#hair in the wind animation practice !

[okartichoke]

she's like, dead and reflecting on stuff or smth. slash phoenix is standing off screen with an electric fan

[binbinabin]

[nyaskitten]

As much as I really (AND I MEAN REALLLY)i dislike how these two turned out, I think it'd be unfair to share these two Nya animations I did to try get better (hint it failed)

[dragontamerproductions]

Wave principle & Hair tests

[thinkinonsense]

34+35𑁍

old man!logan howlett x housewife!reader

cw: do the math.

wc: 1k+

positions mini-series masterlist

logan didn't know what he was going to do with you. such a needy little rabbit. that's the only thing he could compare you to, a fuckin' rabbit.

"slow down, sweets." logan mutters against your glossy lips.

all day, you were longing for logan's touch. the second you heard his truck pull into the driveway, you practically jump into his big strong arms. he could smell your arousal down the street. you wanted nothing more than for logan to bring out his inner animal, but he was going to make you work for it.

you dragged him into your shared bedroom once he shrugged off his suit jacket. logan noticed how clean the bedroom looked, the only things on the nightstand were his cigars and one of your pretty coffee mugs. your bedsheets were the same colors as your lingerie, soft lilac and white.

"let me get a look at ya', princess." logan says in your ear while you try to climb in his lap. instead, you give him a little spin, his hands never leaving your hips. "look like a doll."

you smile at him then shove him roughly on his back, climbing on top of the older man. by no means were you stronger than logan but when you get like this, he wonders if you were the one with the adamantium skeleton.

"been thinking about you all day long..." you say, clawing at his white button-down. logan chuckles, moving his hands further south on your body.

"whatcha been thinking 'bout?" he asks, squeezing your ass.

"fucking you."

logan loves when you get like this. you bat your pretty lashes up at him while saying the filthiest things. even in his older state, he liked keeping up with someone younger.

"i'm not sure, princess." logan sighs. "i'm pretty tired from work."

"we try something different if you want?" you suggest sweetly running your fingers through his grey hair.

"like what?"

without hesitation, you get up and straddle his chest backward. his button-down was opened exposing his toned stomach. logan wasn't up to date on modern-day sex terms, he knew what he liked and pretty much stuck to it unless you introduced him to something. what? he's old fashion.

"so, you're just gonna sit on my-" logan's words died in his throat the moment you started unbuckling his belt.

you pull out his half-hard cock and begin slowly pumping him. logan couldn't believe the position you put yourself in but he sure was thankful for it. as you traced one of his veins with your tongue, logan pulled your hips closer to his mouth, messily making out with your cunt over the material of your lilac panties. this made you wiggle your hips annoyed by his teasing.

"please..." you huff, taking him out of your mouth to beg. "no teasing, lo..."

logan tugs you back against him roughly so he can slurp up the wetness that coated the now dark purple material. when you begin to kitten lick him, smacking the tip against your tongue, logan tosses his head back and lets out a feral moan.

"sorry, sweetheart." he groans, extending one claw to cut your panties off of you then putting it back away.

"logan!" you gasp, wanting to scold him.

suddenly, you feel him spread you open with his fingers without warning, logan spits directly onto your cunt. butterflies flutter inside of you at his dirty action. logan then switch's between sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue, savoring the taste of you.

"f-fuck, lo..." you moan around his length while scratching at his thick thighs. you can feel him grin against your most intimate area.

logan releases you from his mouth with a tiny pop. he can see you pulsing, needing to be filled. within seconds, logan takes two fingers into his mouth coating them with spit then angles them at your entrance.

"ugh, fuck!" you feel like the wind was just knocked from your lungs. logan was relentless, gradually increasing his pace while your forehead rested against one of his thighs.

"thought this was supposed to be 50/50 effort, sweetheart?" logan teases, hitting that spongey spot inside of you with his fingers repeatedly. "gonna make your old man do all the work-"

"shut up." you groan, placing your cunt back against his mouth.

a small whimper falls from logan's lips, breaking down his tough man persona. you adored when the 'big bad wolf' became a submissive little play thing.

logan can feel you clenching around his fingers, sucking him in completely. he wasn't far behind but he needed more. through blurry vision, you can see logan bend his knees and lift his hips so he's hitting the back of your throat at his own pace; the tip kissing your esophagus.

"such a good fuckin' girl..." logan groans against your lips.

neither of you could warn the other about your approaching orgasms. eyes full of stars when suddenly logan coats your throat while you grind against his face, his soaked beard leaving faint red scratches on your inner thighs.

you must have laid on him for a moment too long after because logan playfully slaps your ass, sending you scurrying away from him.

"how was that?" you pant, facing him normally again with a fucked out smile.

"fuckin' amazing, princess," he says, grabbing your chin and pulling you into a kiss. you straddle logan's waist again, feeling him harden again underneath you.

"that was quick." you giggle against his lips.

"mhm, think you'll be able to keep up?" he challenges you.

"watch it, old man..." you smirk, lifting up and placing him at your entrance. "or you're gonna need a seatbelt when i ride it."

as you sink down on him, logan was torn on where to steady his gaze. he wanted to stare at where the two of you were connected but when your hand start pawing at his dog tags desperately, he knew the answer was to look up at your adorable fucked out face.

"you doin' alright there sweetheart?" logan purrs underneath you, wrapping a hand around your hair and tugging softly. your stamina always impressed him, how you could keep going and going was beyond his old fragile state. "bet you want your old man to take over, huh? fuck you nice and good like you deserve? know you want it, baby."

logan knew the best way to get into your head and your panties were with his words. it always worked, until now.

"what did i tell you earlier, baby?" you taunt him, reaching over and grabbing your ripped underwear to shove in his mouth. "shut up."

"oh, fuck" logan moans against the material while your hips bounce frantically against his; shaking the bed frame and banging it against the wall.

thank god, the two of you live deep in the woods or else your neighbors would constantly think there's an earthquake coming when the two of you were fucking. you feel logan twitch inside of you, letting you know he's close.

"let go, lo..." you moan, leaning down to his ear level while he desperately smacks your hips into his, chasing his high. "you know you wanna cum inside it."

logan's hips snapped, drooling all over your panties as your cunt sucks him in. his warmth coats your walls pearly white while one of his hands comes down to play with your clit until your moaning vulgarly in his ear.

"r-r-right there, lo..." you whimper, biting down on his shoulder as you cum around him. "please, please don't stop!"

neither of you wanted to move once both of you come down from your highs. you pull your ripped up panties out of logan's mouth before slumping down on top of his chest.

"tired, princess?" he chuckles.

"mhm..." you sigh, getting comfortable against him.

"look who's getting old now, hm?" logan teases, flipping you over carefully onto the sheets.

"stay..."

"i'm just clean you up." he assures you. "get some rest. i'll be here."

those were the last words you heard before falling asleep in his arms.

[serpentface]

Miniature dog and khait effigies for a Wardi funeral. These are clay figurines that have been painted and decorated with great care by a skilled artist. Both include real hairs from the individual animals they have been modeled after. The dog is collared, showing that it is a loyal pet rather than a lowly feral scrounger. The khait is fully bridled and ready to carry the deceased in their journey.

---

It is believed that the souls of the deceased, once freed of their bodies, undergo a month-long journey to reach rebirth in the lunar lands. This journey is full of perils. It begins in the realm of the earth where the soul is naked and vulnerable and traveling through complete darkness. Evil spirits dwell within this realm and may try to capture the soul or lead them astray, and the way is twisting and obscured in shadows. Even after escaping this darkness, the soul still must travel an arduous and winding path through the realm of the sky in order to reach their destination.

A khait and a dog are traditionally offered as funerary goods (in addition to food, water, wine, clothing, weapons, and other needs) to assist the soul in their travels- the khait will ease their passage in their long journey and carry them swiftly, and the dog will navigate through earthly darkness and dense cloud by scent, and protect the soul from harm.

Ideally, one of the deceased's own living khait and hunting/guard dogs will be killed at the funeral (typically the most beloved of their animals, as who would be better company than that?) so that they can have familiar and loyal helpers in their lonely journey. However, there are tremendous class barriers to ownership and disposability of a khait, and well-bred working dogs (while significantly more accessible) aren't ubiquitously available, and many people do not consider captured feral dogs to be a worthy replacement. As such, funerals with full animal offerings tend to be limited to higher status individuals.

Everyday people still need protection on their journeys, and animal effigies can be appropriate replacements for the real thing. These effigies are usually designed with great specificity to represent known individual animals that have already died (often including the animal's actual hair, as seen here). The soul of the represented animal will recognize the effigy as its body, and can be called into the icon so that it may accompany the deceased. These effigies (along with any other necessary grave goods) will be placed onto the pyre and burned along with the body so that the traveling soul will be sent off with everything they need.

Some folk traditions have semi-legendary local animal spirits who will be represented instead of a personally familiar animal. This often develops around a small community 'sharing' one historically extant animal for their funeral effigies as a matter of practicality, developing a sense of attachment to this animal as an aspect of shared identity, and adding layers of legend to the animal's story with the passage of time.

For example, a very popular legendary guide in the northeastern rural parts of Ephennos is Chisnops-Inreña (which very closely translates to 'Orange Son Of A Bitch'), a legendary livestock guardian dog. The animal was said to have been the biggest, meanest, ugliest motherfucker around, but was an unshakably loyal and fierce guardian, as noble as a dog (not the noblest of animals by any means) can possibly be. He is said to have fought off everything from jackals to lions to cattle thieves in his day, and died protecting his herdsman master from an infamous man-eating king hyena, only succumbing to his own wounds when the great beast lay dead. His spirit was later used as a guide in his master's funeral, and local legend states that the same spirit has been seen following herdsmen and their cattle ever since, as not even death could keep him from his duties. Such a dog would make an excellent guide and protector in the journey to the afterlife, and effigies of him are favored in the funerals of northeastern Ephenni pastoralists.

A lovingly crafted Orange Son Of A Bitch

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[7:09 pm]

(cw: parents!au)

Every parent knew what silence meant. Silence meant some huge mess was being made, someone was hiding, being mischievous, general mayhem being had. This was especially true in your home with your daughter and 3 cats. It was never this quiet in your house with the four—five troublemakers in your house. It couldn’t be the main troublemaker because he was sitting right next to you, fully invested in a a reality tv show.

“Jaemin, listen,” You said quietly while you muted the tv.

He looked at you quizzically, “I don’t hear anything… what could she be doing now?”

“It’s not her nap time yet, I have a very bad feeling about this,” you replied nervously.

Your daughter had a sweet face, she was nice and friendly in public. She always waved at strangers with a huge smile on her face. She knew to stay by your side when she wasn’t sitting in a shopping cart. She very rarely threw tantrums, a perfect little angel. People had even told you so.

In the comfort of your home on the other hand, she was hyperactive and loud. She wreaked havoc on the daily. And the cats were either right her side or far, far away from her. There was no in between. When the cats decided she was being too much your daughter would try to climb their scratching posts to reach them or pull on their tails. The poor animals. When they decided to help her the house was loud, something got destroyed, scratched, or simply broken.

The last time the 4 of them had joined forces you needed to buy a new bookshelf for the living room with all new frames for the pictures that filled up some empty spaces on the shelves.

“Rock, paper, scissors to see who goes,” Jaemin offered. You rolled your eyes but complied. Softly hitting your fist against the palm of your hand. One paper and one rock, you lost.

“Wish me luck please, and have your credit card ready to shop. Oh my god, I think I’m gonna be sick,” you muttered, standing from the couch and walking toward your daughter’s room, but not without pouting and sending pleasing looks to your husband.

You tiptoed quietly to her open door and took a peek inside. Oh good, she was playing with her baby dolls. Wait, since when were they covered in fur?

You ran back to the living room whisper yelling, “Honey, you have to come see what your daughter is doing!”

Jaemin tilted his head back and shut his eyes, “why is she only my daughter when she’s being naughty?”

“It’s not even that bad, no new furniture. Just come see!” You tugged on his arm until he was up and quietly sneaking behind you.

You both peeked into the open door and watched as your daughter swaddled up one of the cats, Luke. And he liked it! He was purring and nuzzling into your daughters small and unusually gentle hands. “Ok baby! It’s time for a nap!” She told the cat before placing him in her toy bassinet. The poor doll who it belonged to could be seen face down under her bed.

“And for the other baby, it’s lunch! Time for your bottle,” she told Luna, picking up the cat and holding her like a newborn while holding a toy bottle to the cat’s mouth. And poor Lucy was sitting on a doll bed with a bonnet tied below her chin, but she looked unbothered.

“I think the cats… like it?” Jaemin whispered in confusion.

You looked at him, “weirdly enough, I think they do too.”

You and Jaemin continued to watch the four of them play and interact. They were all calm and playing happily, until, she turned and caught sight of you.

She bounded over to you and jumped into your arms, knocking the wind out of you.

“I’m practicing!” She smiled brightly.

“What are you practicing for, baby?” You asked her, moving some hair out of her face.

“Daddy said he’s going to get me a baby brother! So I have to practice being a good big sister!” She smiled, stating it like it was obvious.

Your fave dropped, looking at Jaemin with a raised eyebrow, “did your dad say that? That’s news to me. What else did he tell you, baby?”

Jaemin’s face dropped and your daughter began spilling all their secrets. How he always bought her candy before ballet, they sometimes snuck some ice cream together after you were asleep, Jaemin put sugar in her cereal, and how he promised her new toys if she didn’t mention anything about a new sibling. “Do I still get my toys daddy?”

“Uh! No! She would not be getting any new toys!”Jaemin yelled in his mind.

“You can ask daddy later, he’s about to be in very big trouble.”

[heechwe]

midnight faith | 𝐩𝐣𝐬

୨୧ pairing: park jongseong (jay) x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2.5K ୨୧ genre: fluff, semi-angst, smut ୨୧ tags: werewolf!jay, established relationship, pet names (darling, sweetheart, etc.), biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, knotting, creampie, cock stuffing, breeding kink ୨୧ synopsis: You know his history and where he comes from, both being huge factors that affect your current relationship, but all you care about is your future together. ➸ banner created by @hobeemin ♡

The grass surrounding the blanket underneath your back prickles your ankles. Jay sits crisscrossed next to you, observing the way the sunlight peers through the forest trees and paints your skin. His breath goes in and out in uneven increments, and you open one eye to look at your boyfriend. You’ve had your eyes closed for the past ten minutes, focusing on Jay and all he had to tell you about his history, pre-werewolf and all. The boy is practically shaking at the fact you haven’t responded to any of it, but with a smirk, you reply, “So it really isn’t just caused by a bite?”

Both of you laugh, the sound reverberating around your patch of grass. In relief, Jay sinks to a resting position on his stomach beside you and props his chin on your chest. “Yeah, that’s not exactly how that story goes. Well, at least for me it didn’t.”

You run your fingers through his hair. “So it was a genetic thing?”

He nods. “My parents thought maybe it would skip a generation since my grandfather didn’t inherit it from his father. Sadly for them, I came home after some party scared as all hell, wondering why the fuck I had claws and this desire to run on all fours.” 

You giggle as Jay takes one of your hands into his and kisses your knuckles. “After a while, I learned how to control the shift, but I shut myself away from everyone, especially my parents. Because of them, it was this huge rush to understand myself, my abilities, and my family’s history. The one thing I couldn’t get over then was that it wasn’t a choice. It was always something I was born with.

“But, it’s all in the past now.” Jay sighs and presses his cheek to your stomach.

“Well, parts of it are. But, Seongie, it still gets to you and affects how you are around people. Sometimes, you act like everyone’s fragile when you’re around, like you won’t be able to control your impulses or actions, so you don’t let yourself truly be yourself. Including me.”

He looks back up to you, recognizing the truth in your words. “I try not to,” he whispers, moving so your faces are at eye level, his lips an inch away. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone, especially not you.” Pain flashes over his features, too strong for him to ignore. “I don’t fear a lot of things, but the possibility I could harm you scares the fuck out of me.”

The vulnerability Jay can often hide so well is written all over him. His hands shake and his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, but it only takes the well of tears in his eyes to strike a knife through your chest. Your boyfriend may be a supernatural creature, but it wouldn’t take a genius to see the guy’s immense capacity for kindness. The way his eyes widened in fear when he shook your father’s hand when they first met, the whispers of a lullaby he sang to your sister’s newborn daughter when you had to babysit her, and his adorable fascination with tiny animals prove all of his fears will never become a reality. “Baby, you don’t have a harmful bone in your body. You may have impulses as a wolf, but there’s no way you would hurt someone on purpose.” The wind brushes through the trees as you speak, barely covering the tremble in your voice. “And you would never hurt me.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you wouldn’t be so scared if you didn’t love me, and I love you enough to know all the fear is in your head. You just have to trust yourself.” 

You brush your mouth against him, and the sound of the wind in the brush and the heat of the sun ebbs away. Your reassurance and touch ease his worries until it’s only you and Jay, nestled against a soft blanket away from the world and lost in each other with the soft collide of each other’s lips and tongues.

Jay grunts and backs away from you, a heady expression flashing across his eyes.

Breathless, you reach for his hand. “Is that what you meant by hurting me?”

He nods, saying your name while trying to slow down the fast pace of his heartbeat. “I love you, and I never want to hurt you, but what if I didn’t mean to? I mean, I can’t even kiss you without feeling like I’m losing control. How could I make love to you?”

You shake your head and reach for him, his body and yours coming into contact instantly.

“Because we trust each other, and we use that trust to know and respect our limits. If you’re scared, we stop. If I don’t like something, I'll tell you.” You smile, nipping at his lips with a quick peck. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind losing control with you. I feel that way with you a lot of the time anyway.”

Jay chuckles and kisses you, rendering you breathless. “God, what am I gonna do with you?” 

It sounds more like a statement than a question when it leaves his lips, but you grin regardless. “A lot of things, I hope. Right now, I just want you to kiss me some more.”

And as Jay lies you down onto the blanket with his mouth attached to yours and quickly trailing down your neck, you listen to the sound of his breath and the trickles of the river, forgetting his fears the longer he holds you in his arms.

The moonlight bathes your bedroom in blue shadows, the color of Jay’s brown eyes more hypnotic than ever before. His bare chest quietly heaves up and down, unsure of where to start first. Shaky hands hold your waist against him, too scared to venture further than where they are at in the current moment.

Standing in front of him now, underwear-clad and more sure of him than he is in himself, you kiss him to quell his fears. You hope the act is as reassuring as it feels. “I trust you,” you promise him.

He nods, his lips turning at the corners despite what anxieties still linger in his body. You kiss him harder, dissipating what is left of his resolve. He wraps his arms tighter around you, nails digging into the small of your back when you press your tongue inside of his mouth.

Jay takes his lips from yours, his breath ragged. “If anything is too much,” he says, “you have to tell me.”

“Cross my heart,” you tease, but sincerity is still present in your tone.

Suddenly, he lifts you up and wraps your legs around his waist, the act knocking the wind out of your lungs. Half a dozen kisses meet the column of your throat before Jay bites down on the skin. He sucks and licks at the pieces he’s bitten, marking you for himself as he lays you down gently onto the bed.

You can barely think straight as he rips the material of your bra off of you in a quick motion, the sounds of the seams ripping apart hitting your ears. He inhales a shaky breath, mesmerized by the swell of your breasts under the cover of nightfall.

“You’re so breathtaking, you know that?” Jay phrases it more as a statement than a question. You blush and try to hide your face with your hands, but he takes your palms in his instead. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

Your heart clenches. “Neither do you.” You sit up to take his face in your hands, kissing both of his cheeks before once again meeting your mouth with his.

A low rumble emits from his throat, the groan shooting to the space between your legs. You moan into his mouth, taking one of his hands and pressing it to the cotton covering your clit.

“I want you this much because I trust you, Seongie.”

He mumbles out a curse. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to. Please,” you say, dipping his hand inside your underwear to feel the pooing wetness. “I need you to touch me.”

Without warning, his eyes glow a bright hazel in the darkness of your bedroom. The hunger he’s tried so long to suppress seems to come over him in a wave. His hands press you back down into the mattress and his face comes into contact with your underwear. You can feel his breath against your center, and you want more than anything for him to bury his mouth there and leave you a mess in the sheets.

“Jongseong,” you call out, “please.”

He smirks and takes his hands to the corners of your underwear to yank them down. Not violently, but with a serious edge that takes you back. Where was the shy boy that you began the night with?

“Use your words, pet,” Jay demands with a growl.

“Put your mouth on me, please.”

“That’s better.” The cool temperature of your room on your body is replaced by Jay’s tongue, the man you love licking lavishly between your folds. You’re unsure how he’s never done this before when he knows exactly how to make you buck your hips into his awaiting mouth. He’s already so perfectly in tune with your body, knowing when to take time away from your pussy to swirl his tongue around your clit. 

Moans and gasps leave you in quick succession. Your hand buries itself in his hair, and he continues to growl and groan into your center to make you shake even harder.

“I know you’re close, my love. Don’t hold back on me now.” He takes a second to kiss the insides of your thighs before diving back into your pussy. With a long swipe of his mouth from your perineal to your clit, you cry out as your orgasm washes over you.

You take your hand from Jay’s hair when you come down, wiping the sweat off of your forehead with a laugh. “That was–”

Jay smirks and bites his bottom lip. “I’m not done with you yet, pet.” He presses your lips against his, the taste of you filling your mouth when he slips his tongue inside. “Flip over for me.”

You do as he commands as he takes both his jeans and briefs off quickly. By the time he pushes your hips back against him, his cock brushes against your entrance and the wetness from your previous release.

“Fuck,” he whispers, letting himself be coated in your arousal before moving any further. He loves the feeling of your body wiggling against his for any kind of friction, your legs spent and weakened from the pleasure you just received. But he’s going to love it even more when he feels you wrapped around him fully. “Ready, my love?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

Sliding inside of you is so easy with your earlier slick, causing garbled moans to leave both of your mouths at the same time. Jay chastises himself for waiting this long to be intimate with you knowing now how exquisite it feels to have your walls pulsing around him, welcoming his body like he was always meant to be there. Around you, inside of you, calling him yours.

He begins a slow rhythm, thrusting in and out at a comfortable pace, He laces his fingers with yours, wondering how he was so lucky to find someone so understanding, so beautiful, so patient. Anyone else would not have been so stubborn to cut through the many walls he put up, but he’s grateful to have found you who was willing to do the work so effortlessly.

These thoughts make any sense of uncertainty dissipate completely. And in doing so, his control loosens and desire heightens to an unfathomable degree as he watches your body ease up and down his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jay curses, his length swelling to the point he cannot think about anything but your pulsing walls around him. His body is locked to yours, this cock cinched to the point he knows it’s too late to slow down or stop. He had only ever heard of this prior with his brothers and friends who also shared his genetic disposition. But now, knowing it isn’t just a myth and he has no control until he fully releases inside of you, he has never been more turned on in his life.

Knowing he’ll fall apart inside of you, make you as swollen as he feels, is enough for him to come then and there. But Jay knows depriving you of a second orgasm when you’re this close would be cruel. And he’s anything but a cruel person.

He pounds harder into you and wraps an arm around you to find your clit with his fingers, rubbing the bud tenderly. It’s an insatiable mixture of heady and delicate; so intimate you wish you could kiss him while he thrusts deeply from behind you.

“Seongie, I’m so close.”

“Me too, my love. I could stay here all night,” he grunts his beautiful, filthy words into the space between you, the sounds accompanied by the meeting of your bodies. “You want that too, don’t you? Want to be filled up with nothing but my cum, belonging to nobody but me, huh?”

“Y-yes, more than anything,” you confess, loving the intimacy of his explicitness.

“So dirty for me. So perfect.” He kisses the center of your back as he continues to plow mercilessly into you.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna–” You have no time to finish your sentence as the second release floods your senses, the feeling in your body as bright as the moonlight and heavy as the sweat coating both of your bodies.

You barely have time to recover as Jay also comes a few seconds after, bottoming out as he releases. He refuses to let any of his cum go to waste, continuing to thrust inside of you in spite of your sensitivity. You mumble about it being too much and for him to pull out soon, but he’s focused on making sure none of him spills out.

When he’s satisfied, he releases you and lets you fall onto the comforter of your bed, spent and exhausted.

You giggle as he places kisses all over your sweaty face. “Jay, please.”

“What? I can’t kiss you now?” He asks, burying his face in your neck.

“You can when I’m not gross.”

“I think you’ve never looked more beautiful.” He grabs your palm and kisses each finger individually.

“Stop it,” you say, bashful. Jay knows you know it’s true, though. How could he not think so, completely in love and satisfied with your body filled with nothing but him?

He wraps the both of you in your blankets, his chest against your back. He’s never felt closer to you than in this moment, and he could not ask for more.

Well, besides another round in the morning.

“I love you,” he says before falling asleep nestled close to you.

“I love you too, babe,” you respond, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat and the glow of the moonlight as your eyelids close.

@mini-mews @jayparked @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 47

Hear me out. Amity Park gets shifted in universes slightly- maybe it’s from Pariah, maybe it was a wish, maybe they did so on purpose to escape something- and they end up in the DC-verse. The thing is, thanks to the media blackout and the shields, no one in the new universe notices. The Amityville Paekers know about outside, can go on the internet and leave whenever they want, but they’ve all become more than a little liminal. More than a little off. Movements too graceful, eyes too sharp, ears too pointed and teeth more akin to predatory fangs. Skin with a soft glow, hair moving as though underwater or being tussled by the wind- bodies seemingly unaging after a certain point. They’re so ecto-contaminated that they’re unsure they can even be counted as human anymore, and it wasn’t like the city wasn’t already practically self sufficient. Add in a portal or two through the Infinite Realms to get supplies to start a few fields or some fish farms and well, they’re pretty good. Sure it’s resulted in them using a mixture of modern and older money and having several extinct plants and animals running around but that’s fine. There’s magic in this world! Actual magic, that they can learn! And use? Oh this makes rebuilding after a sparring incident go so much faster! 

This results in the hero who stumbles across this place to believe they’ve stumbled across some sort of city of fae or elves. 

[cr4yolaas]

every year, with you — kageyama tobio

content: timeskip tobio, established relationship, self indulgent, fem reader, angst if you squint but mostly fluff, not proofread

note: happy bday to me !! i’m not celebrating irl, so this is my way of appreciating the day :) (p.s. mezzo forte will be updated eventually — i unfortunately don’t have the energy for anything more than this rn 😓)

tobio doesn’t usually celebrate his birthday.

he isn’t attracted to the notion of a sweet sixteen, nor does he find the idea of bar hopping at twenty one appealing. he’s content with whatever is below the bare minimum — quick greetings, maybe one small gift, and a normal day. that’s all he needs.

as such, he doesn’t find it necessary to do much for his friends’ birthdays. he’ll usually purchase something small, like a plushy or a gift card. it’s simple. it’s easy.

but with you, his routine shifts. he marks down your birth date on his phone as soon as he catches wind of it, and in the weeks leading up to the day, it fails to slip his mind. he wants to do something more than simple, something more than easy.

after all, he thinks you deserve more than that.

if you were to peer into his notes app and figure out the password for a locked note with an ambiguous title, you’d find a list of everything you’ve ever mentioned — the show you watched religiously for two months straight, a clothing collaboration you were particularly excited for, the animated character whose merchandise is littered throughout your bedroom — all neatly listed for him to remember. the contents vary; some items are specific, like the shade of the lip tint you searched up a week ago, and others are vague, like ‘silly white mouse with big round eyes.’

tobio finds that, when it comes to you, he wants to give you the world. he wants to cradle you gently in his arms, as if you’re the most important figure in the world (to him, you are). he wants to make your special day just that — special.

the summer heat pierces through your air conditioning, even in the middle of night. your boyfriend has yet to return home, presumably preoccupied with volleyball practice, and you decide that tomorrow you’ll greet him with extra kisses as a reward for working so hard.

but as soon as your hand flicks the lights off, the front door squeaks open. you’re silent. soft footsteps thump against the floor, and if you listen hard enough, you can hear tobio’s heavy breathing in the kitchen. your rationality overpowers whatever yearning has festered within your heart throughout the day during his absence. a soft wave of quietude washes over you as you lay down, opting to wait for him to come to you when he’s ready.

it comes sooner than later, however. tobio slowly opens the door to your shared bedroom, assuming you’re fast asleep given the time. he’s a little startled to find you awake.

“i got you something,” he whispers against your forehead. he doesn’t realize you just laid down — he’s quiet, as if there’s sleep riddled in your system. but there isn’t. he doesn’t know that. and yet, he’s still careful in his movements. his hands reach to brush away hair from your eyes, and his lips ghost against your skin as he stamps his affections onto your flesh.

he slips away for a moment to carry something up onto the bed. it weighs heavy in his hands, although you can’t quite make out what it is in the dark of the room. “well, it’s a lot of somethings,” he muses while he reaches around for the bedside lamp. when the warm light floods the bed, you see it — a gift basket, overfilled with everything you could possibly like. you look at tobio and find his ears dusted with pink and his eyes cast aside. “i wasn’t sure specifically what to get you. so… i got a lot of different things, in hopes that you’d like at least one of them.”

it’s hard not to laugh at him (endearingly, of course). “tobio, you put all of my favorite things in here. i’m not sure why i wouldn’t like it.”

his lips, albeit chapped from his troubles of the day, curl up into a smitten smile. “there’s more, by the way. it just didn’t fit into the basket. and i’m way too tired to bring everything here right now,” he speaks as he curls up on his side of the bed. his athletic wear clings to his muscles from the coalescence of sweat on his skin, but nonetheless, he finds himself clinging to you. the gift basket sits on the table beside you, and in the morning when you arise, you’ll thank him for it, again, but with a little more energy.

“happy birthday,” tobio mutters into your shoulder. he looks like a sleepy baby. “i love you.”

[doumadono]

Warnings: dark ending, smut, exhibitionism, blood, overstimulation, p in v, creampie, death

Summary: as the high priestess, you lead a ritual to summon the powerful King of Curses, offering your body and soul as a willing sacrifice, only to meet your inevitable demise at the hands of the very deity you revere

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

The torches crackled and hissed in their sconces, bathing the ancient temple in flickering light and casting shadows that danced across the walls. Your heart pounded against your ribs like a caged animal, the anticipation making your palms sweat as you stood in front of the altar, your fingers fumbling slightly with the crimson silk robe draped over your shoulders. You weren’t supposed to be nervous, not when you had performed similar rituals countless times before - but tonight was different.

Around you, the other believers swayed in unison, their eyes closed, their lips moving in fervent, whispered chants. Their voices rose and fell, a symphony of devotion that vibrated through your bones, a palpable force that seemed to draw power from the very air itself. You could feel it - thrumming through your veins, wrapping around your heart, filling your lungs until every breath you took felt heavy with anticipation.

Tonight, you were calling upon the King of Curses himself.

"Brothers, sisters," you called out, your voice commanding yet gentle, a whisper that carried power, "tonight, we offer ourselves to him. Our bodies, our souls - everything belongs to our Lord Sukuna."

Your words were met with a chorus of whispered agreements, their voices merging into one, an endless, hypnotic hum that resonated through the chamber. You took a step forward, the hem of your crimson robes trailing across the cold stone. You could feel it - a rising tide of energy that thrummed beneath your feet, creeping up your legs, twisting around your spine like a serpent.

The silk robe draped over your shoulders was barely a barrier, translucent, whisper-thin, catching the dim light of the torches and clinging to the curves of your body. It was the only thing shielding you from the eyes of other believers. As you moved, it slid against your skin like a lover’s touch, revealing glimpses of bare flesh, the swell of your hips, the curve of your breasts and the perky nipples that hardened due to the cold air in the chamber.

You had studied ancient texts, whispered tales passed down through generations, and listened to the trembling voices of elders. They spoke of a creature, a god-like demon, who could bring salvation or damnation with a flick of his wrist. And you needed him. You needed his power, his strength, to protect what was left of your home from the relentless enemy forces that threatened to devour everything you loved.

Your master had always warned you that summoning such a powerful entity could be dangerous. In fact, most would consider it sheer madness. But you had practiced, studied, and prepared every day for this moment. And the time had finally come. 

You took a deep breath, pushing the doubts and fear from your mind. The ritual demanded absolute confidence, unwavering faith, and total submission. "Great Ryomen Sukuna," you began, your voice strong despite the fear coursing through your veins, "I call upon you, the one true King of Curses, to grace us with your presence. We offer our devotion, our loyalty, and our souls as tribute." 

The wind seemed to howl in response, the flames of the torches flickering more violently as if acknowledging your words.

There was no turning back now.

You repeated the incantation, your tone growing more fervent, your body swaying with the rhythm of the ancient words. 

The wind howled around you stronger, rustling your hair and the hem of your ceremonial robe. With trembling fingers, you took the knife from the altar, its blade gleaming in the moonlight. "O, King of Curses," you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath, "I offer you my blood, my flesh, my soul. Come forth and answer our call."

Without hesitation, you sliced across your palm, the sting sharp but brief. Blood welled up and dripped onto the cracked stone altar, seeping into the ancient symbols you had painstakingly carved into its surface. The ground trembled beneath you, as though the earth itself recognized the power you sought to unleash.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, the wind died down, the air becoming unnervingly still, and a sense of dread settled over you like a thick, suffocating blanket. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt an overwhelming presence, one that pressed against your very soul and made your body ache with fear.

From the back of the altar, a shadow stirred, a darkness so thick it seemed to swallow the flickering torchlight. The air grew heavy, stifling, and a hush fell over the temple as the believers knelt lower, trembling in anticipation. From the depths of that black void, a figure emerged - slowly, deliberately, as though he had all the time in the world to make his presence known.

Sukuna emerged from the darkness, his presence suffocating, overwhelming. He towered over all, a god among mortals, cloaked in light, flowing robes that barely concealed the powerful form beneath. His muscular body, honed and perfect, moved with the grace of a predator, every step deliberate, echoing with the weight of his authority. His skin was pale, but not with any human fragility - it was alabaster, almost ethereal, in contrast to the black, intricate markings that wound across his chest, arms, and neck. Those tattoos, like dark serpents, seemed to shift with the flickering light, symbols of his immense power and ancient origins, each line coiling and twisting like chains of darkness binding the god of curses.

But it was his face that captured you - the sight of him, fully revealed. His hair, a wild, chaotic pinkish-red hue, framed his angular features, strands catching in the torchlight like flames burning in the night. The color was unnatural, vibrant, a stark contrast to the coldness of his expression. His sharp jawline and high cheekbones gave him an undeniable, cruel beauty, a face that seemed carved by the gods themselves for the sole purpose of commanding and conquering.

His eyes, though - those were what ensnared you. Crimson and burning with an unholy light, they bore into you with terrifying intensity, gleaming with malevolence and ancient hunger. Four of them, two set above the other, creating a gaze that felt impossible to escape, as if they saw through everything - your soul, your mind, your very existence laid bare before him. 

Two pairs of arms remained folded across his chest, the motion languid, casual, as though he had all the time in the world. His hands, adorned with black markings like the rest of his body, exuded a dangerous aura, as though each movement was capable of bending reality itself to his will. 

His gaze swept over the temple, pausing only when it found you. Beneath the thin silk robe draped over your naked form, your skin prickled under his scrutiny. His eyes lingered, dark amusement playing in the depths of his four crimson orbs. His lips curled into a cruel, knowing smile, a smirk that told you he had seen this moment long before you had ever whispered his name. "Well," Sukuna's voice was deep, resonating with the power of an ancient god. "It’s been a long time since anyone dared to summon me in such a way. I thought all of my worshippers had been swallowed by the sands of time. And yet here you are, kneeling before me like a lamb to the slaughter, sacrificing yourself so willingly, little priestess.”

You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to tremble under his scrutiny. "I am here to serve you, my Lord Sukuna," you uttered, bowing deeply until your forehead nearly touched the stone floor. "I have dedicated my life to you, and I wish to offer myself as your vessel. I am yours to command." 

Sukuna's laugh was harsh, echoing through the chamber like thunder. "Is that so? And what makes you think that you, a mere mortal, could be worthy of serving me?"

"I have prepared for this moment my entire life," you answered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "I am willing to give you everything - my body, my soul, my very existence - if it pleases you, my Lord."

"Hmmm." Sukuna stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as they roamed over your form. You could feel the heat radiating from him, a tangible aura of power that made your skin tingle. He towered over you, the sheer presence of him enough to make you feel like an insect beneath his heel. "Stand," he ordered, and you obeyed, rising to your feet with as much grace as you could muster. 

He reached out with one of his many hands, the claws grazing your cheek, drawing a single line of blood. He observed the crimson droplet with a glint of amusement before pressing his thumb to your lips. "Lick it," he commanded, and without hesitation, you parted your lips, your tongue darting out to taste the coppery tang of your own blood. 

"Interesting," Sukuna mused, watching you with a predatory intensity. "You do not cower or flinch. Are you not afraid of me, little priestess?"

"I am," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But my fear is nothing compared to my desire to serve you, my Lord."

His laughter reverberated through the temple once more, and this time, you could sense a hint of genuine amusement beneath the mockery. "Very well. Let’s see if you can truly entertain me." 

In a blink, Sukuna's fingers curled around your throat, lifting you off your feet as if you weighed nothing. 

You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his wrist, but you didn’t struggle. You couldn’t - wouldn’t. 

He brought you closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Do you know what happens to those who disappoint me?" he whispered, his tone dark and laced with malice.

"No, my Lord," you replied, your voice choked but unwavering. 

"They die," he mused simply, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Painfully. Slowly. And I enjoy every second of it."

He released you, and you crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. But even in the face of such raw power, you felt no regret. You pushed yourself back up onto your knees, bowing your head. "I will not disappoint you, my Lord," you promised.

"Prove it," Sukuna growled, gesturing toward the altar. "Strip."

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the sash of your robe, but you obeyed, letting the silk slide from your shoulders to pool around your feet. You stood before him, naked and vulnerable, feeling the weight of his gaze as it roamed over every inch of your body. 

Despite your nakedness exposed to the cold air of the temple and the eyes of the other believers kneeling around you, you felt no shame, no fear. Their gazes, if they dared to lift their heads from the stone floor, meant nothing in the grandness of this moment. You had prepared for this - body, mind, and soul. Each prayer, each offering, every ritual bath had cleansed you of doubt, stripped you of earthly concerns. Your purpose was singular, unwavering. It wasn’t their eyes that mattered; only his. You stood bare not only in flesh but in spirit, ready to fulfill the sacred role of high priestess, ready to meet the eyes of the god you had summoned. This was the moment you had waited for, and no mortal gaze could shake your resolve.

Sukuna took his time, savoring the sight of you, and a dark chuckle escaped his lips. "Such a delicate little thing," he murmured, almost as if to himself. "I wonder how long you'll last before you break."

He approached you, each step sending a jolt of electricity through the air, and with a flick of his wrist, you were laid out on the altar, your back against the cool stone. The sensation was jarring, but you didn’t dare protest. 

Sukuna’s hands traced the length of your body, his touch both gentle and brutal as he gripped the plush of your skin occasionally as if he were mapping out all the ways he could destroy you. His smile widened, revealing sharp, pointed teeth that gleamed in the dim light. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his mouth claiming yours with an intensity that left you breathless. You could feel his other hands moving, one pinning your wrists above your head, another spreading your legs wide for him, and the last caressing the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing out a shiver that left you weak.

He played with your hard nipples a bit, then reached up and stuck a finger in your mouth. 

You sucked on it for a second, and then the king of curses pulled it out and smeared the wetness on your left nipple. 

Once it was wet, he blew on it, and it hardened even further.

You moaned softly, sucking your lower lip into your mouth, rubbing your thighs together.

He parted your legs unceremoniously. 

As his fingers brushed against your pussy lips, you gasped, your body instinctively reacting to the sensation. "Please…" you begged, the word slipping out before you could stop it. 

"Please, what?" Sukuna taunted, nipping at your lower lip, drawing blood and drinking it willingly. "You’ll need to be more specific, little priestess."

"Please, take me," you pleaded, the desperation evident in your voice. "Make me yours, my Lord Sukuna."

Sukuna’s grin was feral, and without warning, he thrust two fingers inside you despite the resistance of your tight pussy, making you cry out in both pleasure and pain. "Such a pretty little thing," he cooed mockingly. "So eager to be ruined." He moved his fingers with a deliberate slowness, savoring every reaction, every gasp, and moan that escaped your lips while his thumb brushed over your clit.

It was overwhelming: the heat, the sensation, the knowledge that you were entirely at his mercy. Your legs were already trembling like leaves on the cold autumn wind. You writhed beneath him, your body straining against the hold of his hand on your wrists, and he watched you with those crimson eyes, drinking in your every movement.

"Beg," Sukuna commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Beg for me, and I might consider being gentle."

"Please," you whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Please, my Lord. I want you. I need you."

He laughed, the sound vibrating through your very bones. "Very well," he purred, "I’ll grant you your wish." He pushed his white hakama pants down his muscular legs, revealing the monstrous size of his member. His cockhead bounced back firmly against his toned abdomen, an audible slap as flesh met flesh. He slowly jerked himself several times, watching you writhing in anticipation, gently playing with your breasts as you looked him right in his crimson eyes. His cock got rock hard nearly instantly. Ryomen positioned himself at your entrance, and with a single, brutal thrust, he filled you completely, the angry, red tip of his cock kissing your cervix as he settled himself within your wetness. 

You cried out, arching off the altar, your fingers digging into the stone as he began to move, each thrust harder, faster, and more demanding than the last.

The pain was there, sharp and searing, but it was drowned out by the pleasure, the feeling of being completely and utterly claimed by the King of Curses. "You belong to me now," Sukuna growled, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck after he leaned in. "You’ll serve me, obey me, worship me until the day you die."

"Yes," you gasped, clinging to him, feeling your release building, the heat coiling tighter and tighter within your abdomen. "Yes, my Lord, always."

Sukuna's laughter was the last thing you heard before he drove you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure so intense it felt as though you might shatter. And as you fell apart in his arms, the only thought that lingered in your mind was that you were finally his.

The world around you blurred as your body quivered beneath Sukuna’s relentless assault, every nerve alight with sensation.

His nails - sharp and jagged - scraped across your skin, leaving thin red lines in their wake. He grope your breasts, squeezing them between his calloused digits, brushing the nipples with the pads of his thumbs. "You're so fragile," Sukuna murmured, almost as if in awe as he kept of fucking your already overstimulated pussy. "So breakable. Yet you begged for this. Tell me, does it hurt?" He improved your position and hoisted your legs up onto his muscular shoulders. Sukuna began a fierce pounding, hammering away from the start.

"Y-Yes," you stammered, your voice hoarse from screaming, from crying out his name. "But it feels so good. My pussy is so sore, my Lord!”

He chuckled darkly, leaning in close until his breath ghosted across the column of your neck. "That's because you belong to me now, little priestess," he whispered, each word a venomous promise. "I will make you mine over and over again until there is nothing left of you but a shell that worships my very existence."

After abruptly pulling out of you, he flipped you over, dropping you on all fours. He quickly positioned himself behind you, his fat, swollen, cockhead pressed against your wet needy pussy so hard it almost forced you open. 

Grabbing your hips, his rough fingers digging into your fleshy hips that supported your fat fuckable ass, he threw himself toward. The power of his thrust would've forced you off the altar if not for Sukuna holding you in place. Your entire body surged forward as a cock too big to take was forced into you with unstoppable strength. Sukuna’s hand shot to grab your hair and pull you head back, arching your back against his chest as he kept on slamming into the tightness of your core. His other hand moved to wrap tightly around your neck.

The muscles in his arms bulged as he quickened his pace, slamming into you with a force that sent shockwaves through your sweaty body. ''There will be no breaks for you tonight, little whore of mine. I want to fuck this fucking cunt of yours non-stop, do you understand?”

You gave a nod and made a quiet sound, and Sukuna pushed his cock in deeper, making you squeal a muffled cry as you bit on your lower lip, drawing blood from the flesh.

The wet slamming of your bodies filled the huge chamber.

You couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel him. The sensation of his heat, his strength, and his utter dominance was enough to drive you to madness.

Soon, you were flipped on your back again, and immediately his massive cock pushed back into your abused pussy. His eyes burned with violent lust, yours were filled with a satisfaction like you'd just achieved your life's work.

One of his free hands moved up, tangling in your hair, jerking your head back so that you were forced to look into his eyes. Those crimson orbs gleamed with sadistic pleasure, reflecting the flickering flames around you, and you were certain you'd never seen anything more terrifying or beautiful in your life. "Say it," Sukuna commanded, his voice ragged. "Say that you belong to me."

"I… I belong to you," you choked out, tears streaming down your cheeks, the rawness of your voice echoing in the chamber. "I am yours, my Lord Sukuna." You took immense pleasure in being watched by the other believers. Your body, already beautiful on its own, became a sight to behold when joined by Sukuna's presence.

The satisfaction in his expression was palpable, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was as much a claim as it was a punishment. He kissed you with the same brutal intensity that he took you, his tongue invading your mouth, leaving no room for resistance, no space for doubt. His other mouth, placed on his abdomen decided to have some fun too, so the slimy tongue darted out to lap at your clitoris.

You felt the pressure building again, that unbearable coil tightening in your core, threatening to snap at any moment. "Please!" you gasped, your nails digging into his skin, your body arching against him in a desperate attempt to bring him even closer. "Please, my Lord, let me… let me…!"

"Not yet," he snarled, his grip tightening painfully on your wrists. "You will not come until I allow it. Do you understand?"

You nodded frantically, the desperation evident in every fiber of your being. "Y-Yes, my Lord.”

"Good," Sukuna purred, thrusting harder, deeper, his movements growing more erratic, more frenzied. The sound of your flesh meeting echoed in the chamber, mingling with your ragged breaths and the low growls that rumbled from his chest. And still, he denied you, holding you on the precipice of pleasure, refusing to let you fall over that edge. His dick brushed all of the right spots deep within your pussy, and since you were dripping wet at that point, some of your juices were pushed out of you by his massive length.

"Please…" you whimpered, your entire body trembling, your mind unraveling as you teetered on the brink. "I can't… I can’t…"

"Beg," he demanded, and the cruelty in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. "Beg me for your release."

"Please, my Lord Sukuna," you sobbed, your voice breaking, your vision blurring as the tears streamed down your face. "Please, I beg you. I need it. I need you."

For a moment, he said nothing, merely watching you with that infuriatingly calm expression, his crimson eyes glowing with a light that seemed to come from another world. And then, without warning, he drove into you one final time, his body tensing, muscles rippling as he found his own release, spilling his thick, warm cum within you in nearly five massive spurts. The sensation was overwhelming, like fire spreading through your veins, igniting every nerve, every cell in your body. Slowly he withdrew the whole length of his cock and jerked himself while he kept on spraying thick liquid all over your helpless body. He covered your abdomen in hot cum until you were completely drenched in white, sticky goo. "Now," he growled, his voice rough and ragged. "Now, you may come."

It was all the permission you needed. The coil snapped, and you shattered, your body convulsing, waves of pleasure crashing over you in an endless, merciless torrent. You screamed, your voice hoarse and raw, the sound echoing through the temple, mingling with Sukuna’s own guttural groans as he continued to pound you, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from your trembling form, not minding the hot tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. You shuddered in orgasm, cumming just from looking from under your half-closed eyelids, and imagining your Lord Sukuna fucking you again. "My body was made for you, my Lord.”

You were dimly aware of his hands on your body, caressing you, grounding you as you slowly came down from that euphoric high. Your vision blurred, your body limp, utterly spent, and you collapsed against the altar, unable to do anything but lie there, gasping for breath.

Sukuna’s fingers traced lazy patterns across your skin, and despite the roughness, there was a gentleness to his touch now, a possessiveness that made your heart flutter. "You did well," he murmured, his tone almost tender. "You pleased your lord."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Thank you, my Lord," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but he heard it. 

He smirked, leaning down to capture your lips once more, this time in a kiss that was slow, lingering, a silent acknowledgment of what you had just shared. Looking directly at where you were connected, Sukuna pulled his semi-hard cock out of you, grinning like a kid while watching how your mixed cum dribbled out of your reddened, abused hole. He scooped some on the pad of his index finger and took a closer look at the slimy, pearly white liquid slowly streaming down his digit. He pushed his finger past his parted lips, tasting himself and you on his tongue. “Such a delicious, little lamb,” he praised within a grunt that rumbled deep in his chest.

His fingers still traced across your skin, but their touch now carried a different weight. 

You sensed the shift immediately, though your body, still dazed from the euphoria, struggled to react.

“Such a good little lamb,” he mused, his voice low and silky. “But even the most loyal lambs must be sacrificed.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but your body was too weak, too drained to move. You had known from the start what this ritual would cost you. You had prepared for it, accepted it. And yet, as you lay beneath him, his shadow swallowing you whole, that acceptance turned to a quiet, desperate hope for more - more time, more moments, more of him.

His hand wrapped around your throat with deceptive gentleness, his grip firm but not yet cruel. Sukuna leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ve served your purpose,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “And now, you’ll give me one final gift.”

A flash of panic surged through your exhausted body, but it was too late. His fingers tightened, cutting off your air, and his crimson eyes glowed with an almost loving intensity as he watched the life slowly being drained from yours. You clawed weakly at his wrist, but there was no malice in his actions - only inevitability.

As the darkness crept in, your vision narrowing to a pinpoint, Sukuna pressed one last kiss to your forehead. “Rest now,” he murmured, his voice soothing, as if he were putting you to sleep rather than ending your life. “You’ve earned it, satisfying your lord.”

The world dimmed, your body going limp as your final breath left you. The last thing you saw was his cruel, satisfied smile, and then - then was pure nothingness.

The temple fell silent, save for the distant murmur of the remaining believers, aware that their high priestess had become nothing more than a sacrifice, her blood and soul claimed by the king of curses.

As Sukuna’s laughter echoed through the vast temple, the gathered believers knelt in silent terror again. Their faces, once filled with awe and reverence, were now twisted in fear. They had witnessed the culmination of the ritual, the ultimate sacrifice of their high priestess - the one who had led them, who had spoken the will of their dark god. And now, she lay still, her lifeless body draped across the altar, pale and motionless, while Sukuna stood over her, drenched in the eerie glow of the temple’s firelight.

Some of the followers dared to look up, trembling, their eyes wide with horror. The sight of Sukuna towering above her was both majestic and terrifying - a god who had claimed his offering without hesitation or remorse. The air hung heavy with the smell of incense and the iron tang of blood, a solemn testament to the price of their devotion.

One brave soul, trembling with fear, took a step back, his face pale. Others followed, their belief shaken as they witnessed the brutal truth of the god they had summoned. Whispers broke out, hushed and frantic, the terror rising in their chests as they realized that if even their high priestess could fall to Sukuna’s insatiable hunger, then none of them were safe.

Sukuna turned his gaze on them, his crimson eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement, and in an instant, the whispering ceased. Every believer froze in place, their hearts racing as they cowered under his piercing stare.

"Frightened, are we?" he drawled, his voice low and mocking, sending a chill down their spines. His presence was overwhelming, dominating the space as he stepped away from your lifeless form, leaving it to rest as though it were nothing more than a discarded toy.

He scanned the kneeling figures, a smirk playing on his lips. "You shall be," he continued, his tone dripping with cruel satisfaction. "What did you think would happen when you called upon me? That I would take, and not demand more?"

The fear in their eyes only seemed to amuse him further. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his bare feet silent against the stone floor, but every movement radiated power. "This is what it means to serve me," he said, his voice a dangerous purr, each word like a blade slicing through the tense silence. "To give everything. Your bodies, your souls, your lives."

He paused, his gaze narrowing, daring any of them to defy him. None did. "But take heart," he added, almost teasing, his tone shifting as though speaking to children. "Your devotion has pleased me. You live, for now. Consider yourselves fortunate, mortals."

A dark chuckle escaped his throat. “Continue to worship me," Sukuna claimed, his voice turning cold. "But remember - this is the price. When your time comes, there will be no mercy."

With that final, ominous warning, Sukuna turned away from them, disappearing into the shadows that had birthed him, leaving his followers trembling in his wake. 

The oppressive silence returned, broken only by the faint crackling of the temple’s torches and some quiet sobs, as the believers remained frozen in place, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

In the center of the altar, your body lay still, a solemn reminder of the fate that awaited those who dared to summon the King of Curses.

[caitified]

teacher

kate martin x reader

warnings:none

kate teaches eva to play

after tucking in your six-year-old daughter, eva, you headed to your bedroom, thinking the day was finally winding down. she had been at school all day, and all you wanted was a quiet evening. little did you know, kate had other ideas.

once you were out of sight, kate peeked into eva’s room, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “hey, superstar,” she whispered, nudging eva awake. “how about a little adventure?” eva’s eyes lit up as she nodded eagerly, excitement bubbling within her.

they tiptoed down the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible, their giggles echoing in the stillness of the house. outside in the driveway, the moonlight cast a soft glow, perfect for some secret fun. kate pulled out a mini basketball she had stashed away, and eva squealed in delight.

“okay, here’s how you shoot,” kate said, demonstrating with exaggerated flair, her tall frame bending slightly as she flicked the ball toward the hoop. the ball arched beautifully before landing in the grass. “see? easy peasy!”

eva, with her hair tousled and eyes shining, took the ball eagerly. “my turn!” she exclaimed, mimicking kate’s stance. she bounced it awkwardly, giggling as it slipped from her grasp and rolled into the driveway.

just as you were settling down for the night, you heard the sounds of laughter drifting in from outside. curious, you peeked through the window and felt your heart swell at the sight of kate and eva sharing this moment, their laughter blending in the night air.

you couldn’t help but smile but decided to put on a show. you opened the door, stepping out onto the driveway with a faux frown. “and just what do you think you’re doing out here, young lady?” you called, crossing your arms in mock disapproval.

eva turned, wide-eyed and giggling. “mommy! we’re just practicing basketball!”

“is that so?” you said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. “and you thought i wouldn’t notice you sneaking out?”

kate shot you a cheeky grin. “we were just having a little fun. i promise she’ll be ready for the wnba in no time!”

“hmm,” you replied, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “and what do you think your other mommy would say about this little escapade?”

“not a word!” kate exclaimed, her smile infectious. “just a few more minutes, i swear.”

with a dramatic sigh, you stepped fully into the driveway. “alright, but just for a few more minutes. then it’s straight back to bed!”

“yay!” eva cheered, bouncing the ball. the three of you spent the next few minutes playing under the stars, the driveway transformed into your little basketball court.

you joined in on the fun, teasing kate about her form while cheering for eva’s every attempt. “look at you! you’re a natural!” you encouraged, clapping when eva made her first shot, albeit a little lucky.

as the night wore on, you felt your heart warm at the sight of kate and eva together, their bond unbreakable. eventually, you knew it was time to call it a night. “okay, basketball stars, time to head inside. we can’t let the neighbors think we’re crazy.”

“can we do this again tomorrow?” eva asked, her voice sleepy but hopeful.

“of course,” kate replied, wrapping her arm around eva’s shoulders as they walked back inside. “every day if you want.”

as you tucked eva in once more, you couldn’t help but smile at how magical the evening had turned out. you exchanged a glance with kate, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

“goodnight, sweetheart,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from eva’s forehead. she smiled sleepily, clutching her favorite stuffed animal. you turned off the light, leaving the door slightly ajar, and settled into your own bed.

but you couldn’t shake the warm feeling that lingered from the evening. as you lay there, listening to the soft sounds of the house settling around you, you heard a quiet shuffle in the hallway. curiosity piqued, you peeked out of your room just in time to see kate and eva sneak back outside.

you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head at their antics. it was moments like these that made all the chaos of parenting worth it. even though they were supposed to be winding down for the night, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy watching them bond.

with a smile, you returned to bed, knowing that tomorrow would bring more laughter and love. after all, with kate and eva in your life, every day was an adventure waiting to happen.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Rhaenyra with prompt 10 plz

Prompt list - 10. Mutual Masturbation [F/F]

--------------------------------🐲-----------------------------------

Rhaenyra sighed as she sat at her vanity. Preparing for bed, but even looking at her own reflection seemed exhausting at this point.

Had she known the burden of taking the crown and wearing it would be so much, she may have just laid it down to begin with.

“Your Grace,” Rhaenyra turned from her reflection and frivolous thoughts, “are you alright?”

“Oh, yes, I am fine.” She told her ladies maid before returning to getting ready for bed. “Just a little tired. That’s all.”

“Hmmm…yes. It has been a long day, hasn’t it.” The young woman came up behind her Queen. Taking the brush and taking over the duties of brushing her long, silver hair. “Any word from Prince Daemon?”

Rhaenyra’s face soured but played it off as if she had hit some knot. “No. Not yet. But we will.” The last part was added as more of a hope than a fact. “I do not wish to talk about that right now. I do not wish to think about anything right now.”

The Queen sighed and slouched in her chair. Her maid chuckled a little and sat the brush down. “Shall I help with that instead, your grace?”

Rhaenyra looked up at the other woman. Her face sincere and non-judgmental. The first face in days she had seen that wanted nothing of her, save Rhaenyra’s happiness. “Yes.”

They come over to the bed and the maid helped her strip out of her nightclothes. “You too.” She ordered. This was not the first time they had done this. Her maid helping her ‘relax’. But Rhaenyra preferred them both to be naked when they did. There was something…vulnerable about it when she was naked and her maid was not. Too much the potential for danger; but perhaps that was her paranoia of late.

“Of course, your grace.” She agreed and stripped out of her simple clothes as well.

They lay on the bed facing each other. A long moment passes over them. Both waiting for the other to move and initiate. No one was sure who moved first, but soon enough they were kissing and the maid’s soft but still calloused hands roamed over Rhaenyra’s body.

Rhaenyra moaned softly into the kiss. Realizing now how devoid of touch she had been since Daemon had left. Her girl’s finger tips brush over a swiftly pebbling nipple. Down her center and over her naval. Finally seeking  purchase between her thighs. “Oh Gods…” Rhaenyra moaned. Hips almost instantly bucking against those practiced fingers.

The digits stroke at her core and moistened folds. Brush over her pearl in a way that makes her shiver. Mind going blank in the fog of passion, just like she wanted.

Rhaenyra’s own hand reached out for her maid and started to touch her as well. “Your grace,” the other woman sighed wantonly, “you needn’t….this is to help you. About what you want.”

“This is what I want.” Rhaenyra told her. Thighs trembling as their panting breathes mix together amongst the whispers of their secret. “Would you deny your Queen?”

The other woman whimpered and leaned in to kiss her Queen.

Their hands continue to touch and fondle each other in the dark. Soon enough, they were rutting against each other like animals. Devoid of the pleasantries of their stations and replaced with the primal urge for climax.

Rhaenyra came first. Apex seizing around her maid’s fingers as her whole body shook. Grasping at her with her free hand while the other toyed with her maid’s clit further to send her over the edge as well.

When it was over, and the fuzzy feeling of the fog had lifted, Rhaenyra turned to slide herself beneath the sheets and felt the bed shift for her maid to leave. “Wait. Don’t go.” The other woman paused, dress in her hand. For a moment looking just a pen drop fearful as Targareyn’s were known to change their mood like the winds. “It is rather cold tonight. I could use a bedwarmer for the evening.”

It was no lie. Dragonstone was much cooler than King’s Landing. Cooler in climate. Cooler in company. Cooler without Daemon here beside her.

Her maid smiled shyly and dropped her dress back to the ground. “Of course, your grace, whatever you need.” She crawled back into bed with Rhaenyra. Coiling about her as the Queen wished before the two fell asleep.

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 17)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3058

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16)

Notes: heyyyy what do you know, i found it in me to get this part out. im proud.

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You never been one to throw caution to the wind, but with what sits before you, the urge is strong.

Animals were one of the first things to go when disease swept across the world, which is why it’s so difficult not to pick up the juicy chicken breast that’s steaming on the plate in front of you, and completely ravage it.

Your mouth waters at the sight. There are greens, too. A blend of spinach and vegetables cooked to perfection in animal fat. It’s the first real meal you’ve seen in…fuck you don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve seen real meat like this, nor food that wasn’t expired and from a can.

The only thing keeping your restraint in place is your companions' determination. The sprinkle of common sense that hasn’t fizzled into a ravenous beast at the scent of your meal is easy to overlook, but Azriel’s menacing presence beside you isn’t. His back is ramrod straight in his own seat, and the food doesn’t seem to be affecting him in the slightest. He’s undeterred by their taunts. Instead, his woody eyes drink in your surroundings for the umpteenth time, as if there might be a hint as to what’s really going on here. 

On your other side, you’re flanked by Cassian, who does look like he’s struggling to keep himself from sinking his teeth into the juicy thigh on his plate, however little it might be. It’s more than he’s had to eat in days, months, and he wants it so fucking badly.

In fact, no one’s touching their food, which is a red flag of itself, but your head is swimming at the smells, your stomach a mess of knots that loosen at the idea of food, and tighten at the thought of where your best friend could be.

You’re also a little afraid, if you’re being honest, of getting sick should you eat something this…real after having gone so long without.

Nesta watches you from across the table with a piercing stare. There’s a malice you’ve become accustomed to being fed in the little time you’ve known her. You understand that she’s worried for her sister, out there with little protection, but you’re worried too. You feel as if Feyre is your sister as well. You’ve been winning your own little war against the undead for too long to remember.

At her side is who you can only decern to be her lover, Eris. You ponder their relationship, what you saw in the woods. Perhaps they’re nothing more than companions, but with the way the auburn-haired man keeps stealing glances at her, worry etched in his brow, you know there must be more.

The chair beside Eris is filled with a near clone of him. They have twin eyes and looks of caution on their fox-shaped faces. The unnamed man wears his hair long down his back, a single braid hangs down the side of his face. It’s not a nice one, practiced, but messy, like whoever put it there was distracted more often than not during styling. The only differentiator is the color of their skin, because even the shape of their eyes and their stature is eerily similar. It’s clear that they are nothing like their scumbag of a father, and the thought of Beron alone makes you shiver in your seat.

There’s an empty seat beside him, and you can’t help the stab of guilt you feel at the sight of it. You don’t know if they’ve lost someone important to their little unit they have going on here, or if there’s a reason for the unoccupied seat.

Cassian’s stomach growls loudly, breaking the terse silence. 

“Everything is safe to eat, I can assure you,” Eris mentions after clearing his throat. Nesta shoots him a look that could make even a zombie cower, but he must be used to it because he takes the betraying look with grace, gently settling a palm onto her lap.

Nesta doesn’t shove it away like you expect her to. Instead, her lips go razor thin. The pair stare at each other so intensely that you feel like you’re intruding on something monumental.

Eventually, Nesta breaks. With a sharp inhalation, she turns her gaze to you. She doesn’t look happy, but at least she doesn’t look like she wants to reach across the table and maul you for losing her sister.

“Eat,” she all but demands. She cringes, grits her teeth, and adds like the words are truly poison in her mouth, “Please.”

“You’ll excuse us if we don’t trust you,” Azriel replies curtly. Your eyes soften as they land on him, even if his gaze is trained on your hosts. Weeks ago, he’d been wary of you, and now he’s here protecting you from the outsiders that are holding you captive.

You’ve never been so thankful for him, and you remind yourself to thank him for it later.

“Don’t eat, then.” Nesta shrugs as if his words don’t bother her in the slightest. Your whereabouts of Feyre seem to have caught her off guard because right now she is the perfect poise of excellence. Her nature could give any queen a run for their crown.

She’s the first one to dig into her meal. She uses the cutlery as if they’re weapons, tearing into the meat with a force that has you praying to any higher being that Feyre and Rhys are on their way to you, because you do not want to be on the other end of Nesta’s knife.

Your eyes flicker back down to your plate, to the shiny silverware placed on either side of your plate. Hell, you’re not even sure you remember how to use them anymore, with how long you’ve had to make do on the road.

“Please, eat,” Eris counters with a stern look that doesn’t affect Nesta in the slightest. Eris motions to his brother and they both pick up their forks, as if trying to show you everything is okay.

“I don’t trust the animals, either,” Azriel responds.

“How about the vegetables, then?” Eris offers, and you think you catch a glint of pleading in his amber eyes. You think he’s trying to keep things civil and calm for Nesta’s sake. You’re sure she’s worried to pieces about her littlest sister out there when the sun is so close to hiding away for another night of hell. “The animals are perfectly healthy, though I assure you the food will not go to waste if you don’t eat it.”

“How are they safe?” Cassian questions, grimacing down at the meat. You know that he out of everyone in your little group needs it the most. You’ve seen his protruding ribs only yesterday, and with him being the biggest in your group, he needs the nutrients more than anyone.

A sudden urge of protectiveness washes over you. You want him safe and healthy, want both him and Azriel safe and happy, and you wish more than anything that you could give it to them.

Only time will tell.

Eris gives a very diplomatic response. “My family has owned this land for generations,” he starts, and you don’t like to think of how he is Beron’s son. It makes all of the desperation to eat, subside. “We have been raising and breeding our own meat and dairy for just as long. They have never showed signs of disease, but perhaps it’s because they live a life unknowing of what goes on in this world.” You’re not following, but Eris continues before your confusion causes you to blurt out questions.

“My brother—Lucien,” he nods toward his brother beside him. “Takes care of them. When our father first heard the mumblings of a pandemic so devastating, the world as we knew it would never be the same, he built a bunker of sorts, where we continue to monitor and raise our animals to this day.”

“That was about the only smart thing he ever did,” Lucien mumbles, looking green at the mention of his father.

You get the feeling.

Azriel says, “Yeah, we’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting the bastard.”

Lucien’s utensils fall to the table with a clang that startles you in your seat. He looks sick to his stomach, his ying-yang eyes drawn down to his plate in shame. His shoulders are stiff and he’s gone so still you think he might be comatose, turning into a zombie right in front of your very eyes.

“You’ve met him?” Lucien asks, and he sounds like a little boy, reliving a trauma so ghastly that it’s altered his brain chemistry.

“Met him, killed him,” Azriel shrugs as if it was no big feat. Your stomach roils at the memory and you must look paler than normal because Cassian’s placing a. warm hand over yours in comfort. Azriel’s brashness isn’t new to you, but the reminder is too fresh. You try to focus on your hand in Cassian’s, offering him a weak smile.

The tension in the air seems to disperse with Azriel’s words. You’re pretty sure you see Lucien’s shoulders physically drop in relief, like he feels the same way you do about his father. Eris sits in his seat, stunned, but he doesn’t look upset about the news, he looks more disappointed, like he missed out on being the one to kill the crazy cannibal.

“Well, I think this calls for the good wine,” Nesta says, and you swear you see the corners of her mouth threaten to tug into a satisfied smirk.

She glances at you from across the table, and you pick up your fork.

You hope that this is the first of many things that you will agree with her on.

There is little conversation while you eat. Azriel’s brows are drawn in tight, and his mouth is set in a hard line. He keeps glancing over at you with a scolding heat in his eyes, but there’s a sliver of worry that makes you ache, like he thinks you might keel over from the chicken.

If you do, you’re not even sure you’ll be mad. It’s good fucking chicken.

You try to savor it, to eat slowly so that your body doesn’t reject the first real meal you’ve had in forever, but you can hardly control yourself. You feel like a rabid animal, hungry enough to gnaw your own arm off. You wonder if this is what the zombies outside feel like, an insatiable hunger, or if they’re so mindless they don’t feel anything at all.

You reckon you have only minutes before the food makes its reappearance, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you slide your silverware onto your empty plate, trying to deter yourself from leaning forward and licking it clean.

Cassian has no such reservations.

“How long has it been since you’ve tried to contact my sister?” Nesta asks when the three of you have finished. Even Azriel couldn’t help but clear his plate, though he did take the longest of the three of you, more than mindful of your captors.

It makes your heart swell that he has kept an eye out for you and Cassian.

Azriel and Cassian share a look over your head, debating how much to indulge. But this is Feyre’s sister, and they want to find her and Rhys just as much, so they relent.

“We tried getting through to them this afternoon, before we ran into you,” Cassian explains. “They were too far out of range.”

“Call them again,” she demands, and Eris opens his mouth to protest but Nesta is clearly done with niceties. “No,” she snaps at the man beside her. “We have given them a place to stay and a warm meal. It’s time for them to do something in return.”

You don’t mention how you didn’t have a choice but to be here, and that they wouldn’t have had to give up their food if you were still wandering out in the woods, but your stomach is too full to argue that point.

Cassian tugs the walkie-talkie from his pocket and switches it on. The static is loud, and you all wait in anticipation until the signal calms a bit before he clicks the button on the side and makes the call. “Rhys? Feyre? Are you out there?”

It’s like waiting for a cure as the six of you listen to the channel. Nothing comes through, and Cassian calls again, to no avail.

“We’ll keep trying,” he says, a determined look in his eye. You’re pretty sure that’s the only thing keeping Nesta in her seat, because she looks like she will reach across the table and stab you with her knife.

Movement in the corner of your eye makes you flinch. Cassian’s arm reaches out to block you and Azriel’s already halfway out of his seat, ready to tear you away from the threat that stumbles into the doorway.

The threat comes in the form of what must be Feyre’s other sister, Elain. She looks ghastly, skin as white as sheet, and as well-fed as Eris’ claims them to be, she’s all skin and bones. Her brown eyes are dull and sunken, purple-rimmed as if she hasn’t had a peaceful night of sleep in years. Her blonde-brown hair sits limp on her head, knotted at the back, as if she’s been drained of all of the health in her life.

She looks like a zombie.

Nesta jumps from her chair at the same time Lucien does, the both of them rushing for Elain. Lucien gets to her first, catching her just as her knees give out and scooping her into his arms. Her head lolls against his chest as if the effort to keep it upright is a burden too much, but her dazed gaze sharpens when it lands on you.

You’re frozen in your seat. You have no words for what you’re seeing, the sickly girl who looks closer to death than a zombie. Your heart pounds a thousand miles a minute in your chest, and your fingers are white-knuckled with confusion and fear where they’re wrapped around Cassian’s forearm.

Elain’s brown eyes widen in a way that looks unnatural for her once beautiful face. Her cracked lips form husky words that are so ominous it has the hair on your body standing on end.

“Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black. One has an injured wing.”

Lucien hushes her softly, murmuring to her as he removes her from the room. “Shh, Elain. Let’s get you back to bed, petal. You shouldn’t be expending so much energy until you’re feeling better.”

Guilt stabs you a thousand times over as he takes her away. It doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots with what you’ve seen. How sickly she looks, the faraway look and ramblings that don’t make sense.

“When did it happen?” You blurt, eyes darting from a stoney-faced Nesta to a grimacing Eris to the door Lucien and Elain disappeared through. You don’t like the feeling that overcomes you, the one that wants you to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible.

Something isn’t right here.

“It’s late,” Nesta states, looking between the three of you like she’s deciding how she’s going to kill each of you. You suppose she might, if she feels any sort of threat to her sister. For now, she needs you alive, if only to help find her other sister. She won’t dump any of you out yet, unless you can’t prove your worth.

Not unless Feyre is dead.

Azriel tucks you carefully behind him, more than aware of the threat before you. You can tell that he’s just as confused as you are. There’s a tightness to his shoulders that you don’t like, an edge to the strain of his body that screams danger.

His mouth opens to speak, but he’s cut off by the sudden voice that comes over the walkie-talkie.

“Cassian? Azriel? Do you copy?” Rhys’ panicked voice sounds through the machine. More than one emotion threatens to consume you, relief and worry. The full meal in your belly swarms like crashing waves, and you might just throw up after all.

Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta all lunge for the radio. Eris gets his hand around Nesta’s bicep and pulls her away, much to her reluctance. She claws against him but he’s only keeping her away from the three of you, still very much a threat.

Not that you’d be of any assistance should either party try to attack. You’ve collapsed in the closest chair.

“Rhys?” Cassian calls back, just as frantic. His terrified hazel eyes are locked with Azriel’s, and it’s all the black-haired boy can do to console Cassian with a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Can you hear me? Where the fuck are you?”

It wouldn’t mean much to Nesta, who’s given up her struggling to listen into what’s happening, but to Cassian, you know the touch means everything.

Anticipation skyrockets throughout the room, bringing the temperature up to boiling as you await his response. Each second feels like an eternity, and you’re sure the vein throbbing on Nesta’s forehead is about to explode when Rhysand finally responds.

It sounds like he’s running. You pray that’s not a groan of the undead you hear in the background. “Fuck,” he curses in such a hopeless way that makes your heart drop to the floor. Whatever he’s about to say, it’s not going to be good. “I need you to come find us. I don’t know where the fuck we are, but we need help.”

Azriel rips the walkie-talkie from Cassian���s hand, ready to take the lead. He pockets one of the knives at the table and you can’t even muster the energy to joke about how a butterknife won’t be the best weapon against a horde of zombies because you’re more than ready to follow him into the fray, sans weapons, if all to save your friends.

“Where are you, Rhys? I need landmarks.”

 “Az,” Rhys breathes, but he doesn’t sound relieved. In fact, he sounds spent, and there’s no sign of Feyre on the other line. “We need help. Badly. Feyre’s been bitten.”

And hey, your dinner does make its reappearance after all.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02  @azrielsbabyg  @arcadianmoonlight  @pradaxstyles  @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion  @fuckthatfeeling  @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001  @fallmyriad  @sstrohma  @tcris2020 @jeannineee  @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace (i hope you see this idk if this tag worked 😭)

IDK if any of these tags are going to work but someone plz lmk 💙

[milkbobatyun]

dont cry, my darling

pairing: soshiro hoshina x fem!reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: somehow, hoshina soshiro was always the reason for your tears

word count: 1k

a/n: i liked soshiro first, before i even met him (in the anime) i liked him. YOU HATE HIM COMPARED TO HOW MUCH I LIKE HIM ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭ (pls smw get this reference) literally such a simp for him, i hope this fic does him justice

the hospital room was illuminated by the watery moonlight, filtering through the paper thin curtains covering the windows on the far side of the room. the steady metronome of the heart monitor was the first thing soshiro heard as he woke up from his sleep.

he stared listlessly up at the grey ceiling, breathing in the antiseptic smell that lingered in the room. as he regained consciousness, he was aware of a dull ache of pain throbbing through his body, white bandages wrapped around his chest. perhaps he over-exerted himself in the battle against number 10.

he lay still in the comfort of the bed, eyes scanning around the room. it seemed that the rest of the patients had long since recovered from their wounds, the rest of the beds were empty.

a tight grip encased his hand, where it rested beside him. turning his head, he saw your form, slumped onto the bed, head resting against your arm, as you slept. 

the shadows haunting underneath your eyes told him of your worry, how long you had stayed awake, waiting for him. your hair was messy mane around your head, though it didn’t take away from your beauty.

moonbeams smiled upon your face, their cheerful light catching on the dried tear stains running down the apples of your cheeks. 

he sat up with an effort, a quiet grunt echoing throughout the empty room. he lovingly admired your sleeping form, his usual close-eyed smile morphing into one of sadness. it seemed that he was always the reason for your tears.

MEMORY I

it had been your fifth birthday, and your second year of moving into his neighbourhood.

that day, you had excitedly knocked on the hoshina residence’s front door, both hands eagerly clutching the sparkly pink handbag you just received from your parents.

you waited in anticipation at the front door, hopping from foot to foot in excitement, eyes sparkling when you hear the door slide open.

with your best manners, you greeted soshiro’s father, who had opened the door. in the shadows of the foyer, soshiro lingered, peeking and listening in. he should’ve been practicing his swordart, but you were more important. for you, he would drop everything to keep you company.

“good morning, mr hoshina!” you beamed up at him, a gap where your two front teeth should’ve been. “it’s my birthday today! i was wondering if… if soshiro could come and celebrate with me.” you blinked up at him, hope shining from your face.

his father had rumbled something in response. from behind the door, soshiro watched your eyes well with tears, your bottom lip trembling with the effort of holding them back.

the sun glistened, light reflecting off of the salty droplets as they fell.

it was only after your fervent pleading and watery puppy dog eyes that his father had finally relented, allowing his son to spend his day with you, though he had strictly ordered soshiro complete 30 extra sets of exercises the next day.

to soshiro, it was all worth it, just to see you smile.

MEMORY II

the next time he had made you cry was merely a few months after your seventh birthday.

the two of you were playing around in your backyard, flying your kite. a rogue wind snatched up your kite, throwing it into the intricate branches of the peach tree. your face fell almost immediately, lips turning down into a frown.

when he caught sight of your gloomy face, soshiro immediately sprung into action. he scampered up the tree like a monkey, carefully untangling the kite from the grasp of the tree.

yet, as he was climbing back down, his foot slipped, causing him to land in an undignified heap at the foot of the tree. the rough bark of the tree had scraped at his knee, a small river of blood leaking.

such a sight made you feel guilty. soshiro had gotten himself injured trying to help you. as you dabbed at his wound with an alcohol-soaked cotton, tears leaked from your eyes, while you repeatedly mumbled apologies.

soshiro only gave you a wide-smile, gently pinching your cheeks between his fingers, as he teased you.

“what a crybaby!” he laughed, smile stretching from ear to ear. “smile for me!”

through your tears and blurry vision, you gave him a wobbly smile.

MEMORY III

when soshiro had left for the defence force, you had spent a whole week, holed up in your room, fuming with anger. 

how dare that bowlcut prick not tell you he was leaving and had signed up for the defence force? if this idiot had thought that he could just up and leave without a word to his girlfriend, he should be prepared to catch some hands, or slippers, when he returned.

months passed and you didn’t hear a peep from him. as the date of your 1 year anniversary grew closer, you slowly began to lose hope.

as you trudged home from work, kicking a loose stone as  you went by, you quietly cursed soshiro under your breath, the string of curses growing as you neared your home.

suddenly, a large bouquet is thrust under your nose. looking up, you see none other than the devil himself, mr hoshina soshiro, standing and grinning, covered in bandages and his defence force uniform thrown over it, holding a comically large bouquet of flowers, with your favourite snacks stuffed between some of flowers.

tears pooled in your eyes as your tired brain finally registers that after months of no contact, here he was, your boyfriend, in the flesh, with a cheesy grin on his face.

seeing your bottom lip tremble, soshiro panicked, engulfing you in a hug as your salty tears soak into his uniform as you sobbed complaints about how you thought he died.

soshiro is brought back to the present when he hears you stir, mumbling something in your sleep. 

reaching behind him, he plumps up one of the numerous pillows cushioning him, before gently removing his hand from your grasp, lifting your head and nestling a pillow underneath.

he quietly slipped his hand back into yours. catching sight of your empty left hand, he brainstormed what type of ring you would like, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

he hoped, the next time he made you cry, it would be tears of joy.

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∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[moonselune]

How about the girlies with a druid tav who acts like the animal they often shift to like a cat just finding random places to laze around or sleep yk 'if it fits I sits'. Birb collecting shiny things, dog tilting their head and being easily distracted. Tav in human form acting like a cat is just giving the best vibes. Tav seeing a random open box and just sitting in it then dozing off has me rolling haha

omg i literally love this so much !!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The sun was high in the sky, casting warm light over the rolling fields where you and Karlach had been spending the afternoon training. It was supposed to be a routine day—tracking drills, sparring, a bit of scouting. But as a druid, your way of training often involved shifting into different animals to make the most of your natural abilities. Today, you had taken on the form of a bloodhound, your favorite for hunting down tracks and practicing your scenting skills.

Karlach, as usual, had been more than eager to spar and train alongside you. Her energy was contagious, her fiery spirit burning bright even during something as mundane as drills. But you had noticed something about Karlach—something playful in the way she interacted with you when you were in your animal form. Especially when you shifted back to your human shape.

You had just finished running down the scent of some game you’d picked up in the forest, nose to the ground, tail wagging. The moment you caught the trail, you raced ahead, your paws thudding against the dirt, and found the spot where the animal had passed. Karlach whistled, grinning from ear to ear as you skidded to a halt.

"That's my girl! Good job!" she called, her voice full of praise. "Come back here."

You shifted back to your human form, still breathless from the sprint, your chest heaving as you wiped the dirt from your hands. But as you approached Karlach, you felt that familiar tug of something instinctual still lingering in you. Your ears twitched, even though they were no longer dog ears, and you couldn’t shake the desire to return to her with your find, as if you were still that bloodhound.

Karlach noticed, of course. She always did.

"That was pretty good!" she said, tossing a ball she’d pulled from her pack up in the air, catching it effortlessly. “But I think you need a little more speed. Let’s do a quick sprint drill.”

You eyed the ball warily, the scent of leather filling your nostrils. The sight of it made your heart race in a way that had little to do with training and more to do with the part of your mind that was still stuck in that canine mindset. Karlach had this knowing smile on her lips, but you didn’t quite catch on at first.

She wound up her arm and launched the ball into the distance. Instinct took over. Without thinking, you bolted after it, your legs moving in a blur as you sprinted across the field. The wind rushed through your hair, and for a split second, you felt completely free. You skidded to a stop as you snatched the ball up, holding it proudly before sprinting back to Karlach.

“Nice job!” Karlach beamed at you, her voice full of laughter. “You’re getting faster.”

You handed her the ball, not quite realizing yet what she was doing. Her hand brushed yours as she took it, and for a moment, you caught the warmth in her eyes, the playful spark. She tossed the ball into the air again, casually, as if thinking out loud.

"How about we try that again? Just one more for good measure."

Without hesitation, she threw it again, and again, you were off. Your mind was half-aware now, starting to piece together what was happening. But the thrill of the chase, the simple joy of it, was intoxicating. You snatched up the ball and raced back, your chest burning but your heart still pounding with excitement.

By the third time, you caught the ball and paused, panting heavily, staring at it in your hands. Slowly, you looked back at Karlach, who was standing there, arms crossed, grinning wide as if she had just won a secret game. The realization hit you all at once.

This wasn’t a "training drill." This was fetch.

You blinked, incredulous, before narrowing your eyes at Karlach, who had the audacity to chuckle when she saw the look on your face.

“Oh,” you muttered, still catching your breath. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Karlach held up her hands, mock-innocent. "What? I’m just making sure you’re quick on your feet!"

You could see through her little ruse now. All the signs were there—the way she had been egging you on, the suspiciously casual way she had pulled out the ball, the grin she wore every time you returned to her.

With a low growl, you dropped the ball and launched yourself at her, tackling her to the ground. Karlach let out a playful yelp, laughing as she hit the grass beneath you. Her arms came up to wrap around you as you pinned her, your weight pressing her into the earth.

“Oh, I messed up, didn’t I?” she laughed, eyes twinkling with mischief as she grinned up at you.

“Training drills, huh?” you huffed, still out of breath, but unable to hold back your smile. “You were playing fetch with me.”

Karlach grinned even wider, not even trying to deny it now.

“Well, you’re such a good girl! How could I resist?” She winked at you, clearly delighted with her antics and you shoved down the emotions that bubbled up inside you when she called you a good girl.

You shook your head, feeling the laughter rise up despite yourself. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Karlach’s hands slid up to your sides, her touch warm and steady, grounding you in the moment. “Impossible, maybe. But you love me for it, don’t you?”

You couldn’t argue with that. Despite the teasing, despite her antics, there was something about Karlach that always made you feel more alive, more yourself—whether you were in human form or as a bloodhound.

Leaning down, you pressed your forehead to hers, your breath mingling with hers as you smiled softly.

“Maybe I do,” you murmured. “But don’t think you’re getting away with this again.”

Karlach let out a laugh, her arms tightening around you. “We’ll see about that. But admit it—you had fun.”

You couldn’t deny that either. The joy of the chase, the thrill of the sprint—it was fun. But what made it better was Karlach. Always Karlach. With a playful growl, you kissed her, capturing her laughter in your lips as you held her close.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The night was calm, the crackle of the campfire filling the stillness with a warm, steady rhythm. Minthara sat by the fire, her eyes focused intently on the battle plans laid out before her. The parchment was covered in precise markings and strategies, illuminated by the flickering flames. She was in her element—methodical, calculating, and completely engrossed in her work.

You, however, were feeling something entirely different.

After a long day of scouting and sneaking around in your feline form, you had shifted back to your usual self, but not without retaining some of those lingering feline tendencies. It happened sometimes. The fluidity of movement, the heightened senses, and, occasionally, the overwhelming desire for comfort in the least convenient of places.

Minthara looked quite comfortable where she sat, perched on a smooth boulder with her legs crossed, completely absorbed in her work. The fire roaring in front of her. There wasn’t much room in her lap, not really—but it was a lap, and the cat in you wanted nothing more than to curl up in it.

You moved closer, silently at first, hoping to sneak in without interrupting her. The firelight cast soft shadows across your face as you neared her, and for a brief moment, Minthara didn’t seem to notice your approach. But, of course, she did. Her sharp instincts wouldn’t allow anything less.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught your movement and immediately frowned. “

No,” she said firmly, her eyes narrowing. “There’s no room.”

You didn’t stop.

Minthara’s frown deepened as she returned her gaze to the battle plans, clearly trying to refocus. “I said no.”

But you ignored her again, your instincts driving you to keep moving closer. You could fit. You would fit.

She looked up once more, this time with more insistence. “I am not some cushion for you to lounge upon. This is important.”

But her words fell on deaf ears as you finally reached her, carefully navigating your way into her lap, despite the lack of space. It was a bit of a squeeze, admittedly, but you were determined. You wriggled and shifted, moving from side to side, adjusting until you could curl up just right.

Minthara let out a long, exasperated sigh. “You are utterly insufferable.”

You simply gave her a satisfied hum in response, continuing to squirm until you found the perfect position. Once you were nestled comfortably, you settled against her, your head resting on her chest, your body snug against her armor. There. Perfect.

Minthara, despite her earlier protests, didn’t push you away. Her free hand, the one not holding the battle plans, instinctively moved to your hair, her fingers sliding through it gently, as though she had resigned herself to this fate.

“I don’t know why I tolerate this,” she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with begrudging affection.

You practically purred in response, a soft sound of contentment escaping your lips as you closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. Minthara’s fingers continued to comb through your hair, slow and deliberate, almost absentminded as she shifted her attention back to her plans.

Despite her stern exterior, you knew there was a tenderness in her that she seldom showed to anyone. A softness that only you seemed to coax out of her, even in moments like this, when she was focused on her duties.

As the fire crackled in front of you both and the night settled in, you felt yourself drifting in and out of a peaceful haze. You could hear Minthara muttering to herself occasionally as she examined her plans, her fingers still tangled in your hair. It was a quiet, intimate moment, one where her sharpness met your playfulness and somehow balanced into something that felt just right.

“Next time,” Minthara said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “there will be no sitting in my lap when I am working.”

You smiled lazily, your eyes half-closed.

“Of course,” you murmured, though both of you knew that the next time would be no different.

Minthara shook her head, but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips as she continued her work, her hand never leaving your hair.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

You shifted back into your human form, the familiar sensation of bones and feathers returning to skin and flesh. The transformation left you momentarily dizzy, but you quickly regained your balance, shaking off the brief disorientation. Being a bird for hours, scouting the surrounding area, had become second nature to you, and with that form came certain habits you hadn’t entirely shaken off.

Your eyes immediately darted down to your hand, a grin forming as you revealed your latest prize—a small, glinting object that had caught your eye during your flight. It was a silver buckle, not entirely dissimilar to the dozens of other trinkets you had already found, but its smooth surface and the way the light reflected off it made it irresistible. Without a second thought, you strode towards Lae'zel, who was sharpening her sword by the fire, her usual sharp gaze focused on her weapon.

"Look what I found!" you said, holding the shiny buckle out towards her with an eager smile.

Lae’zel barely looked up at first, her frown deepening as if she already knew what was coming. She glanced at the buckle, her amber eyes narrowing slightly.

"And what use is that?" she asked, her voice carrying the usual bite of impatience.

You shrugged playfully, still holding the trinket towards her. "It’s shiny."

Lae'zel huffed, setting her sword down and turning her full attention to you. She snatched the buckle from your hand, inspecting it briefly before tossing it aside into one of her pouches—likely the one she had reserved for your growing collection of 'useless junk.'

"You bring me these worthless baubles as if I have any need for them," she grumbled, though her tone was softer than usual. "If you cannot bring me something useful, I will throw it all away. Understand?"

You nodded, though you both knew that wasn't entirely true. Lae'zel had been saying that for weeks now, but each time, she would tuck the shiny objects away, muttering about how she would discard them later. Yet, every time you checked, the pouches were still full, brimming with an odd assortment of things—coins, polished stones, broken arrowheads, bits of metal.

You didn’t need her to admit it, but there was something almost endearing about her reluctance to actually throw them away.

"Well, sometimes I bring useful things," you teased, reaching into your bag and pulling out a dagger you had found during one of your scouting trips. "See? This one is sharp."

Lae'zel raised an eyebrow, clearly more impressed by the weapon. She examined it closely, turning the blade over in her hand before giving a small, approving nod.

"This," she said, "is acceptable. You should bring more things like this."

You smirked, enjoying her small display of approval. "I can't help it," you said, settling down beside her. "The shiny things just call to me."

"Like a bird," she muttered, not unkindly, her eyes flicking back to you with a look of mild exasperation. "You shift into a bird for hours, and then you return with nonsense. It is as if you have forgotten what it means to be grounded."

You chuckled, leaning your head against her shoulder. "Maybe I have. But I like bringing you things, even if you say they’re nonsense."

Lae'zel didn't respond right away. Instead, she resumed sharpening her sword, though her movements were slower, more deliberate. You could feel the warmth of her beside you, the steadiness of her presence calming the lingering excitement from your flight.

After a long moment, she sighed. "Next time, bring something I can use in battle. Not… a bottle cap."

"I’ll try," you promised, though you knew full well you’d likely still come back with another useless trinket alongside the weapons or arrows. Lae'zel paused, glancing at you again, her gaze softer this time.

"I do not understand your fascination with these things," she admitted quietly, "but you are… persistent. And though I do not need them, I will… keep them, for now."

A smile tugged at your lips, and you nudged her playfully. "You like them."

Lae'zel scoffed, but there was no real venom behind it. "Do not test me, druid. I tolerate this foolishness for now."

You chuckled, knowing full well she wouldn’t actually throw them away. The pouches full of shiny objects—your small, odd gifts—were still there, and deep down, you suspected that despite her words, she found some strange comfort in them. They were part of you, and for all her talk of battle and strength, Lae’zel had a softer side, one that you had slowly but surely started to uncover.

As she resumed sharpening her sword, you leaned back against her, your fingers grazing the edge of the pouch where your collection of trinkets now rested. For a moment, the two of you sat there in silence, the crackle of the fire and the steady rhythm of Lae'zel's movements the only sounds in the camp.

"I'll bring you something even shinier next time," you whispered mischievously.

Lae'zel just sighed, shaking her head, though you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Whatever, love."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart sat by the campfire, meticulously polishing her armor after a long day of travel and battle. Her face, illuminated by the flickering flames, was calm but focused, eyes narrowed in concentration as she worked. The quiet hum of the evening surrounded her, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant chirping of crickets.

You, on the other hand, were still feeling the residual energy from your last shift. In the heat of battle, you had taken the form of a serpent, slithering through the chaos with lethal precision. The thrill of it still hummed in your veins, and even though you had shifted back into your human form, the snake-like tendencies lingered—just as they always did.

As you approached Shadowheart, her back turned to you, you couldn’t help the sly smile that crept across your face. There was something about the way she sat there, so focused, so collected, that made you want to unravel her composure, even if just a little.

Without a word, you came up behind her and slowly, deliberately, wrapped your arms around her shoulders, your body pressing close to hers. Shadowheart’s hands froze for a moment, her grip tightening on the armor she was polishing.

“Again?” she sighed, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Can’t you ever just approach like a normal person?”

But even as she spoke, there was no resistance in her posture. She knew what was coming.

You smirked, leaning in to press your cheek against hers. “Where’s the fun in that?”

With slow, fluid movements, you let your arms snake around her, mimicking the way your serpent form would coil around its prey. You squeezed her lightly, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough that she felt the pressure, locking her against you. It was an old habit now—this need to wrap yourself around her, to feel her close, like you did in your more serpentine moments.

Shadowheart let out a small, breathy laugh, her head tilting slightly as she glanced at you out of the corner of her eye.

“You know, I have things to do,” she said, though there was no real edge to her words.

You gave a mock pout, squeezing her a little tighter, your arms locking her in place. “Do you have to? I think you’re perfectly fine right here.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t try to pull away. “I can’t very well get anything done when you do this,” she pointed out, her voice light but teasing. “And you’re forgetting something important.”

“Oh?” you asked, shifting slightly so that your arms tightened around her waist. “What might that be?”

Her hand came up to rest over yours, giving a gentle tug as she turned her head to look at you more fully.

“That I need to breathe,” she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. You blinked, pretending to act surprised.

“Breathing is important, I suppose,” you said, though you didn’t loosen your grip right away. Instead, you leaned in closer, your nose brushing against her neck as you spoke in a low, teasing tone. “But you do look quite lovely all tangled up like this.”

Shadowheart sighed, her tone feigning annoyance but laced with affection. “You’re impossible.”

She shifted beneath your grip, trying to regain some semblance of mobility, but you held her fast, your arms curling around her even tighter. You loved the feel of her warmth beneath your touch, the way she would sigh and lean into you even as she protested. It was a need, a craving to feel her close, to wrap yourself around her like the serpent you so often became, your body and mind still echoing the instincts of your wild shape.

But Shadowheart, as always, was sharp. She gave your hand another squeeze, this time more pointed.

“Come on,” she whispered, her voice dropping lower as she leaned her head back slightly against your shoulder. “I really do have work to finish.”

You groaned playfully, loosening your grip just a little but still keeping her close. “Can’t it wait? Just for a little while?”

Her smile softened at that, and she turned her head so that her lips brushed against your cheek, a brief but tender gesture. “Only if you promise not to squeeze me so tight next time. I like having my ribs intact.”

You chuckled, finally loosening your hold enough for her to breathe more easily. “Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

Shadowheart stood, brushing off her armor and shaking her head in mock frustration. She gathered her things, though you noticed she still lingered near you, her gaze flickering to you every so often as if she, too, was reluctant to fully pull away.

As she started to move back to her tasks, she paused, looking at you over her shoulder. “You’ll stay out of trouble while I finish up, won’t you?”

You grinned, leaning back against the tree and stretching your arms behind your head. “No promises.”

She gave you a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with a mix of affection and amusement.

“Just try not to coil around me again while I’m working,” she said with a wink. “I’d like to get through one night without being squeezed to death.”

You laughed, watching her walk away before calling out, “We’ll see about that.”

You knew you’d coil yourself around her again before the night was over. But for now, you let her have her moment of peace—because no matter how much you wanted to keep her close, you knew that, with Shadowheart, there was always a perfect balance between the wild and the calm.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheria:

Jaheira had grown used to your peculiar habits, though that didn't mean they never surprised her. As a druid, shifting into various animal forms was second nature to you, and you often took on the traits of whatever creature you had most recently embodied. Jaheira had seen it all—your quick reflexes, your uncanny ability to sneak around like a shadow, and most curiously, your newfound obsession with small, confined spaces.

The first time she found you curled up inside a box at camp, she hadn’t known whether to be amused or exasperated. The box in question had once held supplies, and you had somehow managed to squeeze yourself into it, sound asleep. Your knees were tucked to your chest, and your arms wrapped around your legs, looking exactly like a cat napping in the most inconvenient place. Jaheira had stood there for a long moment, arms crossed, staring down at you with raised eyebrows.

“Out of all the places to sleep,” she muttered to herself. “A box?”

Of course, being the practical woman she was, Jaheira didn’t disturb you. Instead, she quietly found a blanket and draped it over your curled-up form, shaking her head with a mixture of fondness and bemusement before leaving you to your nap.

But that wasn’t the last time she’d catch you doing something like that.

One morning, just as dawn began to break over the horizon, Jaheira woke to find herself alone in bed—at least, at first glance. She reached out instinctively, expecting to find you beside her, but her hand landed on the cool, empty sheets instead. A frown tugged at her lips, her mind still hazy with sleep. She shifted slightly, about to sit up when something stopped her—a soft, warm pressure against her pillow.

Turning her head slowly, Jaheira blinked in surprise.

There you were, sprawled across your pillow, your head resting precariously close to hers, face just inches away. You weren’t lying normally like any rational person might; no, you had positioned yourself on top of your pillow, your limbs draped lazily over her side of the bed. Your face was nestled right next to her pillow, and your breathing was soft and rhythmic, your body completely relaxed in the strange position you'd chosen.

Jaheira sighed, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched you. It was as though you had forgotten, once again, that you were no longer in the form of a cat. The way you stretched yourself out so carelessly, how you claimed the bed without a second thought, reminded her of how cats could make themselves comfortable anywhere, no matter how strange or inconvenient the location.

She couldn't help but chuckle quietly to herself. The sight of you like this—peaceful, unguarded—warmed her heart. Jaheira, for all her gruffness and practical nature, had always had a soft spot for the more unusual aspects of your personality. Even when you frustrated her with your odd tendencies, there was something endearing about the way you embraced them so fully.

Careful not to disturb you, Jaheira shifted onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow as she studied your sleeping face. Your hair was a little mussed, and your lips parted ever so slightly as you slept. She had to admit, there was something calming about seeing you so at ease, even if your choice of sleeping position left much to be desired.

Jaheira reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of your skin beneath her touch made her smile again. She thought about waking you—after all, it wasn’t exactly comfortable for her with you sprawled out this way—but as she watched you, she found she didn’t have the heart to disturb your slumber.

Instead, she leaned in slightly, her lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, fleeting kiss.

"You strange, strange creature," she whispered affectionately, her voice low and amused.

As if sensing her presence, you stirred slightly, your brow furrowing in your sleep. You let out a soft, barely audible sound—a sleepy sigh—before nuzzling your face deeper into the pillow, your body shifting closer to hers. Jaheira chuckled again, shaking her head at your feline-like persistence.

She adjusted herself slightly, carefully shifting her pillow so there was a bit more room for her. Then, with a quiet sigh, she settled back down, allowing herself to drift closer to you. As inconvenient as your habits could be, Jaheira had grown to love these moments of closeness—the quiet intimacy that came from simply being near you, even when you were completely unaware.

The warmth of your body, the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept, brought her a sense of comfort she hadn’t known she needed. And though she would never admit it, she liked these moments more than she let on.

"Sleep well, kitten," she murmured with a smirk, before letting sleep take her once more.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Guys even as I wrote this my cat was trying to sit on my laptop, if you ever see a typo or spelling mistake, know that it was my cat having her input. Hope you guys enjoyed this !! - Seluney xox

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