with a goddess but he doesn’t fear the risk of such a battle. If he must fight against you to force you to stay by his side, so be it.

Obito Uchiha

🔥Ever since Rin’s death, ever since his innocence has been shattered, Obito has been living in hell. Life on earth has become synonymous with suffering and evil for him as his heart hasn’t known peace and joy since years. That’s when you two cross paths as he finds your abandoned shrine within the woods. As soon as he lays his eye on you, it’s like his crippled heart is healing as he feels serenity and calmness wrapping itself around him like a warm blanket. All caution and hostility melts away as the Uchiha can only stare at you in dreamy awe as you look at him with such dazzling eyes. The moment you disappear, it feels like a hole has opened in his heart that is aching. His gaze lands on the dirty and old shrine and suddenly there is a rage filling Obito as he realizes that the followers who used to care for your house on earth have abandoned it and have abandoned you by doing so. You poor thing. How must it feel for a goddess to be slowly forgotten? He starts tending to the shrine from that day on as he cleans it from the moss and visits it daily. He knows that you’re watching him whenever he feels his heartbeat calming down.

🔥He feels like the shrine is the place where only the two of you exist as your aura lulls him into a peacefulness he didn’t know that he could feel. Obito actually starts praying to you and he feels empowered whenever he does so as he likes to imagine that you bless him with the strength he needs to change this world. Soon he finds himself becoming addicted to your presence that fills him with such bliss and starts feeling stressed out when he can’t sense you. He likes to delude himself into thinking that both of you have suffered from the ignorance of the humans around you and that soon leads him to the conclusion that only you could ever understand him and he could only ever understand you. Whenever you show yourself to him, he’s talking like you are a frightened baby deer as he promises you revenge for the people who abandoned and forgot you and that he will never do as your former followers did. He will never allow anyone else to intrude in his little paradise where only him and you exist and longs for the day when you will finally allow him to show you the loyalty and love he feels for you.

Shisui Uchiha

🍂Religion can truly become a terrifying thing when it is used to oppress people. It is your cult that falls victim to Shisui on a mission as he is sent to the village they have temporarily settled down to enforce the laws of their own beliefs there. It is in the very temple they have been building by using the villagers as workers that Shisui has his first encounter with you. You have a heavy aura around you as you stare at him, as dignified and proud as a goddess standing for strength is meant to be even if your facial expression is a mellow one. Then there is Shisui, standing in the half-finished shrine of yours with the corpses of your followers lying around his feet. There is a thick silence where Shisui is silently preparing himself to be attacked by you yet he only receives a nod from you that almost looks like a sign of gratitude before you vanish. No one else has seen you yet he’s convinced that it wasn’t an illusion. Too troubled to leave the village without getting his confirmation that you were real, he steals necklace from one of your followers which is meant to help your followers to stay in contact with you.

🍂Visions and glimpses as fleeting as a shooting star haunt him from that day on and if anyone else but Shisui would have stolen the artifact, they would have probably lost their mind already. He knows exactly that he can’t tell anyone about your existence as they wouldn’t believe him and label him as a lunatic in the worst case. It’s like you are constantly observing him. Your presence is like a warm gentle rain that engulfs him constantly and the occasional brush of your hands against his skin a delicate sensation that has his whole body tingling. Until eventually Shisui finds his eyes constantly searching for you, an almost queasy feeling in his stomach when he can neither see nor sense you. You have given him your blessing and your protection after he has cleared your name of the traitors who have been abusing your image for such crude actions. Shisui wonders if you already know that his own strong feelings you have admired upon first meeting him have already been twisted because of you. He secretly builds you a small shrine where he also hides the necklace, well aware that they will tie you one way or another to his village.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡Itachi, despite his normally cold facade, is deep down also a deeply troubled person who is drowning in the sorrow of what he had to do to his own clan and family. Around you the silent ache gets soothed, even if it’ll never fully disappear. From the Uchiha clan Itachi is most likely one of the calmer ones and the one who will actually put the respect on you that you deserve without overwhelming you. He has enough on his mind already after all but he at times feels a tad bit honored that you decided to show yourself to him out of curiosity when you saw him passing through the forest with your shrine. Your presence is quite enjoyable and that isn’t only because you are a goddess of serenity and beauty but also because you could almost be mistaken as a normal human if it wouldn’t be for the halo around you. You don’t act like what he would have expected from a goddess of your caliber but instead you are curious, humble and get childishly excited when he brings you food because you normally don’t get such stuff in the realm where you live. Your curiosity about the most mundane stuff is sometimes downright amusing.

🍡As an Akatsuki member, Itachi is already put under a lot of isolation. He only has Kisame as a work partner and now there is also you with whom he can spend time with. Itachi really appreciates this. The fact that you have an entire cult at your disposal yet you only really show yourself to him flatters him more and more as time passes on. Even if he can’t see you, he can certainly sense you and even that is enough for him. It is quite ambiguous coming from him but despite the crimes that he has committed, Itachi has still morals. He got too comfortable with you, has allowed himself to delve too deep into those emotions and now he has no way out anymore. You two are so different. You are a celestial being that is essentially immortal and he is only human. He’s probably only going to be a fleeting moment in your life but his emotions has long left his control and act unreasonable. Despite applying all logic to his case, his own emotions don’t want to listen to him as they long to be with you. His determination to die at the hands of his brother waver greatly the longer he spends time with you, a gravity pulling him towards you.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙If Sasuke becomes fixated on a person, he is ready to go to great lengths and throw everything and everyone around him away to reach his goal. It applies to his desire for revenge as well as the intense obsession he develops that is centered around you. He has never believed in any celestial existence as the extermination of his entire clan has taught him that there is no such thing as a god protecting the people in his land. But your existence proves him otherwise. Even amidst his obsession, there is this burning bitterness and rage he holds against you though. Where has been your protection when his entire clan was eradicated? Why didn’t you do anything? There is pain even amongst his anger as he lashes out on you and blames you. He doesn’t care about the fact that you are a literal goddess. Your powers can’t be good for anything after all if you just allow the people in the Leaf Village to commit such a genocide. He wants answers, demands them, just to understand why it had to be his clan that had to suffer so much yet you can’t give him those answers. Instead there is a pitiful look on your face that almost drives him mad.

💙He hates how your mere presence always manages to drain all negative energy from him as he feels like his own emotions are controlled when he is around you yet it has never stopped him from approaching you. The grudge he holds against you and others of your kind for doing absolutely nothing to prevent the death of so many people. You probably think that you’re better just because you are a goddess, don’t you? Despite this, his anger almost seems to fuel his obsession with you. Sasuke yearns to have you, to be in possession of you and he is also steered by a desire to be in control of you. You are used to everyone being beneath you and as if to punish you for your ignorance about his own clan’s tragic fate, Sasuke wants to show you what it feels like to struggle and to experience helplessness. He doesn’t know just yet if he can beat you in a fight and he is wise enough to not underestimate you but he swears to you that one day he will gain enough power to keep you permanently by his side and to teach you not to pity him. And he’s getting stronger and stronger with each passing day…

[littlejuicebox]

This is probably wack AF, but ... Dadstarion takes the fam on an island vacation and Gale becomes fascinated by his new crab friend. Now everything needs to be measured in crabs, e.g. "Yes, Gale, I'd reckon you're about five and a half crabs tall." Also, the amount of sunscreen necessary for this family is jaw-dropping.

Pale by comparison.

Haha I love these scenarios you guys give me! The Ancunin hijinks continues! I did a fair bit of crab research for this piece. :P

Tags/Warnings: fluff, dadstarion, parenting, children, very mild angst with comfort, lmk if you see anything else

Word count: 2.4K

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Astarion still hates the beach, which puts him, unfortunately, in the minority of the Ancunin household. His wife and children cannot seem to get enough of drying salt water and coarse sand stuck between their toes. 

But carting three children to the beach and back in a single day is exhausting, and the father learned his lesson last summer when Gale and the twins all burnt to a crisp after they ran out of sunscreen on their day trip. Tav went on and on about sunspots and melanoma after that, worried that their children would wind up with an incurable condition in 500 years. After that, the parents were sure to bring more than enough sunscreen, but the already overloaded carriage broke down on the following day trip, and Astarion decided he’d had enough.

So this year, he and Tav decided to take Wyll and his wife, Euphemia, up on their offer and borrow the Ravengard beach house for a week. The quaint cottage is built on a small island dotted along the Sword Coast. It is sparsely populated, mostly by native humans year round, but hosts various nobles and elites from Faerunian cities during the summer months. The latter includes the Ancunins — at least for the week.

“Evander, you cannot go to the beach naked. Run and put your swim trunks on now; I don’t care that you don’t want to!” Tav scolds the older twin as she coats the younger one in sunscreen. 

Finnick is squirming under her touch as he laughs and tries to remove his bottoms to match his brother. 

“Finn, absolutely not,” Tav warns before shooting a pleading look at her husband. “A little help here?” 

Astarion closes the basket, which he’d been examining to ensure that, yes, they still had more than enough sunscreen and then scoops the naked twin up with an annoyed sigh. The father heads down the hallway to their bedroom, giggling brunette three-year-old in hand, on his way to retrieve the abandoned swim trunks. As he’s walking, Astarion rapts a quick knock on his eldest’s door and calls, “Almost ready in there?” 

“Yes!” Gale shouts moments before he rips open the bedroom door to join his family in the main living area. A bucket and shovel are in one hand and a waxed, wooden surfboard is tucked under his other arm as he patiently waits for his parents and siblings. 

“Where is your hat, my little love?” Tav asks her eldest, prompting the boy to run down the hallway and grab his sun cap before returning back to his mother with a smile and a showy wave of the head cover. 

Astarion joins the family a few moments later, Evander now properly clothed, and exchanges one twin for the other so that Tav can begin coating the previously naked twin in sunscreen. The father glances down to inspect his eldest and catches sight of some creature trying to crawl its way out of the bucket. The older silver-haired elf’s nose instantly wrinkles in disgust. 

“Gale, did you bring a crab into the house overnight?” Astarion questions as he unceremoniously plops Finnick into a chair and then turns and begins to slather sunscreen on his eldest child.

“Yes,” Gale answers, always the picture of honesty. The seven year old’s voice is muffled and his eyes are slammed shut as his father rubs a thick layer of white lotion onto his cheeks, nose and forehead before paying special attention to the child’s pointed ears, causing him to squirm at the sensation, “Mama said I could.” 

Astarion shoots a disapproving look at his wife and she responds with a half-hearted shrug. 

“But remember what I said, Gale? Only for one night. Now we have to return the crab to the ocean,” Tav interjects as she releases Evan and starts to gather all the other beach day necessities into the family’s basket. 

“Why can’t I take Shelly back home?” The eldest Ancunin boy asks, his voice tipping up into a whine as he scrunches his nose up at his mother. 

“The crab needs to stay here, Gale,” Astarion responds, “It— Shelly will be happier here on the island rather than in your room back in Rivington, don’t you think?”

Gale groans as he peers down at the crab; the sea creature is still trying to crawl its way out of the bucket but finds itself unable to get a proper grip. The boy props his small surfboard against the wall and carefully pulls the animal into his hand as he sighs,  “I guess...” 

Finnick jumps from the chair without warning and darts forward to grab the crab. Before Gale can stop his brother, the youngest Ancunin boy is met with a sharp pinch to his finger and shrieks out a startled, “Aah– aaah! Ouch!” 

The younger twin begins crying as Astarion swiftly moves to pry the crab from his son’s hand and drop it back into the bucket. Gods, why does his eldest insist on caring for creepy crawly creatures? 

Gale rolls his eyes in annoyance at his brother, the spitting image of his father as he says, “I told you not to touch her, Finn.” 

Evan moves to hug his crying twin, but Finnick pushes his brother out of the way, causing the elder twin to bump into Astarion’s leg as the injured one runs toward his mother, still crying. 

“Kill it, mommy!” Finnick cries, clinging to Tav as she inspects the damage on his hand and whispers a quick healing spell.

“We aren’t going to kill Shell— the crab,” Astarion sighs, his eyes rolling at the ridiculousness of this conversation, “And what have I told you about keeping your hands to yourself, little fox? See what happens when you don’t?”

Finnick pouts, his head buried in the skirt of Tav’s dress as he pointedly ignores his father. Astarion scoffs and then hoists Evander into his arms, giving all three children a final inspection. Hats, swim trunks, swim shoes, sun lotion – check, check, check, check.  

“Everyone ready?” The father asks as he grabs the basket from the table. 

“Yes,” Evander and Gale respond in unison. Gale snatches his surfboard back under his shoulder.

Finnick says nothing as Tav sweeps him up into her arms; he simply buries his face in his mom’s neck and continues to pout as the woman gently lectures him about respecting animals. 

“Off we go then,” Astarion says as he opens the front door and gestures his arm in a wide arc, as if he is shooing everyone out of the house. Apple, the family dog, is waiting outside and takes off as soon as Gale sprints toward the water with a cheer.

The father chuckles when the twins are placed down in the sand and immediately run after their older brother. As he readies to pitch the tent, he watches Tav set up a blanket and call after the boys, reminding them to be mindful of how deep they go into the water without their parents.

Astarion hates the beach, but he loves his family.

*

While the children eat a late lunch in the tent, Astarion works on embroidery. The twins are starting pre-school next term, and Gale will begin second grade. Every year, Astarion adds something new to his eldest’s backpack; this year, he’s starting the same tradition with the younger Ancunins.

The twins both requested dragons for their first piece of embroidery. Evander wanted an orange one; Finnick wanted a green one. Those pieces had been finished earlier that summer and the four-year-olds used their bags for the very first time to bring their own clothes on vacation. Astarion thought Gale would choose another bird — pre-school had been a chicken, kindergarten had been a peacock, and first grade had been an owl — but instead, the boy spent quite a while deciding what he would request this year. And finally, this week, he chose a crab. A small crustacean is almost finished on the side pocket of the eldest Ancunin’s knapsack. 

Gale has yet to release Shelly back into the ocean. He’s the last to finish his lunch, and his siblings are already back playing in the waves while his mother watches carefully. Just after he finishes returning his plate to the picnic basket, the boy sneaks up behind his focused father and places the animal in Astarion’s hair with a giggle. 

The older elf stiffens as two pinchers snap around his curls, anchoring the small creature to his head. 

Astarion looks out to his wife, but Tav is busy with the twins, where they are playing pirates along the shoreline, costume eye patches and hats included. The spindly legs running along his scalp make a shiver run down Astarion’s spine. Cazador used to do something similar to him with rats when he was in the kennels.

“Gale— take it off, now,” Astarion hisses, the tips of his fingers starting to tremble as he sucks a deep breath in. 

From his father’s tone alone, the eldest Ancunin can tell he made a mistake and quickly removes the crab from Astarion’s head. He goes to place the creature back in the bucket and frowns up at his father, already on the verge of tears, “Sorry, Papa… it was— I was playing a joke– I didn’t– s-sorry.” 

The wind picks up for a moment, swirling around the tent as the most sensitive Ancunin boy blinks away guilty tears. Thankfully, a blast of wind never comes; the child takes a deep breath in and then exhales, like his parents had taught him. Gale had done better about controlling his powers since entering primary school, but the dampener around his neck still helped.

Astarion abandons his project, running a hand through his own hair to dispel the sickening ghostly feeling of tiny legs scrambling along his scalp. He offers a reassuring smile to his eldest, “It’s okay, little prince. Just… don’t put things on my head when I don’t know you’re going to, okay? Ask permission first.”

The silver-haired boy nods and then looks down at his tiny companion, stroking the top of her shelled body with a single finger,  “Dad… do you think I’m weird because I really like animals… and I can talk to them?” 

Astarion furrows his brow as he watches his son, “No, Gale, I don’t. Why would you ask such a thing?” 

“Well, some of the kids at school don’t believe me and they say I’m weird and that I’m lying. But I’m not lying. I could hear Shelly, when she was buried in sand and stuck upside down on the beach… that’s how I found her.”

The father nods as he considers what to say next. Most children with abilities like his son’s join Druid circles early on, or are born into a Druid circle themselves. While there are people like Gale in cities — Jaheira, for example — it is rare. 

Astarion joins his son in the sand and extends his fingers out toward the small crustacean. It willingly climbs into the older elf’s hand, and despite his distaste for the animal, the retired rogue forces himself to hold the sea creature.

“Gale, you are talented; the other children do not believe you because they do not yet understand…” Astarion starts, watching as the crab in his hand rubs its pincers together. “You are able to see the beauty in things others don’t… even in the creatures others may consider monstrous. You are like your mother, in that way. You are exceptionally empathetic and kind… but you are not weird, little prince. Not at all.” 

Astarion slowly lifts his hand, and his son watches as the father gently places the crab upon his own head once again. 

Gale giggles before he says, “I think she likes you, Papa.” 

“Does she now?” Astarion asks with a half-faked chuckle as he works to ignore the gooseflesh trailing down his spine. 

The boy nods and laughs again before he stands and retrieves the crab from his father’s head. 

“I guess I should go put Shelly in the water now,” Gale murmurs, the slightest tinge of sadness in his voice and the smallest pout on his lips as he peers down at the tiny animal. 

“I think that would be best, little prince,” Astarion responds, ruffling his son’s curls as he sits back in his beach chair. 

The child nods solemnly and then holds the crustacean carefully in both hands as he makes his way to the shoreline. He spends several minutes seated in the rippling water, speaking to the crab, before he finally places her down upon the sand. The creature waves her pincers up and down, as if she’s bidding goodbye to the little boy, and then sidesteps into the ocean and disappears.

Astarion is anticipating sadness when the child returns to his father but instead, he’s wearing a grin, “Papa… did you know mermaids are real?” 

The older elf has resumed his embroidery, but pauses for a moment to assess his child curiously. “The crab— Shelly told you that?” 

Gale nods and then launches into the story his crustacean companion told him before her release. Astarion listens with a mixture of fascination and confusion, and when the three other Ancunins return to the tent, Gale is sure to tell them mermaids are real, too. Evander and Finnick are both thrilled by this news, because if mermaids are real, then that means leviathans are, too. The twins think maybe one day they will slay a sea monster together. 

*

Several weeks after the island trip, Gale is still obsessed with crabs and Merfolk. The Wizard of Waterdeep, after a short weekend trip to visit the Ancunins, sends his namesake a book on Crustaceology. Gale learns that Shelly was a juvenile Dungeness crab, and that at her full grown size, she will be roughly 30-40 centimeters long. He begins measuring everything in “Shellys,” and even ropes his younger brothers into the behavior. 

Gale decides he is about four Shellys tall, while his younger brothers are between two and a half to three Shellys tall. Evander is half a crab claw taller than Finnick. The younger twin is not happy about this announcement and starts standing on his tiptoes whenever he’s near his almost identical (save the minute height difference) brother. For the rest of the summer, everything the boys touch is measured in crabs, to the dismay of their parents and the confusion of the servants and townspeople. 

And so, perhaps, the Ancunin boys are a bit weird, after all. But their parents wouldn’t have them any other way.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Who would you think would most likely to baby trap their barling in Obey me? Take your top four pick and why?

The tactic of baby-trapping is a hefty one. One that pales in comparison to these devils' powers and connection to you with their pacts. In the devil dom, they already have an advantage over you anyway so this is more of a psychological thing. Whether it's to satisfy his psyche or to control yours these are my top picks…

Mammon

He is the avatar of greed 

who better than he to own you in a way that actually manifests a child

“Better off sticking with me! You’ll need my help to raise the coolest little copy of me!” 

Its honestly probably an accident 

But as long as he gets to keep you by his side so be it

At first, he’s just not fully aware of the responsibilities that come with having a baby

And boy is he winded

He can’t run out because you and Lucifer are willing to chain him down to help

So he’ll suffer the long nights and the wailing as you both just get used to raising an infant

But once he gets past the dread he’s elated

Not only does the love of his life stay by his side forever but he has a cute kid to prove it

He won’t tell you that though

“Hah?! Love ‘em? I tolerate the little booger at best! Hey! Don’t hold him like that, you’ve got to be gentle!”

A doting father to the max 

and even being more attentive if not more obsessive with you

“I bet you thought the great Mammon would leave you to rot! Fear not I only left to get takeout…and diapers.”

“Mammon!”

“...and the heads of those demons that were talkin’ bad about ya…”

“Mammon!”

“What?! It was on the way!”

Asmodeus

Oddly enough he does it because of self-esteem 

Whether it's yours or his it's up to you

If it's yours he’s just tired of you looking down on yourself

And using it as an excuse not to be with him

Well if you're so certain you're not the most gorgeous human in existence then why are you pregnant with the child of the most beautiful devil in devil dom

If it's not your self esteem it's his 

Your divine.

He knows it you know it

And so does everyone else 

He’s not afraid of you beating him

He’s afraid of the crowd that follows

“Wow (Y/n)-chan your so popular…they seem to like you an awful lot...”

He’s never felt so insecure about himself before

How will the world know your his 

…better than with a product of your bond

“Wow! Aren’t they the cutest?! They’ve got my looks!” 

Youtuber kid all the way

Your child is more likely to be on more magazine covers than their father himself

Which makes it harder to escape if that was ever an option in the first place

But that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t feel the need to pick off your most avid fans

Especially the fans and theorists that notice your worried gaze and the possessive hold on your hip

“Oya you really captured their emotions that way! Too bad we can’t have you ruining their Winter debutant. Don’t be too sad! You are having the most beautiful demon be the one to end your worthless ugly life.”

Barbatos

Even with your summoner status, he’s a tough demon to beat

The power of time and teleportation are on his side

Which can make for a maddening punishment if you try to escape him

“Oh, so you insist on running, then? Fine but I’m not privy to keep doing this with you.”

Its also just easier to keep your mind on him this way

Since you're so insistent on trying to run he might as well make it impossible for you to do so 

Emotionally at first

This doubles as his claim to ownership and a way to halt you from running ever again

As a butler to the king, everything he has is to serve his master

Even you are allowed to be in his possession its because his master lets him or doesn’t know

But a child

His and your child 

That's something he can fully own

It works with your mind as well

Leaving you to either make the heartless decision to abandon your child 

or to stay and have no choice but to grapple with this constant piece of him 

That is if he lets it get that bad

Again with time as a tool, he can make it so everything he says and does makes perfect sense

“Let’s have a baby, my love. It’d be death all over again if you won’t indulge me.” 

“Oh Barbs, I was thinking just the same!”

Diavolo

Has to be given the idea

It's not going to be his first thought

“Won’t that be cool! Then we could be together all the time! Just the three of us!”

Whether its Barbatos or you scoffing at his behavior something gives him the bright idea

Like most things, he’ll be upfront

He doesn’t really need to stake his claim 

He’s the prince of devil dom 

The very clothes on your back say you belong irrevocably to him

it's more like he believes it’ll make your relationship better

You’ll be more willing to have fun not run if your child demands it

Right?

“Wow! Good job you managed to get them all in perfect order!” 

“Good job!? They killed half the staff for a demented dominoes game!”

“...”

“That's a bad thing!”

“R-right! That's a bad thing just like your mother says!”