#shed obviously be a cat.

[liquidstar]

i wanna preface this by saying im not big into furry stuff but im big into oc stuff, so sorry to all the furries if i sound like a poser. but i think if you have a human oc theres gotta be a difference between what their fursona would be (from the pov of you, their creator) and what it actually is (what they would chose). do you understand what i mean? theres a big difference between their fursona and your animal version of them.

[windupaidoneus]

i think once emet fully processes how different hes become from who he used to be hes fine being alive again. like ofc hes always gonna long for the unsundered world but like thats how grief works. once he realises & accepts he himself has undergone massive changes (even if influenced by zodiark) he can deal with a second life in this very much changed world (a world he has also learnt to know & love whether he likes to acknowledge it or not) better. he gets to be normal now. at last. & even if it brings him distress at times bc no matter how much he claims to be over it & 'it doesnt matter anymore' its not like its easy to actually be over it hildes here to help him walk that mundane but happier path even with his wol duties. & i mean they do some less mundane shit together on occasion like killing hildegardes parents so its not like hes entirely out of his depth

[the-dear-skull]

Imagine if someone teared up discussing how horrific is must be to witness [insert something that you saw on a daily basis as a child]

That's how it feels whenever people talk about the ethics of eating meat when you grew up in rural Iowa.

Like I have looked countless pigs and cows in the eye as they headed to the meat packing plant I don't give a shit. I don't eat red meat, but that's because of ARFID.

[bee-wg]

Year 3:

Now that I think about it, football has been a constant in my life for five years now. I’m not sure if I enjoy football anymore; it used to be about the fun we have passing the ball, now it’s all about the stats or the perfect form. 

I stood up from the bleachers to hand Brad his towel.

“I’m going to leave the team, Brad,” I said.

“What? Where did this come from?” He said frantically.

“Everyone knows I’m still on the team because you’re the team’s captain now,” I said.

“I don’t want to cause tension between you and Coach. There’s nothing I could do wobbling around the field anyway,” I added.

“Dude, you know I started playing football because of you, right?” Brad said.

“Bradley, relax. I’m not dead. You can come over to my house whenever you want.” I said.

“Theo can make you some lemon pudding cakes if you want to come,” hopefully this will calm him.

“Fine. Just so you know, I’m not happy about this,” he said, sounding like a brat.

“Okay, got it. Have fun at the party,” I chuckled.

“I won’t. I’m going to make the DJ play Lana Del Rey,” he said before entering the locker room.

There might be an oversight of me quitting football.

It’s literally the reason why I quit. I don’t know why it never crossed my mind.

How the fuck am I going to lose weight now?

“Maybe I would’ve thought it if the word, “exercise” was anywhere on my to-do list this past year,” the voice from the back of my head said.

Shut up, rational thought. I was just a little too cocky, that’s all.

My mind spins around the paths I could take to shed the fat.

Back to the gym for the bodybuilders to laugh at me jiggling like a puddle of slime on the treadmill.

No. Hard no.

Stop eating whatever Theo puts in front of my face.

Productive, but I’d rather die than miss out on the joy of the world.

Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

No? No, actually it might just work.

My thumbs got to work. It took me an hour to choose a profile picture that represents me. I could go for a vacation photo by the beach, or the classic black and white moody gym pic. Except, I don’t have a picture of myself on my phone, so I chose the picture of an orange cat eating a banana.

With my camera set up, in my favourite green tank top. I pressed record.

It was an embarrassing experience editing myself, watching my belly sway every time I made a movement. In the end, I closed my eyes and uploaded the video.

“Oh! First comment already.” I said.

“Look at those milkers spilling out the tanks!”

3. Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

The following weeks consisted of me eating my feelings. At least half of my classes are online this semester. I can be embarrassed in peace.

The pounds kept creeping up with each spoon of ice cream down my throat. In the blink of an eye, I am dangerously close to 300 pounds.

I finally worked up the courage to ask during a normal family dinner.

“Honey, what happened? You’re not eating as fast as usual. Is Theo not cooking enough?” Mom asked.

“No, Mom, I just…I just hope you guys can ease up with your little cooking competitions.”

“Oh honey, you know Theo and I will stop with the food whenever you ask.” Mom tries to reassure me.

“No! Obviously don’t stop the food. It’s just that I’ve been blowing up like a pig and I don’t know what to do about it.” I said.

“I didn’t know you were sad about it. I just want my family to be happy, you look the happiest when you eat,” Mom said

“It wouldn’t have helped when you guys lost for the past two years,” Mom added.

“Well, Dad likes to eat better, and no one eats like him,” I replied. 

“I’m sure my cooking was the reason we won. David is a gym teacher, he walks off the food easily,” Mom said.

“Theo is a professional though, no offence but no one on the planet cooks like him. I’m sure football was the reason we lost,” I said, trying to talk some sense into her.

Theo stares at us with wide eyes.

“Jacob, I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” Mom said with a blank face.

“You know what? Keep doing your competition, this time again next year we’ll see who’s the winner,” I said.

I am clearly a failure at losing weight. The only thing I’m good at is eating. If I’m going to gain weight anyway, I’m going to go all out and win this shit once and for all. Once this is settled, I can get back to normal. Not wanting to disappoint Theo when we lose again was probably the thing holding me back. I can’t wait to eat all the delicious things Theo is- I can’t wait for this to be over.

“Alright, Jay,” she turned to Theo and said.

“Theo, my boy. I’m looking forward to seeing the results next year,” Mom said with a determined smile.

Everyone knows not to mess with Mom when she has that look. Even then, I feel like we could still win. Theo’s food is hypnotic already when I am restrained; imagine what it will do to me when I’m going all out.

“What’s going on again?” Dad asked with cheeks full of pasta.

“Don’t worry baby, you just need to eat a little more next year,” Mom answered.

“Okay, as long as I get my lasagnas,” Dad said.

Later at night, struggling to sleep, I contemplated on the bad decisions I’ve made. This one might take the crown to be the stupidest thing I’ve done. Yet, I don’t regret it.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me,” Theo said.

“It’s the least I can do when you wake up early to prep for my food, or go off on the weekends for groceries when you could’ve been doing anything else,” I explained.

“Thank you so much, Jay. You don’t know how much this means to me. My family wanted me to do anything other than cooking, but you guys have been nothing but supportive,” he said.

I smiled at the ceiling. The gremlin is nicer than I remember.

“Now, I won’t allow you to slack anymore with the amount you’re eating. Not until the competition ends.”

Huh?

Theo had stuck to his word and increased the amount he was cooking. I am now eating the amount of three people in each spread-out meal, still lacking behind Dad’s impressive five person’s amount per meal. So I have been playing catch up with him this entire month.

I realized quickly that I had underestimated the gap between Dad and my appetite. In the last few years, for the most part, I have been eating whatever I want, leaving the rest to Dad. With the exception of eating for the team once a week, I have been slacking. That was quite a hard pill to swallow. I’m 300 pounds, yet not doing a good job as a fatass. How is that possible?

So far I have gained about 23 pounds in the past two months. Normally, I would freak out and have a breakdown in bed because I’ve gained more than my freshman year in two months. Right now with my messed up head, all I can think about is how far I am behind. If we lose this again, it would be once and for all, and I would never let myself live this down. Theo deserves better with how good he’s been treating me.

With my new bulk, the stairs have been an increasing challenge. So, a few weeks ago I moved downstairs to a tiny guest room that was converted to a storage room.

The moment I moved down, I could hear Theo’s voice yelling, “Yes, Finally! Goodbye insomnia,” In my old bedroom. Before, I would’ve yelled for the brat to shut up. Now, with my stomach full. I just wanted a nap in peace.

It took me no time to adjust to the new arrangement. With more time home from all the online classes, I get to be as lazy as I want. Dad has a similar arrangement at home. He retired from being a high school gym teacher and football coach, now he tutors history at home. He also abandoned his hobby of brewing in order to laze on the sofa all day.

On weekdays, Theo would leave an abundance of food for me to consume with a list of how I should eat them to expand my capacity. The weekends are like heaven. From the moment I woke up, Theo would prepare delicious appetizers and pancakes for me. From then on, I would have a constant stream of food flowing into my mouth every thirty minutes. Sometimes, I would move my hands and my mouth would start to chew unconsciously. Alarming, but helpful. 

My belly started to expand outwards on my lap each day as I sat in front of the computer. The arm rest would feel more snug when I move around.

I have now discovered the perks of being a fatass. I can explore things I never had time to do, like the anime Brad has been begging me to watch, games I always wanted to play. Best of all is to experience all of these without moving an inch. These are the things I would definitely look back on with fondness when the competition ends.

***

Today is my rare outing of the month; the bus is late again but I don’t blame them this time. The downpour of rain is gathering at the clogged sewer, creating a puddle. People are supposed to grow out of stepping in puddles when they’re kids. These undeveloped assholes apparently didn’t. Several cars saw the puddle and decided to splash it straight to my face.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. I will feel better later.

I walked a small trail after getting off the bus.

Great. The angels decide to stop peeing from the heavens when I’m about to get inside.

Dad is buying a new SUV, maybe I can drive it next time. It’s too big to sneak off though.

I thought as I skipped through the stone pathway. The usual grass is covered by the water, creating a small pond.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” I said to the door cam.

After pressing the doorbell several times, it replied.

"안녕, fuck boy. Back so soon?" Number Seven said.

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the damn door,” I said, trying to hurry the fucker.

Number Seven’s face appears in front of me.

“You’re soaked! Come on in,” he said.

His house appears to be orderly. Clean. He must’ve had another fatass here not long ago.

“Woah, you look—Wait, let me guess. Another fifteen pounds since last time?” He asked.

“Come on, let’s cut to the chase. I really need it right now,” I urged.

“Hahaha, not even a shower. Desperate much?” He said.

I walked inside his bedroom, dimmed the lights and took off my shirt.

He walked towards me. Grabbing me by the belly hang in one hand, he pulls down my underwear, causing my ass to vibrate.

“Fuuuuck, can you take it out first?” I asked, trying not to moan.

“Sure, you think you’re ready for me today?” He asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered. 

He slid his hand behind, right down my ass crack and slowly pulled the vibrator off. I applied it before leaving home, without accounting for the possibility of the bus delay.

“Mmmmph, fuck,” I groaned.

I’ve been training towards today for a while. In the beginning, I would come to his house and he would suck me off. If I’m feeling experimental, I would suck him off. It stayed like that for about a year and he never complained. Then I asked him for more. He would start fucking me between my moobs or between my ass but never enter. One day, I told him I was ready for him to start fucking me.

Big mistake.

He’s a manwhore for a reason. I didn’t think an 8-inch would be so hard to take. How the girls and twinks take them in porn is beyond me. It was painful when he entered, even when he said he had “loosened my hole” with his fingers. I shouldn’t have believed him, the fucking thing was massive.

After the incident, he gave me small dildos and vibrators to get used to it. We eventually worked our way up the scale until the one he’s holding now. Why did I do all this work to have a men’s dick in my ass? Who knows. I have already accepted that I’ve lost it.

He sucked on my nipple suddenly. The sensation took me by surprise.

“Dude, some warnings please,” I asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Those tits are just so plumped. Your nipples have grown larger than my thumbs now,” he said, about to continue.

“OKAY, I get it. Can you get to work now?” I asked.

My boobs are what everyone thinks about when they see me these days. I’m sick of it.

“Hahahaha, can’t wait to be fucked, my pig?” He said before pushing me down the mattress.

I held my belly to stop it from jiggling. 

He raised one of my legs and opened the bottle of lube with his teeth.

“There’s something by the pillow. Put it in your mouth. It will distract you and dull the initial pain,” Number Seven instructed.

I reached out to grab a—frosted pound cake?

I’ve never seen people doing this in porn, but I’m smart enough to know not everything in porn is real. 

With my mouth full of cake, I spread out my legs, trying to relax so I don’t end up like last time.

He pushed two fingers in, slowly massaging me, then three fingers to stretch my hole. When the frosting melted in my mouth and I finished the chunk of the cake, he signalled me that he was done.

Another piece of the pound cake fills my mouth when he aligns his cock to my hole. He was right, I was fully consumed by the sweetness to notice any discomfort. I quickly swallowed the cake so he could proceed. 

It was unbearably slow as he entered. I don’t understand what all the fuss is about with people bottoming.

He kept asking for reassurance. At this point I just want him to st—

“A-ahhhh oh shiiit!” I moaned.

“Fuuuuuck, what the hell was that?” I screamed.

I must have been too loud and spooked him.

“Are you alright? Sh-should I call an ambulance?” He asked.

“No! Don’t stop, please,” I begged

“Okay, just so you know, I’m not all the way in,” He said.

How? This is already longer than any toys I’ve put in there.

“Gnghhhhh~” I moaned as he thrusts all the way to the bottom.

He kept a steady pace all the way in then almost all the way out, leaving me feeling empty.

“Hurry! Faster,” I asked, almost in tears.

He looked at me with a devious smile and thrust right into the spot.

“Mphn- Yes! Keep going,” I urged.

Every small movement rubbing my G-spot feels like masturbating for hours without release.

He thrusts quicker with more force, causing my belly and moobs to shake violently. 

I try to stabilize my belly with my hand before trying to reach my throbbing cock.

“Help, I-aghh fuck, I need to touch my dick,” I asked.

“Let go of your belly, fat boy. Or I’ll stop,” He said.

Immediately, my belly returned to wobble violently.

“I can’t believe you turned into such a pathetic horny mess in such a short time,” He said.

”Come on, Seven. I just need you to hit that spot. Please, I’ll do anything!” I begged.

He keeps deliberately missing it. I need to be fucked there!

“Keep your hands on your nipples,” he ordered.

The over-sensitive nipples drive my weeping cock into a frenzy.

Fuck, I need to touch my cock right now. If only my fucking belly is not on the way.

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were the kind of jock to gain a beer belly in college, and not get fat until you turn thirty,” he said, before ramming straight into my prostate.

“Fuuuuck yeahhh,” I said unintelligently. 

“You are much more of a pig than I realized,” he said, thrusting straight into it again.

“Helll yeahhh,” I said, trying to rob my ass to his dick.

“How do you feel seeing your bubble butt balloons four times the original size?” He asked, followed by another thrust. 

“I fucking love it! I love how it wobbles around whenever I walk!” I said, moving my jiggling ass back to his dick again.

“How do you feel seeing your abs growing before your eyes, knowing you could stop it if you just stop eating?”Another thrust.

“I can’t help it! I love eating too much!” Maybe I am meant to be a fat ass.

“Right answer. Now you’ll get your reward,” he said and sped up, hitting the spot perfectly every time.

I imagine his face to be someone else, someone far from my league.

My cock rubbed against my sensitive underbelly, and I shot out jets of cum for what felt like forever.

As white clouded my vision, a euphoric relief spread over my body, melting me into the mattress.

“You passing out again, fuck boy?” Seven asked.

“No, just enjoying the bliss. I can’t believe so many men in the world are missing out on this,” My hole already feels empty. How am I going to go back from this?

“Aww man, I’m all sticky and shit,” I examined my body, cum shots and rain definitely don’t mix well together. Some of them even got between the fat folds. I swipe my finger in between the fat. “Oof, I stink too.”

Seven looked at me and signed. “You’re somehow still a stupid jock inside.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“I got you the fast food you asked for,” he said.

“Yes!” I rushed to the kitchen.

Ignoring his stupid laugh, I microwaved the burger and fries.

The breeze of the air conditioning reminds me of something.

“Shit, I ran out here naked.”

When I ran back, he had already put my clothes in the dryer, and I got into the shower.

When I got out, Seven brought me an old shirt I left here. It fits me like a glove with half my belly exposed. He stopped laughing when I was about to throw myself on him, then brought out a shirt with the Flash’s symbol on. Probably from another fat ass he fucks. The shirt still looks painted on, revealing the shape of my nipple and the dent of my belly button. At least he’s driving me home.

***

Staying at home has been a life-altering experience. 

The only time I ever move is going out of the bed to the desk, or to the bathroom. All I have to do is sit back, relax, and eat some fried food. 

With more time with myself. I’ve realized how much I dislike all the people in school that only approached me because I was one of the football jocks. I could’ve been anyone. Now, I am me. Not a worry about whether or not I’m muscular enough like other jocks, just a bigger Jay.

Sitting beside me, Dad scratched his belly and released a belch without a care in the world. He has adapted to fat guy mannerisms quickly. I’m catching up too. Today is movie night, usually we have pizzas and beers. We started this when the football season came, he asked to skip it. It was the first time we’ve skipped watching a Super Bowl season. I guess I’m not the only one losing interest in the sport. We decided to watch the Lin-Manuel Miranda Monkey movie instead.

Being on the couch with Dad made me realize I was getting closer to my goal. I can’t wait to see the results.

***

“Hell yeah, my man, you can do it!” Brad said, slapping my shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked

“You said I can come in whenever I like,” he replied.

He’s been breaking into my house for no reason, just to stay on the second floor the entire time doing god knows what.

“I’ve brought some beef jerky here to celebrate,” Brad said.  

The scale has been set up, we’re only waiting on Mom. They’re doing some last minute catch up; mom is using a funnel to pour some milkshake in him. I am not concerned though, sticking to Theo’s strict diet every day has not been easy. I have to eat until my stomach is fully bloated. Every morning, I watch my belly deflate a little less, every evening, it bloats even further. 

“Don’t worry, Jay. We’ve got this,” Theo assured me.

“By the way, what are we doing again?” Brad asked.

Dad came out, looking absolutely massive. With Mom on his side, he stepped on the scale.

The numbers keep going up and don't seem to be stopping.

300-350-392-400-443

Holy shit, Dad gained a hundred and forty pounds this year. 

With more uncertainty, I took my step on the scale.

“Woo-Hoo, Jay man, you got this!” Brad shouted quietly.

I try to look under to see the number, but my belly is too big for me to see the scale.

Theo stepped closer and read. 

“Four Hundred and fifty yes!” Theo cheered.

“I won? Yes, finally!” I said and did a little jump.

The scale made a “Pop” noise.

“Oh! Sorry, Mom. I know this is really expensive.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We need to upgrade anyway,” Mom said, then she walked towards Theo.

“Congratulations Theo, you made me pull out every trick in my book. It’s so nice seeing you improve so much in front of my eyes, in terms, you pushed me to improve too,” Mom said, then hugged Theo.

“I can’t believe my boy is bigger than me now. Excellent work, Jay!” Dad said and hugged me, too.

Last time I was bigger than Dad I had sculpted abs, the body I dreamed of. This time, I’m almost three times the size as I was, fully covered with fat. Yet, I feel less empty inside.

“Thank you Dad,” I said, hugging him back. 

After all this time, I finally have a body I like being in. The belly doesn't look so wrong on me anymore.

Chapter 4 ->

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mimic III

McFoord x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You're being suspicious

There is a hole underneath your fence, at the very end of the garden.

Also at the end of the garden, is a shed. It doesn't get used much so it's a little run down.

There's no connection between the hole and the fence, not an obvious one anyway. Not one that would make Caitlin investigate them both so obviously.

She's much more concerned finding out the reason for your strange behaviour.

You've been shifty recently, which is especially strange for such a little girl. Your second birthday is coming up very quickly but you've seemed to develop fairly quickly now that you've been hanging around with Sam and Kristie's Chook when Caitlin and Katie are busy.

You've also gotten shockingly independent.

There's no need for your leash when you're in the house and Caitlin's happy to let you run around the garden by yourself as she does the dishes, checking on you through the windows periodically.

You're being a little weird and what's even weirder is Coopurr's food going missing.

Caitlin's sure that she's not overfeeding him because he hasn't put on any weight but his biscuits and his wet food are going down so quickly that someone must be taking them.

That someone, it turns out, is you.

Caitlin catches you doing it one afternoon when you grab the whole box of biscuits and a sachet of wet food before toddling out to the garden.

She sighs, letting you scamper up the far side and duck behind the shed before getting up to follow you.

Caitlin really hopes you haven't been eating them like you were when you were younger.

"Gremlin!" She calls," Don't take-"

A puffed up ball of fur hisses at her from where it's dangling from the scruff of it's neck in your hand.

"What is that?!"

"My Spicy!" You say proudly," Spicy, Spicy, Spicy!"

"Katie!" Caitlin yells," You better come out here!"

You're still holding the kitten by the back of the neck, humming to yourself as Caitlin notices the pile of cat food you're been hoarding.

She crouches in front of you, gently reaching for the kitten before flinching back when it tries to scratch her. "Where...Where did you find it?"

"Stuck under fence," You tell Caitlin," I save Spicy."

Caitlin forces a smile on her face. "That's nice. How long have you been looking after him?"

"One week," You reply," My Spicy is special!"

Caitlin warily shuffles closer, kept at bay by the flashing claws off this feral kitten.

"You're being very good with Spicy but can I have him?"

You frown. "Spicy's hungry."

"I'll feed him."

"Caitlin? What's-"

Katie skids to a stop in front of you both, mouth hanging open and discarded dish towel on her shoulder from where she was using it to dry the dishes.

"Spicy, my kitty!" You exclaim," See?"

Spicy snarls and Katie very gently throws the dish towel at him before taking him from your grip.

"Spicy!" You cry, moving to kick Katie but Caitlin's already got you by the back of your overalls, dangling you above the ground as you whine," My Spicy!"

"Katie's just...taking Spicy for a bath."

"I am?"

"Yes, Katie, you are and then we'll take Spicy to the vet."

Secretly, Caitlin hopes the vet will tell her that she needs to take the kitten to the shelter. She doesn't particularly want it in her house but you seem to have gotten attached, if the way you keep fighting against her hold is any indication.

"Want Spicy! Spicy's mine!"

There's that as well and, when Katie comes downstairs with the kitten suitably pissed off and still hissing, you go straight up to it for cuddles and it relaxes in your arms.

"No vet for Spicy!" You insist," Spicy's good!"

"I'm sure Spicy is..." Katie's arms are full of scratches. "...Tolerable but we still need to check he's not sick."

"Then bring home!"

"I don't know, Gremlin, he might want to be with other cats." Katie's very proud of herself for coming up with that excuse, mentally patting herself on the back even as Caitlin shakes her head in disbelief.

You unwrap her excuse so easily, pointing to where Coopurr is sitting, licking his own bum.

"Have Coopurr," You point out," Coopurr is cat. Spicy is cat."

"Er..."

"We keep Spicy," You declare, nodding and rocking your new kitten," Spicy, new home!"

[softieekayy]

Intertwined

Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Hannibal Lecter was a stoic man with stoic impressions. He did his job, he left and he came home. Not many people knew much about him and the one who did, Will Graham, was a mystery of his own.

Having said that, there was one person who knew his entire soul, for their souls were entangled with each other. Hannibal’s wife. She knew him and his antics like the back of her hand. It was to be expected, especially since they’ve known eachother since Hannibal was a young man in medical school and her a young teenage girl with a crush on him. He never entertained it through, no, he always taught her things that she found useful later in life. It was fate who decided that they would spend the rest of their lives together.

Hannibal would do anything for his wife, she was his sun, moon and entire universe. He worshiped the floor she walked on. Not to mention that the young Mrs. Lecter was a beautiful woman with shiny hair and satin like skin. She was ethereal and people often thought she was an angel posing as one of their kind simply because of her beauty. Her beauty didn’t end physically, not at all. The young woman was a saint. She wouldn't hurt a fly, in fact, she would nourish it and then set it free.

“Why is he so hard to cut up!” (Y/n) whined to her husband, stomping down her expensively clad feet in a tantrum, blood seeping into her satin, champagne coloured shirt, staining the material. In one hand she held a butcher's knife with blood coating it, the body beneath her indicating the frustration she very obviously felt.

“Well, darling” Hannibal grunted, “cutting people with knives like this isn’t easy.”

“Yeah I see that now, my love.” She muttered back, reverting to her former position on her knees and hacking away at Mr. Zaine Lammer’s arm. A disgusting man he was, objectifying Hannibal’s wife to him. The dinner the couple held was for charity. Just because they killed people didn’t mean they were monsters. (Y/n) still loved and cared about children and would never harm them, they can be tuned and molded into anything you’d like. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for adults.

Hannibal looked over to his, completely entranced by the pure and utter annoyance on her face. She knew Hannibal killed, it wasn’t a secret to her. She’s helped with the crimes. However, (Y/n) preferred the killing and setting up the scene part, she did not like the hacking away at the body. No, she left that to her dear husband to do. Not that Hannibal minded. He’d prefer for her to not get touched by the blood of filth.

“Ugh. I give up. I can’t do this anymore.” The young woman stated, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Hannibal laughed at his wife’s reaction, making her glare at him.

“Don’t laugh at me Hans!” She told him, a small smile threatening to break out on her face. Hannibal looked at her, not saying anything but rather just observing. His wife was the most beautiful lady to have ever walked the earth. An angel that was put amongst sinners. He put down his knife and walked over to her, putting one arm around her waist and tugging her closer to his body, her hands resting on his chest.

“Hi.” She whispered softly with an equally soft smile gracing her face.

“Hello.” Hannibal whispered back, leaning down to steal a quick kiss from his wife.

He remembers meeting her like yesterday. She was a young little thing, younger than him, about 8-9 years or so. Yet when Hannibal saw her, she was the most beautiful person he’d ever set eyes on. The young woman had just been coming into the book store, soaked from the rain outside, hair sticking to her face and yet she still had a smile painted on her dark red lips. Hannibal watched her as she greeted the older man who ran the shop warmly before shedding her coat to let it hang. She turned around and caught Hannibal staring yet she gave him a smile too. Her quick movements reminded Hannibal of a cat, yet when he looked into her eyes for a brief moment, he saw his own reflection.

“I’ve never seen you around here.” She tells him, running her fingers across the spines of books before pulling one out. It was an old book with a forest green cover.

“I don’t live here, I’m just here to visit my aunt.” Hannibal didn’t tell her that Lady Murasaki was long dead and that he was just here to visit her grave. His aunt was a crucial part of his life, she shaped him into the man he is today.

The young woman nodded in acknowledgment, her hair moving along with it.

“Well it’s nice to meet you..” She trailed off, waiting for Hannibal to introduce himself.

“Hannibal lecter.” The older man introduced himself, shaking her hand gently. It was as soft as she looked. In return (Y/n) introduced herself. The two grabbed their books and spoke about everything and anything. Hannibal learned that she went to medical school here and frequented this bookstore often, hence her close relationship with the owner. Hannibal told her of Lady Murasaki and how he’s in charge of keeping her home. Before they knew it, time had passed and it was the dead of night, Hannibal walked her home and from there it took them to now. A married couple.

“We should really clean up.” (Y/n) grimaced, pulling away from Hannibal’s embrace to look at the mess on the floor. Hannibal agreed with her, the blood won’t come out easily if it’s been too long.

Hannibal pulled away from the embrace and went back to chopping up the man while his wife began to mix the solutions for cleaning.

Within another hour or so they were done. (Y/n) stood at the entrance of the basement with her hands over her hips, heaving lightly from all the scrubbing she did. Her once neatly done hair was now falling out of its place messily. Hannibal disposed of the meat in the freezer before walking back to his wife and kissing her on the side of her head, gently leading her upstairs with his hand on the small of her back.

“With all that leftover meat, we ought to have another dinner party. There’s only so much we alone can eat.” (Y/n) grumbled to Hannibal as they both reached the first floor of their home. She walked into the kitchen and took out two wine glasses before pouring her and Hannibal some.

“I agree.” Hannibal nodded. “We should invite Will, Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom for dinner these days.” He finished, taking a sip of his wine, watching his wife’s stare on him harden.

“You know I don’t like her yet you keep inviting her. Don’t be surprised if she ends up as our dinner one day.” (Y/n) warns him, anger seeping through her voice. The young brunette clearly had a crush on Hannibal, everyone around her could tell. Hannibal used that crush to manipulate her. His wife on the other hand, wasn't too fond of another woman making heart eyes at someone who belonged to her.

“You worry for no reason, even in death my heart will belong to you. Alana Bloom can’t match your intelligence or grace.” Hannibal comforted his wife, running his hand up and down her arm and she tucked herself closer into him. The younger woman hummed in response, taking Hannibal’s hand in her own and playing around with his fingers.

“I still don’t like her. That smug little face she makes towards me whenever you talk to her. All I can think about at that moment is how nice my hair pin would look coated in her blood.” (Y/n)‘s hand clutched tightly around Hannibal’s as she thought about Alana bloom. The brunette woman never failed to enrage Hannibal’s wife.

“She’s not worth you pretty little thoughts.” The older man told his wife, dragging his nose from the back of her neck to the side of her head, planting a living kiss. (Y/n) smiled slyly, turning her body to face him fully.

“You think me wanting to feel Alana’s blood on my hands is pretty?” She asked him, still smiling and toying with his hair. Hannibal latched his arm around her waist and pulled her atop him.

“I think everything you do is pretty.” He tells her and she hums. The two sit in silence for a while, sipping on their wine. No need for mindless chatter, being by each other's side was all that they needed. Hannibal knew that his wife would never betray him under any circumstances and she knew that Hannibal would never do anything to harm her. However they both knew that to drag attention away from one another, they may need to harm each other. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, it ripped Hannibal’s heart apart to even think about hurting his pretty little wife. His pretty wife with doe eyes. His pretty wife with a sinister smile. The two were a match in every sense possible, both hunters who enjoyed the art of killing. They were skilled and under Hannibal’s expertise and care, his young wife went from an amateur to someone just as talented as Hannibal.

“It's getting late, moonshine.” Hannibal uttered into her hair, nosing her hairline. She was wrapped around him, like a cat. Hannibal thought that if reincarnation was real then his wife must’ve been a cat in her past life.

“Yes, honey, I know. However there are no plans set in place for tomorrow.” She grinned, turning around and crawling onto him fully now. Hannibal held his wife by the waist, grinning.

“Are you suggesting we stay up late tonight Mrs. Lecter?” He asked her, caressing her hair. The two smiled like a lovesick teen age couple. So in love that it made others sick. Jack Crawford was one of them, he’d known the famous Mrs. Lecter since he’d met Hannibal.

“Yes I am. In fact, I’m suggesting that we go out for some ice cream.” She tells him, running a finger down the buttons of his shirt. Hannibal gasps in faux shock.

“Scandalous. You’re so very scandalous.” He tells her, shaking his head in disappointment. They both know it’s just an act anyway, Hannibal would bend over back wards for her. (Y/n) giggled before getting up and grabbing her coat. She waited for Hannibal to join her giddily, like a child who had far too much sugar.

“Shall we go?” Hannibal asked her, offering his arm for her to hold. (Y/n)’s hand softly tucked itself into the crook of Hannibal's arm as they headed out. Into the dark of the night, like wolves hunting for prey.

Tagging my lovelies: @jake-g-lockley @shawty-writes-a-little <3

[justporo]

Headcanons for the companions reuiniting after a few months

Ok, but imagine Astarion and Tav invite their friends over for a reunion during winter time!

Obviously it's Tav's idea and Astarion isn't into it at first but he thinks it's kinda cute how into it Tav is

Gale is enlisted as sous-chef, he doesn't have a choice

The wizard also spices up things decor wise with some magic, Shadowheart also helps make look everything incredible

Tav and Gale make all the dishes, heaps of them, loads - no one will go home without having gained at least three pounds of weight; Astarion picks out wine and drinks

And when everyone arrives it's just a whoooole big cheerful mess: hugs, smooches, screaming, excited hopping up and down (and obligatory snarls and hisses from some because it's just a lot of love going around)

The house is full of laughter and talk the whole night

Karlach hangs out under mistletoe for a suspicious amount of time to give little pecks to everyone excitedly

Halsin has brought individually whittled ducks for everyone - Lae'zel claims she hates hers but then she's seen carefully turning it around in her hands the whole night

Jaheira, Wyll and Astarion get into a fierce discussion of Baldurian politics over several bottles of wine - by the end they're in a screaming match (affectionately) and Jaheira ends it by dragging on pointy ears and horns using her mom voice on Wyll and Astarion

Shadowheart tells the others how she's overcome her former beliefs and how she made a new life for herself causing the whole party to fall silent for a moment, even some tears might be shed; "Have you all gotten soft in the last months? Ugh!" Shadowheart says and with that the spell is broken, although she still gets a lot of hugs and told how proud everyone is (she claims she hates it, but everyone sees the light blush and the telltale shining wet eyes)

Gale brought Tara and her and Scratch hang out in front of the fireplace, maybe even Boo

At one point Jaheira and Halsin join them in cat wildshape - then Boo has to watch himself while being playfully chased around by the cats and the tressym - Minsc meanwhile completely loses it while he chomps away on more food

Lae'zel shows off her knife skills by artfully seperating whatever meat dish is set in front of her from the bones

Later Halsin and everyone else who wants to join sneak out the backdoor to the small garden for a little smoking session - even Wyll joins and they all come back with some giddy chuckles

Maybe all of them play like charades at the end: Astarion is amazingly good at it (because let's face it he's so dramatic usually he's good at portraying things) - you and him are just a dreamteam, Karlach is just super excited, Lae'zel doesn't get it at first but then is overly competitive, Minsc doesn't fully understand what's going on but he's just vibing, Wyll overcomplicates everything while Shadowheart keeps rolling her eyes and sighing in annoyance, Halsin and Jaheira just keep watching while chatting and having more drinks, Gale screams the loudest with suggestions that are oddly specific and not even close to what's the solution

The little townhouse in Baldur's Gate is filled with love, light and laughter through the whole night - promises to repeat this have already been made

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @azukiel @hereliesblackdragon

[smoke-and-silver]

The Ghouls + Rut Season

Headcanons of the Ghouls in rut, as requested! This is for the current + recent ghouls. Happy to do previous eras upon request.

General / All characters:

Ghouls get a shiny horn upgrade just before rut: the outer layers shed as the horns grow bigger . You'll see them rubbing against things and polishing their horns a lot during this time as the outer layers flake off to reveal new horn underneath.

The ghouls are feverish and hot their entire cycle as the rut raises their body temperature.

There's a lot of tussling as their hormones have them clacking horns and sparring like deer. Some brawls can look or sound scary to humans, but it's all in good fun to them. They're just roughhousing to show off.

That's just within the pack, though. If someone outside of the ministry makes a move on their desired mate, it can get pretty gnarly.

Ghouls under the cut. Obviously NSFW.

Aether

The most subtle. A bit flushed and clammy but otherwise you wouldn't guess anything had changed.

It's very easy for him to get distracted, though. You give him a quick hug at breakfast and his cereal bowl is abandoned as he follows after you with his tail flicking.

Quintessence ghouls have a hazy scent during rut, like dark amber. Aether is the most fond of scenting. He does it every time you're canoodling in some secluded corner of the cathedral. He's not possessive, but he likes knowing that the other ghouls smell him on you.

He does get more protective. He's territorial of the ministry, marking the outside pillars with his horns to warn other demons away. Some unfamiliar men visit on business, and he chokes back an instinctual growl that starts to rise from his throat when he sees them shaking hands with you.

He doesn't spar much. One, because he's not generally aggressive, and two, because he's very large, and the other ghouls hesitate to challenge him.

It's an evening in the main hall when he finally flexes a bit. The heat in his veins is getting to him as he watches you from across the room, and a petty spat between two other ghouls is getting loud and irritating.

The demons bump your chair roughly in their scuffle and Aether has had enough. He buts in with his horns and growls at them to "knock it off". His voice is about two octaves deeper than usual. The surprised ghouls stumble back, and then slink away sheepishly.

Well, naturally you want to show your gratitude after that very attractive display, and the room is empty now...

Aurora

The MOST likely to brawl. Her claws are already rated E for Everyone and during rut it's amped up to 11. She'll tussle with anyone. Sometimes she'll sneak up to another ghoul and nip at them just to instigate it.

Remember that it's mostly just play to them. Nothing to worry about. She does LOVE to show off for you though, and is usually the one victorious.

If she were seriously fighting someone you would know, as real threats or serious challengers are quickly cowed by one of her deafening lion-like roars.

She's like a furnace during rut. You can feel the warmth coming off her. Her cheeks are constantly ruddy like she's just ran a mile.

Utterly insatiable. Most every night she's at your door tapping and scratching at it with her claws until you let her in. If she's feeling extra romantic she'll come in through the window instead.

[gore/bloody] Girl will straight up present her defeated opponents to you. The ministry has many enemies and she has much less restraint during rut. She has absolutely presented you with a severed head like a cat leaving a dead bird at its owner's feet.

You can't even help with congregation without seeing her in the pews, waiting to pounce the moment the sermon is over. She waves at you cheekily when you meet her eyes.

Don't think she's not tender! She's incredibly sweet with you every time you make love--and she insists on calling it that, "making love".

When you're not getting hot and heavy she's still locking lips with you. You've both been caught and scolded multiple times for making out when you're supposed to be working. She just needs to feel your hands on her during rut and, you're not opposed to all the extra attention.

Cirrus

Not interested in sparring or wrestling with anyone. Brawling doesn't interest her and if someone threatens you or the ministry she's just going for the throat. There's not much "challenge" to it.

Although... if you seem interested when the other ghouls spar, if she feels like it'll impress you or make you happy... well, she'll do it just to see you get all excited and aroused.

She kind of "takes care of" herself at first, not wanting to burden you with her heightened libido. When you assure her that you can handle it though, all bets are off. She pauses for a moment and starts stepping towards you, backing you against the wall right then and there...

She likes to mark you the most out of everyone. You are absolutely littered with hickeys and lovebites. She thinks it's so pretty to see you laid out naked in front of her with all of her marks on you. It's an added bonus if someone else gets to see it peeking out from your clothes, too.

She likes a little more ceremony to her 'mating' than most ghouls in their delirious lusty ruts, often bringing something to present you with before she drags you off for some privacy, even if it's something as simple as a rose.

But some nights, some nights it all reaches a boil--the hormones, the heat, your scent still clinging to her sheets--and she simply goes feral. She crawls into your bed and takes you wildly, no words even forming on her lips, just deep growls and broken, guttural infernal speech.

Cumulus

She doesn't typically initiate brawls but she's quite excited to participate in them and loves it when someone challenges her. They had better be prepared though because she is the most muscular ghoulette and knows how to use it.

She's especially excited to brawl when you're around and it gives her a chance to impress you. She'll stop mid-fight while she has her opponent pinned and gleefully wave to you, hoping that you're enjoying the show.

Yes, she flexes for you. Everything in her system right now is telling her to impress you and she takes any chance to start removing her shirt to show you the guns.

Oh man, this stage equipment is heavy and she's getting sooo hot moving it around!

Oh no, the windows needed a wash and her shirt is sooo wet! She can't possibly leave it on now.

Not very territorial or anything like some of the others, but very eager to scent you. Her smell is like a spring breeze, like clover, and she loves to rub it on you whenever she can.

She's on you constantly. Doesn't care if you're in the middle of cooking or prayer, she's pulling you flush against her and purring raunchy things in your ear, giggling and nipping at your neck until she's convinced you to have some fun.

She's not private about it. Unless you would prefer otherwise, she likes to show you off right in front of the other ghouls, placing you on the counter right there so she can please you with her strong fingers.

Dewdrop

The poor man is downright feverish the entire cycle. He's flushed and breathing heavily and his hormones and sparring instincts make him snippy with the other males.

Oh, but he's so good for you. He melts into your touch when you hold his face in your hands as if it soothes all the fire in him.

As if he isn't lewd enough on a normal day, he's downright filthy during his rut. He has the most impure ideas for every piece of furniture in the cathedral and he relays them to you in detail.

You two are forcibly excused from mass when he starts feeling you up right in the middle of it. He'd let you have him right there in the aisle if you weren't opposed to it, onlookers be damned.

When you catch him jacking himself off he doesn't stop, he slows down a little to give you a show. He loves to do it while you're watching. You can give him a hand or just sit and watch, either way he's begging you to go further afterwards. He needs you inside of him or needs to be inside of you.

Not super territorial, but he does love sparring. Wrestling with a friend is a good way to blow off steam and he doesn't mind if he looks cool kicking someone's ass and manages to impress you.

It's really hard for him to focus on much else but you when he's flooded with hormones like this. He can't help it. All that's on his mind day and night is feeling you against him and burying himself inside of you.

But when he eats you out or sucks you off, that's when he really loses his mind. He's already so painfully horny and the scent of your sex totally overtakes him and makes his mind hazy. You're not leaving for the night.

Don't hold it against him if he's a little sappier than usual, or if his kisses are a little longer. It's not just about mating; rut makes him needy for comfort and attention too. It takes a lot of energy out of these ghouls, and often leaves them sore, so the extra comfort means a lot to him right now.

Mountain

Obviously the earth ghouls rut the most. The elk of the forest are where the term comes from. He sheds velvet from his horns during the season and the look of blackened demon blood dripping from horns is pretty sick.

His rack is hands down the most impressive and lets him stand up to even Aether in a duel. He is giddy if you compliment the horns, tail flicking around happily knowing his appearance pleases you.

The most territorial, the most willing to brawl, the most protective. Earth ghouls have the strongest rut instinct. It's hard for him to even see you talking to another ghoul without daydreaming about taking you right in front of them. The daydream gets him hard and flustered and he sheepishly approaches you to ask for some "help".

An incident occurs when a visiting diplomat kisses your hand and a hormone-fueled Mountain has him backed up to the wall in seconds, gnarly horns at the man's throat and growls rumbling from deep in the demon's chest.

You manage to soothe him by petting his chest and asking him to stand down. After a few moments he reluctantly releases the man, who scurries off.

His head clears and Mountain quickly apologizes, but honestly, it was the hottest thing ever, and you're pulling him in to make out. By the time the diplomat tattles about being "attacked by a demon" you've already backed Mountain into the nearest chair to ride him.

It's part of his mating display to show that he can provide. He'll lead you out into the woods where he's set up a spot to sit together and brought more food than you can eat, but he's eager to watch you eat it, fill up on it. He hopes if you're satisfied that you'll accept him and let him pleasure you.

Phantom

Poor, poor sweet boy. It hits him the hardest. He is absolutely the most sensitive. Even feeling up his arm or kissing his cheek a few times gets him worked up. Smile at him across the room long enough and he'll get hard, honestly.

He's embarrassed to approach you about it at first, so you'll have to encourage him. He's quite enthusiastic once you reassure him that you don't mind, though.

He finds it fun to engage in some of the sparring matches, but honestly he's kind of inexperienced in fighting and gets thrown around easily. He's such a good sport about it though and he's laughing most of the time, so it puts everyone in a good mood.

His scent is very subtle and his horns pretty simple and small, so he tries to groom himself really nicely, hoping you'll still enjoy his appearance. Maybe puts a little soft perfume or cologne on hoping it will help entice you.

Your scent makes him crazy. It distracts him instantly when you step into the room. He can track you down anywhere in the ministry, every instinct in his body driving him blindly towards the sweet smell. You don't really hear him come in and so you jump a little when his arms slip around you and he buries his face in your neck to breathe you in.

Please let him have you. His voice is low and breathy as he begs you to let him breed you, or to breed him. You feel so warm against him it makes his head swim. His hands are shyly nudging under your shirt as he tells you how badly he needs it.

His libido is highest at night, when the ministry falls quiet. He feels terrible keeping you awake but you're so pretty laid out on your bed with the silver moonlight from your window illuminating your soft body, and he's so painfully hard.

[kink/somno warning] He'd never think of the idea himself, but if you offered to let him relieve his urges while you sleep, he's so grateful. He worships your body with kisses, always cleans you up perfectly, and always showers you with praise and thanks the next morning.

Rain

Pretty flushed and sensitive during his rut, though not so much as Phantom. He's very pliant when you approach him, willing to let you pull him away somewhere or climb up on his lap any time you want.

Beware that he has the most endurance and he will overstimulate and breed the fuck out of you. He's sweet and passionate but there's an unavoidable mess after your long sessions. You both need a bath afterwards and he ends up taking you in there too.

He makes a good little love nest in his room and honestly just keeps you there the whole cycle if you'll allow it. You don't have to do a thing. He'll keep you fed and groom you and all you have to do is lay there and be his good baby and let him pleasure you.

Not much for the sparring like other ghouls but he likes to egg the others on mischievously. Sometimes he'll nip at someone while they're not looking and pin it on another ghoul. Then he'll use the ensuing brawl as a distraction to drag you off somewhere.

--and, sometimes that is literal. When his hormones are really raging he'll just throw you over his shoulder, or bind your hands with the nearest thing he can find and quite literally drag you away, while telling you everything he's about to do once you're secluded.

Your excited giggles and little squeals make his heart flutter.

He is just as excited when you take him just as roughly. You can tie his hands to the headboard and he's already squirming with an eager, breathy "yes, yes!" escaping his lips before you've even climbed atop him.

He is so vocal when you do sink down on his cock and ride him. You're so warm and he's so sensitive right now. He does not care who in the ministry hears his absolutely whorish moans.

Swiss

As if he wasn't already unhinged.

The way he writhes and ruts against the floor on stage? Imagine him flooded with demonic hormones and out of his mind horny.

Wait, that's still how he normally is. Imagine that doubled. Mans will literally grind against your leg like a dog.

He's dying to pleasure you, honestly. It's a common sight to see him on his knees in front of you, panting with his tongue out as he waits for you to ride his face. He wants to drown in the scent of your sex, squished between your thighs.

He is constantly hard, his cock straining against his pants almost 24/7. He'll start to calm down and then he catches your scent on the air and he's stiff again. He tries to wear looser clothes during rut.

Of course, he loves to spar. He's already rowdy on a daily basis, he loooooves when rut rolls around and he gets to roughhouse with the other ghouls. It's a very nice bonus that he gets to show off for you, naturally!

Which brings us to territorial instincts. Swiss is the farthest from aggressive usually, but his rut is strong enough that you get to see more of the truly ghoulish side of him. He's very growly with strangers coming near you. You've never seen that toothy grin twist into a snarl before, but you see it now when you're out in public and some man presses too close to you for Swiss' liking.

You don't think you've ever heard such a noise from him, such a deep and guttural growl, but it... really does something for you. You hurry him home, both for the public's safety and because you need to ride him. He is overjoyed to fulfill your request.

Cumming inside of you is already his favorite thing in the world, if and when you allow him. He will literally beg for it now, his face flushed, sweaty hair clinging to his skin, his voice hoarse. Please let him breed you.

[zombiequeenblog]

The Promise

I wrote some dumb Papa Emeritus IV smut lol

There are no Ghovie spoilers here, I hope you enjoy it! Papa x Sister of Sin

Explicit ~ 5,500 words ~ ao3

Summary: Papa Copia catches you sneaking in way past curfew, and gives you a lecture. You respond cheekily.

It must be well past 2 am, maybe 3, I thought, as I tumbled guiltily back into my room. So late! A giggle, most likely fuelled by a gin and tonic or two I wasn’t used to, escaped me as I shed my coat and fled over to the comfort of my bed, feet aching. Sitting on the edge with a graceless bounce I didn’t intend, I flicked on the little lamp beside me and bent down to work my heels off, head still a bit dizzy. 

“Where have you been?” 

My body went stiff as soon as I heard his voice from over in the corner. My long and tangled hair, still smelling faintly of the perfume I had used to combat the mustiness of the local dive bar, had fallen down in my face, and I stayed hidden behind its safety as I made my reply as light and chipper as I could. “Oh Papa! Hmm, I… ahh, I didn’t see you there…” Obviously.

“Where have you been, Sorella?” I heard the slight tap of his shoe as the sole hit the floor, and a creaking noise like he was leaning forward in my austere little armchair. Sitting over there in the dark, like a cranky old cat. 

“I was just… out, Papa…” I had finally fumbled my heels off, and now I sat up to lean back on my hands, rolling my stiff neck back along my shoulders to shake my hair out. “I had a drink down at the bar, watched a band play. It was fun.”

“It’s past curfew.” He sounded displeased. Well, of course he would be! I knew the rules, but in this juniper-flavoured moment I didn’t much care. I had had fun, and I didn’t regret it. Still though…

“I’m sorry, Papa. I lost track of the time.” I let myself flop back on the bed, tired, and I thought I heard him rise up to his feet in the shadowed corner. 

“You cannot lose track of the time, eh, mia Sorella preziosa? This is dangerous. I cannot lose track of you.” He sounded very displeased, indeed. 

I just scoffed at him. Ever since I had come here, I would say we’d been flirting with one another, but isn’t that just what Papa did? What all the Papas do? Papa Copia was charming, intense, and sweet, and utterly devoted to enjoying the passions of the flesh, as the living embodiment of lust here on earth. He slept with many, and many more wanted to sleep with him. Hell, I wanted to sleep with him; we just hadn’t really come to find ourselves in that situation just yet. We hadn’t even kissed, and I resented him acting like he was some kind of handler of me. 

“I cannot allow you to behave in this way,” he continued with severity, coming closer, “running all around in that town, which you should know is crawling with Christians who don’t give one shit about you on account of that grucifix you have pinned there…” Papa gestured to the little symbol of our dark faith I had dutifully displayed on my shirt collar. “Without a single care for your safety, and sneaking back in here like some kind of little rat!”

I turned my head so I didn’t have to look at him, and I found that the long night of careless freedom had loosened my tongue, apparently terribly. “Well, hell… you’re not my dad!” I muttered up into the ceiling with a glib shrug of annoyance at his scolding. 

A shocked pause within the room, and then his sharp steps were coming right on over to me. “I. Am. Your. Papa,” his voice seethed down, “And I am responsible for you.”

I darted my eyes over to see his handsome face, still painted up, with his odd eyes blazing and his greying hair all mussed over his forehead in the most charming way. Had he really been sitting in here all night, waiting… worrying about me? As if to ruin it on purpose, he straightened up and ran his previously clenching hand back along his hair, smoothing everything down with a tense sigh. I thought he looked stunningly attractive, and it gave me a certain kind of little thrill to continue irritating him.

“What are you gonna do, spank me, Papa?” I threw out, carelessly turning over onto my front to let my body sink down further into the bed.

Another pause, and I felt the mattress shift when he sat down beside me. 

“Do you… Do you want me to spank you?” He sounded serious.

I felt myself blush immediately, grateful that he couldn’t see. “No!” I almost shouted, kicking my leg up a bit.

He didn’t say anything.

“Not… not right now, Papa…” Well, now I had gone and made everything awkward… Satan damn it! “Maybe later,” I added, muffled into the comforter. I wriggled my butt a little in a fiddling attempt to be coy, and I thought perhaps I heard him make the slightest sound of a chuckle. I couldn’t be sure. 

“Is there anything at all I may do for you, mia cara?” 

“You… you could help me out of these clothes, Papa,” I confessed to him, “Please.”

“With pleasure,” he said, his voice astoundingly kind now, and I felt the gentlest touch of his glove on the back of my thigh. He gave me a little squeeze there, and then his fingertips ran up to catch on the hem of my mini skirt. I felt him tug at it a little, and I mumbled something about the zipper. 

“Ahh yes, of course,” he said, and his fingers traveled up to the small of my back, finding the little clasp there to unhook it, and sliding the zipper down with care. I was not unaware of the way he was grazing the full curve of my ass as he did this, unnecessarily. He brought his gloves to either side of my waist and paused for a moment, his firm hands feeling warm on me through the leather, and then he started to roll my skirt down, encouraging me to lift my hips a bit, in a soft tone.

Halfway down my ass I remembered that I was wearing perhaps my skimpiest thong. The cool air of the room hit my skin and I heard Papa hum appreciatively, making me blush anew. As he slid my skirt off completely, all the way down my bare legs like he relished the task, he spoke low. 

“Were you meeting someone special down in town? Bringing some favoured errant soul into the fold?”

“No, Papa,” I answered honestly, “I just wanted to go out and relax in a crowd, you know? Look a bit pretty and get lost in some music…” I tried to turn over subtly but his hand was now firm on my lower back. “Avoiding panty lines, you know?” I explained further, with a soft laugh, turning my head only.

Papa laughed too. “I do not often have to contend with panty lines, my dear Sorella,” he replied, and I remembered his reported distaste for wearing knickers himself. I had been thinking often lately about what he had there in his pants, and I found myself rubbing my thighs together at the warmth forming now in my poor little empty cunt. As if to prove his point, he skimmed a gloved finger along the scant fabric of my thong to make me shiver.

“May I kiss you?” he suddenly said.

“Yes, Papa,” I chirped, but before I could turn around I registered him moving down and I felt his warm lips pressing a firm kiss against the cheek of my ass. 

“A kiss now, a spank later, eh?” he remarked, and I twisted my head to look back and see a black kiss mark left there on my exposed skin. He patted my butt affectionately, then stopped as if he’d forgotten. “Oh! My apologies, Sorella…”

I couldn’t help but grin at his silliness, and he finally let me roll over. 

“Papa…” I groaned, moving to sit up and unbutton my shirt. 

“No, no,” he insisted, taking my hands away, “Lay back, Sorella mia, and let Papa finish, si?”

“Si,” I agreed, laying back like a doll, and watching him get back to work through my torpid eyes. I saw him grin now, sweet and sly. 

My top was obviously next, and I marvelled at the way his gloves seemed to have no trouble with the tiny buttons, working nimbly from my waist right up to my cleavage. I wanted to feel that supple leather on more parts of me, and when he looked down into my face with intention, pausing before he opened up my shirt, I nodded up at him. 

“Sei squisito,” he breathed, slowly revealing more of me to his heavy gaze. 

“What are you saying?” I asked him softly. I had learned much Italian in my time here, but not enough. 

“I am telling you,” he said, looking up at my face now and brushing my hair back with the lightest touch of his glove, his fingertip running down to my chin to tilt me up to him slightly, “that you are exquisite, tesoro mio.” He tilted his own head as he looked down at me, his strange eyes darkening with devotion, and perhaps, also, with need. 

“May I have another kiss?” I asked him.

“On your ass?”

“No, Papa!” I could have hit him, he was so being so facetious. A complete ass, himself.

I endured the roguish twinkle in his eye for a moment, and then I pointed at my mouth. “Here.” I watched his hungry eyes hone in on my softly parted lips, and I knew he wanted me too. “I want you to kiss me here.”

Without another word he brought his mouth right down on mine. His lips, soft but insistent, giving me a taste of his papal paints when our kiss quickly deepened. So focused was I upon those lips, and his tongue, that I almost didn’t notice his gloves holding me up to him, tearing my opened shirt down along my shoulders. 

“More,” he muttered, breaking away only for a moment, “give me more… Sorella…”

Desperately, I shrugged off my top as he helped me, lurching forward to continue kissing him, tasting this irresistible man as if I were parched. Too soon he dragged his lips along my cheek, smearing himself all down my neck to come to my chest where he could use his tongue further, and his teeth, giving me little licks and nips along the top of my breasts as he let loose his hunger. 

By this time I was gripping the lapels of his suit jacket, and my fingers slid inside, trying to find a closer purchase along his shoulders, noticing his skin was dampening with sweat underneath the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Give me more,” I whined, and he obliged eagerly, shedding the shiny irksome thing and coming forward again to push me right down beneath him. His hand came up to knead my breast, pulling my bra down as he kissed my pouty lips again and again, his leathered thumb flicking and circling my nipple. When I couldn’t hold back my gasps of pleasure into his mouth, he abandoned mine, coming down again to taste my breasts each in turn, pulling my sensitive peaks in between his smudged lips, and swirling his wet tongue to drive me mad with desire.

Through my struggle not to lose my head, I had been fumbling about blindly with the buttons of his dress shirt, and I finally got it open enough to slide my hand down along his chest, to feel the glorious swirls of hair there. I ran my fingers along his beautifully greying head too. 

“Papa,” I begged, “I want to see you… please…”

“Can you be a good girl for me?” He was taking off my bra, rather easily.

“Yes.”

“Follow the rules?”

Rolling my eyes in frustration and pleasure both, I grabbed his cravat and pulled him back up to kiss me once more. With him distracted so with my lips, I thought I’d find out if he really was so easy to access inside his pants, and so I ran my hand down his solid body to find his distractingly large bulge straining within its confines. Papa groaned against my cheek as I let out a gasp of anticipation. I couldn’t wait to get his cock out. 

But first, just to tease him, I brought my hand back and around to cup his ass, squeeze him there and pull him against my thrilling cunt before I locked my legs up and around his waist. No panty lines, I thought to myself, and I grinned against his lips for a moment, feeling him rut against me down below.

He was growing impatient too. “I want you, tesoro,” Papa growled, gloved hands groping, fingers dragging down my body, my ass, to hook underneath the scant fabric keeping him from my pussy. His hot mouth came to my ear with a harsh whisper. “I want to fuck you.”

“No,” I said, and he let me go immediately, pushing himself up and off of me and looking straight down into my face, his eyes concerned. He went to speak, breathless and flushed underneath his smudged paint, but I was quicker. 

“Take your shirt off first,” I finished, and he looked so relieved and cross I thought he might bend me over his knee and spank me right there.

“You are a little brat, trottolina…” he threw out at me, sitting up and giving me one flash of the darkest look of desire I thought possible, before furiously undoing his cravat and bending his head to pay careful attention to the buttons of his tailored shirt, opening it up slowly. 

I hummed wickedly, and nodded, though he didn’t see, backing up to recline against the cushions and squeezing my knees together in my excitement. And yet I’m well rewarded, aren’t I? I thought to myself, bringing my fingertip up to rest flippantly between my teeth as I watched my Papa. 

Satan, he was so beautiful. Flustered hair he’d let get longer fell into his lined face, painted so sinister, yet with a learned tenderness about his darkened sockets and the curve of his mouth which he couldn’t quite hide. Every day I could see it; Copia was so full of adoration for his flock, a steady affection he kept quiet underneath a carnality of care. I couldn’t believe how privileged I was, both to be here and to be of any concern to such as him. I wanted him; I revelled in the thought of him wanting me. And I was grateful for our liberated faith, which laid out the way for this. 

His neck and shoulders, so kissable. His chest adorned in fine hair begging to be touched, the textured whisper of a few greys amongst them calling to me. His skin pale, scattered with faint freckles, his stomach soft and comforting and so utterly fallible it belied his exalted status. The trail of hair leading down underneath the waistband of his pants drove me absolutely raving inside with want, and so I asked him for more, bluntly. 

“Your pants too,” I said, finding that my mouth was suddenly dry. Was I nervous? It was just that he was so completely perfect, amplified by the way he lacked any true hubris, and I suddenly felt a little unworthy in my Papa’s presence. What could he possibly see in me, really?

“Of course, Sorella,” he replied measuredly, “Have patience, your Papa has waited for you long enough…” The shirt was quickly shed, and then he rested his gloves upon the fastening of his pants, looking over at me. “Come here and help me, si?”

I crawled to him, but when I got close enough I sat back on my heels to mirror his posture, and I let myself touch his forearms instead, lightly scraping my nails up to hold onto him by his warm shoulders. Copia just watched me, head tilted a bit with a puzzled smile. My fingertips slid over, grazing his clavicle to rest with shyness in the hollow of his throat. “I want you, Papa,” I told him, “I want to be here, with you, forever.”

Arms full of reassurance to match his desire came up and around me, and he held me so very close, his fingers nestling up the back of my head. “I’m not going anywhere, Sorella mia,” he murmured into my hair, “I feared perhaps you wanted to leave this place… leave me…”

I pulled back and silenced his nonsense with a kiss, which he held me in, and I let my hand wander blindly down his body, his soft stomach, following the treasure trail to something harder. I was trying to suavely slip my fingers into his pants, open them up to free his frustrated cock to my attentions.

This proved difficult, even when I brought my other hand down to assist.

“What is wrong with your pants, Papa?” I finally broke away to exclaim. I looked down to observe the securely knotted lacing. “They’re ridiculous!”

Copia laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t want an embarrassing mishap, on account of having nothing on underneath…” 

I laughed with him. “Take them off…” I finally whined.

Papa motioned for me to scooch back on the bed, and expertly began to undo his pants in front of me. The poor man must have felt a great relief at finally freeing his swollen cock, and he did groan a bit, in pleasure, as he took himself in hand for a few lazy strokes. He was big, and I felt insane looking at it. At all of him.

“Fuck me, Papa,” I breathed, laying back.

“No,” he said, and I sat back up in a little shock.

“First,” he said low with a grin, looking pointedly down between my legs, “Take those off. I want to taste you, dolcezza mia.” I wanted to kill him. Copia got up from the bed to peel off his pants completely, and I lay back again, sliding my thong down along my hips and my trembling legs to leave my pussy pleading, as I observed his perfect body and the way he carried himself. “You will not deny me this,” Papa said, coming back on the bed to crawl towards me. I fully agreed. 

But before I could let my knees drop open for him, Papa was doing it, his gloves gripping my thighs and yanking me down a little closer. I could feel his warm breath on my pussy, and I shut my eyes and waited for him to begin.

But nothing happened, and I looked back down at him after a moment. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just looking, dolcezza…” His face was full of a lustful suspense, gazing upon my cunt and practically licking his paint-smeared lips in anticipation, so close. “You are so beautiful, ragazza mia, do you even know that? I cannot believe I get to enjoy someone so perfect.”

I blushed, but I answered him honestly. “I was just thinking the same thing about you, Papa.”

“Well, let’s get started on enjoying each other then, si?”

“Si— oh, Papa!”

He was attacking me with his mouth, surging forward to lick up along my seam and to jut his chin forward, delving his tongue inside. It felt so nice, warm and forceful, and I would have been much too sensitive for it if I wasn’t so wound up already. My hips were bucking up, but he had slid his hands up underneath my ass and around to hold them, to hold me down for his carnal feast. 

Papa may have been enjoying me, but I could not believe how good his mouth felt on my cunt. A warm tingly pleasure was rising, stoked deep inside by his wet tongue exploring my most intimate areas, and when he started to circle and suck my clit in a kind of rhythm the jolts of delight this afforded me made me gasp out. 

“That’s so good! I…” Coherent thought escaped me. “Oh, Papa… fuck…”

Hums of pleasure rumbled into my pussy as Copia revelled in my wetness, the taste of me. After a bit of his perfect pleasuring, cruelly, he told me so. “Bellissima… Sorella,” he broke away to say, face darkened with lust, “Your pretty little pussy, so fucking sweet, Satanas…” He began to tease me with only the tip of his tongue now, as if he fretted about missing any drop of the sweetness he was coaxing out from my slit. Gradually he applied more blessed pleasure, his tongue igniting ecstasies I didn’t even know I had down there. 

His words were thrilling me, but I wanted him to keep going, don’t stop, please don’t stop, keep going Papa that feels so good so good so fucking good I’m so close I’m… My fingertips reaching down to brush against his gorgeous locks, I almost pulled him closer in my desperation, but Copia grinned up at me quickly and went right back to it, seeming pleased at the way he was keeping me tottering there just beyond all sense. He licked and lathed his tongue against me with a lazy indulgence, holding me at a simmering torture until he went back to my clit at just the right pace, as if he had been taking his time, enjoying what he did to me, and learning what I needed best to be thrown right over the edge. 

When I finally felt that racing thrill begin inside, my thighs tightened against his ears, and I almost kicked out, my heels coming to rest upon his bare back as I twitched and convulsed up against his face. My nails were digging into the skin just underneath his gloves, my hands holding on to his wrists for dear life as I bucked up and moaned aloud, and he didn’t stop, continuing to eat me out ravenously as if he could taste my orgasm, and couldn’t get enough. I felt like I could hardly breathe.

“Fuck, Papa,” I cried when I was able, my eyes on the edge of tearing up. 

“Mmmm…” Copia licked up my twitching cunt and gazed down upon me with pride, his paint ruined. “Oh yes, my sweet Sorella, we’ll do that next…”

“Fuck,” was all I could barely repeat, like an idiot, out of breath and wanting him more than ever. I reached down for him. 

Copia’s body surged up and over me, on all fours, but instead of giving me his cock he gave me his fingers, two I was pretty sure. Gloved fingers, smooth and warm, sliding slow and exploratory into my dripping wet cunt. If I had been moaning before, now I made sounds much more urgent, the feeling all alight around my pussy walls still tingling, incredible. 

“Papa!” I cried out, writhing beneath him.

“Papa needs to make sure you’re nice and ready…” Copia huffed out, circling gently, and stroking deep in my pussy, curling his smooth leathered digits up, “Nice and ready for me, eh?”

“Fuck I am ready,” I pleaded with him, “Please please fuck me, Papa… Please I need it…”

He needed it too; I could see his cock hanging flushed and heavy, precum almost dripping from the darkened tip. I was clenching around his fingers, and he groaned. I could make him feel so good, I knew it, he just had to make me take his cock; I wanted him so badly I could scream.

Only when he judged me sufficiently wound up did he position me the way he wanted, supine underneath him with my knees apart, and he brought the head of his cock to my weeping cunt, sliding up and down my seam slowly just to tease. Copia really was a devil; he had a dark mischief inside him he loved to let out to play sometimes. I could see why his lovers went so crazy over him. 

But Papa’s most veritable calling was to love tenderly. “Come here,” he said, softly, reaching up to stroke the sweaty strands of hair out of my face, and keeping his hand there, cradling me nice and firm. His thumb wandered over to my lips and I could smell the leather; I moved and bit the tip a little, heavy-lidded, stifling the gasps I knew were coming as I could feel him begin to finally push inside me below. 

My eyes widened; I was glad he’d taken the time to warm me up because Lucifer in hell, he was large and oh so hard… I felt like I could barely take it.

“Are you okay?” Copia asked me, his brow sweating off the paint he had remaining. I think he was only halfway inside, and my leg twitched against his waist as he pushed in a little deeper, unable to help himself. 

“Yes, Papa!” I told him in a hushed whisper, the stretch of him divine, “Oh, yes… don’t stop… fuck…”

“La mia dolce, cara, Sorella…” he was murmuring, sliding inside my tightness, his face a lined and messy vision of pure delight. I felt that wonderfully conflicting feeling of need and completeness deep inside, and I saw him look down to watch my pussy take all of him in as I hitched my hips up feebly to meet him.

There was nothing in the world quite like this, to have him inside me. “Do you… Do you like my pussy, Papa?” I managed to gasp out.

“Fuck, yes… dolcezza…” Copia choked out, already starting to pull back, “You’re so tight, am I hurting you? Satanas…” He hissed out his pleasure and I saw his eyes roll back a little before he focused down on my face, his odd eyes searching mine in some concern.

Reaching up to smooth his eye paint into the darling crow’s feet he had there, I met his gaze and marvelled. “No, it feels so good, I… I want you to fuck me, don’t stop, Papa… please…”

Papa didn’t stop, sliding his cock back inside me, aided so by my wetness and making me moan out loud at the incredible pressure. I watched him bite his own lip to stifle himself, paying close attention to my body as he held me, stroke by stroke, like I was the most precious thing. When he saw me press my head back on the mattress, becoming delirious with pleasure, he smiled, becoming more relaxed himself, and gave me a thrust to make me grip onto him harder. 

“Yes Papa! That’s so fucking good…”

Copia hooked his hand underneath my knee and opened my thigh up further, thrusting a little deeper into my pussy, and he settled more atop me, kissing and licking all over my décolletage, before bringing his head up to murmur low and sweet into my ear. 

“I like it when you call me that, fuck! Eh, ahh… Papa,” he told me, “I like it when you call me Papa…”

“You are Papa,” I said, and he snorted into my neck mid-thrust.

“You are delightful, Sorella,” he said, “Bellissima… ugh, fuck… I think I am going to be fucking you a lot, eh?” Copia was pumping his cock into me in the best way, warm and hard and steady. “If you’ll have me?” he continued, leaning down to pant against my cheek as he thrust.

“Yes, Papa, please!” Every drive of his cock hit those parts inside me to make me shiver, and the brief absence of him with each pass made me yearn for it again and again and again. “Ugh, I need you, you fuck me so good!”

He really was. Copia knew what he was doing, and he fucked me ecstatically now in a perfect rhythm of lust, his hips snapping against the backs of my thighs to make the bed shake. I took his cock again and again, scratching my nails along his shoulders and letting his tongue into my mouth when he sought my lips to kiss me sloppily. Our bodies were beginning to work up a sweat, joined so carnally in our mutual pleasure, and I couldn’t get enough of him.

“You can fuck me whenever you want,” I purred up to him wickedly, “you’re Papa here… I’m here for your pleasure…”

Copia groaned, approaching the throes of that exact pleasure, but he slowed down, seemingly trying to focus again. “That’s true, isn’t it, Sorella?” I saw his lip curl into a mischievous grin. “What is it that all Papas may say, ah?”

“What?” I whisper-gasped, my eyes shut tight, overwhelmed by his cock, the feel of his gloves on me.

“I, ahh… ahh… I brought you into this institution, yes?” Copia gave me one jolting thrust to make me squeak underneath him and then he was fucking me, so fucking good, but his thrusts were becoming more erratic as he seemed to try and focus on his thoughts for a moment, “and I can take you out, so…” Another sweet thrust… He was speaking to me in a mock tone of gruff authority, and I lost it at his silliness even as I felt our mutual pleasure rising.

I laughed out loud, trapped so underneath him, and he joined me in sweet laughter himself, continuing to fuck me as he hung his head down into my shoulder with a grunt. 

“Shut up, Papa,” I giggled through a moan, “Oh, just shut up… and fuck me…” I ran my fingers up through his hair, getting it more and more disheveled with the sweat beginning to run off the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, down his spine. He smelled so fucking good on top of me, the weight of him addicting, and I never wanted this to end. “I’ll never come home late again, I promise… If you just keep fucking me…”

But I could sense my poor sweet Papa approaching his end, and I wanted him to feel so fucking good, let everything go and achieve the sweetest release possible. 

“Fuck me, Papa, really fuck me… fill me up…”

Copia held me close, thrusting faster and harder for a minute as he groaned into my flushed skin, and then he reared back, his dark gaze piercing into me with pure desire as he began to fuck me hard, holding me down so I couldn’t writhe away from his thrusts, my body jostling, the heat of his body and his lust palpable in the scant air between us.

I opened my legs further for him, taking his cock to the point of pain so he could get his fill of me. “Good girl,” he huffed under his breath, and I could almost come again just from that.

He’d never looked better than this, I thought in awe, chasing his own pleasure and using my poor pussy to do so. Copia drove his cock into my cunt like he just couldn’t help himself near the end, and then he finally came, choking out a shout before he collapsed on top of me, muttering what I guessed was filthy Italian into my hair.  I could feel his thick cock throbbing deep inside as he ground his hips into me, pulsing out his spend to fill me completely up, and I clenched my thighs and my pussy around him in delight, holding him tightly as he trembled in my arms.

I felt him come down from his high, breathing heavy. “Satanas, Sorella… that was…”

“Good?” I giggled.

“So fucking good, you’re going to kill your poor old Papa…”

I only hummed wickedly, but soon I was making louder noises. Copia had pushed himself up, still deep within my cunt, and he was dragging his gloved hand down my body, getting a few gropes in before settling his fingers on my clit. His cum was already leaking out of me, the slickness only aiding in that ecstatic circling sensation to drive me wild.

“That’s it, my good girl,” I heard him purr, “Come for Papa… si…”

I was so close already from our fucking that it didn’t take long; I came hard again with cries of pleasure as he hissed in triumph, sliding his spent cock out of me in satisfaction.

“I mean it, Papa,” I managed to say after, “I am never coming home late again.”

Copia flopped down beside me and gathered me to him, sighing out in his exhaustion. “My dear Sorella…”

My mussed up head on his shoulder, I nestled in close, breathing in his scent and wrapping my free arm around him. He felt so warm, his heartbeat only beginning to slow, and I watched his gorgeous face rest, his smudged eyes closing in bliss. My body was covered in smears of his paint, especially my lower half, mixing now with cooling sweat and the sticky remnants of him still seeping out. 

After a moment, Copia sought my hand upon him with his gloved one, and brought it up to his lips. “You know, amore,” he murmured between soft kisses to my knuckles, “I cannot stop you from doing as you please… but maybe…” Copia turned over on his side to look down into my face, earnestly, still playing with my hand. “Maybe you’ll allow me to accompany you next time? When you stay out much too late?”

“I’d like that, Papa.” Disentangling from his fingers, I reached up to guide his chin down so he could kiss me on my lips again, and he lingered there for a sweet while, only breaking away to say one thing more.

“And then, I promise, dolcezza… I will spank you.”

[evanpeterspeter]

Kinktober day 1

Pre death Kyle Spencer - First time - Lingerie

Cw: smut obviously, p in v, v!grin and so on

An: Day one in kinktober, hope you guys enjoy:3

———————————————————————————

You and Kyle lived on campus, there were dorms and it was separated by gender. You wished you were the popular cheerleader who had all the boys drooling over them. Even though you were a “nobody” who just worked on art and sculpting, you were just as boy-crazy as the rest of them. You had the biggest crush on Kyle. He was the nicest out of the bunch of frats, the most charming, handsome, and just heart-flutteringly gentle. You hate to admit it but you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him. The way he flashes his charming smile makes your heart melt. “Y/n!” Your friend called. “You’re going to the party yeah?!” She jumped up and down flapping her hands mindlessly. you shrugged and looked over at the boys in the hall flirting and passing invitations. “Kyle is gonna be thereeee.” She teased nudging your shoulder. You instantly became flustered and turned a slight hue of red. “I-I don’t know yet..” You said hugging your elbows. “Oh come on, Y/n! It’s gonna be so much fun! We can totally dress up too!” You shrug in defeat. “Okay okay fine, I’ll go.” She squealed and ran out of the room in excitement.

You and your friend decided to go as a witch and a cat, which of course she took the role of the witch, so now you were stuck as the black cat. It wasn’t a bad thing it’s that you felt so.. Naked. You couldn’t help but get excited but crazy fucking nervous about seeing Kyle and what he might think of your “costume”. Your top sort of resembled the head of a cat and had white sheer sleeves and ruffles under the black material that held your perky breasts. A slight frill of the sheer fabric as a “skirt” and some thin stockings, that you wore pumped Mary Janes with. Your friend walked in and gasped. “Holy fuck, Y/n.. If I was Kyle, I’d fuck you right here and now.” You blushed and shook your head. “Okay, come on. I want to get this over with.” You said grabbing your small coffin-shaped purse.

Once you arrived at the party, all eyes were on you. You knew the outfit was very revealing, but you weren’t prepared for the beady, nasty eyes from the wrong crowd, Especially since you only thought about Kyle. You walked into the kitchen, pouring yourself some alcohol-spiked punch as you watched your friend dancing with the other frats and grinding up against them. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and let out a small huff of laughter. “Hey!” You turned your head to the voice. It was Kyle. You froze and shed an awkward smile. You saw his beautiful dark eyes roam over your beautiful body. He looked back up at your eyes and noticed you were flustered. “Y/n, how are you enjoying the party?” Your uncomfortable smile became a genuine smile. “You remember my name?” He let out a playful scoff of misbelief. “Uhm..Yeah? I always notice you watching me.” He flashed a smirk. Your heart sped and you covered your flustered face with your hands. “Hey, hey I’m just teasing ya.��� Kyle said with a gentle chuckle, softly prying your hands away from your face. He looked at your eyes then your lips, looking back up and placing a small bunch of your soft hair behind your ear. “O. M. G. Kyle!” Some blonde bimbo ran up to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him away. “My favorite song is on!” She grabbed him, pulling him out of the kitchen to the main room. You let out a sigh.

“Hey, sweet mama.” One of the frat boys came to the kitchen and stood in front of you. He grabbed your bare waist and pressed his body against his. You let out a yelp and were trying to squirm away from his strong grasp. “Whoah there. Where are you going?” His breath reeked of alcohol and skunk weed. “Let me go!” You screamed as you tried pushing him away. In a flash, you saw a beer bottle smashed against that boy’s head. You flinched and yelped, covering your head in fear you were next. “Y/n!” There stood Kyle, he grabbed you, taking his letterman jacket off and placing it over your shoulders. “K-kyle.. I’m sorry.” You said on the brink of tears. “For what? Basically being sexually assaulted?! Absolutely not.” He grabbed his keys and looked at you. “You want me to take you home? You looked uncomfortable this whole time.” He spoke gently. “N-no it’s fine.” You said hugging your elbows and holding onto his jacket tightly. Kyle crouched down to your height and held onto your hips. “How about we head back to mine and we can watch some sort of Halloween movie and pig out on some cheap candy.” You felt butterflies when he placed his hands on your hips and your core tingle. You grew a wide smile and nodded. “If that’s okay with you.” You spoke softly.

You went back to Kyle’s dorm and put your purse by the door. “Make yourself comfortable,” Kyle said while grabbing some grey sweats and a loose-fitting shirt. You nodded as you sat on his bed, waiting as he changed. He stepped out of the bathroom in sweats and no shirt. You could see his soft-toned abs and his prominent V-line. You unintentionally bit your lip as he walked your way. He stood in front of you with his lower waist at your eye level. He pulled your bottom lip apart from your teeth and lifted your chin to look you in the eyes. “Eyes up here, Beauty.” Your breath hitched as you swallowed the lump in your throat. He let out a cute chuckle and plopped on the bed, opening his arms for you to crawl into. “Come,” Kyle said giving grabby hands. You giggled and crawled to him, being unintentionally seductive. You laid on top of his warm body, your barely clothed cunt against his thigh and your head on his chest. He grabbed you and as you guys watched Hocus Pocus, his hands roamed up and down from your upper back to your lower back rubbing near your ass. “Y/n, are you comfortable?” He spoke lowly. You nodded, clinging to his chest.

You could feel his member harden against your hip. You couldn’t handle the tension any longer, you grabbed the nape of his neck, pulling yourself up further, and placed soft kisses on his neck. He let out a soft gasp and clung onto your ass and waist as you left little nips and bites on his neck. You felt him roll his hips up against your thigh. “Y/n. Are you okay with this?” He said slightly out of breath. You lifted your head, pressing your weight on the palms of your hands that laid upon his heavy chest. “Y-yeah.. Are you okay with it? I-I don’t want to get ahead of myself, especially if you aren’t inter-“ Kyle interrupted you with his lips against yours. He sat up, cradling your body to his, as you sat straddled on his thigh. The kiss was messy but yet, so sensual. Almost like he hasn’t had much experience. You pulled away for a moment to catch the breath he stole from you. You watched as he searched your flustered face, with a faint smile upon his pink, dimpled cheeks. “Your lips are sweet like candy.” He smiled looking at your lips. You let out a playful whine and looked away. “Kyleeee, shush!” He promptly flipped you over, hovering over your fragile, yet beautiful curved body. You let out a small whine, naturally resorting to hugging your elbows. Kyle’s expression slightly sunk. “Hey, Y/n. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He sat up on his knees, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You gently pouted and shook your head. “Kyle.. I’ve uhm.. I’ve never had sex before.” You said feeling ashamed. Kyle tilted his head and smiled. “That’s okay, Pumpkin.” He pinched your cheek gently. “If you’d like, we can postpone thi-..”

You interrupted his proposal by wrapping your legs around his waist, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him towards you, and slamming each other’s lips together. You felt his hard-on press against your soaked core. He grabbed the bottom of your two-piece and lifted his head to meet your eyes. “May I?” You nodded frantically as he basically tore your flimsy bottom piece off your body. Kyle crouched on the floor beside the foot side of the bed. He gently spread open your thighs, looking for your approval, you nodded and shyly spread your silky thighs apart. Kyle’s eyes widened and bit his lower lip in hunger. You felt your face heat up like a million suns. “Does it look okay?” You said biting the inside of your cheek. “Okay? Baby, it’s drop-dead gorgeous. Just like you.” He pressed his tongue flat upon your sopping cunt, licking a strip up to your sweet bundle of nerves. You let out a loud gasp and grabbed the back of his head, grasping a fist full of his soft dirty blond locks. He flicked his tongue against your tender clit and suckled on it gently. You naturally felt your hips grind against his soft mouth, eager for more.

He pulled away from your aching cunt. “Let me warm you up, yeah?” You bit your lip and nodded. He collected your slick and slid one finger in, curling it up. After a few pumps of his finger, he slid in another, stretching you out comfortably before he helps himself to you. You clawed the sheets and let out small moans. “Mmmh, Kyle.” You said, enjoying his thick fingers sliding in and out of your tight cunt. “Yeah Love?” You felt your heart melt with all of the pet names he’s given you. “I-I need you so bad, Kyle.” Saying that made Kyle’s cock twitch in neediness. “Are you sure you’re ready?” Kyle stood up and gently pulled you to the edge of the bed. “Please. Fuck me, Kyle.” You whined. He did not hesitate and pulled his sweatpants off, Kicking them in whatever direction. He leaned over to grab a condom and wrapped himself up. As he began to roll the rubber onto his shaft, he placed his thumb on your clit and started rubbing it in a circular motion.

He leaned forward and lined himself up against your entrance. “Are you positive you’re comfortable enough for this?” He had his hands placed against your knees. “Yes, Kyle. I’ve waited so long for this, especially with you,” He smiled and looked red in the face. “Would it be weird if I said the same?” You shook your head no but right before you could respond, you felt his tip press into your entrance. You let out a whimper in slight discomfort but the burning stretch felt so good. Kyle placed his hands on the sides of your body, still pushing himself into you. As soon as he bottomed out he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Doing ok, Pumpkin?” You nodded as you held onto his neck. “Kinda burns. But it feels so good.” He chuckled lowly and started slowly thrusting in and out of you. You let out some unintentional, nasty pornographic moans. “Fuck, Kyle.. God you’re so thick.” Your soft praises made him drive for more, beginning to slam into your tight pussy. “Fuck, You’re so fucking tight. Mmmhh.” He exclaimed while pounding into your cunt. You had your head tossed back, tears sliding down the sides of your eyes, and your mouth agape. He lowered his hand, rubbing your clit in a swift circular motion. “K-kyle.. Fuck.. I’m going to finish.” You panted in between moans. “Do it for me, Beautiful.” You felt your lower belly turn that huge knot into a gushing river. You clawed his neck and shoulder blades like an actual cat. I guess you really stayed in character. The pulsing tight walls of your cunt made Kyle succumb to his orgasm, shooting his thick loads into the condom. His thrusts became sloppy and unorganized, as he eventually pulled out.

You were splayed out, almost angelic on his bed. Your arms were tossed above your head, boobs almost hanging out your top, and how your gentle curves lay.

“Fuck.. You’re so beautiful.” Kyle said with a big geeky smile. As he cleaned himself up he grabbed a new pair of sweats and his slightly used hoodie that was neatly folded. “How are you feeling?” He sat beside you, placing his hand over your damp forehead. You let out a small giggle. “I feel amazing.. Thank you, Ky.” Kyle flashed a smile and kissed your forehead. “I have some spare clothes, so you won’t have to sleep in a two-piece rag you call a costume.” He said teasingly. You gasped and smacked his arm. “Oh shut it, Fuck boy.”

———————————————————————————

Taglist: @evansonlylove @xrag-dollx @warrenlipkaswife @jazz-berry @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @fear-is-truth

[shazzbaa]

IDK MAN IM A SUCKER FOR SPLIT IMAGES....

anyway so for Light Fingers we needed to either appease a giant snake who lives in the dream realm's sky (long story), or ally with the cats to overcome said snake amalgam. Peter and Sam chose differently here, meaning Peter was granted the honour of being legally a cat, and Samuel got to, uH.... sHED HIS SKIN AS PENITENCE?????

(Peter is @little-red-notebook's guy, Sam is mine!)

bonus drawing/thoughts under the cut:

HE HAD TO USE A KNIFE AND TOOK SEVERAL WOUNDS, WHICH TRADITIONALLY IS NOT HOW SHEDDING WORKS, but by some snakey machinations there was new skin underneath, with the slightest sheen..........

supposedly it's so subtle that nobody would notice it, so obviously that means I immediately have to add faintly visible scales to every drawing I make of Samuel forever. I like to imagine it doesn't really show in the general gloom of the neath, but under more direct light or in the Parabolan sun, Sam's allegiances are a little more obvious....

The timing on this choice was fun, because just a few days before, Peter had shared with Samuel that he and his ACTUAL boyfriend had become engaged, they were just keeping it a secret so as not to make Peter's real fiancé a target for Poor Edward. So, while Sam did not know exactly what he was getting into when he chose to apologise to the giant sky snake, he still knows the reputation of the fingerkings, he knows bargains with them are risky, and he knows Poor Edward just announced his own skin-shedding bargain and following in his footsteps seems tremendously unwise........ but he was very much operating on the idea that PETER had a future that he needed to be okay for, so Sam needed to be the one to take the choices that would likely have Consequences.

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Feral 3

Minors Do Not Interact!!!

Warnings: pregnancy, violence, murder (but it's the Baron so yay), mentions of the Baron being a pedo, mentions of Feyd being a victim of the Barons.

Feyd had a new issue with Friz. Ever since he had begun helping Y/N with the little beast, holding him securely while Y/N clipped his nails, frimmed the fur around his paws and butt, and held him in the bath water while Y/N scrubbed the filth and loose hair off of him, the shedding had become so much less of an issue. Feyd had even found a setting on the shower head that Friz actually enjoyed against his throat. With a lot of patience, an absurd amount of chicken liver treats, and many close calls by cat claws, Friz was… somewhat tamed. The cat didn't like getting his nails trimmed, of course, but Feyd and Friz has come to an understanding. Feyd trimmed exactly one of his claws every day, and Friz got a freshly fried chicken liver with catnip sprinkles for his troubles.

Y/N had been shocked at the improvement in her pet. "I thought he was too old to be tamed properly." She admitted.

"How old is he, exactly?" Feyd asked.

"About sixteen." She said. "I got him when he was a feral kitten, I was about five. He was passed being bottle fed, so he didn't bond with me right away. It took weeks of work for him to even eat in front of me."

Feyd hummed to himself, wondering why anyone would even put that amount of time into a cat.

"Oh, by the way, I saw the doctor today." Y/N said casually. "He ran some tests, and it turns out I'm pregnant."

Feyd felt his face go blank. "What?"

--------

Y/N's pregnancy was… rough. Her cravings were for fresh fruit and cheese, things they didn't get often on Giedi Prime. Meat made her nauseous, something his uncle made constant jokes about. The bastard even hinted that Feyd's child might come out anemic and weak.

Ah, right, speaking of his uncle. Obviously the second Feyd realized his wife was pregnant, Vladimir couldn't go on living. Other than the fact Feyd hated the man, his baby might be a boy. And the idea of the Baron being on the same planet as a son of Feyd's, with his disgusting appetite for young boys was unacceptable. The Baron had a rather unfortunate accident. His normal nightly routine of smoking spice and soaking in his tub took a rather unfortunate turn. He indulged a tad bit too much, got a bit too dizzy, and drowned in his tub. The old man's body was so large it took a half dozen slaves to pull him out of the tub, even after it was drained.

Feyd inherited the throne, and life went on. Y/N looked practically ethereal with a baby bump and a crown on her head as she sat on her throne beside Feyd. The crown was only for the initial ceremony of course, neither of them could be bothered with dressing in ceremonial clothing every day.

Especially Y/N. Her pregnancy seemed to get rougher by the day. Morning sickness from the earlier months turned into near constant aches and pains in her back and legs. Feyd wasn't sure how women without servants survived their pregnancies. Who helped them tie their shoes? Their husbands? They must. Y/N's feet swelled so much, most days she didn't even bother with shoes. He came back to their newly renovated quarters (because even if Feyd wanted the bigger set of rooms his uncle had left behind after his death, he certainly didn't want any of the man's stench hanging around. Feyd had the place gutted and new floors and walls installed. Y/N had picked out the paint, of course.) to find her sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on an ottoman. Feyd tried to comfort her as best he could, but other than having the servants draw her a bath or bring in a foot tub for her feet to soak, there wasn't much to be done.

Thankfully she just seemed to want him to be close to her. And by the stars did he want to be right next to her all the time. His hand seemed to be permanently fixed to her belly, and he'd grin excitedly anytime he felt a kick from his son. Yes, his son. The doctor had confirmed it, and Feyd was both delighted and devastated. He had secretly hoped for a girl out of some misguided belief that it would be easier. Some vague idea that if his child was a girl then he wouldn't see himself reflected in her as much. So he wouldn't have some happier version of himself taunting him about what his childhood could have been.

But when he truly sat down to think about raising his son, Feyd found the idea soothing. No one would rip his son from Y/N's arms and take them away to a house of horrors. No one would mistreat him the way Feyd had been mistreated. His son would never doubt he was loved and cared for.

Y/N had commented on it over snacks one night. Nightly snacks might be his favorite part of pregnancy if he was being honest. Y/N always seemed to have a plate of something nearby and he was always offered some.

"I think it will be healing for you." She said, munching on a few strawberries. "Raising a little mini you, with all your mannerisms. And those beautiful eyes of yours."

Feyd chuckled, his face pressed against her belly as he felt his son kicking at his face. "He has strength, that's for sure. His kicks are getting stronger every day."

"Painful, too." Y/N said, wincing after a particularly strong kick from her baby.

Feyd turned back to her belly, patting it gently. "Easy now, my boy. Don't bother your mother so. She deserves rest after a long day of making you."

A little paw swatted at his nose. Ah. Right. His new problem. Friz stared at Feyd until Feyd sat up, removing himself from Y/Ns belly. The cat immediately started his nightly routine of massaging Y/Ns belly with his little paws, kneading at the baby bump for a few minutes before curling up and purring on it.

Y/N smiled, "It's like he's trying to keep them warm."

"We have blankets." Feyd said dryly, unhappy to have been chased from his wife's belly by a cat.

"It's instinct to him." His wife said, trying to soothe him by taking his face in her hands and peppering little kisses all over his cheeks. "Now, have a snack and tell me about your day."

Feyd took the bowl of strawberries from her, laying back against the headboard and sighing. "I've had such a day."

[downbaddetective]

I'm finally coming back to one of my previous posts. (Thank you to @m-eowdy for the reminder to finish the thought. I'm sorry if it's a little disappointing after the wait.)

Specifically these two shots of Edwin being completely covered in our two most important colors, because the symbolism here is significant to me.

I lost the original thoughts that I had (unfortunately migraines make me forget things) and by the time I was feeling kind of okay I knew that there were things I wanted to say but couldn't remember how. So, instead, I sat and rewatched the show, taking notes so that I could make sure that I wasn't making anything up.

So, color symbolism in this show is so stupidly important, and it's called out by characters in universe (thank you, Niko). We obviously see our characters in their colors, Edwin in blue, Charles in red, Crystal in purple, and Niko in pink. But it's also not that cut and dry. Edwin, in all reality, is very grey, Crystal wears a lot of different colors, and so does Niko. Obviously, part of that is because the girls aren't dead and have to change their clothes, but the colors that are worn are still significant to their state of mind and the events happening around them. With Edwin and Charles, it's very similar, though a little different. Charles' red gets darker as he is more and more affected by what happens at the Devlin house. Edwin, though, barely shows his blues most of the time, but when he becomes vulnerable, he sheds his grey layers, and we see it a lot more.

Now, I think that it's worth mentioning that Edwin and Charles swap their afterlife colors, so when they look at each other, they see their afterlife. The red and blue also give us clues as to things that they're hiding. Red being often associated with anger and blue with sadness. That being said, I'm now getting to the symbolism in the fact that Edwin is one of two* characters to be washed in both hell's red and death's (heaven's?) blue like this.

Edwin's entire journey is kind of impeded by the fear of getting caught by the afterlife and being sent back to hell. Red is his constant source of fear, hell being the biggest example, but Charles in his red is also the cause of Edwin's issues. Charles is the reason why both the Cat King and Monty have some type of red associated with them during interactions with Edwin. These colors are omens for Edwin. Charles essentially shared his blue afterlife light with him. They were meant to be detectives together, and that's where it all starts, right there in that attic. The red, on the other hand, is indicative of the bullshitery that is incoming, including the worst-case scenario, aka BEING DRAGGED BACK TO HELL. RIGHT THERE. IN THE APARTMENT THAT THEY GO LOOK AT RIGHT AFTER THIS. (Even though it is definitely at least partially his own darn fault.) The fact that we see these two scenes out of order also indicates that by the end of it all Edwin has overcome the previously stated bullshitery. We see Edwin interact with these two colors as a collective much more in the show, and it's seems it's because this was Edwin's time to learn and grow, and I suspect that if we get a season two at some point, we will see that flip so that Charles can have his turn.

All in all, I am absolutely in love with the colors in this show and I will probably have more to say later but I wanted to finish at least this part of the color analysis so that I could have a resolution to the previous post. I don't think I was able to recover all of my original thoughts about the significance of these two, but I think I got a pretty good chunk of it. I do want to say that I've seen the other color analyses floating around. I will be taking a look at some point, but before doing my own, I will be avoiding them for now because I want to write about my own perception rather than accidentally just stealing other peoples work.

(* Ngl, a little worried about Jenny if we ever see a season two)

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part seven

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary:  you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret. 

Warnings: mentions of death, drinking, flashbacks/ptsd

Word Count: ~6k 

A/N: we’re starting to pick up a bit now! some time skips

series masterlist 

Seven days in the castle. You enjoyed breakfasts with Aelin and whatever members of her court were around, evenings with Fenrys and co, more chances to interact with Ceri and her friends, free time to try and figure out your damn way around the city, but you were going crazy. Surrounded by people at all times, even if they were kind, exhausted you. 

As much as you tried, there wasn’t a truly private place in this castle. Maybe it was paranoia, but you knew someone could always be watching - there could always be eyes. 

But, there was a pattern. Halle would be on edge if someone was nearby, if there were prying ears, and she only fell into a deep sleep if it was the two of you - or if it seemed private enough. You trusted her judgment. The judgment of a cat. Then again, she wasn’t an ordinary cat. 

She had her own kind of magic. That’s a secret you decided to keep as long as possible. Even if magic was freely accepted here, her kind could easily make her a target. 

For gods sake she was buddies with fleetfoot. Aelin had been worried in the beginning, but her dog bounded right up to Halle. 

Fleetfoot sniffed, tilted her head, and licked Halle’s face. The cat didn’t hiss or swipe, instead headbutting her. 

Aelin gave you an incredulous look. 

“She’s never met a dog.” 

“Fleetfoot usually doesn’t make friends with cats,” Aelin turned back towards the duo, “you’re special Halle.” A small purr, and yellow eyes stared right at her, as if to say; ‘obviously.’ 

Aelin snorted and shook her head, ‘if Fleetfoot’s on her side, nobody should bother her.” 

‘I’d like to see them try,’ the small hiss said. Seemed to say, you corrected yourself. The two of you couldn’t communicate, but it was easy enough to read her expressions. 

One hand holding up your book, she rested in your lap. Rowan was in the room, sitting across from you, just having finished up Ceri’s bedtime story for the day. Another change over the last week, you’d gotten comfortable being in a room alone with them. Not that it had been necessarily uncomfortable in the past, but you shed some of the fear of perception. If people read into it too much, that was on them. You knew your relationship with them, you knew you were only platonic. Those who paid attention would know that too. 

-

 “There’s something .. off about that cat,” Rowan commented. He’d discreetly observed the two of you over the edge of a few reports he brought with him, intending to finish them as he waited for Ceri to fall asleep. There was only one left, and he figured he might as well get it done now. Abraxos’s story was requested again, and he didn’t have anything new to say. Like hell he’d write to Manon and ask. There would be a set of meetings and a ball hosted in Orynth the week after Beltane, and hopefully he could convince her not to ask during that. He didn’t know the witch well enough to tell how she’d react. Maybe she’d find it amusing, as far as he remembers witches were always protective of young ones. The nations of Erilea, and sometimes contingents from other countries, met once every two years, and it was Orynth’s turn to host this year. It would be interesting, convincing you to attend alongside Ceri. 

Yellow eyes peeked up, Halle’s fur standing up, as if she’d heard the insult and taken it personally. 

“Be nice,” you whispered, running your fingers through her fur. The little demon settled instantly, purring on your lap. There was definitely something off about that cat. Almost like it had purposefully found you. Ceri had seemed a bit put out that the cat liked you more than her. But, with your animal form it was to be expected. He’d never tell you this, not yet at least, but there was a small betting pool running for which form your daughter would take. Avian, or feline. 

On their visit to Antica, he’d met some of the baast cats in the library of the Torre Cesme. More he thought about it, he’d never actually seen your animal form. 

“Can you … talk to her?” 

“Obviously,” you grinned, “I just told her to be nice.” 

Rowan rolled his eyes, you knew what he meant. 

“As a cat,” he drawled, raising a brow at you. 

“Why would I spill our secrets to you?” 

“So you can?” He knows cats communicate with each other in some way, Gods know birds do. Not that he’d ever tell Aelin that, she’d be relentless. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I haven’t shifted around her yet.”

“When was the last time you shifted?” 

“Probably too long,” you absentmindedly stroked the little creature. Who looked asleep, but Rowan got the inkling she was faking it. 

Initially, there was a slight fear you’d bring a shifter with you, but he realized quickly you would’ve caught on to that. Above all, he trusted you and your judgment. Rowan trusted you’d never do anything to endanger Ceri, but recognized you’d easily throw yourself into any kind of danger if it meant protecting her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how much you’d sacrificed for her … how much you’d sacrificed for Ceri, and something about it didn’t sit right with him. 

-

Fenrys insisted on a house-warming party. You wanted to call it ridiculous, but you’d never had something like this before, and you gave into his badgering. It didn’t take too much effort on his part, but you let him annoy you about it a bit. That way he’d feel like he accomplished something. 

One month after you moved in, you finally hosted it. 

The party was small, and perfect. Rowan, Aelin, Fenrys, Aedion, Lysandra, Evangeline, who came to surprise Ceri, a friend you’d made, and Ceri’s three closest friends. 

A bit of poking around, a few questions to Aedion, and you learned the three of them were orphans. A piece of your heart shattered. 

Edde and Edie, twins, and their cousin Elias. All Fae, all lived at the castle most of their lives - long enough they didn’t remember anything else. They all wanted to train as warriors, even though they were barely eleven. You and Fenrys, acting like gossiping mothers, had easily figured out why they attached themselves to Ceri. Fae recognize power, and something inside them would’ve drawn them to that wild magic. Ceri was powerful, there was no denying that. Reaching her father’s levels, and maybe passing it one day. Sensing that type of power was right up your alley. 

Fenrys pressed a mug of, you looked down into the cup, catching a drift of the sweet honey - mead, into your hands. You took it with a grateful grin. As much as you loved wine, mead was your favorite. But, it was expensive and sometimes difficult to find. Instead of chugging it, you let yourself savor every drop. 

Ines sidled up next to you as Fenrys walked away. All it took was a drunk night together for you to count her as one of your closest friends. She was in a similar situation to you, a daughter - but her father lived quite a distance away. In Eyllwe. She would spend winters down there, and summers up here. You were excited to meet her. A few years younger than Ceri, but you had an inkling she would take her under her wing. Only time would tell if your daughter was a good or bad influence. 

“You have a beautiful home,” she sighed, swirling her glass in one hand. Halle weaved around your feet, the little kitten had been growing, and fast. She’d been circling the house the entire time, judging all of the new visitors. For some reason, you got the impression she was assessing if they were worthy of being in their presence. A meow. The connection the two of you shared is not something to ponder right now. 

“Yours is just as pretty,” you countered. And it was - an elegant townhouse in the middle of the city. 

She hummed, and emptied her glass, nudging you with her elbow. “So, you and … Fenrys?” She hesitated, forcing herself not to put his title in front of his name. He hated that. 

“Friends,” you nudged her back. “And that's it,” you hoped you emphasized the last word enough. 

“I’m wounded,” the male said, before switching his gaze to Ines. “But yes, we are just friends.” 

Where had he come from? Either way, you were glad he came and backed you up. Otherwise, she may never have believed you.

Rowan, Aelin, and the others were currently being treated to prime entertainment by the four hellions. Probably just for the night, the cousins had shed their shy skin for the night, now re-enacting … some sort of game they played earlier. Evangeline was just as taken with the others as she’d been with Ani, and you watched how they already were latching onto her like an older sister. 

Another small pain in your chest, one another sip of mead washed away for the night. 

Now was as good of a time as any to pull out a little creation you’d been working on. Gods, you’d started this project nearly a year ago, and just now you’d finally gotten it right. 

-

Rowan watched as you quickly slipped out of the room, and debated following you. But, you returned quickly. A type of crystal now in your hand. Round, with a flat bottom, and … no, it was glass, encasing several different kinds of crystals, all carefully arranged to form symbols. And it swirled with magic, practically a beacon to anyone who knew what to look for. Apparently, it attracted his wife because she was at your side within moments, peering down at it curiously. 

“It can only play one long track,” you admitted. 

A track? Music? 

Placing it on a table, he watched as your eyes focused on it, fingers pressing against the glass. Normally you could do these types of things with just a thought, but maybe this one needed touch to work. 

Sure enough, a tune started playing through the room, and caught everyone’s attention. You turned red, the attention flustering you, but you quietly explained what it did. It captures and plays back music. Only one long track, this one about four hours before it would repeat. You’ve only made the one. 

The last statement, your left thumb and forefinger pressed together. One of your tells, you lied. Interesting. Something he could ask about later. Calling you out on bullshit was always amusing to him, as long as it was relatively harmless, of course.

“Took me over a year to get right,” he heard you tell Aelin. 

The music was from Antica - he knew that much. 

Aelin caught his eye, no dancing, he said quickly - anticipating her next question. 

A large sigh and roll of her eyes, but she turned back to you instead. 

-

The party went well, as well as you could’ve predicted. By eight, it began to split up. The three “E’s,” as they’d been nicknamed that night, and Evangeline would spend the night. There was plenty of room, and you liked a full house. 

Rowan, Aelin, and Fenrys stuck around as the others left. Lysandra promised to get your drunk friend home in one piece. Now, you all splayed out on the couches. Fenrys shared one with you, your legs currently thrown over his lap as you stretched out. One hand rested on your shin, and the other propped up behind his head. The portrait of casual arrogance. 

“This was fun,” you commented, stealing a glance at Aelin and Rowan. Their positions nearly mirrored your own, Aelin stretched out like a cat on the other couch, but with Rowan’s hand resting on the inside of her knee. 

“Oh absolutely. We should do it again.” 

“I do not want to move houses anytime soon,” you groaned. 

Fenrys poked you, “not every party has to be a housewarming one.” He caught your ankle as you brought your leg back to try and kick him. “Slow,” he tutted, and you rolled your eyes, accepting the failure. 

It’s true, the alcohol and fatigue was delaying all of your reactions. 

“A question, for you, y/n,” the look in his eyes promised trouble. 

“Oh no.” 

-

“Find anyone to warm your bed this winter?” Fenrys teased. That comment caught Aelin and Rowan’s attention. Rowan was proud you managed to land a kick on him, even if he didn’t react, he fought the urge to glare at Fenrys. “Ines is quite pretty,” he added.  

“It’s none of your business,” you rolled your eyes, “but no, I haven’t, and Ines is just a friend, with no interest in women or females.” Rowan shouldn’t have felt that relieved, the relief flew out the window with what she said next. “I suppose it’s never too late.” 

“That’s more like it,” Fenrys grinned - ignoring Aelin’s frown. He tried very hard to keep his face neutral. 

“I don’t think I’ll get involved with anyone until Ceri’s a bit more grown up. At least seriously.” 

“You’re really going to be single for that long?” Fenrys countered. 

“We’re immortal,” she huffed. “Can we not talk about this?” If Rowan didn’t know better, he’d think you were avoiding looking at the two of them. Actually, looking anywhere but at them. 

“I’m trying to be helpful. You look like you need a good fuck.” 

“Fenrys. Shut. Up,” Aelin looked ready to throw a fiery dagger at him, and he only shrugged. 

“Just pointing out the obvious.” 

Even if a very drunk Aelin, who didn’t remember it the next day, admitted she really liked you, you were off-limits. Painfully off-limits, and not shown a hint of interest in them. He’d settle for - no, it wasn’t settling if there was no interest there on his end. He’d be your friend. Rowan liked being your friend. Friends were good, and friends was safe. The last thing he needed was for this to get messy. 

-

“There’s going to be a ball, around beltane,” Aelin commented casually, carefully watching your reaction. 

“Do we need to go dress shopping for Ceri?” 

“For you and Ceri.” You paled, and she heard your heartbeat quicken. Your mouth parted, before closing again. Of all the things to make you speechless, it was this. “We’d like for both of you to come,” she added gently. 

“Who … who will be there?” 

“Every two years, the countries on Erilea meet for meetings. Sometimes countries too, and there’s always a ball. Music, food, dancing.” 

Your entire arm began to shake. She held on tightly to your hand, felt your palm beginning to sweat. Your eyes glazed, and Aelin began to panic. The door swung open, revealing Rowan. He looked between the two of you, and crossed the room. Slowly, he knelt in front of you, taking your hand, disentangling Aelin’s fingers from yours. He called your name, over and over again. 

“You’re in Terrasen. You’re in Orynth.” 

“What triggered it?” He met Aelin’s eyes, not releasing his grip on your hands. 

“I asked about the ball.” 

Rowan swore lightly under his breath. 

You were still shaking, eyes still glazed over, lips starting to turn blue. He gathered both of your hands in one, the other gripping your chin, squeezing enough so your lips parted. She felt his magic swirling, forcing air into your lungs. 

You jolted, as if you were transported back to your body. Rowan hadn’t released his grip on your hands, and good thing because you looked ready to swing at him. Shaking, but eyes now clear, you looked around the room, studied their faces. 

“I should go,” you murmured. 

“You’re not going anywhere until you’re feeling better.” 

Narrowed eyes stared at Rowan, and he stared right back. You didn’t argue, perhaps sensing this was a fight you wouldn’t win. 

She felt the instincts flaring in him, in herself, the instinct to protect someone they claimed as their own. Friend or other, if someone was defenseless, vulnerable … it was normal amongst Fae to feel this. She had before for friends, but maybe not to this level. 

-

“It happened once, when we were together,” Rowan said, after you’d fallen asleep - curled up right on their couch. Your eyes started drooping, falling quickly into sleep, and Rowan showed no inclination of wanting to move you back to your rooms, instead they carefully arranged you into a more comfortable position, tucking a blanket over you. 

Like before, you weren’t able to give a solid reason why. He’d ask again tomorrow, and maybe things would be a bit clearer for you. 

Rowan knew this happened before, and he was running through the circumstances, trying to pick out similarities. 

“A friend invited me to a ball,” you commented absentmindedly. He knew you weren’t fishing for jealousy, you were just bringing up something going on in your life - something on your mind. 

“Oh?” Rowan ran his hand up and down your bare back. “Are you going?” 

“I’m not sure. I’m not the best person to bring to those.” 

Rowan doubted that, and called it. “Bullshit.” 

He felt more than saw your scowl. “I don’t like them.” 

“That’s better,” he teased. “Why?” 

“Bad memories.” 

That peaked his interest. You rarely mentioned the past, and he always wanted to know more - maybe because of that, you were somewhat of a mystery. “Want to share?” He asked. You froze. 

The only similarities were the ball. 

Rowan cursed under his breath as you shook in your sleep. 

-

A ball! It was magical, and beautiful. Males and females dressed up, and your mother had made you a pretty blue dress for it. Everyone’s attention was on your father, but you didn’t mind - it gave you time to observe everyone. 

You were still thinking about it as you all trotted up towards your house, still in Fae form. You’d set off too early in your opinion, but it was smart to travel by daylight. You were glad you’re old enough to travel in Fae form. Carriages were much less fun.

You still carried your pack on your back as you shifted back, dumping it in your bedroom before hurrying back for breakfast. The dagger you got for your birthday was still strapped to your thigh, but you didn’t mind now. 

Their faces were grave, and your mother crouched before you, gripping your shoulders. “I need you to run for the hills. Leave, do not look back.” 

“But -,” looking out the window - the wards were strong, but hundreds and hundreds of soldiers were quickly descending, as if they’d been hiding and waiting for your return. It was easy enough to sense out who they were. Mortal soldiers, without magic. “I can help,” you insisted. 

“If you die too,” the first tears left your cheeks, “then they win. Do you understand?” 

You shook your head. 

“They want to kill us, to kill your father and wipe our bloodline. To wipe our magic out.” 

Her eyes said; you’re the only hope, you’re our legacy.

A few more convincing words from both of your parents, and you ran for the hills. As soon as you tried to turn back, the wards were melded around you. To keep you away from any threats. 

Absolutely useless, but you forced yourself to watch as it happened. As they finally fell, as their heads were staked on the fence posts. The soldiers remained, but you could out wait them. You could memorize their faces, memorize the way they spoke, commit it to memory and find your vengeance one day. 

“Terrasen,” a familiar voice interrupted, “You’re in Orynth.” 

“Safe,” another said. Female. 

A memory, that’s what it was. You weren’t trapped in that moment, you could come back to the present. There was nothing holding you here, not now. 

“Good,” the male voice coaxed as your body relaxed, as you leaned into the sensations around you. Blanket, hands gripping yours, pine, snow, jasmine, and lemon verbena, the feeling of ancient magic - of fire, ice, wind, and a hint of water. Eventually, you managed to open your eyes. 

“I need you to tell us where you went,” Rowan said, even adding, “please, y/n.” 

How often had he said your names? How often does he say please? Words were effort, but when he asked so nicely, you could share. Trust, you reminded yourself. The small thread, a sign of the Goddess who watched over you, tugged and encouraged you. 

“The night before my parents died,” your voice was hoarse, your throat aching - like something dry had been shoved down it. “We were at a ball. We arrived home that morning, and they were waiting for us. Surrounded.” 

“When your parents died?” Aelin asked quietly. 

It hurt, gods it hurt so fucking much, but you told her the story - as much as you could manage, and she listened intently. Thankfully, there was no pity in her eyes - understanding, instead. That was much more palpable. 

-

Rowan thought he experienced the same thing as Aelin. When you shared the story about the dagger, but this time it was directed towards him. The entire time you shared, your eyes never drifted from him. 

A show of trust to him, and he’d take that gift and hold it close. Your trust was difficult to earn, and relatively easy to break. He’d treat it with caution, like he would any treasure. 

He was glad Aelin didn’t give away that he’d already told her the story. His wife was a good actress, and it shoved. The small bit of trust you showed him made him feel like a hypocrite. At the time, telling Aelin about your past felt essential, but now it resembled something of a betrayal. 

-

“How are you going to explain my presence?” 

Rowan and Aelin exchanged a glance, one that told you they’d already discussed this. Not surprising. 

“Even without the ball,” he emphasized, “we considered asking if you’d like to be an advisor to the court.” He held up a hand as your lips parted, and damn you, your mouth shut on instinct. At least he didn’t seem to gloat about it. “The wards around Orynth could use another look, and you have unique skills and expertise.” 

They actually value your opinion, you reminded yourself.  

“You swear it, without the ball you still would’ve?” You’re not sure why, but it really mattered to you. 

“I swear it.” 

Rowan’s promises are as good as gold when it comes to him, so you gave your agreement. Then started to plan what you’d do about the castle and city wards. Of course, you’d already had time to think about it. 

The ball would occur a week after beltane this year, when the last of the snow was predicted to abate, making travel tolerable.  

Time passed quicker than you thought was possible. Ceri turned eleven, her birthday falling on the spring equinox this year. As her present, you let her pick out her chickens, and you and Rowan teamed up to start teaching her how to shift. An argument wouldn’t be right, but you did have a few disagreements over teaching styles. At least Aelin was on your side for that. 

Then, it was beltane. Early that morning, you and Ceri went out to leave some gifts for the little folk at the crosspaths near your home. She’d spent a good portion of the previous day helping you craft them. Surprisingly patient and focused. Maypoles had been raised, hawthorn bushes decorated, and piles of wood gathering on the field before the city, waiting to be set alight. 

You didn’t walk out with the Queen and King, by the time you arrived the fires were already burning. Ceri’s friends had come over before, for an early dinner, and now trailed together in a small pack. 

“You know your signal?” You murmured to your daughter. A burst of magic, one to let you know if she needed you, with three different levels of urgency. 

“Yes,” she grinned up at you. Ceri was quite proud of herself for mastering that - as she should be. 

“Go on, then.” 

The four raced off, weaving in and out of the fires, brief flashes of silver hair were like a beacon. Heads would turn as she passed, followed by small whispers. Ceri had adapted easily to those, thrilled by the attention, it was you that needed adjustment. Needed to stop giving a death stare to anyone who watched a few seconds too long.  

Fenrys found you first, hanging out towards the edge of the fires, fully content to observe and watch. 

He was not content with that, instead he dragged you right into the heart of the celebrations. 

Thankfully, Aelin and Rowan didn’t try to drag you into anything. It was a time for the people to speak with their Queen and King, and you had plenty of exposure to the pair. 

“How did you escape doing all of that?” You jerked your chin towards where they were speaking with another group. 

“I came early,” he shot you a grin. His attention wavered, and you knew exactly who was making her way across the field. 

Ines, all auburn hair, freckled skin, and bright green eyes, strode for both of you - cheeks already flushed. You didn’t miss how her heart rate picked up when she spotted who was next to you. 

“Do I need to give you two a moment?” You murmured under your breath. 

“We’ve had plenty of those.” 

You groaned. Suspicion is fine, but you didn’t need confirmation. 

Ines gripped your hand, “we’re jumping over one of them,” she announced, “for luck.” 

“I know what it’s for,” you let her drag you anyway. When was the last time you’d done this? Maybe the year before Ceri was born. 

Picking a medium low fire, the two of you gathered your skirts in one hand, still holding onto each other, and kicked your shoes away. 

“One,” She grinned at you. 

“Two,” you shot one back at her, eyes lighting up. 

“Three.” 

With surprising coordination, you both launched yourself over. Heat skimmed the bottom of your bare feet, but you made it over without any burns. Ines, thankfully, did as well. 

Laughing, arms wrapped around each other, it took you longer than you cared to admit to locate your shoes again. 

-

Rowan watched you jump over the fire with your friend, his mouth turning up at the corners. 

Of course, you had to pretend you didn’t know each other, but you’d been at the same beltane celebration before, and he had the pleasure of watching you jump over fires. At least you remembered to hold your skirts up. He had to suffocate the flames last time. 

Aelin tapped his shoulder, “I’d give her a seven out of ten.” 

A genuine laugh left him, and she wound her arm around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. He never took these moments, these reminders of the peace they fought for. 

Neither did everyone gathered around them. 

-

The celebration lasted into early hours of the morning, and it was near three when the fires finally died down. You’d trusted Evangeline to escort Ceri and her friends back to the castle, and mentally prepared yourself to head home. There were plenty others flooding through the streets, so it shouldn’t be any issue. 

Somehow, you found yourself roped into going into the castle. Fenrys informed you that their Majesty and Highness wanted to see you, and him - of course. Aedion and Lysandra joined you - a few bottles of wine each, Rowan and Aelin coming shortly after. Gods, you could drink, but northerners were on another level. 

-

“Stay the night,” Aelin insisted. “There’s no need for you to traipse through the streets after dark.”

“Are you certain?” 

“Yes,” Rowan huffed, like it was ridiculous you were asking for confirmation. It really was, they wouldn’t have offered if they didn’t mean it. 

This was nice. Aelin never took these nights for granted. The beltane celebrations, seeing her people at peace, out and enjoying the traditions squashed by Adarlan for a decade. She loved that you were here now, that you’d been brought into their lives. Now, she could count you as one of the people closest to her, and gods she hoped you felt the same. 

They might not have convinced you to live in the castle, but having you spend a few nights here - she’d take it over nothing. Just having you in Orynth was heaven. 

Aelin decided the little bit of wine she had could explain these thoughts. Very inappropriate thoughts about you, about the mother of her mate’s child. She hated herself for reducing you to that, rejected the thought as soon as it drifted inside her mind. You were more than just a mother, even if you didn’t always see it that way. 

A foot nudged her leg, tracking her back to the present. 

“You’re staring,” Rowan murmured. You were caught up in conversation with Aedion, but Fenrys kept shooting Aelin wary looks. She didn’t bother trying to stare him down, only looking at Rowan, her eyes saying; sorry. 

Why? 

She’s very pretty, came out. She hadn’t had enough wine to blame these thoughts on. These were the thoughts of sober Aelin, just flowing more freely this time. 

His eyebrows flicked up in amusement, I’m aware. 

Right, he did put a baby in her. The thought didn’t make Aelin jealous, she almost wished she was there … 

“It’s so weird when the two of you do that,” Aedion’s voice cut her off. 

“Deal with it,” Rowan growled, before turning back to her. You should do something about that little crush of yours. 

Maybe I will. 

-

Rowan cut off the wine after another bottle, all but kicking Fenrys, Aedion, and Lysandra out. It was nearing five in the morning now, and even with nothing planned in the morning, it was getting late. Besides, he and Aelin wanted you in here - alone with them. When you rose to leave, Aelin grabbed onto your hand, tugging you back down. 

“Stay a while,” she insisted, squeezing your hand. Rowan carefully monitored your every reaction. Aelin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into her side like she usually did. He didn’t think it was entirely romantic on your part, at least that you knew, but he saw how you practically purred with the touch, how much you loved it - acted like you needed it. Everything was going to plan. 

-

Aelin pulled away, and you frowned - instantly missing the warmth of her body. But, her hand trailed up your arm, stopping to cup your jaw. When you didn’t pull away, she wound another arm around your waist, tugging you closer, her eyes scanning your face. 

“Fuck it,” she muttered, and her hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling your lips to hers. 

At first, you froze. But when she didn’t stop, you followed her lead, falling into her rhythm for a few moments before reality caught up to you. With a gasp, you pulled away from her. 

She had a hungry look in her eyes, watching like she was waiting for a moment to pounce again, to take you back and claim you. No, no, no. You found Rowan’s eyes, an apology right on your lips, but a shake of his head stopped you as he stood, crossing the room to sit on your other side. His finger pressed against your cheek, turning you to face him. Even as he had your attention, he didn’t move his hand, only sliding it to cup your jaw. An intimate touch. Aelin’s arm was still wrapped around your waist. 

“Are you going to deny her, deny Aelin, what she wants?” This question felt like a trap. 

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Rowan’s eyes lit with amusement - and something else, something familiar. Familiar enough it terrified you. 

Aelin twisted you, now so you faced Rowan, her other hand twining itself in your hair, tilting your head to the side. Her lips pressed against your neck, trailing up the side. Your head fell, granting her more access, a small whimper slipping past your lips. She didn’t bite, but nipped at the skin - right where your neck met your shoulder. Did she know how significant that was? Apparently so, because she chuckled behind you. 

She was purposefully holding you here. Keeping you where you’d lock eyes with Rowan, where he could watch the two of you. His knuckle grazed your cheekbone, a small ‘this is fine,’ and cemented it with a small nod. 

That was all you needed, before you twisted back around, letting Aelin’s lips meet your own. 

-

Aelin decided, first, that she’s very glad she did something about her ‘little crush.’ Next, she decided you were a fantastic kisser, and she needed to figure out how to repeat this experience. Preferably as often as possible. 

When you finally pulled away, desperately sucking in air, she took the chance to glance at Rowan. 

She’s good. His brows flicked, but he didn’t comment. Isn’t this the part where it’s your turn?

Aelin ran her thumb over your lips, keeping your attention on her while she waited for Rowan’s response. 

What do you think? She hadn’t heard him this unsure in a while. It was rather endearing, to see him caught off guard. 

Aelin looked back down to you - to your puffy lips and bright eyes, and lowered her voice. “Rowan wants to kiss you,” she said, and watched for your reaction. First, your eyes widened, and then you glanced over your shoulder quickly, before turning back to her. You wanted her permission. Maybe for her to make the choice for you. Something Aelin could easily do. 

“Are you going to deny him?” She teased, copying Rowan’s earlier words. A snort from behind her, but sure enough you were pulled away. Even Rowan had limits to his patience. 

Watching the two of you, how his hand gripped the back of your head, the other cupping your jaw, your arms hesitantly resting on his shoulders, Aelin realized she might be something of a voyeur. At least with the two of you. 

He took control, tilting your head exactly where he wanted you, and you easily followed. Seamlessly, effortlessly. Aelin felt like she was viewing a memory, something from deep in the past, and didn’t find herself jealous. 

You pulled away, “I think… I think that’s all I can handle for tonight.” 

Lips bruised, hair messed, and cheeks flushed, Aelin wanted to keep you here, but she wouldn’t push. 

-

Rowan ended up walking you back to your rooms, taking a step inside before closing the door gently. 

He gripped both of your shoulders, making sure your eyes were on him. “Don’t overthink it.” 

“Easier said than done.”

Arms wrapped around you, tugging you right into a hard and warm chest. Easily, you wrapped your arms around him. This was familiar, this was safe. 

“We both wanted it,” he rubbed circles into your back. Maybe he sensed you needed reassurance. 

“Let me guess, you made a plan?” You joked. 

Rowan didn’t answer, and you tilted your head to look up at him. He had an unapologetic grin on his face. Eyes rolling, a laugh came from your chest. Brushing hair away from your face, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Don’t run away in the morning,” he said and you dropped your arms. Taking a step back, keeping his eyes on you, he gripped the doorknob. Another smile, and he slipped out the door. 

“Goodnight to you too,” you called down the hallway. 

-

Thirty minutes later, you paced inside of your rooms, the haze fading, and traced your finger over your now bruised and puffy lips. Had that really happened? Had you imagined it? 

Definitely not. 

Are you going to deny her? Are you going to deny him?

Oh fuck. 

Bracing your hands on the counter, you took a deep breath before looking in the mirror. Facing you, was a female with flushed cheeks, messed hair, bruised lips, and a glow. A female who looked free. 

It’s a shame freedom has its costs, because this couldn’t happen again. 

taglist: @holb32 @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee, @reidishh 

[witchthewriter]

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!    

a/n: I made a quiz ‘Which Son Is Your Old Man’, so you can find out once and for all who you would be best suited to!

Warnings: swears, mentions of violence, smoking, drugs

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

𝐉𝐚𝐱 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

・Yes, he does spend a lot of time doing club business. But it also means he’s home randomly throughout the day. 

・His speciality is making breakfast; eggs, bacon, toast, french toast, waffles etc 

・Yes, he did develop the skill from all the one night stands he’s had...

・But hey, at least now you’re the one that reaps the reward!

・Doesn’t snore in his sleep, but does toss and turn a lot 

・Sometimes he has really really bad nightmares. He doesn’t want to wake you up, so he goes and has a smoke outside

・Really loves chewing on ice cubes. When you get McDonalds, he’ll eat everyone’s ice from their drinks (obviously after their done with it)

・When you’re feeling down; physically or mentally, he’ll read to you. Jax bought you a new edition of your favourite book for your birthday and he’s so used to holding it in his hands by now. 

・Really likes when you light candles when he gets home, he prefers them over the overhead lighting 

・Doesn’t like loud sudden noises - definitely has undiagnosed PTSD. He’s gotten really good at hiding it, but some days - when he has really long showers, you know it’s a bad day 

𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧

・When he isn’t doing things for the club, he loves to work in ‘the shed’. 

・He has a lot of projects going on - making garden beds for Gemma’s events, 

・Opie usually ends up trekking dust, shredded timber and so on throughout the house. You make him have a shower as soon as he’s finished working outside. 

・But you can’t lie, he does create some beautiful things. 

・He made a dining room table - and the detailing was so amazing you nearly teared up

・Opie is great at painting as well, honestly, he’s just good at general renovations. Somehow he knows how to do stuff around the house - unclogging drains, fixing pipes, changing lightbulbs, stopping leaks etc

・Opie’s like your own handy man! 

・Secretly a cat person. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind dogs. They’re great, but cats are so unpredictable - without the risk. He finds them so interesting. 

・Loves Disney movies, especially the cartoon version of Robin Hood. You’ll find him humming the song about Robin and Little John 

・Likes that he towers of you and will put things out of your reach just to rile you up

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐬 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝

・Actively cleans up after himself and you. 

・Really likes a clean home, and he’s lived on his own for a long time, so he knows how to run a house

・He also grew up around a lot of women, so he knows how to cook some great meals 

・Chibs was also whipped into shape by these women, so that’s why it’s ingrained in him...

・Knows a lot of Scottish drinking songs, and he always sings them when he’s had a few too much to drink

・And his voice is actually quite lovely 

・He also sings in the shower 

・A loud gruff Scottish man singing in your shower always brightens your day 

・Automatically turns the kettle on when he gets home (and will make tea for two, knowing exactly how you like it)

・Not a lot of random visitors, he likes to keep business and his home life separate. Even though the club is his life, he likes having his own space 

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐰𝐦𝐚𝐧

・Many, many takeout and movie nights

・Especially when he’s been gone on club business

・Does the washing and folding for both your clothes. It was his main job when he lived at home too. 

・Also mows the lawn without a shirt on, so that’s...a fun sight to see (he likes showing off in front of you)

・Loves the movie Avatar; would definitely go into a deep dive of how it all works and how they created it. 

・Would die if you showed interest in it as well. You bought him a book about the characters and he spent a whole afternoon reading it

・Surprises everyone with how much he loves books 

・A man of few words, he actually has really profound things to say. Some of it can be really poetic...

・Likes having his shoulders rubbed, and in return, he massages your feet 

・Is really good at looking after you when you’re sick. He has a lot of homemade recipes; soups, oldwives tricks etc. (Except the term ‘oldwives tricks’ shouldn’t be overlooked. A lot of their 

𝐓𝐢𝐠 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

・Rescue dogs galore 

・Tig hates seeing any animal hurt, but he has a special place in his heart for dogs

・Big fucking snorer, and is out as soon as his head hits the pillow

・Hates cooking but doesn’t mind doing the dishes - yeah he’s fucked up that way

・So you handle the food; he’ll get the groceries, but for the love of god he cannot make a proper grown up dish

・In return, he doesn’t mind doing the vaccuuming and mopping (he would so dress up in a maid’s outfit and do it)

・Whenever he wakes up in the middle of the night, he goes into the loungeroom to watch cartoons - like popeye

・Cried while watching Titanic btw

・Oh and has a stash of different types of drugs. Nothing too hardcore though. 

・He also makes you have an unregistered firearm so you can protect yourself 

・Also loves comic books. He’s a DC kinda guy...yes, his favourite character is Joker

[dmercer91]

hiiii, could you write something for protective matthew knies :))

protective!matty headcanons, mk23

matt knies is the boyfriend, actually

maybe you’re a little accident prone (this is incredibly self indulgent)

so he isn’t just protective in the sense that he’s dealing with other people or PR, but he’s physically protective over you too

he realized very early on that you seemingly didn’t care to pay attention to what you were doing, ever.

you walked straight into a patio door and then stood back, chuckled and then opened and walked through the door, just completely unfazed

so he’s started trailing behind you to be your eyes and protect you from random things

he doesn’t even realize it sometimes.

you’ll drop something under the table and he’s covering the corner of it with his hand while you go under to get whatever fell

he only realizes he even did it when you actually end up knocking your head on his knuckles on your way up

he’ll pull you back into his chest by your collar like a cat when you’re about to trip over something

if he’s walking in front of you he’ll kick stuff out of your way and keep his head down so your feet are in his peripherals

you’ve fallen off the bed, so now he just has you on the side by the wall (though you were originally very stubborn about which side of the bed you got) or he just lays directly on top of you

if you’re ever spending the night with the tavares’ since he moved up to toronto, he’s trying to inconspicuously always be the one to take your shirt off cause the basement ceiling is low and he knows you’ll go too fast and punch it so hard your hand swells

when he takes you skating the first time he watches you extremely closely

he’s consistently reminding you that you cannot take things out of the oven without the oven mitts on

if you’re making pasta or something he always lurks until it’s done boiling so he can strain it for you (and make sure you remember to turn off the stove)

if you go for a walk together he’ll always hold your hands or put his arm around your shoulders or keep his hand on your lower back or neck so you don’t stray away

he’s told you before that you need blinkers and break lights (he’s right, however you slap his arm for saying it)

if he’s talking you to the mall (especially somewhere like the eaton centre) he never strays from you

that’s one of the only things you noticed, because very early into your relationship he came into a lingerie store with you and you told him maybe six times that he could wait outside if he wanted

he was so obviously flustered but he just kept shaking his head cause he knew that you’d forget that he was sitting on his phone and go to the next store without him

you honestly thought he just wanted to partake in dressing room endeavours until he did the same thing at a kitchen supply store in which he looked so bored he might’ve actually shed a tear (dressing room endeavours he got regardless, he wasn’t gonna complain about it)

it finally clicks for you that he does all these things when someone on the team sees him pull you away from a curb before you can trip over it and comments about how grossly in love you are and how well he knows you

“you two are disgustingly cute,” “what’s that supposed to mean?” “he didn’t even look up from his phone! just grabbed you like it was an instinct. happens all the time, too. it’s like you’ve been engraved into each others brains or something,” “… huh,”

matt blushes harder than he ever has “don’t read too far into that,”

on top of this, he’s also protective of you when it comes to media, especially when he gets to the nhl

the leafs media is pretty brutal, and he was actually forewarned by multiple teammates to ignore any and all press releases or reporters on twitter so he knew the two of you would have to stay more or less private

he has an instagram story full of sweet pictures of the two of you but all of which include less than half of your face and no @

your account is kept private, but the photos there are more relationship confirming, obviously (some of them he is heavily teased for. cooley has your notifs on just so he can comments ludicrous shit)

if you’re in any wag group photos you ask not to be tagged and his number / last name is always covered

he actually goes to aryne to ask for advice if ever you do want to be more public (he leaves it entirely up to you) and she thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever that he wants to make sure nobody makes an issue for you

if ever you do get found out against your will, he’s probably more nervous than you are and he’s making you promise not to hide it from him if someone ever says something

if someone asks about you in a scrum he’s always so excited to talk about you but he keeps it very short and sweet in case he’s accidentally giving you away

the best way to put it is private, not hidden

cause in another life he’d be boasting to everyone about how amazing his girl is, so he doesn’t want to hide you completely but he prioritizes your personal life and protection over his need to brag

he’s also very protective of you in the conventional way, meaning about other people in person

the first fight he gets into in the nhl is because someone chirped him about you

you were by the glass during warmups and he basically spent half of his allotted time parked in the corner flirting with you like a complete idiot

obviously someone will notice, that’s a little strange behaviour

unfortunately that someone isn’t well known for keeping their mouth shut

it’s his first fight, so he absolutely got his ass handed to him, and you were in the press box just aggressively rolling your eyes

if ever you’re out for drinks together or even with the team he’s like your shadow

downtown toronto is not the place for someone unfamiliar with the area to be left, so you’re kinda glad for it

that’s until he’s a little past tipsy and he’s glaring at every man from ages 19-40 in the bar the second they come near

he sends poor mitch a cold stare after he asked you if you liked being at the game and you were like matthew it’s mitch??? mitch marner??? toronto maple leaf mitch marner, your alternate captain??

he does the same to a middle aged man who comes beside you to order a drink and mind you, the guy hardly even notices you’re there

“i don’t trust him,” “he’s fifty!”

you don’t really get it until it comes in handy and then you never complain again

if he actually feels like he needs to be protecting you he sobers up extremely quickly and suddenly your sweet, usually angel boyfriend actually seems his size

the only time he’s had to step in he was promptly laughed at cause of his age, only for the guy to look behind you, and be met with a table full of the maple leafs staring at the commotion

you quickly learn that the unspoken rule where players protect their rookies certainly extends to the rookie’s girlfriend

one time he had to go to the bathroom at an mlse event and rather than leave you for what ended up being a minute and a half at best, you were given a body guard out of jake mccabe

easily the most awkward experience of your life, but hey! now you’re best friends with jake mccabe

if you’re on a walk or something and there’s commotion in front of you or someone strange looking is walking behind you, matty is suddenly very hungry and you’re taking the nearest right into the door of a diner until things calm down

“do you want dinner? im hungry,” “matty it’s one in the afternoon we just ate,”

that’s actually how you found your favourite spot for date nights, cause he bought a slice of pie and you swore he could’ve eaten the whole thing if it was put in front of him

he’s always calling you on roadies to ask how your day is going, and then he’ll immediately ask if anyone’s been giving you trouble

“anyone giving you a hard time? guys in your dms i get to fight off?” “well, jacer [tavares’ son] is becoming quite the flirt. he drew me a flower n’ said it was pretty like me” “oh, so i’ve got some competition?”

he’s never weird or jealous about it, but he knows you’re very non confrontational so he tries his best to make sure you’re not uncomfortable without sounding like he doesn’t trust you

he’s never been angry with you about it, so you eventually realize that he’s just incredibly and fiercely protective of you and you come think it’s sweet over time