#dietary restrictions moment

[pvmpkinzz]

i'm a like a dog if a dog could not eat fuckin ANYTHING

[radioconstructed]

⌖ ALRIGHT, I NEED TO SHARE THIS CULINARY ATROCITY WITH YOU ALL!

⌖ I LOVE MEN because ONLY A MAN would make a PEANUT BUTTER & JELLY SANDWICH using RICE CAKES instead of BREAD! BOY, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS! HAHA!

[fortune-maiden]

We have gone from restaurant staff assuming I’m underage to restaurant staff assuming I’m vegan

Welp.

I really wonder how old do I look to restaurant staff that they never assume I’m drinking

(they are correct but it’s still nice to be asked ;w;)

[sommerbueckers]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐞𝐝

___________________________________________________________

✰ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟐𝐤

✰ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭...𝐰𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

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EVERYTHING WAS EXACTLY HOW it was supposed to be. All the guests had arrived on time and were clad in an array of pastel colors, the menu had been carefully crafted to cater to everyone's dietary restrictions, and the weather was forecasted to be warm and sunny throughout the entirety of the day. You should've been ecstatic, and yet you could hardly breathe.

You sat hunched over in a chair, a worn bucket positioned in front of you in case you needed to vomit. Tears welled in your eyes, on the verge of spilling down your cheeks and ruining your meticulously applied makeup. The prospect of falling ill just moments before walking down the aisle was a dreadful scenario, yet you couldn't compose yourself. You clutched your hand to your chest, your face contorting in a painful grimace.

"I can't do this..." you mumbled, more so to yourself than to the other women in the room, your bridesmaids, "I can't do it."

Your best friend, and maid of honor, had been at your side since the moment you started feeling sick. Her hand hadn't left your back, soothingly rubbing up and down as she barked orders at everyone. It was always like her to take charge and ensure things remained intact when you started to crumble, it was the reason you two worked so well together. It was the reason you could trust her to put you back together whilst you sat still and helpless.

"Somebody get Paige," she said aloud.

"No!" you cried, looking frantically at her, "No, no I don't want her to see me like this, she can't."

"Honey," she wore a look of sympathy as she spoke to you, "you gotta breathe. I'm gonna leave and she's gonna come in here, you're gonna be fine."

You could only nod in response. Morgan had always been adept at reassuring you, persuading you that everything was fine even when it felt like your world was unraveling. As the room gradually emptied, leaving just the two of you, you finally gave in to the tears, allowing the warm droplets to slowly trickle down your face.

Morgan held you tightly, her own eyes pricking with tears at the sight of her best friend in shambles.

You felt frustrated with yourself. Today was meant to be the happiest day of your life; after seven years of dreaming about it, you and Paige were finally getting married. It was the start of a new chapter you had eagerly anticipated. Yet here you were, on the verge of ruining everything because you couldn't manage your emotions. Why couldn't you just get a grip? Why couldn't you just focus on everything good that was to come instead of everything that could go wrong?

What if this doesn't work out?

What if she falls out of love?

What if she feels like you're trapping her?

Paige could hear your sobs through the door, and her own nerves rose at the mere sound of it. She hadn't been told why you were crying, all she knew was that you had refused to leave the room multiple times. Her hands shook as she grabbed the doorknob, twisting it open to reveal you and Morgan sitting in the corner. She could've sworn she felt her heart break in that moment, she had never seen you this pained.

Morgan stood to her feet, placing a kiss to your temple before approaching Paige at the door.

"What happened?" Paige whispered with furrowed brows, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Morgan and you.

"I have no clue," she shook her head, "she said she couldn't breathe and then she just broke down...I don't know what to do Paige." It was the first time in her entire life that Morgan had no idea how to calm you down, she was beginning to panic as well.

"I got it," Paige reassured her, watching her leave and then shutting the door after her.

As she carefully approached you, she could hear you mumbling frenziedly into your hands. Your bouquet was on the ground beside you, a combination of pink and white hibiscuses all tied together with a blush colored bow. The two of you had gone out to pick them yourselves, Paige wanted them to be just right for you. They were perfect, everything was perfect, why were you crying?

"'M'sorry," you sobbed, "'m'so sorry."

She comfortingly wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer to her.

"What happened baby? Tell me what's wrong," she whispered.

"I can't do it," you repeated for the second time that day.

"Can't do what?" she frowned. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, to assume that by 'I can't do it' you meant marrying her. She couldn't lose you, she wouldn't.

"What if...if this is a mistake?" you panted, avoiding her eyes as she fought to catch yours. "What if later on you meet somebody else or you realize that i'm not enough for you?"

It was then that she realized this wasn't about you at all, it was about her. You were scared that she was getting cold feet, that she was having second thoughts, that her mind wasn't made up. She held you closer to her, kissing the top of your head as her own tears began to fall. She wondered if it had been something she had done to convince you that she wasn't all about you, that she wouldn't pick you in a room full of every other woman in the world.

She pulled away from you to get a better look at your face, holding either side of your face with her hands. "Stop talking like that, stop. That shit is never gonna happen and I know that for a fact. I can sit up here right now and tell you that falling out of love with you is several levels above impossible."

You blinked out more tears, staring silently at her as she professed her undying love for you.

"I am so in love with you it scares me. Every day that I wake up and can't be with you because i'm away for basketball or i'm out with some friends or anything else, all I do is think about you. And even when i'm with you, i'm still thinking about you. I can't even keep my hands off of you, like i'd need to be physically restrained for that to happen. You make me wanna do things i've never done before like jump out of a plane or swim in that little ass cage with the sharks around it because all I wanna do it impress you. I want you to stare at me with those big brown eyes and tell me how much you love me, and I wanna record your laugh so I can listen to it on repeat whenever you're not around.

I want you to force me to watch romcom movies that you've seen a thousand times and are only watching again because you want me to see them. I wanna come home really late at night and find you sleeping on the couch in my clothes because you missed me, and then in the morning I want you to tell me how you tried to stay up to see me when I came home. I'm planning to take you to all the countries that you've dreamed about visiting and just haven't had the time yet. I'm gonna be front row at your med school graduation with a huge poster of your face that blocks everyone behind me from seeing you. I wanna go back and forth with you over what to name our first kid, and I wanna combine all of our money so we can build an obnoxiously big house.

I swear to God, and I never swear to him so that's how you know I'm being so serious, I'll be damned if I spend my life with anyone other than you. Nobody else is worth my time. All I need is you baby, that's fucking it."

You and Paige were bawling together, both of your makeup needing desperately to be redone. It would push the wedding back for sure, but that didn't matter now, Paige loved you.

You pulled her in for a kiss, ignoring the way both of your tears were mixing together. She wouldn't touch anything other than your arms, not wanting to ruin your dress.

"I love you. I'm not leaving this spot until you understand that," Paige said firmly.

You nodded your head, swallowing the lump in your throat that had begun to shrink since the moment Paige stepped in here.

"I understand it."

"Do you still wanna do this?"

You shook your head, watching intently as Paige let out a sigh but nodded nonetheless.

"I'm kidding! Fuck, let's fucking do this!"

Paige playfully pushed your shoulder, narrowing her eyes as she stood up. "I'm gonna go grab that fancy makeup lady and tell her to get you right, and then i'm telling Morgan to work her magic and impress everybody with one of her weird talents to buy us time," she explained quickly, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes! I'm fine, now go and fix the mess I made," you laughed.

She placed another quick peck on your lips, hurrying out of the room and leaving you alone with your thoughts again. This time however, they were a thousand times more collected than before. You laughed at yourself, you were silly to second guess Paige's love for you. She had never, not once, given you a reason to. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your face was a wreck and it'd take a miracle to hide the swelling of your eyes. But again, none of that mattered.

Paige loved you.

___________________________________________________________

[thebirdsandthebats]

Tim’s family thinks he can cook really well.

He didn’t mean for this to go so far. It had been a misunderstanding by a well-meaning Dick the last time he was in Gotham and stopped by the boat to visit. Tim had reheated some leftovers in his fridge from the night before, and Dick’s eyes lit up the moment Tim set the plates down.

“Wow, that looks amazing,” he’d commented. Tim, exhausted from a long patrol and preoccupied with dread of having to wake up early, had merely agreed. Of course Bernard’s cooking looked amazing. He was almost as big on presentation as he was on flavor.

“Yeah. Tastes even better.”

What he didn’t realize was that Dick had assumed he made the food. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if not for the fact that Dick loved to brag on his siblings. The next week, Stephanie stopped by unannounced to visit.

“I can’t believe how much you like it here. In a good way, obviously,” she’d grinned while Tim heated up some of the french onion soup that his boyfriend had made him. Tim laughed as he used a terry cloth to handle the hot bowl, placing it down in front of Steph.

He sat next to her with his own bowl. The random visits were odd. But on the bright side, the need to be a good host was kind of forcing him to eat on a more normal schedule. Two birds, one stone he guessed.

“Yeah. I like the marina a lot,” he blew lightly on his spoonful, the soup still steaming hot. “The atmosphere is so different from anywhere I’ve lived. I think being around the marina folk has been good for me—”

“Ohmygod.”

Tim looked over, startled by the outburst. Steph was staring at her soup with wide eyes. Her hand covered her mouth. Tim’s brows drew close together in confusion. “Are you okay? Did you burn your tongue?”

Steph grabbed his shoulder in a firm grip. “You’ve been holding out on us!” She accused.

“Wh—”

“You’ve been sticking to easy foods when you cook at the manor, but here you have the good stuff!” Tim frowned at her words. The realization was beginning to sink in. Did she think he made the soup? He knew how to cook, but he was nowhere near his boyfriend’s level. Bernard was literally in school to be a chef. He liked to practice his assignments at Tim’s boat, suffering through using his poor excuse for a kitchen all so he could leave Tim with the food when it was finished.

Tim opened his mouth to break the news to Steph, but their phones rang out with the high pitched drone that meant someone needed backup. Stephanie sighed. She lifted the bowl and downed all she could in a few swallows before leaping to her feet. “Job never ends, huh?” She offered Tim a hand up, and he took it without hesitation.

“Nope. Let’s suit up.”

After that night, Tim forgot to correct her. He was busy, and his family getting the wrong idea about his cooking abilities just didn’t make the top of his priority list. Bernard kept cooking when he spent nights over, and family kept dropping by on other nights, somehow never crossing paths. Tim’s neighbors seemed perplexed on how he’d gone from only ever letting his boyfriend in to having company every other night. And Tim just…couldn’t find the right moment to set the record straight.

Everything came to a head in the summer, not too long after Tim’s birthday. He was sprawled out on his couch, head resting in Bernard’s lap as the blonde’s fingers scratched lightly at his scalp. It was the lazy kind of day they didn’t often get to spend together, and Tim was feeling warm and drowsy. That was, until his phone dinged with several text notifications, and he dug it out with a grumble to see who needed him.

stop spamming the gc

Dick: it’s august .. here we go

Steph: birthday month babey!!

Duke: my wallet…

Cass: Dami, Jason, Steph, and Duke all get the bday cake in their contact names :)

Steph: Tim I know you’re lurking. for the birthday month we all want you to bring GOOD FOOD TO THE FUNCTION PLS AND TY

Damian: do not forget my dietary restrictions if you do so.

Steph: you text like you’re 84

Tim groaned and let his phone clatter to the floor. Bernard’s fingers paused in his hair. “Bad news?” He asked, concern painting his voice.

Tim shook his head and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Not really. It’s just—um. You know how you always leave food here for me?” He tilted his head back to look Bernard in the face, and his breath caught for a moment when he saw that his boyfriend was already looking down at him.

He snickered at Tim’s expression. “Yeah? Do you need more?” He asked. Tim was baffled by the question. His fridge hadn’t been empty in ages, and even with his frequent guests, Bernard made such large portions that it took him days to finish a dish. He had more than enough.

“No, it isn’t that. My family…” he hesitated, wondering how dumb this was going to sound. But Bernard was waiting, watching him expectantly, and these days he’d started filling in the gaps himself whenever Tim’s words trailed off thoughtfully. If he didn’t finish speaking quickly, Bernard would have an entirely new problem invented.

“…um, they think I can cook.”

Bernard burst out laughing.

Tim’s face burned pink. “Wh—hey,” he complained at the reaction. “I know how to cook, why are you laughing?”

Bernard wiped the corner of his eye, giggling like a maniac. “Sorry, sorry! You said that like you were coming out to me, and also I’ve seen you sauté,” he managed, and Tim rolled his eyes at the memory. He had sautéed just fine…mostly.

When Bernard was finished laughing at him and had caught his breath again, Tim explained his situation and showed him the texts. He raised an eyebrow. “Jeez. Four August birthdays? And they expect you to cook for all of them?”

Tim sighed. “Yeah. I could just tell them they’ve got the wrong guy, but now it’s birthday month and we’ve gotta plan quick.” It was actually a very rare occurrence that they got together for every birthday in August. Their schedules were so unpredictable. But all 4 was the goal.

Bernard chewed his lip in consideration. “Okay. What if…you give me a list of each of their favorite foods and any restrictions, and I’ll make the food.” He proposed. Tim sat up, turning to face the blonde fully now.

That was way too much work for somebody already cooking for assignments. Plus, Tim didn’t want to pretend he was the one cooking anymore. He said as much to Bernard, who refused to look fazed.

“First off, I can cook 4 meals in my free time. Easy. And second off, I guess you’ll just have to bring me with you to clear up any misunderstandings,” he grinned.

Tim perked up instantly. That was…a perfect solution, actually. Everything would be cleared up, he wouldn’t have to show up without what was expected of him, and the best part, he’d get to bring Bernard with him. He’d been itching to start working his boyfriend into more of his family’s meetups because it was looking like their relationship was pretty serious. He wanted to be able to bring him to their holidays, parties, and dinners. This was a perfect opportunity to start.

He leaned in and kissed Bernard’s cheek. It would never cease to amuse him how a real kiss on the lips was nothing to his boyfriend, but Tim kissing his face always had him turning red.

“Oh.” Bernard touched his face. “You have a crush on me or something?” He teased weakly, and Tim laughed as he settled back down on the couch, his head resting in Bernard’s lap as his fingers found his hair again.

A week later, Tim showed up to the manor with Bernard following close behind, a pan of vegan chili noodles in his arms. Dick opened the door. He beamed once he saw Tim.

“Hey! C’mon, everyone is already inside, so if you brought the food you can…” he trailed off as he finally spotted Bernard behind Tim, who was fighting to keep a straight face. He blinked. “Oh, is this…?”

Bernard carefully balanced the dish in one hand and stretched out the other in greeting. “I’m the chef.” He said with barely contained glee.

The realization seemed to hit Dick all once. His mouth parted in surprise. He glanced back and forth between Tim and Bernard. Finally, he shook his head in disbelief. “You know, this actually makes…so much more sense. Sorry, Tim.”

“Wh—excuse me, what’s that supposed to mean?”

[the-nami07]

Dating Percy Jackson headcanons pt 1

Def steals your hoodies

Istg this man takes all your hoodies

Will get you new hoodies just to wear them

110% teaches you to skate

Will take you to the skate park just to hold you while you learn

Fun fact he LOVES to bake

Will bake you your fav bday treat in your fav color

You have dietary restrictions?

Dw baby, he has the most delicious treat that you’re able to have already in the oven

He teaches you all his baking tricks

You both end up covered in flour by the end

But there are no regrets y'all had a blast

His favorite place to take you on a date is the beach

I mean duh

If you can’t swim that's ok

He’ll teach you

You know that scene from a Christmas story where the mom bundles up the little brother in jackets?

That’s what he does to you but with floaties

He LOVES when you play with his hair

Some of his most peaceful moments are laying his head in your lap with your hands tangled in his hair

He keeps a Polaroid of you in his pocket

Whenever he’s feeling down or misses you he pulls the pic out

His mom adores you

When he first brought you to meet her she gave you a big hug

She teaches you her 7-layer bean dip recipe

You two are 100% “One fell first, the other fell harder”

You being the the one who fell first

This boy is OBSESSED with you

[the bare minimum in my opinion]

Whenever you two are taking a walk he will point things out he thinks will make you smile

A pretty flower, some cute coffee shop, anything

Loves to hug you

He will hug you anytime anywhere

Teaching some younger campers how to shoot a bow?

Hugs

Just standing there?

Hugs

Anyway that’s all for now I’m making part 2! Feel free to request anything! <3

[ips-northstar-official]

Hello pilots!

While we are a best-in-class manufacturer of all things space and mech-related, we would like to take a moment to remind you of our other products:

A robust selection of fruit preserves

Top-rated jerkies—dietary restriction friendly options are available!

Coffee mugs rated for temperatures far in excess of safe human operation. Never worry about the safety of your mug again!

Household appliances—you’ve never experienced true cold unless you’ve used a Northstar robotics mini-fridge. Built specifically to interface with our ships and mechs!

And many more ways that we strive to be the best friend out in the black any pilot could ask for. More questions? Our PR department is always happy to answer!

[starseungs]

lunchtime tea, served by yours truly. ksm.

kim seungmin x fem!reader — getting dragged over to the student council office instead of the cafeteria was far from your lunchtime plans. too bad seungmin seemed to think otherwise.

genre/s — fluff, humor if it counts, historical fantasy, academy au, duke's son!seungmin x marquis' daughter!y/n • 1.3k words

warning/s — petty noble disputes, seungmin implies a nepotism plan (laughs nervously), both of them are in their second to the last year of academy = they're both around 21 !!

note — here's a short fic i whipped up as i finish take a shot ! yes, its inspired by those rofan manhwas with academy arcs/settings. im obsessed with those ngl

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

“Would it really be such a crime to enjoy one peaceful lunch session, Your Grace?”

You sank down with a huff on the smooth velvety sofa propped in the middle of the spacious office room, not paying any mind to the way the door shut with a soft click despite your strong swing to open it earlier. A pair of footsteps other than yours echoed in the space, the flat, heavy heels of the figure’s shoes clacking with strong authority. Yet, you remained unfazed despite the strong aura permeating the enclosure—choosing to stand your ground with a click of a tongue.

Seungmin sighed at the sight of your demeanor. 

“And I believe it would be against academy ordinance for you to call me by that title within the campus premises, Lady Y/N.” He reprimands you with a low drawl before carefully taking a seat at his desk located front and center against a massive glass window, his silhouette strengthening as he leans forward to rest his arms on the desk. You could only whine in mockery at his reply.

“Boo,” you scoffed before crossing your arms and craning your head to stare at him. “Such a stickler for the rules, are you not?”

Seungmin hummed. “I suppose you may be right, but could I also offer you information on my father’s well-being?” He says with a tone implying sweetness, even if you knew otherwise. 

“The Duke is alive and well—yes, I am aware,” you pressed for a smile as innocent as you could manage, enjoying the way Seungmin’s formal facade fell apart slightly before getting gathered up once again. The young Lord cleared his throat before continuing the questionable exchange between the two of you.

“Therefore, we should not be having this conversation in the first place.”

“However, you are the heir to the dukedom, if I recall correctly?”

“Yes, you do.”

You then brought your hands together in a resounding clap at his answer, signifying a remarkable conclusion. “Then it is the same thing.”

Seungmin groaned tiredly at your unbelievable words. “It is clearly not—” he suddenly paused mid-sentence. You watched as his eyes narrowed with an inquisitive glint before he took an obvious intake of air. “I’m getting the slight inkling that you are doing this to raise my temper.”

A prominent laugh bubbled its way out of your throat. “I do find that side of you quite charming, yes.”

“I will pretend to not hear your comment, My Lady,” Seungmin pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to subside his growing stress. “And I would like to inform you belatedly that a peaceful lunch should be the last of your priorities at the moment.”

The involuntary squawk that came out of you voiced your offense. “Well, this is surprising news, as I have not received any notice about a new dietary restriction!”

“It is not—” Seungmin caught himself again. You grinned mischievously at his obvious struggle before collecting yourself when you felt a pointed glare being sent in your direction. He exhaled heavily, “Proceeding with the matter at hand, are you aware of the number of complaints the Theta group has placed upon your name?”

“I do believe there has not been a single soul in this academy who has not,” you hummed in acknowledgement.

“My Lady, forgive me for being rude; however, the answer I was hoping for was to be about how you are planning on addressing this issue.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Then, I plan to do nothing about the issue.”

A small thud was heard from Seungmin’s direction, prompting you to look over to see what had caused such a sound. Low and behold, the sight of the academy’s best student holding his head down towards the polished mahogany desk in defeat—rendering you unsure of what to do next. There had only been a few times in your entire lifetime that you had seen Seungmin completely shatter his dignified demeanor, and you had known the man since you were six. Now you fear that you had actually crossed a line. 

“Y/N,” he raised his head ever so slightly to lock eyes with you, his next order coming out as a plea. “Just explain why you poured a cup of tea over Lady Colette’s head.” 

“Then forgive me as well for my words. However, in my perspective, Theta is nothing but a pathetic excuse for an institutional social group,” you sighed, remembering the events of the tea party yesterday. “I do not know why they still prove to be the most popular social group for ladies when the Zeta group has always been better. Theta are barely anything worth more than a babble of obnoxious noble daughters who prefer to place themselves on a higher pedestal than they deserve. Lady Colette was terrorizing a freshman from a country-side barony. I only did my best to stop her, considering the fact that mere words seemed to hold no interest for her.”

Seungmin raised a brow. “Quite an interesting way of describing them, don’t you think?”

“Well, I did send my apologies before doing so, did I not?” You smiled back as part of your reply, proudly this time. Seungmin could only scoff, albeit greatly amused.

“You have got to stop trying to outsmart me in times like these, Y/N,” he said, standing up. “You of all people should know how much I lack the ability to harbor ill feelings towards you.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow at his surprisingly favorable response. For holding the most coveted position of justice available for students in this academy, Seungmin was surely pressing less strongly on your faults. Perhaps it was a good thing that you still made sure to cool the tea before you dumped it on that Marquis’ pompous daughter.

“Playing favorites, are we now, Mr. President?”

Seungmin laughed openly this time. Talk about a change of mood. “I see that you have now chosen to switch to a different formality, yet again,” he mused on his way towards your figure on the couch. “See, you wouldn’t have this much trouble with other noble ladies if you just joined the student council.”

“Here you go again with your offer,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You of all people should know exactly why I cannot take a position in the council, Seungmin.”

“In my opinion, it would be seen as a reasonable training ground for the future Duchess.”

“You just like the way I do paperwork!” You expressed disbelief at his plan’s implication. “And high society might as well burn me into ashes, thinking that I take advantage of my position as your betrothed.”

Seungmin sighed dreamily, completely disregarding your latter comment. “I do love the way you do your paperwork. Such a perfect pair to my work ethic,” he says, sitting comfortably beside you with a relaxed exhale. “Yes, I genuinely do not see what is so wrong about the offer.”

“Seungmin,” you scowled at him. “Do you wish to put a stain on your reputation?”

“Oh, look at you scolding me as if we had already stated our vows,” Seungmin pinched your cheek in a tease. You attempted to push his hand away, only for him to grab it and intertwine your fingers, leaving you breathless as he placed a feathery kiss on your knuckles. “My dearest fiancee, I do not care what others may think of me. If I am able to, I will give anything you ask for without a silver of hesitation.” He gazed directly at your eyes, pupils swimming with unknown desire.

“My Duchess only deserves the best, after all.”

You pursed your lip at his intimate actions, feeling your stomach do crazed flips at his undivided attention. “It is quite concerning how biased you seem to be when it comes to this matter, Mr. President,” you gave in, letting yourself fall on his broad shoulder. “What have I even done to warrant your unyielding obsession with me?”

Seungmin’s chest rumbled in delight, the lull comforting your mind glazed over with his presence.

“Exist. Now, what do you think of becoming Vice President next year?”

“Serve me tea first, and I'll think about it.”

mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

How would you feel about dipper with a s/o that turns out to be a vampire?? At first he just sees them as a little odd since he only sees them around at night and they never eat the snacks he brings them to share, but sooner or later he figures it out!

A/N: I like this so much it’s so cute. I could see Dipper being so into like the paranormal / weird-shitness, that his s/o is either apart of it or just as into it as he is

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Dipper Pines has always been drawn to the unusual, so when he starts dating you, he notices a few quirks right away. You’re always available to hang out in the evening, but you’re nowhere to be found during the day. He chalks it up to you being a night owl—after all, he’s stayed up late plenty of times himself. He also notices that you never seem to eat the snacks he brings along for your little adventures. Whether it’s candy, chips, or even your favorite drink, you always politely decline, offering a vague excuse like, “I’m just not that hungry.”

At first, Dipper doesn’t think much of it. Maybe you have some dietary restrictions, or you just don’t like eating in front of people. But as time goes on, he starts to wonder if there’s something more to it. He’s used to being around strange creatures and supernatural events, so the idea that something might be a little off isn’t entirely foreign to him. Still, he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, especially because he really likes you and doesn’t want to scare you off with his overactive imagination.

One night, while you’re both out exploring the woods around the Mystery Shack, he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat. As the moonlight filters through the trees, it catches your eyes at just the right angle, and for a split second, they flash a deep, unnatural red. He blinks, thinking it’s a trick of the light, but then it happens again, and suddenly everything starts to click into place.

His mind races as he recalls all the little details—your aversion to daylight, your refusal to eat, the way you seem to glide rather than walk when you move quickly. He remembers the stories he’s read, the legends about creatures of the night who hide in plain sight. The realization hits him like a ton of bricks: you’re a vampire.

Dipper’s initial reaction is a mix of excitement and nervousness. He’s always wanted to uncover the mysteries of the world, and now he’s dating one! But at the same time, he’s a little scared. Vampires are supposed to be dangerous, right? He wonders if you’ve ever been tempted to drink his blood or if you’re hiding more secrets from him.

He decides to confront you, but he’s careful about it. The last thing he wants to do is make you feel like he’s afraid of you. So one night, after you’ve been wandering through the woods for a while, he gently brings it up.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he starts, trying to keep his voice steady.

You glance at him, curious. “Sure, what’s up?”

Dipper hesitates for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Are you… are you a vampire?”

For a moment, there’s silence. You don’t respond right away, and Dipper’s heart pounds in his chest as he wonders if he’s made a huge mistake. But then, you let out a small sigh, and your shoulders relax.

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out,” you admit, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Dipper’s eyes widen in surprise. “So it’s true?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, it is. I’m a vampire. But I promise I’m not like the ones you see in movies. I’m not here to hurt anyone, especially not you.”

He relaxes a little at that, though he’s still processing the revelation. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was worried about how you’d react,” you admit, your voice softening. “I didn’t want to scare you off. You’re… really important to me, Dipper.”

The sincerity in your voice melts away the last of his fears. He’s faced so many strange and terrifying things in Gravity Falls, and yet here you are, a vampire, and all you’ve ever shown him is kindness and affection. It dawns on him that you’ve been trusting him with your secret all along, and that means more to him than anything.

“I’m not scared,” he says, his voice firm. “I mean, okay, I was a little freaked out at first, but I’m not scared of you. You’re still you, and that’s what matters to me.”

Your eyes soften as you look at him, touched by his words. “Thank you, Dipper. That means a lot.”

Dipper reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “So… does this mean you can turn into a bat? Or like, hypnotize people?”

You laugh, and the sound is music to his ears. “I can do a few cool things, but I promise I’ll never use them on you.”

As the two of you continue your walk, Dipper can’t help but feel a surge of pride. He’s dating a vampire, and not just any vampire—he’s dating you, someone who’s proven time and time again that they care about him. The revelation only deepens his feelings for you, and as the night goes on, he finds himself more in awe of you than ever before.

From that night forward, your relationship becomes even stronger. There are no more secrets between you, and Dipper’s curiosity about your vampire abilities only makes him want to learn more about you. You share stories about your past, about the different places you’ve seen and the things you’ve experienced, and Dipper hangs on every word, fascinated by the world you’ve lived in.

And you, in turn, feel a sense of relief and happiness. Dipper accepts you for who you are, without fear or judgment, and that makes you love him even more. Together, you explore the mysteries of Gravity Falls, your bond growing deeper with each passing night.

[aphroditelovesu]

May I request a yandere alphabet with Daemon Targaryen?

❝ 🐉 — lady l: It was my first time writing a yandere alphabet so I hope it's ok. Forgive me for any mistakes and I hope you like it! ❤️

❝tw: yandere themes, obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, mention of death, punishments and murder.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!daemon targaryen x gender neutral!reader.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Daemon shows his love and affection for his darling through gifts and touches. He's not exactly romantic but he has his moments.

He likes to present you with everything that he finds interesting and that may be of interest to you. It's the most common way for him to show his love, besides touches like a hug, kiss on the forehead or holding your hand.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Very messy. Daemon has no scruples when it comes to his darling. He will make a huge mess, bodies lying on the street, blood staining everything. Daemon will kill, disembowel, and torture anyone for you.

All for you. He will not feel any kind of remorse.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Daemon won't exactly be cruel to you because he cares and loves you in his own way. If he gets to the point where he needs to kidnap you, he will try to be as patient as possible.

But patience is not his strong point, so there may be times when he will be cruel. Yelling at you, squeezing your neck and demanding you stop acting like a spoiled child. It's moments like these that he shows his monstrous side.

He may mock you by imitating your voice as a form of mockery, degrading you further.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Daemon would never force himself on his darling, he would never do something like that. He's a monster, he knows that, but not that kind of monster. He can force you to stay close to him, hugging you and even kissing you hard, but it will never go beyond that.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Daemon doesn't like being vulnerable and hates appearing weak, so he won't show his heart to his darling much.

There are times when he will be softer and a little vulnerable, but nothing that makes him too uncomfortable, except when he is drunk or needy. In these moments, Daemon will grab you and tell you how much he loves you and how much you mean to him.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would find it amusing. Seeing you think you can against him is fun for Daemon. So sweet and so naive. As if you could win against a Targaryen.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Daemon considers it a game in which he knows he will win in the end. You are the prize he will win at any cost.

He will love watching you try to escape him. Seeing your efforts go in vain, the way you get frustrated when he takes you every time. Adorable.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The worst thing you could try to do is cheat on him. Daemon will not accept this at all and when he gets his hands on you, you will regret having crossed him.

He can and will physically hurt you. He won't go to the extreme of torturing you, but Daemon will leave marks on your body to remind you that you should never do something like that again. Dietary restrictions and even beatings are among the things he will do.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Daemon sees himself in a pleasant future with you. With him being King and you at his side, whether as his wife, lover or Hand. He can't see his future without you.

And if he can have children with you, he will.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Daemon feels very jealous. And he's not subtle about it at all. His gaze is hard and anyone can sense the imminent danger that comes with that feeling.

He takes out his jealousy in the worst way: on you or on others. Depending on the situation, Daemon will leave you full of possessive marks or scattered corpses behind.

He has no problem killing anyone who made him jealous. Was that guard very nice to you? He will die. Was that prostitute giving you looks? Her body was found in poor condition.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Daemon likes to take you flying with him in Caraxes, going to bars and parties by his side. Always keeping a close eye on you when you are in public, of course.

He's not afraid or embarrassed to show how he feels about you in public and will deal with anyone who says anything about it afterwards.

Daemon tries to be the most compassionate towards you, he doesn't want you to hate him, so he tries to be kind and caring towards you.

Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Daemon is definitely not subtle about his intentions with you. He will send gifts, touch you in public and stay by your side. He has no problem showing how he feels about you.

He may try a more subtle approach at first but it won't last. He will make his intentions very clear. Daemon doesn't have the patience to woo you properly.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

No. Daemon has always been this way, reckless, violent and cruel and that has never changed. Everyone already knows the prince and Dameon has never tried to hide who he is.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Daemon can be very cruel with his punishments. He can restrict you from certain needs, such as your food to more superficial things. He has no problem taking it from you, after all, he was the one who gave you such privileges.

In more extreme cases, Daemon can physically harm you, even leaving scars on your body. It all depends on how naughty you were.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Daemon will not take away your rights unless he thinks you deserve it. If you are good and obedient, he won't need to do something like that.

But if you're not? Daemon will take everything he can from you. Your family, your friends, your basic rights, everything. Until the only thing you have left is him.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Daemon is not an example of patience but he tries for you. He tries his best to be patient with you because he knows it's necessary, that you're scared.

But Daemon can easily lose his temper if you do something he doesn't like or that bothers him. You will have to walk on eggshells around him.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you died, Daemon would enter a deep state of grief and sadness. He will become more bitter and cruel than ever, anyone could become the target of the pain he feels for losing you. The countless deaths he caused were a result of losing you. He would never be able to get over your death.

If you escaped or left? No, no. Daemon would burn the world down behind you. He would do anything to find you and he would find you. He has a dragon and he knows his brother would support him in this. It's only a matter of time before he has you in his arms again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No. Daemon wouldn't feel guilty about taking you because you're his and there's nothing wrong with taking what's rightfully yours. And he would never let you go, beg and cry all you want, you will never get rid of him.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Daemon isn't sure what brought out this side of him, maybe he was always like this. But what may have been what brought out his obsessive side was the affection, the love you gave him. You saw him and he loved it.

He found himself wanting more and more of this attention, this love, and he wasn't willing to share it with anyone else.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Daemon feels bad seeing you cry because he hates seeing your beautiful face stained by tears, especially if he was the one who caused them. But he won't actually do anything to fix it. But he will comfort you, pull you into a hug and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

He hates it when you yell and if you yell at him, Daemon will put an end to it quickly. Pushing you against a wall and squeezing your throat usually does the trick.

If you try to isolate yourself, he won't let you. You won't stay away from him under any circumstances. You'll have to get used to his presence or things won't end so well for you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Burn alive your enemies and/or people who have harmed you in some way as a form of retaliation. And feed them to his dragon.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Daemon has no apparent weaknesses and he won't even leave them exposed for you to use against him, he's not stupid. But if he trusts you enough, you can use that against him.

Once trust is established, Daemon will be more tolerant of you going out alone, or at the very least with just one guard and not an entire armada, and perhaps letting you wander around his house alone.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes. Daemon doesn't want to hurt you physically, but he will if he sees fit. He will have no problem inflicting pain on you, but don't worry, he will take care of you later.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Daemon would rather be adored than worship but he adores you in his own way. He worships your body, your mind and how sharp you are. These are qualities that he adores in you.

But you will be put on a pedestal once you accept your role in his life.

Oh, he would go to any lengths to win you. He would compete for your attention in jousts, battles, and any other way to get your attention without having to resort to kidnapping. Something he will do if he sees no other alternative.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It doesn't take long for him to snap.

Daemon is not patient and he wants you, so he will have you. He may try to win you the traditional way but since that doesn't give the results he wants, Daemon will bring you to him. He will take you.

Maybe a few weeks at most.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes, but not intentionally.

Daemon doesn't want you to be a puppet, a marionette that he will control. He wants to see a fire in your eyes, he likes it when you fight him and if he breaks you he won't have that anymore.

But he can do it accidentally. And Daemon will try everything to bring you back.

He doesn't like it when you're broken, it's not fun for him.

[austinbutlerslovers]

The Hunt

Label Mature 18+

🔗 Blood Bound Sequel

Summary Invited to a mysterious banquet after being secretly initiated by Austin Butler, you arrive at a grand, secluded manor alongside dozens of other women, all drawn by the promise of a lucrative career.

However, as the night unfolds, the glamour gives way to a darker purpose when you slowly come to the horrifying realization that you and the other women are not merely guests at this lavish banquet —you are the main course.

🚨Depraved Smut 🚨 drugged with aphrodisiac • fed to appease the pallet of a vampire •hunted• bitten•taken by force • held against will•mentally manipulated • vulnerable• mind spell•breast play •breast bitten•blood exchange •orgasm bonding • blood bonding•vampire feeding during orgasm•creampie•forever his 🔗 Masterlist

Special Thanks @thejoywillburnoutthepain 🥵 Mentions of blood 🩸 Mentions of needle for IV 💉

The Hunt

You awaken in your dim apartment, the early morning light barely filtering through the curtains. Everything feels wrong—as though something essential has been drained from your veins. You pull your robe tighter, fingers trembling as you reach for your phone, squinting at the screen seeing a string of missed calls from your agent and a few urgent texts.

You tap to dial him back, your heart a confused mess, torn between the remnants of a surreal dream—were Austin was drinking your blood—and the dawning, realization that it wasn’t a dream at all. The phone rings only once before your agent answers, his voice vibrating with enthusiasm.

“Darling, you were absolutely incredible last night!” He gushes, practically tripping over his words. “I don’t know what you did, but everyone is talking about you. You’ve been personally requested for an exclusive event at the end of the month. I mean, the event, the kind that cements your name. So, listen carefully—no work, no public outings, and absolutely no partying until then. This could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”

His words hang in the air, dreamlike and surreal, as if your agent is talking about someone else. You’re about to question him when he adds as an afterthought, “Oh, and a nurse is on her way to check on you. She’ll be there any minute now.”

“A nurse?” You ask the confusion in your voice warranted, but he’s already hung up, leaving you in a whirlpool of disbelief. You barely have time to process his words before the intercom buzzes, announcing the nurses arrival and with hesitant fingers, you press the button, the beep echoing through your empty apartment as you let her in.

Moments later, the nurse appears at your doorway, her presence chillingly professional. Dressed in severe black from head to toe, her demeanor is as icy as her expression.

Without a word, she unpacks an IV bag with your name labeled on the packaging, hanging it with mechanical precision. “Your arm, please,” she says, her voice devoid of warmth.

You extend it hesitantly, feeling her cold fingers brush against your skin. “What is this for?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly as she aligns the needle with a prominent vein.

“Your hemoglobin nourishment,” she replies, offering no further explanation.

The sharp prick of the needle is more than a sting; it’s an ache that deepens, spreading an unsettling warmth through your arm. You wince but say nothing as the needle settles into place, watching as a crimson liquid flows into your vein with an almost hypnotic steadiness.

While you wait for the IV to finish, she hands you a list of dietary restrictions—foods you are allowed and foods you are to avoid.

Scanning the list, you notice odd details such as no lactose and —“Vegan cheese pizza?” you mutter out loud with a confused look on your face despite yourself.

“These are the requirements for the party,” she replies coldly her face a blank mask.

A chill slips down your spine. “Party of vampires?” You say gaining an understanding of the situation.

For the first time, her icy facade cracks. “Vampires don’t exist,” she says, but there’s a smirk at the edge of her lips, her eyes glinting as though she knows a secret she’ll never tell.

In the weeks that follow you quickly regain your strength feeling better than ever. As you become accustomed to your new found energy Austin’s face seems to haunt every corner of your life, glowing and youthful in every premiere, every Q&A every television interview.

His charisma practically leaps from the screen but theres something unsettling about his expression, something painfully familiar—the way he speaks his words, the light in his eyes, even the way he tilts his head as he laughs, his giddiness and curiosity an exact replica of your own and you realize with sickening clarity he’s taken far more than your blood, he’s captured your very essence.

When the end of the month arrives, a black limousine pulls up outside your building. The driver, silent and stoic, holds the door open for you, offering no answers as you settle in for the long, winding journey. As the city fades away, you’re taken through dense woods, the road winding tighter, the shadows thicker until finally, an immense, sprawling mansion looms on the horizon.

The manor is a striking blend of gothic elegance and timeless luxury. Stone and iron dominate its towering structure, with shadowed turrets reaching skyward toward the glowing full moon.

A beautifully landscaped driveway winds around a grand, illuminated fountain, the water cascading in perfect symmetry, adding an unexpected touch of serenity to the imposing estate.

Sleek black limousines pull up in a steady procession, coming to a stop along the curved driveway at the front of the manor. Drivers in crisp uniforms step out to open the doors, their movement precise and rehearsed.

As you step out, other young women emerge from their own limousines, each one casting bewildered glances at the manor. You recognize some of them—fellow actresses, models, internet celebrities, women you’ve seen on magazine covers, television screens, and countless social media apps. Each one looks as dazed and unsure as you feel.

Women clad in black stand vigil at the entrance of the mansion, their expressions as severe and unyielding as the nurse who first visited you.

Each one steps forward, assigned to their guest. Yours approaches with a sharp, assessing gaze, gesturing for you to follow. Her movements are smooth as she maintains an unwavering silence leading you into the mansion.

Your steps echo through the cavernous entryway, the weight of the place pressing in on you as she leads you down a corridor into a private wing.

Each turn is disorienting, the cold marble floors polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the dim lighting. Dark, arched doorways line the halls, each one closed, each one a mystery.

You feel his presence before you see him—a faint tightening in your chest, a pounding in your veins. Austin is here— his presence a prickling unease slipping beneath your skin as you walk, his essence saturating every inch of your body, pulling at you, drawing you forward.

Your heart races as you reach the end of the corridor where a massive door stands, and you know, just beyond, it he’s waiting.

The woman pushes open the heavy door, and you step into an empty room adorned only by a large, lavishly made bed and a mix of antique decadent furniture of dark wood.

Shadows play in the corners of the room between the draped windows as you inspect each one, thinking you will discover Austin.

Anxiety prickles along your skin as you peer into the grand bathroom, fingers skimming the cold marble of the sink knowing he is here somewhere just out of sight.

The woman, now standing near the door, interrupts your search.

“You have followed your dietary requirements precisely?” She asks her voice steady, her eyes sharp.

“Yes…” you answer, a hint of uncertainty in your tone as you turn back to her, watching as she pulls a strange outfit from the armoire—black leggings, a matching sports top, lightweight zipper jacket, and a pair of tennis shoes.

Confused, you accept the clothing with a question, “Are we exercising?”

The faintest smile flickers across her lips, more unsettling than reassuring.

“Please put on your attire so that I may escort you to the banquet,” she says, her tone quick and precise, offering no further explanation as she turns to leave the room.

A chill settles over you, intensifying when the door thuds shut. The creeping sense of unease thickening, making you question just what you’ve stepped into.

Once you are dressed, the woman enters the room as if she had been waiting just beyond the door.

Her sharp eyes sweep over you, assessing your appearance with an air of cold detachment. Satisfied, she gestures for you to follow her.

The journey through the winding corridors feels like a maze, the dimly lit hallways stretching endlessly.

The ornate surroundings of rich tapestries, heavy curtains, and intricate carvings do little to ease the nervousness growing in your chest.

Finally, she stops before a set of grand double doors, their surfaces carved with an ancient, intricate, almost hypnotic pattern.

She pushes them open with surprising ease, revealing the banquet hall beyond. The golden light spilling out is warm, but it does nothing to soothe the dread pooling in your stomach.

Inside, the banquet hall is filled with the other women, all dressed in identical workout sets. Your stomach twists at the sight, a foreboding knot tightening as you scan the room, the giddiness on some of their faces unsettling in contrast to the dread settling over you.

The only man in the room steps forward in a pristine black suit. He has an authoritative air, his cold gaze sweeping over you all as a bell rings, pulling everyone’s attention to him.

“Please be seated,” he commands, voice devoid of warmth. Some of the women practically bounce with excitement, as if they’re at a themed event, but you can’t shake the gnawing sensation that every move, every breath is being watched.

You take your seat as covered dishes are placed in front of each guest. You can’t hide your surprise as a servant lifts the silver lid to reveal a simple peanut butter jelly sandwich on an ornate plate.

Around the table, other girls find similarly strange items, childish meals of nostalgia on elaborate dishes, and excited whispers start to spread across the room.

The young actress beside you rolls her eyes. “It must his favorite.” She mutters.

“Whose favorite?” you ask, blinking in confusion.

She tilts her head with a look at you that’s almost pitying. “The one you belong to.” She says rhetorically.

The words drop like a stone in your chest, the realization hitting heavy as a dreadful connection forms in your mind.

“Ladies, you may begin eating your meals,” the man in the suit announces —clearly the host of the evening, his gaze sweeps over you all, cold and watchful.

Reluctantly, you eat a few bites of the sand which until your stomach churns and you set it down.

Servants enter through the room, placing goblets beside each guest. The liquid is thick and black, a shimmering swirl of gold catching the dim light.

Giving it an easy look you whisper to the servant as he places it. “What exactly is this?”

The servant merely bows and moves on, ignoring your question entirely.

The host checks his watch, then lifts his hand. “Drink from the goblets entirely,” he says in a tone that garners no defiance. “Then you are to continue with your meal.”

The last thing you want is to drink the mysterious black liquid, but under the sharp, watchful eyes of the host and the female attendants, and the exclusivity of the event, you reluctantly take the goblet to your lips.

The liquid is sweet like honey, coating your throat as you drain the glass.

As soon as you set it down, a warmth begins to spread through you, intensifying with each passing second. Your breath quickens, lips parting as you feel a tingling feeling in your core. Your thighs press together involuntarily, feeling a pulsing ache that refuses to subside in you, as an overwhelming sense of desire floods your body.

“What the hell…” the actress gasps beside you, her voice shaky. She presses her hands to her flushed cheeks, eyes wide in startled excitement.

“Oh my god,” another sighs, leaning back with a blissed-out laugh as her hands glide along the tablecloth. All around you, the women are reacting, some whispering breathlessly, others laughing, touching their own arms, their skin hypersensitive to every touch.

A horrifying realization dawns—you’ve been drugged, and aroused, prepared as prey. Panic grips you as you push back from the table, the lustful haze battling the panicked need to escape.

You’re not the only one; a few other women understand and leave their seats, with terror flashing in their eyes as they scramble for the doors, pulling at them in desperation but the doors are locked tight.

The host watches, a smirk playing on his face as he presses a button. “No need to be in such a hurry ladies,” he says smoothly, and the glass doors along the far wall slide open, revealing the sprawling grounds outside. “The best one to hide will receive a reward beyond her wildest dreams.” He says.

Before the words even fully register, the room erupts with excited screams, the young women spilling out into the night, each one believing they’re part of some elaborate game.

Your heart pounds as you glance at the host one last time, his smile lingering as he watches you. With a shudder, you bolt out with the others, adrenaline flooding your veins.

Outside, the manor has an endless expanse of trees and dense gardens. You sprint, weaving past hedges and statues, your heart racing as you search for cover. The moonlight glows faintly over the grounds as rows of marble statues and manicured flowerbeds appear briefly as you run, disappearing into the shadows with the other women behind you. You push forward, darting between archways and tall hedges, searching desperately for a place to hide.

Spotting a small stone gazebo, you dart inside, pressing yourself against the cold, damp stone as you strain to catch your breath. The night is filled with the sound of footsteps, voices calling, and laughter echoing in the dark.

Suddenly, the crunch of gravel and the rustle of leaves grow louder near you, impossibly close. Your chest heaves as you listen intently, hoping the shadows will conceal you.

You freeze as you hear a girl nearby, her voice high-pitched and excited as she talks to someone. “There you are,” a male voice responds, his tone carrying an unsettling mix of eagerness and satisfaction.

You press yourself harder against the stone, your pulse pounding in your ears as you try to stay silent, your every muscle tense with dread.

Peeking around the corner you freeze in horror as you watch the girl being cornered by a familiar face—Timothee Chalamet, his grin almost playful as he closes in on her, eyes glinting with an unnatural hunger in the moonlight.

She giggles as he grabs her, his mouth descending to her neck, and you’re frozen, watching as he drinks from her. She moans in pleasure her body weakening in his arms as he guides her to the floor, then he turns to another man who appears from the shadows— one of Hollywood’s older stars, an actor you recognize instantly, though his name frustratingly escapes you.

“Isn’t this fun?” Timothee grins at him, wiping his mouth with a satisfied sigh.

The older actor chuckles darkly his voice filled with amusement, “The enhancement makes them taste so much richer. It’s intoxicating—almost impossible to stop once you start.” He reveals.

Timothee laughs a sharp, delighted sound, and the two slip away into the shadows, searching for their next victim.

Your stomach turns, revulsion and terror twisting within you as more screams and laughter split the night, the other girls becoming prey in a twisted hunt.

Frantically, you glance around the gazebo, hands groping along the stone ledges until your fingers close around a piece of jagged iron, part of the gazebo’s old railing. You grip it tightly as desperation flares in your chest realizing this is your only weapon.

Holding your breath, you peek out, eyes darting as shadows flicker between the trees, figures moving with inhuman grace. With trembling hands, you press yourself deeper into the shadows, clutching your makeshift weapon and praying that you’ll find a way out of this nightmare.

When your surrounding quiet you exit the gazebo with trembling steps, heart pounding as you make your way to the girl laying on the cold ground. You kneel beside her, pressing two fingers to her neck. Her pulse is weak but steady, her skin deathly pale, her breaths shallow—she’s alive, but only barely.

You glance around, the sounds of distant laughter and haunting cries echoing through the night in a terrifying symphony. Shadows slip between the trees, vampire silhouettes stalking their remaining prey. You have to move before you’re discovered, but as you rise to your feet, you feel a familiar presence.

A heavy silence settles around you, and your pulse thunders in your ears.

You turn, already knowing who you’ll see.

Austin stands just a few feet away, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. There’s a wildness in him, something dangerous simmering beneath his calm, poised exterior, and yet he doesn’t advance. He watches you, chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths, his gaze intense.

“Austin…please ” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath, the mingling of fear and yearning twisting in your stomach.

His eyes never leave yours as he grins, a flicker of joy in their depths, genuinely excited to see you.

You raise the spike of iron, gripping it tightly to keep him at a distance, but it doesn’t stop him from stepping closer, his movements slow, savoring the moment.

“I told myself I wouldn’t get attached,” he says, his grin slipping, almost painfully. “But you…” He reaches for you and when you lift the iron spike, his eyes softens. “I want you more than anything.”

He gestures for you to drop your weapon, and your hand releases it involuntarily, the iron piece clattering to the dirt as you struggle to maintain control over your own movements.

You can feel his power, a subtle, unbreakable hold, allowing you only the faintest control as he tries to override your will to bend you to his command

“Let me go,” you plead, your voice trembling. “Please! You don’t have to do this, Austin.”

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, as though his mind is too clouded to make the decision clearly.

Then his eyes open, his gaze is sharper, darker and filled with barely restrained hunger.

“Let me taste you ,” he rasps his, voice low and dangerous. “I need to have you again … .” He says stepping closer, his eyes locking onto yours, pulling you into their depths.

“They’ve enhanced you,” he reveals, his voice softening briefly as his eyes lock onto your neck. “Your blood, your essence… it’s perfect now. Perfect for me. It’s like you were made for me.” His tone shifts, the restraint in his voice desperate as he steps even closer. “And I need you more than you could ever understand.”

The weight of his presence fills the space between you, magnetic and terrifying, yet impossible to resist.

Your heart stammers as his words settle over you, your pulse hammering wildly in your veins. “Please just… just let me live,” you whisper, your voice barely audible from the panic rising within.

A smile curves his lips at your willingness, and he closes the distance in an instant, his fingers trailing down to your neck, where your pulse beats frantically.

“My sweetest one,” he whispers, his voice soft and possessive and you’re trapped in his gaze, the world shrinking to just the two of you.

“I could never take your life,” he says softly, his voice laced with a dark promise that makes your breath catch as his mouth descends to your neck.

His breath is warm and intimate against your skin as his teeth graze your pulse point, and then, with a groan of satisfaction, he sinks his fangs in.

A shock of pain mingles with a rush of pleasure that pulses through your entire body.

Your senses are overwhelmed as the sharp sting fades into an intoxicating warmth that spreads through you, a sensation that is both terrifying and thrilling, igniting something deep within you that you can neither resist nor fully understand.

You grip his arms, your nails digging in as you pant, feeling every beat of your heart push against his hold, against the intensity with which he drinks from you.

His moan vibrates against your skin, his hands gripping you tighter as he drinks, each pull making your pulse thrum in your ears with a heightened, feverish ache.

Your eyelids flutter as a euphoric haze settles over you and he draws from you even deeper, his strength growing with your every heartbeat.

He’s becoming too powerful, his moans vibrating against your skin, his bite intense and consuming. It’s overwhelming, and instinctively, you claw at his arms, your body writhing as the need to break free grows.

But he’s relentless, his grip tightening as he drinks deeper, the pull of his hunger making you whimper against him, helpless under the force of his need.

Your head grows light, the night spinning around you in a haze of heat and shadows. The pounding of your heartbeat in your ears begins to slow, muffled and distant, your limbs growing heavy and unresponsive.

You try to speak, to push him away, but the energy to resist has completely diminished, leaving you weightless in his grasp, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Your breaths become shallow, each one a struggle as your vision blurs at the edges, fading into darkness.

—You promised me— is the only thought that lingers in your mind, a faint, desperate echo, as you begin to fall unconscious.

He continues to drink from you, each pull drawing you closer to the brink. Your vision dims, the edges fading into a consuming blackness. Your pulse becomes faint and your body weakens to the point of slipping away.

—I will always keep my promise— he finally transfers in to your mind and as the world falls away his presence anchors you, his words threading through the haze with an almost comforting certainty.

Your body grows limp, the last remnants of strength fading as a strange warmth envelops you, soothing you into an inevitable surrender as your mind fades to black.

Somewhere, deep within the void, a whisper of acceptance rises—silent, unspoken, but clear and you let go, giving in to him, to his promise, to the connection that feels inevitable as the darkness swallows you whole.

Your mind swims in a haze, the darkness giving way to the faintest flicker of light as your consciousness slowly returns.

You realize you are in an ornate bathroom, the air fragrant with hints of vanilla and orange blossom. The sound of water trickling fills your ears, and a warmth surrounds you—comforting, soothing. Your head lolls to the side, and through the blur, you see Austin kneeling beside the large, clawfoot tub you’re submerged in, his hands carefully guiding warm water over your skin.

“You were so cold,” he reveals, his voice low and tender, tinged with something that sounds almost like worry. His gaze is intense, his movements gentle as he brushes damp strands of hair from your face.

Your lips part, but your voice is barely audible. “What… what happened?”

He hesitates, his jaw tightening briefly before his expression softens again. “Your blood was so sweet… so perfect,” he admits, his voice low, almost reverent. “I almost drank too much—almost let you slip away.” His tone is steady but quiet, carrying the weight of his regret. “I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t lose you.” He says with conviction, his eyes locking onto yours ensuring you understand the depth of his promise.

The words tug at your memory, fragments of his voice in your mind, but everything feels fractured, out of reach. You blink up at him, still dazed, the warm water cradling your weak body.

“I feel… heavy,” you whisper, your voice faint, every word an effort.

“Shh,” he soothes, his hands skimming the water as he washes away the remnants of blood from your neck and shoulders. “Don’t try to talk. Just rest. Let me take care of you.”

The heat of the water lulls you further, your mind drifting in and out of focus. You hardly register when he carefully lifts you from the tub, his strong arms cradling you as if you weigh nothing. The cool air brushes your damp skin as he carries you to a chaise lounge draped in dark velvet.

He lays you down gently, his hands precise as he removes the towel wrapped around you. “Stay still,” he murmurs, reaching for a thick, soft blanket. He guides it over you, his touch firm but comforting as he wraps it around your body.

Your gaze flickers toward him, confusion clouding your thoughts. “Why… why are you doing this?” You ask.

He pauses for a moment, his hands lingering at your shoulder where the blanket rests. “Because you’re mine to protect,” he answers, his voice steady, but there’s a depth to it, an emotion he doesn’t fully show.

You watch through half-lidded eyes as he stands and begins to undress, his movements unhurried, deliberate. His shirt falls away, revealing the lean, chiseled planes of his torso. His pants follow, and then he steps into the shower. The sound of water cascading fills the room, and despite the fog in your mind, your gaze lingers on him. The water runs down his perfect form, tracing the contours of his back, his muscles shifting with every movement.

Your breaths are shallow, the weakness in your body anchoring you in place.

“You’re… so beautiful ,” you whisper faintly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He glances over his shoulder, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re delirious, you need rest,” he says gently, his tone amused yet soft.

When he finishes, he dries off quickly, the towel wrapped low on his hips as he steps toward you. Then, without hesitation, he drops it, standing bare and unashamed as he picks you up in his arms once again.

His skin is warm, the faint scent of soap clinging to him as he carries you into the dimly lit bedroom.

The bed is massive, draped in dark silks and accented with ornate carvings. He lays you down gently, adjusting the blanket around you. His movements are precise as he sets up an IV, his fingers deftly working to place the needle in your arm.

You flinch slightly at the prick, your eyes fluttering open fully to meet his. “What are you doing?”

“We need to replenish your blood,” he explains, his voice calm but firm. “This will help you recover your strength.”

Your gaze flickers over him, taking in the softness in his eyes, the way he moves with gentle urgency.

He looks at you, his expression softening. “Rest now” he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I need you stronger.”

The weight of exhaustion pulls at you again, and as your eyes drift shut, his voice lingers, soothing and steady. “You’re safe with me.”

You awaken slowly, the heaviness in your body gone, replaced by a strange sense of strength. As you sit up in the massive bed, the silky sheets slip from your skin and you realize you’re completely naked.

The room is dimly lit, luxurious and unfamiliar, and a sense of disorientation washes over you realizing you have no idea where you are—or even what time it is.

Your eyes fall to a tray covered with an ornate silver cover sitting on the bedside table. Instantly, you reach out and lift the lid to reveal a peanut butter sandwich, a bar of dark chocolate, and a chilled bottle of almond milk.

A famished hunger gnaws at you inside and you waste no time, devouring the sandwich entirely, swallowing the almond milk in quick gulps, and finishing the chocolate bar in a few eager bites. The food satisfies the deep hunger within you, grounding you slightly, though questions still swirl in your mind.

Just as you set the empty bottle back down, a sudden chill prickles at the back of your neck, and you freeze. You sense him before you see him—a shift in the air, making your pulse quicken.

Austin climbs onto the bed behind you, his blue eyes glinting with a predatory edge, and though his expression is calm, there’s an undeniable intensity radiating from him that sends a shiver through

He’s naked, just like you, his presence commanding and intimate, and your heart races at the sight of him.

“You’re awake. That’s good,” he says closing the distance between you. “You’re stronger now. You’ve healed faster than I expected.”

Your breath hitches, and instinctively, you shift back against the headboard, suddenly hyper-aware of your vulnerability.

“Austin…” you whisper, a flicker of fear returning as you see the hunger in his eyes. “You’re going to… you’re going to drink from me again, aren’t you?”

A small, smile touches his lips. “You already know the answer to that,” he replies, his tone calm, almost soothing.

Panic grips you, and you throw off the blanket, attempting to leave the bed. But he moves faster than you can comprehend his arm wrapping around your waist, strong and unyielding as he pulls you back down onto the bed.

You struggle, your hands pushing against his chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps. “Let me go!” you cry, but his voice cuts through the chaos, low and commanding.

“Look at me,” he says, cupping your face and forcing your eyes to meet his. His gaze holds yours, steady and penetrating. “We share blood now,” he says

“I can feel it in you,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, rich and intimate, his eyes never leaving yours. “Your heart races for me, your body answers to me, and you can deny it all you want… but you can’t fight what’s already inside you.” His words wrap around you like a spell, powerful and inescapable, pulling you deeper into his control.

“It binds us completely, stronger than anything you could understand,” he reveals, his voice a dark promise as his fingers trail down the side of your neck, lingering just above your pulse point reminding you of his hunger.

As his words seep into your mind, they lull you into a sense of surrender, the tension in your body loosening against your will.

Your breath slows, your resolve faltering as his presence overtakes your will.

His gaze intensifies watching the shift in you as a slow knowing smile spreads across his lips. His eyes seem to pierce through you, pulling at the deepest, most hidden parts of your mind, leaving you completely exposed for him.

A warmth begins to unfurl in your core, spreading through your body like fire. Your pulse quickens from an undeniable growing arousal that steals your breath and leaves you helpless against him.

A soft, involuntary moan escapes your lips, and his eyes flash with satisfaction, his grip tightening as he pulls you closer.

“There she is,” he rasps, his voice low and reverent, filled with a dark tenderness. “My sweetest one.”

He lifts you effortlessly, guiding you up into his arms before settling you back down, his body pressing intimately against yours as he moves between your legs.

The coldness of his skin against yours is intoxicating, his presence overwhelming as his hands slide along your hips, holding you close.

“You feel it again don’t you?” he whispers his voice a dark mix of tenderness and hunger. “I’ve craved you—every part of you. And now that you’re mine, I’ll never let you go.”

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours, slow and deliberate, claiming you completely. His kiss is deep and unrelenting, sending surges of pleasure racing through your body, his hands grounding you and binding you to him all at once.

His lips trail lower, his kisses grazing the sensitive skin of your neck then your collarbone, before descending to your breast.

His hands slide down, caressing your supple flesh with a slowness that sets every nerve on fire.

He scrapes his fang against your hardened nipple and a gasp escapes you as your back arch’s instinctively. Your hips push up as you whine your body already anticipating what’s next and he eagerly bites down on your breast.

The sharpness of his fangs blends with an overwhelming wave of pleasure, the sensation so arousing it draws a moan from deep within you.

Your hips press upward again, the wetness between your legs sliding against him, driving both of you into a fevered state. His moan vibrates against your skin, his mouth still on your breast as he tastes not just your blood but your growing pleasure.

“My favored one,” he rasps, his voice low and reverent, filled with a dark tenderness as he pulls back slightly.

His tongue teases the small wounds before he brings his lips to yours. “Taste yourself,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with dark satisfaction.

His mouth presses to yours, and the metallic tang of your blood mingles between you, stirring something feral within him.

Your heart pounds as he pulls back, his dark eyes gleaming. “Now that youre mine,” he says, “It’s only fair you taste me too.”

Before you can respond, he tilts his head, exposing his neck. With deliberate slowness, he drags a sharp nail across his skin, releasing a thin line of blood that glistens in the dim light. “Drink,” he commands softly, his voice thick with need.

Your lips meet his neck, your tongue darting out to taste him. The moment his blood touches your tongue, a wave of heat and power floods through you, the sensation so overwhelming that you moan against his skin. “That’s it,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you closer. “Feel it… feel us.”

The intensity rises as he pushes his cock into you, his body perfectly aligned with yours, his thrusts deep and claiming.

His blood surges through you, blending with your own, binding you in a way that feels inescapable, eternal. “You’re everything,” he rasps, his voice rough and thick with emotion. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. There is no one else, nothing else.”

His hands grip your wrists possessively pulling them over your head as his thrusts grow deeper, more passionate. His strength overwhelms you, his cock pushing into you with perfect precision, each thrust sending shockwaves through your core.

His hands tangle in your hair pulling your head back, as a soft cry escapes your lips, and he lowers his mouth to your neck, his fangs grazing your pulse as his voice seeps into your mind. Come for me sweetest one….Give me everything.

His fingers slide down, finding your sensitive clit nestled between your thighs, moving in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. The pressure is unbearable, the sensation so intense that your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving faint marks on his skin.

“Austin!” you gasp, your voice trembling as the coil inside you tightens beyond control. He responds with a groan of satisfaction, his finger pressing into your clit, his thrusts driving deeper, pulling sounds from you that you didn’t know you could make.

Your body tenses as the sensations peak, and together, you both come, his fangs sinking into your neck again as you orgasm , your cries mixing with his groans.

The connection between you burns brighter than anything you’ve ever felt, his blood and yours mingling together, his release and yours merging in a perfect, primal harmony.

His mouth moves against your neck, savoring the taste of your blood as his fingers continue to work their magic on your clit, drawing your pleasure higher and higher creating more sweet blood for him to drink.

Your body begins to weaken, the intensity of his bite and the pleasure merging into something that leaves you lightheaded and disoriented. Just as you feel yourself slipping too far, his fangs retract, and he pulls back with a gasp, his lips red with your blood. He tilts your jaw up with his hand as his tongue tenderly licks over the marks on your neck, soothing the faint sting.

“So perfect,” he praises, his voice filled with satisfaction and restraint. His eyes meet yours, heavy with a mix of desire and control. “I could have taken more… but I won’t. Not until your stronger.” He reveals and kisses your neck softly, his breath warm against your skin.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, his lips tenderly brush your neck, his voice barely above a whisper. “You will never need anything else now because you are mine.” He confesses.

His words seep into you, sending a ripple through your very being. You feel it—this connection, this pull—as if every part of you is no longer your own, as though your blood aligns in harmony with his.

Your mind races, grasping at the edges of what your life was before this moment—your ambitions, your plans, your identity. It feels distant now, like a faded memory compared to the vivid, all-consuming presence of him.

How did it this happen? You ask yourself and as you remember, your heart pounds understanding there is no going back.

Beneath the fear, you feel stronger, more alive than you ever have, as if the pieces of your fractured world have rearranged themselves into something new. Something terrifyingly inevitable.

I’m not the same anymore, you think, a shiver running through you at the realization —I’ll never be the same again.

His gaze holds yours, unrelenting and filled with something deeper as the warmth of his thoughts pulses through you, filling every corner of your mind.

You’re mine now, completely just as I am yours. There is no going back … but you wouldn’t want to, would you? His grin widens, the intensity of his presence filling you as his words vibrate through your thoughts, binding you further, the connection growing deeper, consuming you entirely.

You’ve already changed, the reality settling over you like a dark, undeniable truth.

You don’t want to escape it—you don’t want to escape him. You know now, with every beat of your heart, you are his, as much as he is yours, and you will never leave him again.

🩸 END 🩸

🔗 Master List

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

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[dancingdonatello]

Heeeey! I'm currently hyperfixating on rottmnt sooooo... I'd like to request a scenario (if you don't want to do this, it's totally fine) in which reader has celiac disease and/or is lactose intolerant. Sooo they can't eat pizza with the guys! Maybe reader eats pizza with them anyways and gets super sick and tries to hide it (badly). In the end, reader cracks and tells the boys about their dietary restrictions . After that maybe something cutesy in which reader teaches Mickey some gluten-free recipies and they cook together. Or Raph goes all overprotective after learning about it and "cross-contamination" is his new favourite word like "CAREFUL Y/N that piece of letuce is in a plate that contained mac and cheese 3 weeks ago, it might be cross contaminated!!!" Lol Idk... I'm just bitter that pizza is my digestive system's natural enemy and I need some cheering up from my favourite turtles.

Love your writting. I've been going over your masterlist all morning :D Wether you do this or not, have a nice rest of your day 💜

rottmnt x reader

You got sick once. Once.

You had tried to feel included by eating some pizza and had immediately regretted it. Not only because of the pain but because of your turtle friends’ reactions.

You think you might’ve triggered Raph’s OCD. That guy obsessed over the dishes now, fearful of any plate or bowl that may have something that triggered your stomach issues. He would stare at you as you ate, constantly asking how you felt.

It was a really nice bonding moment between you and Mikey. He learned a lot from you and you two cooked together often now. He was really the only one who took the information in like a normal person. He often made you safe food to eat whenever you came over so you didn’t have to worry.

Unfortunately, the last two were… odd.

“You’re not cleaning it hard enough!” Leo grabbed the bowl from Donnie who held onto it tightly to prevent him from stealing it.

“I am cleaning it just fine, Nardo!” He tugged it back and they started a tug of war. Over a plate.

You and Mikey glanced at each other, unsurely. Raph was biting his claws, a nervous wreck as he watched the plate. “There was mac and cheese on that last week… Or was it a salad? No, it had to be mac and cheese.”

“Raphy, I’m sure it’s fine…” You patted his shoulder. It did nothing to reassure him.

As expected, the two turtles ended up dropping the plate and shattering it on the floor.

“Maybe it was for the best!” Raph relaxed. At least he’d never have to worry about that plate again. But what about the all the other plates they had? He tensed up just thinking about it. He should make a chart or a list… Or…

“Raph, why not just get a few plates and keep them separated and only let them use it, if you’re so stressed about it?” Mikey suggested while you tried to protest. They shouldn’t buy new plates for you—

Not only does he get new dishes and new forks and spoons, Raph gets an entire new fridge for food for you.

Well, you’ll never have to worry about the food here ever again.

[sleepingdeath-light]

cat boy s/o hcs ; laios touden

requested by ; shadowsalone / pj simp anon (08/07/24)

fandom(s) ; dungeon meshi

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; laios touden

outline ; “dungeon meshi eh...?

General dating hcs and smut for Laios and perhaps a catboy!reader? 👀”

note ; first time writing for laios so this may be rather shaky in terms of his characterisation

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

being a person with nonhuman traits and dating laios touden is basically asking to have your biology and body language intensely studied and meticulously noted down — he’s mindful enough to not make a complete ass of himself and trample over your personal boundaries of course (you are his boyfriend and he does care about and respect you, after all), but sometimes he can’t help himself but bombard you with questions or just stare curiously at any visible feline features you have during the quieter moments of your journey

he has a whole separate notebook dedicated to the little things he finds out about you (dietary preferences and restrictions, body language tells, physical differences between you and a standard tallman like him, etc., etc.) — there are also some more personal notes in there too that are both flattering and adorable, but it’s mostly him making notes about your species while using you as his primary source of research

he thinks all of your non-human traits are absolutely adorable (even the ones that aren’t traditionally ‘cute’, like sharp teeth, cat-like eyes, and claws) and he is by no means afraid of letting you and anyone else in earshot know that

if your cat-like biology also impacts your diet then he and senshi will make sure that every meal you all eat as a group is completely safe for you to consume — it may take them a bit longer to gather and double check the available ingredients to make sure that you can actually ingest them without any side effects (there isn’t as much research done into what monsters are edible for felines as there is for other humanoids, much to his frustration), but it’s more than worth it in his eyes if it means getting to see your eyes light up as you enjoy his cooking and praise him for his efforts

if you’re comfortable with physical touch then you’ll rarely go more than a few hours without laios pulling you into his arms and holding you close: stroking your tail, playing with your hair, scratching behind your ears, squeezing the palms of your hands and watching in awe as your claws extend and retract in response, etc. — and this isn’t just something he does because he wants to cuddle with his boyfriend after a long day of fighting and eating monsters (physical touch may not be his main love language but he’s not completely opposed to it either), he also does it because being affectionate with you also happens to have the effect of completely calming him down and making him feel at ease and safe (yet another potential quirk of your feline side that he enjoys), which is something he hasn’t really felt since setting off on this journey to save his sister

and if you happen to purr like a cat? oh he won’t ever get enough of hearing that sound — and he will 100% try and test out the idea of that sound promoting healing in other creatures (it’s a good thing you love him, huh?)

90% of the time he’s able to keep his head on straight and doesn’t let his monster obsession get the better of him when he’s around you

… the other 10% of the time is another story

he’s rubbed the thin skin of your ears between his fingers while theorising about how much better your hearing must be than his (while he thought you were asleep, of course)

he’s combed his fingers through the soft fur of your tail, gently bending it to-and-fro as he quizzes you about its functionality and sensitivity

he’s woken you up in the middle of the night, his nose pressed gently against yours, so that he can watch your eyes adjust to the light, diligently writing about whatever it is he noticed

he’s walked by your side through floor after floor of the dungeon, showering you with questions about yourself and your kind that range from mortifying to endearing to expected — all asked as bluntly and excitedly as you’ve come to expect from your monster-obsessed s/o

he’s even offered you his hand to bite so that he can observe and experience the difference between your bite force and the marks you leave behind and his own — chilchuk and marcille both immediately spoke up to protest that particular experiment and insisted on you two keeping a sensible distance between yourselves from that point until your next rest

(naturally as soon as you all settled into your camp that night, when everyone else was distracted or already asleep, he brought it up to you again with just as much excitement and fascination as before — if not more)

he just… really finds you interesting, that’s all

[cogentsummoner]

Questions

continuation of this drabble / requested by @like-a-clock

You sit back down in your office chair, stunned expression on your face. What are you supposed to do, to say? You look back up at All Might- Yagi- whomever- and see him swimming in All Might's- his?- costume. He's fidgeting with his hands, the way he always does when he's anxious, and you realize that despite your shock, you have to say something to soothe him.

Then, another realization hits you.

"Oh my god. That's why one of you was always missing at meetings!" you exclaim, going over the past few months in your head. Generally it was All Might who was absent (which was a source of annoyance for other senior staff members; apparently this had become a big problem with him the last few years), but whenever he did make it to a meeting, Yagi would be absent, generally for health related reasons.

He jumps a little, clearly not expecting that from you, and laughs sheepishly. "Yes, it's… hard being in two places at once. Or rather- being in one place twice."

"It… I can imagine," you manage. The gears in your head are slowly starting to turn again. "So, this whole time…?"

He nods, apprehensive. "I'm…sorry for keeping this secret. It's not… something I want people to know."

You shake your head. "No, it's… I can understand, I think… I've only been here a few months, after all. How… how many people know?"

He's quiet for a moment, then answers, "None of the other staff-"

"None?" you repeat incredulously. "All Might- Yagi- that's… how have you been pulling this off? And how long have you been pulling this off? And- why? Plenty of other Heroes have transformation Quirks, I don't understand-"

"It's not a transformation Quirk," he cuts you off, tone…guarded. Guarded in a way that catches you by surprise. You're silent, waiting for him to elaborate, and he does so with a sigh. "It… my appearance would change slightly whenever I 'turned on' my Quirk, but it…it didn't use to be this drastic."

You wet your lips, a sudden knot of anxiety in your stomach. "What changed?"

He won't look at you. "I got hurt, a few years ago. I can't be All Might all the time anymore. I started dropping weight because… well, you know."

You did know. The bare essentials, at least. Yagi had told you that he'd lost his stomach in a Villain attack, and that's where all his dietary restrictions came from.

"Over time, the difference between my 'Quirk on' and 'Quirk off' forms grew more stark, until… well. You can see," he says, gesturing to his emaciated body with barely disguised disdain.

A lot of things make more sense now. You knew Yagi… didn't have the best view of himself and his appearance. If, all this time, he was comparing himself to All Might, because he was All Might, because his appearance suddenly and dramatically changed as he couldn't maintain his weight and muscle anymore… little wonder it messed with his self-esteem.

You get up from your chair, moving to be just slightly in his personal space- you didn't want to overwhelm him… not yet, anyways.

"Okay, that explains the appearance thing. But why… why pretend to be your secretary? That's what I'm really struggling with here."

He frowns at you. "I'm not pretending. I needed a secretary after Nighteye left, and I… didn't trust anyone else with this secret. But it was… a lot more work than I was expecting, and… well, you remember how things were when you got here.

You did. They were bad. Reports that were 5-6 weeks overdue, thousands of unread emails, and a gaggle of very frustrated senior staffers who couldn't understand why All Might didn't just fire the incompetent Yagi. Niceness alone did not a secretary make.

"So… why me, then? I mean, obviously you needed help with everything, but…why an outsider?" You take another step closer, though Yagi doesn't seem to notice.

He lets out a sigh. "Anyone I promoted in the company would've faced a lot of scrutiny- as would I. They'd also… well, they'd be coming into it knowing about…how over my head I was." He's fidgeting with his hands again, and not looking at you. "Every reference you had talked about how patient and understanding you were, and… that was what I thought I needed. What I did need. You've been so helpful and kind, and you- you seemed to care about me. Not just All Might, but…Yagi Toshinori too. I didn't realize how much I needed that."

"I do care about you- both of you, all of you," you tell him, taking one final step forwards. It's only now that he realizes how close you've gotten, and he startles a little, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Alright, last question."

He nods, solemnly, ready to hear whatever it is you have to say.

"Can I kiss you?"

His blush deepens into a beautiful crimson, and his mouth hangs slightly open. "You- you want to? With me?"

You can't help but laugh. Where was all that smooth confidence from ten minutes ago? "Of course I do. I already told you- I'm in love with you."

"Oh," he says quietly, and that one little sound says so much. He wasn't expecting you to really have feelings for him, or he was expecting the secret identity thing to be a dealbreaker, or… something else. He wasn't expecting this; you, wanting to kiss him, wanting to hold him- you, wanting him.

You cup his face with your hands, and he nods, suddenly, eagerly. You can't blame him- you're eager too, as you stand on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

It's different from kissing All Might- his lips are thin, and dry, and just a little bit chapped. He's a little more shy, letting you take the lead, gently resting his hands on your hips. But it's perfect, regardless.

[youremyonepiece]

salty afflictions

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), reader's pov

your powers come with unique dietary restrictions, but sanji's not one to back down from a challenge (especially not if it's you).

warnings: none, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 1.9k

"okay," sanji says, tone verging on exasperation, "let me get this straight." he peers at you through his furrowed curly eyebrows, but there is no malice in his stare-- only disbelief. "you can't eat salt?"

you laugh uncomfortably at the question. the rest of the straw hats have their eyes fixed on you as well, waiting earnestly for your answer. most of their plates lie forgotten in front of them; only luffy is moving, shoveling food into his mouth with both hands, but he too is staring directly at you. sanji is standing in front of you, a matching plate balancing on one of his hands. your own grip tightens around your carrot as you shift and shrink under the weight of everyone's combined gazes before taking a small chomp to hopefully diffuse some of the tension.

it doesn't work.

it makes things worse.

the carrot feels like dry mulch as you chew and swallow it loudly. everyone else simply continues to stare, the moment dragging on as they wait for you to respond.

you let out another uncomfortable laugh once your mouth is empty before clearing your throat. "um, yeah," you finally manage to say. you resist the urge to slam your head into the dinner table at your eloquence and continue, "the salt content in my body would get too high. i'd be no different than a puddle of sea water. which would, um-- which would be bad."

you can't stop another laugh from defensively bubbling through your lips. sanji notices and moves away to put your plate in front of luffy (with him around, no food would ever go to waste). "well," he says, pointedly nonchalant as he takes his seat and leans back to take a drag from his cigarette. "i love a good challenge, and you certainly are a lovely one." a smirk forms around his cigarette and just like that, the tension in the room shatters. you throw a grateful look in his direction as the crew's attention turns away from you and back to their dinners.

"typical sanji," usopp says with a playful roll of his eyes before shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth. "still, that must suck."

"yeah," you say in response. "i mean, i'm used to it, but i definitely miss some foods. it saved my life, though," you say with a shrug, "so it is what it is." you take another bite of your carrot, larger than the last in hopes of deterring anyone from asking you any more questions.

you feel someone's eyes on you again and turn your head to see sanji staring at you. there's still a smile on his face and in his eyes-- you can't help but hold your breath as you meet his gaze. he's looking at you as though he’s just discovered a new type of fish, you think to yourself. like he can't wait to experiment and discover the best ways to filet, bake, fry you up.

unlike with the others, being under sanji’s gaze doesn’t make you squirm in your seat. instead, you find yourself feeling comfortably warm-- you’re always comfortable with sanji. he’s been nothing but considerate and thoughtful from the start, and you knew he would never do anything to hurt you.

well, he would never do anything to hurt any woman, not just you.

you ignore the turning of your stomach-- get real, he would never feel the same way about you-- and instead avert your eyes to take great interest in your carrot. wow, it sure is orange--

"you'll have to allow me to borrow some of your time later, sweetheart," sanji says, interrupting your riveting thoughts. "we'll figure out what i can cook for you. can't have you going hungry, now can we?" he winks at you and you feel the heat creep up your neck and into your cheeks.

“um-- sure,” you say, and you're sure your face is bright red. gosh, did you have to be so awkward?

to your relief, though, franky starts talking excitedly about his ideas for new upgrades on the sunny, and with that the flow of the conversation is thankfully diverted away from you and the side effects of your hydro-hydro logia devil fruit. you finish your carrot as quickly as you can before quietly excusing yourself from the group and scurrying out onto the deck.

and though you don’t dare look up to confirm it, you swear you feel sanji’s eyes on you the entire time until you’ve left the room. but no-- there’s no way. you’re imagining it, letting your fantasies get the better of you. he wouldn’t have watched you leave, not when nami and robin were still in the room with him.

(if you had looked up, though, you would have found you were right.)

you’re sitting on a bench by nami’s tangerine trees the next morning after breakfast, absentmindedly flipping through a novel you borrowed from robin. it’s an unusually calm, placid day, the weather perfect and the soft breeze refreshing. the kind of day you want to spend outside and doing nothing. it’s easy to zone out the various noises from your crewmates: luffy’s joyful yelling followed closely by chopper’s worried shouts, zoro’s rumbling snores, nami’s playful teasing at usopp’s desperate rambling, sanji’s... footsteps?

you look up from the book to find the blond man walking calmly towards you with his blazer slung over his shoulder, an easy smile gracing his lips. it grows as your eyes meet, but he doesn’t speak until he comes to a stop a few feet away from you. “hello, gorgeous. got a minute? i wanted to get your thoughts on a few dishes i whipped up earlier for you.”

be cool, you tell yourself. be calm, casual-- “yeah, of course! i’d love to!” great job.

but you can’t feel upset for too long, not when sanji’s face lights up at your response. not when he’s holding a hand out for you to take. your cheeks grow warm (surprise, surprise) as you pause, taking in the sight of the kind man in front of you and his breathtaking smile, before reaching out to take his hand.

you’re hyper-aware of his fingers against yours as he gently guides you to the kitchen and can’t help the wave of disappointment that washes over you when he pulls away to drape his jacket over a bar chair and roll up his shirt sleeves. he motions you over to the table before turning away to grab a couple plates from the kitchen counter.

“so,” he begins as he places various dishes in front of you, “i normally use salt in just about every dish i make. it’s a flavor enhancer-- without it, most foods would taste flat and bland.” he places the last dish in front of you before straightening and flashing one of his brilliant smiles at you. (if you were in a cartoon, your heart would have just doki-doki-ed out of your chest.) “but there’s other ways to bring flavor into food, and there’s beauty in simple foods, too.”

you take in the various foods in front of you; each plate contains no more than maybe five spoonfuls of food, but there are so many. salads and soups and stews and snacks-- so many foods you hadn’t eaten since getting your powers. sanji pushes one of the plates closer to you-- a colorful pile of leafy greens and veggies, topped with what looks like olive oil and a freshly squeezed lemon wedge-- and takes the seat across from you. “salads, of course, are an easy answer. the best salads use fresh vegetables and high quality oil, and as long as you balance the flavors well, you won’t even miss the saltier ingredients like cheese.”

intrigued, you bring a forkful to your mouth, and-- wow. you never had been a huge fan of salads, especially since they now consisted of the majority of your meals, but this is easily the best salad you’ve ever had. you clean the plate within a couple seconds, much to sanji’s apparent delight.

and so he continues, explaining his reasoning behind each dish and watching intently as you practically inhale the food. “sanji,” you say in between dishes after what must have been over half an hour of food tasting, “this is amazing. i don’t think i’ve had food that tastes this good ever-- not even before i ate my devil fruit. i can’t believe you did all this for me.”

it’s his turn to blush at your words, and for some reason his bashfulness makes you feel embarrassed as well. you shut your mouth and look back down at the plate in front of you: cauliflower chunks he had coated in a spiced batter before frying and coating in a sauce made from nami’s tangerines. it’s true, though-- every single dish you had tasted had been phenomenal, so clearly made with kindness. you had resigned yourself to eating raw veggies for the rest of your life, and the fact that sanji had come up with a whole slew of meals that you could eat despite your power-induced diet, that too within a day of learning about it... no one had ever done something so thoughtful for you before.

your thoughts are interrupted by an unexpectedly acrid scent-- is something... burning? you look up from the plate, frowning, and almost immediately spot the smoking pan on the stove. “sanji! the pan!”

sanji, who had been staring at you with a dazed look in his eyes, seems to come to his senses with a few blinks. he glances backwards towards the stove and does a double-take in shock before leaping to his feet and rushing over to the burning pan. “merde! so sorry, love-- i must have forgotten to turn it off-- i was so excited to see your reaction--” he hisses suddenly, pulling his hand back with a jerk.

“sanji! did you burn yourself?” you’re on your feet, too, reaching his side within a blink of an eye. you take his hand in yours without hesitation, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“darling, you should stay back, the fire--”

within seconds, you’ve doused the stove in water using your free hand. you then turn your eyes back to sanji’s burn, frowning in concentration as you coat the reddening skin with your cold water. “it doesn’t look too bad,” you murmur, eyes locked on his wound, “but you should still have chopper check it out.”

“will do,” he responds softly, and you freeze-- his voice is so close. you were so close.

you look up, throat dry as you meet his eyes. you feel your cheeks heat up yet again, but you can’t bring yourself to step away-- you can’t bring yourself to move. “you should--” you stop to clear your throat-- “you should be more careful.”

“i always am, but something about you makes me forget where i am.” he must see the question in your eyes, because he quickly adds, “in a good way, of course.”

“yeah, um-- same,” you say intelligently.

he laughs at your response, eyes full of affection as they remain on you. “c’mon,” he says, softly tapping your cheek with his uninjured hand before stepping slightly away from you, “we still have a few dishes to go.”

gosh, you think, stunned in place as you watch him move back towards the table. this man is truly going to be the death of you.

[annebd]

i’ve often thought that the daily wordle guess list could be fun as a quick fic prompt. i finally got around to giving it a try. my guesses for the day are listed at the end, with the correct answer in bold. spoiler if you haven’t done today’s wordle. :)

Daniel is pumped. It’s the first day of summer break, and he has decided: diets be damned, they’re eating good tonight. He’ll readily admit that he’s not the world’s best cook- he’s mostly survived this far on meal prepped food from his trainers, or takeout from a rotating list of three restaurants near his place in Monaco that don’t get too annoyed with all of his allergy and dietary restriction requirements. But he’s not entirely hopeless. He can fire up a grill and throw some steak on it, and it doesn’t take too much effort to toss together a quick salad and a baked potato. Simple fare, but delicious. It’s going to be great, and he knows Max will enjoy the home cooked meal as much as he will.

He bounds into the apartment and toes off his shoes at the door while calling out, “Maximus Decimus! The gods have decided- tonight we feast! And by ‘gods,’ I mean me. I’ve decided. Steaks, baby. The shop had filets on sale.”

There’s no reply. Daniel strolls further into the apartment, poking his head into the living room, where he expects to find Max zoned into his sim rig, headphones on and unaware of the outside world. But the living room is empty, save for Sassy perched delicately on the very top of the bookshelf, cleaning her face with a paw. Daniel frowns- had Max gone out? He hadn’t mentioned anything when they’d texted earlier.

He meanders into the kitchen, dropping off the dinner supplies on the counter and giving Jimmy, who chooses that moment to weave between his legs as a quick “hello,” a scritch on the head. “Where’s your daddy wandered off to, hmm?” he asks.

Jimmy gives an unhelpful “mrow?” in response, which Daniel accepts as the best answer he’s likely to get.

He leaves the kitchen and turns to head down the short hallway towards their bedroom, where he hears the faint twinkling of music. As he gets closer and then finally pushes the door open, he realizes that the TV is on low in the background. It’s some random infomercial with a slightly overzealous flute solo as the musical accompaniment to the attempt at advertising various kitchen gadgets. Daniel didn’t realize infomercials were even a thing anymore.

The room is mostly in darkness, the curtains drawn, just a hint of late afternoon sun spilling a strip of warmth across the foot of the bed. He doesn’t see Max at first, until he notices the lump of covers on the bed slowly rising and falling. Daniel peeks over the edge of the duvet and sees a tuft of blond hair sticking out. He pulls back the corner and sees Max, sound asleep, curled into the fetal position with his hands tucked under his chin. His cheeks are flushed blush pink, and his breaths are coming slow and deep.

It’s been a long season already, and Daniel knows the bone deep exhaustion that can settle in. Max has needed this. Daniel brushes his thumb across Max’s cheek, tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. It springs right back- the fresh haircut leaving it slightly too short to be tamed in that way.

The clock on the nightstand reads 16:26. Plenty of time for a quick nap before their feast of kings. Daniel turns the TV off, sending the room into a pleasant silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic sound of Max’s breathing. Daniel rounds the other side of the bed and pulls back the covers. He slides in behind Max, fits his body around the curve of Max’s, sliding one arm over his waist to rest over his heart, and tangling their feet together. He presses a gentle kiss to Max’s shoulder.

Max stirs for a moment, offers a mumbled “hrmph?”

Daniel rubs his chest softly and shushes him. “Go back to sleep, Maxy. We’ve got time.”

They sleep.

-

fresh/flute/fetal/filet