#showers flowers and fangs

[transbookoftheday]

🧛 Trans Vampire Books 🧛

Can't get enough of What We Do In The Shadows? Read some trans vampire books!

A whirlwind romance between an eccentric archivist and a grieving widow explores what it means to be at home in your own body in this clever, humorous, and heartfelt novel. When archivist Sol meets Elsie, the larger than life widow of a moderately famous television writer who’s come to donate her wife’s papers, there’s an instant spark. But Sol has a secret: he suffers from an illness called vampirism, and hides from the sun by living in his basement office. On their way to falling in love, the two traverse grief, delve into the Internet fandom they once unknowingly shared, and navigate the realities of transphobia and the stigmas of carrying the “vampire disease.” Then, when strange things start happening at the collection, Sol must embrace even more of the unknown to save himself and his job. DEAD COLLECTIONS is a wry novel full of heart and empathy, that celebrates the journey, the difficulties and joys, in finding love and comfort within our own bodies.

In becoming a vampire, I’m less than a girl. And more. Or maybe I’m becoming what I always have been, deep inside. A blade. When nineteen-year-old Fin volunteers to take her secret love’s place in their village’s Finding, she is terrified. Those who are chosen at the Finding are whisked away to Castle Courtsheart, a vampire school where human students either succeed and become vampires, fail and spend the rest of their lives as human thralls…or they don’t survive long enough to become either. Fin is determined to forge a different path: learn how to kill the undead and get revenge for her mother, who was taken by the vampires years ago. But Courtsheart is as captivating as it is deadly, and Fin is quickly swept up in her new world and its inhabitants - particularly Gavron, her handsome and hostile vampire maker, whose blood is nothing short of intoxicating. As Fin begins to discover new aspects of her own identity and test her newfound powers, she stumbles across a string of murders that may be connected to a larger ritual - one with potentially lethal consequences for vampires and humans alike. Fin must uncover the truth and find the killer before she loses her life…or betrays her own heart.

ARC 1, IN WHICH: A cute punk-rock vampire and a disabled firefighter-turned-mall-cop with a dark past join forces to battle the forces of evil. Jude used to leap out of helicopters to rescue/protect people from terrifying infernos. Now, by day, he protects the local mall from rowdy teenagers who ride their skateboards inside. By night, he protects the the parking lot, and the rest of Portland, from undead, bloodsucking creatures of the darkness. Or would if he could find them. But he’s just about ready to give it up (living with PTSD and pain from the traumatic event that cost him a leg, a friend, and a lot more is hard enough), when something crashes into his life. And his window. It’s one of these creatures of the darkness - and he’s a lot less scary than expected. More cuddly, with dark fuzzy wings, and neon-bright hair. His name is Pixie, and he refuses to bite anyone. Assault/murder/draining fluids isn’t punk, even if being a vampire really kind of is. He’s very hungry by now, and the much bigger, meaner, deadlier vamps kick him around on the nightly. Jude would love to find and fight some actual undead bullies. And Pixie could use some help staying… ‘alive.’ Time to make a deal. Of course, life still sucks when you’re a vampire who refuses to suck blood. Fortunately, there’s a really interesting new barbecue restaurant in the mall, with an intriguing new recipe. (We hear that the secret ingredient is… love. No, really.)

Darren is your average half-human, half-fae trans teenager, busy figuring out his powers and puberty while trying to survive finals. When Vlad, a newly turned vampire, moves in with the witch down the street, he and Darren get off on the wrong foot. Darren is always one to give somebody a second chance, though, and as they become friends, he realizes Vlad is just lonely and struggling with his new powers. That’s something Darren can definitely relate to, and he’s happy to lend his support. But while he coaxes Vlad out of his shell, Darren ends up learning about Vlad’s past… and the danger Vlad is in. Darren only wants to help—help Vlad feel comfortable in his own skin and help him feel safe. He hadn’t planned on falling in love.

Book titles:

Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman

Court of the Undying Seasons by A.M. Strickland

Stake Sauce, Arc 1: The Secret Ingredient Is Love. No, Really by RoAnna Sylver

Showers, Flowers, and Fangs by Aidan Wayne

[fang-and-feather]

Bloom

Ikemen Vampire: Napoleon/Reader - Family fic

Prompt: Flower Crowns, from the spring showers spring flowers event hosted by @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess and Peace, from Year of the OTP April by @yearoftheotpevent

also @kissmetwicekissmedeadly

AO3 Link / IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

You laid on the blanketed area, watching with a smile as Napoleon carefully taught fencing to your little daughter. She had been insisting for a few days and he had finally given in.

While watching, you had the idea and started making a flower crown for each of them.

Sometimes you wondered if it was okay for her to learn. It wasn’t much of a feminine skill. Personally, you didn’t mind, of course, but questioned if it would affect her ability to socialize when she grew up.

No. It wouldn’t. Or you would make sure it didn’t. Let your little girl be who she wanted to be. Besides, she was too young for anyone to know if she wouldn’t change her mind. And then there were other things that would make her different from other people, things beyond your control. Things you wished you were better prepared to deal with.

For now, though, you just enjoyed the scene before you.

You always knew Napoleon was good with children as he taught a group in the city. None quite this young, though. And your daughter looked so focused and determined, but she was having fun. Whenever she did something wrong, she just giggled as Napoleon gently corrected her, then she went to try again.

You loved seeing father and daughter bonding.

You noticed her movements slowing down. Napoleon also noticed, but instead of calling the training out, he simply didn’t dodge the girl’s next attack, falling dramatically to the ground as the tip of the toy sword touched him.

Your daughter giggled and waits for him to get up, but when he didn’t, she dropped the sword and walked up to him, pulling at his arm.

“Come on, papa, you’re not dead.” Her initial laugh turned into a surprised yelp as Napoleon pulled her into his arms instead, and again into laughter as he tickled her. “Papa. Not fair.”

He laughed too, hugged the still laughing girl and picked her up. Still laughing, they returned to you.

“Mama!" the girl squirmed in her father’s arms, and Napoleon set her down so she could run to you. “Did you watch me?”

“Of course I did, little princess.” You kissed her forehead as she hugged you and settled one of the flower crowns over her head. “You will grow very strong, like your father.” You placed the bigger crown on Napoleon’s head while giving him a chaste kiss that made your daughter giggle and snuggle against you, hiding her face.

“Like her mother too.” Napoleon kissed you back. “Beautiful, strong, smart, and hardworking. Like you already are and more each day, right, princesse?” She didn’t answer, only looked up, seeming very pensive. “What is the problem?”

“Papa... can I still be a princess if I know how to fight?”

Napoleon laughed, but when the girl frowned, he tried to stop and patted her head.

“Of course you can. You will always be our little princess. Who said you can’t?”

“The princesses in the stories don’t know how. Only princes and knights fight.”

It was an interesting observation for her age. Children were so surprising sometimes.

“I think it’s about time we change that, then. Princesses should be able to defend themselves and the things they love.”

“Your father is right. Every girl is a princess, no matter what they’re like or what they do. And you’ll always be ours.” You both hugged her, and she laughed. “Besides, I know a story about a princess that knows how to fight and is very strong.”

“Yay! Story time!”

Napoleon sat by your side and the girl settled on her father’s lap, staring at you with these big jade eyes.

Story time was always fun for your family, although Napoleon was usually the one who insisted on reading for your daughter.

Was it right for you to tell a story from your time, though? But you did. Just between your family, it was fine, right?

Before the story even ended, your daughter was already asleep. You and Napoleon exchanged a look and a smile.

“Ready to go back, nunuche?”

“Seems like you really tired her.” You chuckled and stood up, starting to gather the things from the picnic.

Although he was already carrying your daughter, Napoleon insisted on carrying your things but, when you resisted, he let you do it and you two laughed about the situation.

Back home, Napoleon picked the flower crown from your daughter’s head and tucked her in bed.

While he did that, you hung both your crown and your daughter’s on the hooks in the wall. It was almost a tradition at this point, to make these crowns whenever the field was blooming and hang them until they dried.

“One more peaceful day.” Napoleon commented, hanging his own crown next to the others. “Thank you for being a part of this.” He kissed you.

“Save this for later.” You pretend yo complain, both of you smiling at each other. “But I should be the one thanking you. I never expected such a peaceful life, and you’re the one who makes me this happy.”

“That’s my line, nunuche.” Napoleon ruffled your hair and kissed your cheek this time. “I never knew I wanted a life like this, let alone that I would have it. Thank you.”

You two shared another kiss, longer and deeper and, this time, you didn’t even pretend to protest.

“And I’ll make you even happier.” You told him when you broke apart, reaching into the picnic basket you had left in a corner, to pick out a smaller flower crown you’d made while your husband and daughter were training.

Napoleon looked at you with confusion for a moment, then surprise and finally the smile you were expecting to see before he drew you into a hug. By the way he whispered your name, he sounded like he was about to cry.

You two stood there in each other’s arms for a while before Napoleon pulled away enough to look at you and, while still holding you in one arm, caressed your face with the other hand.

“You are the best thing that happened in my life, and that you are willing to grow this family with me is the best gift I could have. Thank you, mon amour.”

Chuckling, you leaned in to kiss him this time.

“You’re welcome, my prince.”

You knew that normal, peaceful life was exactly what made Napoleon happy, and you would make sure that happiness would continue to grow while you could, knowing he would do the same for you and both would make your growing family happy together, because that’s part of being a family, taking care of each other.

“How would you like to celebrate the occasion?” Napoleon asked, parting from you only to hang the new flower crown next to the other ones.

“I was thinking of a family trip tomorrow.” You approached and hugged him from behind, snuggling into his back. “But for today, why don’t you surprise me?”

Finding the will to write was difficult, but its not like I had many other things to do while recovering from my surgery... that may be the reason if anything feels off...

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[heartlilith]

WHAT THE VENUS SIGNS REMIND ME OF

🩷Oddly specific things I think about when I hear ______ venus

Aries Venus: Summer, rubies, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, rollercoasters, fast cars, the color red, vampire fangs, Saturday nights, liquor stores and gas stations, fireworks, sour candy, cool bic lighters, “you’re mine”, Mario Kart, boys who wear nail polish, fuck it energy, oversized sweatshirts, middle finger emoji, cherries

Taurus Venus: Satin pillowcases, white candles, pearls, mirrors, hand holding, walking someone home at night, vinyls, red lipstick, full lips, fancy dinner dates, the wine and dine, old romantic movies, wallets and purses, hotels, French manicures, old money, “I won’t get on my knees for no man”

Gemini Venus: Driving around at night listening to music, reading to someone, comedy shows, mimosas, Samantha from Sex and the City, libraries, nerd kink, hot teachers/student kink, emerald green, laughter, swing sets, looking out of the window and just watching, untied shoelaces, dogs and puppies, dad jokes

Cancer Venus: Soft feather pillows, a bowl of warm soup, a bubble bath, tears and running mascara, babies and how babies laugh, poetry, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be”, hot tubs, hot coffee, teddy bears, heartbeats, soft hands & skin, lotion, bagels and cream cheese, doodling in your journal

Leo Venus: Lip gloss, mojitos, getting drunk at brunch, diamond tennis bracelets, drunk texts you regret sending later, the block button, lonely nights, shooting stars, blowing bubbles, piggy back rides, art museums, glittery eyeshadow, jumparoos, birthday parties

Virgo Venus: Taking a shower, Dove soap, smooth skin, symmetry, butterflies, the smell of books, getting a facial or going to the spa, chicken caesar salads, the good tasting water, chunky headphones, acoustic guitar, running errands, getting your eyebrows done, neat handwriting, neutral colors, sushi

Libra Venus: Blush, dimples, Y2K fashion, Hello Kitty, makeup skills, those little hand mirrors, princes and princesses, cupcakes, pedicures, Margaritas, taking pictures, art, castles, Disney movies, daisies, spin the bottle, cartwheels, soft hair, bubblegum, skincare, watermelon and pineapple

Scorpio Venus: Psychology, neck tattoos, “until death do us part”, Kings & Queens, snakes, sacred sex, chess, secrets, hickeys, the feeling after you stay up all night, the feeling of being at a concert, roses, knives, tequila shots, legs intertwined, dirty martinis, sparklers, Avril Lavigne, fantasy books, true crime and dark history

Sagittarius Venus: Clouds, rock climbing, rappers, Hip Hop and R&B, going on vacation, açaí bowls and fresh fruit, sun kissed/radiant skin, the color yellow, retreats, history, yoga and Pilates, spicy food, “it is what it is”, curly hair, the smell of weed, casinos, the last day of school, Las Vegas

Capricorn Venus: Leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie Scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, New York City

Aquarius Venus: Lightbulbs, telescopes and microscopes, LED lights, hamsters, college parties, glitter, peace signs, 70s concerts, food trucks, skipping school, “fuck it”, diving in the pool, the beach at night, disco balls, getting detentions in school

Pisces Venus: Mermaids, kittens, cartoons and Disney princesses, champagne, Webkinz, little kid stories like Goldilocks, 3 Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, clear glittery lip gloss, holographic, snowmen and icicles, swimming in the pool, flower gardens, glow sticks , picnics, bumblebees, sand castles, elementary art class, 3D movies

Book a Reading 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

[fauustic]

late night bubble bath

((oh yeah the brainrot has hit HARD!!! IM IN LOVE!!! please send me asks / requests about miguel o’hara i might just melt ...))

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

comfort, fluff. a needy miguel who is just a big kitty.

warnings: mention of wounds, very little blood. taking care of him after a night of insomnia. use of spanish pet names, yet a translator helped me because my spanish isn’t the best. lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 3027

A sigh escapes your lips as you shakily grasp the cup of water along your bedside table. You weren't one to have intense insomnia, yet the anxiety bubbling within your gut served as a painful reminder that you haven't been blessed with a moment of shuteye.

Was it something you had forgotten? You ran through a mental checklist that consisted of taking after Miguel's late nights, and not a single chore was unfinished.

Leftovers for dinner could be found neatly packed away in the place he always checks in the fridge, so there was no need for your love returning from work hungry and tired. Today's laundry was already fluffed and ironed, which will make it easier to begin the upcoming morning. Miguel mentioned off-handedly to you how an important board meeting at his lab had been stressing him out, so you couldn't help but surprise him when he got back home even if it was just prepared outfits.

You leaned back against your pillow before rolling towards Miguel's side of your queen sized bed. You felt so jumpy, your hands itching to do anything. Nights like these you craved Miguel's presence tenfold, as he would be snuggled right in your arms, smoothing the stress out from the tips of your fingers through a careful massage. You could remember the sleepy rambles he'd murmur into the air over the ambience of the television, "Pasar tiempo contigo, brillante. Encantador. Mi pequeño amor. Could bask in your presence always, mi conejito." Miguel would whisper into your ears with a cute sleepiness, peppering your jaw with his lips. It's almost as if he was right beside you, brushing his thumb against your skin as he held your hands.

Thinking so fondly of your boyfriend's habits soothed the anxiety of your insomnia as you tried to remind yourself that he always stays safe and remembers you love him. Once coming home for the first time from work, he can't help but smother you in kisses and silly pet names, showering you in soft reminders of how much love and affection he has for you. And then the second time of the night, he'd do the same thing under different circumstances. It had happened the night before, and it'll happen again. 

Miguel, soft groans escaping his bruised lips, would come through the balcony of your shared apartment that stored your little collection of flowers and greenery, slip through the door you always made sure to crack, and wake you up in the dead of the night to be bandaged and treated by your caring touch with hushed pleas. Whispering sweet things, neediness in every touch. "I missed you, cariño. Been waiting to see your pretty face all day, can I kiss you? P-please, let me kiss you." 

And so you did, resting your fingers on his shoulders and slowly trailing up until they cupped his bloodied face by the jaw. Then, you'd painstakingly kiss him until his blood would mix with spit, his fangs desperately wanting to sink into your tongue. 

Getting so caught up in your little dream, the blaring of a shrill beeping car down below your apartment startled you. Interrupting the glass upon your lips, it spilled onto your nightgown with a gasp.

"Fuck.." you mumbled to yourself, missing your boyfriend more than ever. Changing in a rush, you pulled over one of his flimsy lounge shirts over your head to bask in his smell as a reminder of his presence.

Nueva York was a city that didn't sleep, as the chatter of passersby rang through busy traffic. Bars down below thrived under the limelight, people not in their right mind hid in the shadows of skyscrapers. 

You wondered what Miguel could be doing right now. Scouting the vibrant lights as his claws dug into the beam of a building? Knocking someone senseless under the conditions of justice? Saving a civilian as they fall from great heights? 

Wondering made you sick, the anxiety bubbling in your stomach as if you were the one downing margaritas and cocktails in a scummy bar down below. You needed to distract yourself. So you did anything an adult on a late night would do.

So when you finally came to your senses, you slapped a flour dusted hand over your mouth and groaned.

Apron tied to your waist, hair in a loose bun– nothing too serious, in fact you appreciated how this style still kept your androgynous but still staying practical. Wisps of hair straying from the hold would cloud your vision every now and then, which you'd have to blow out of the way subconsciously while preparing the whipped frosting. The TV, distantly able to still be heard from the living room, echoed quietly through the apartment with an ambience that lulled you to a calm. It was the news, you couldn't help yourself due to late night paranoia, but your hands were busy and your attention was snatched away from your beloved creation.

You've truly outdone yourself this time, you decide as you watch the oven in front of you with an exhausted gaze and a yawn. The kitchen was messy with egg residue and splashes of water and vinegar oil, the clock on the microwave read "2:49" in the morning. It was a kind of chaos you normally wouldn't find yourself to, as Miguel loved a schedule, a routine. It wasn't as if he didn't want you to have your fun, far from that, he simply just loved doing whatever was eventful with you. And you couldn't help but find baking amusing as you observed the small cakes in the shaped pans inflate as time went on.

You found yourself in the middle of your small apartment kitchen floor, sleepily peering into the oven until that sleepiness shifted into fully dozing off. It couldn't be helped, crashing so hard after pulling off a mission to pump out more than a dozen cupcakes, half chocolate batter and the rest strawberry flavoring. Thankfully, you were able to stay awake long enough to take the cakes out to cool, but as soon as the oven made the beep to turn off– the couch was the closest thing to fall into a needed rest.

It's hard to know how long you had exactly fallen asleep for, yet the frantic arms encompassing your form must have been any kind of indicator. It was a startle to wake from, as your mouth couldn't keep quiet before your brain began working. 

"Eeugh! I- God Miguel, you scared me so badly–" You heaved into his shoulder as he practically slumped on top of you, whispering his usual panicky tangents he'd spew after returning from his late nights. 

"Lo siento, lo siento mucho." Miguel buried his face into your neck, nose pushing against your pulse. "Would never purposely scare you, mi lucero del alba. But not seeing you in bed, that made me feel… not like myself." Miguel confessed with a shaky breath and a pause, breathing in the floury smell and just you, swearing a purr erupted from his throat. "Would have fallen on the floor of our apartment if you weren't here, in my arms.  "Te necesito más que al propio aire, baby."

A subtle smile peeked through his tone despite the desperation, the longing in his touch. His forearms pushed against your back ever so slightly, reminding himself that you're here. That you're safe. His hands met your sides, thumbs circling in a soothing motion. You knew it calmed him down to trace shapes within your skin, but you wouldn't be lying if you said you loved the burn of his touch when he isn't even truly doing anything on purpose. It was as if the warmth of his finger tips ignited into flames, searing his touch into you. You'll never be able to forget each circle, heart, or even a very rare star traced into your skin, accompanying every freckle or birthmark you have. Every part of you is adored, loved, cherished. 

"I'm going to be here, waiting for you. No matter where you are or where I have to be."

"I hope so." Miguel hummed, "If anything happens to you," His claws found themselves underneath his shirt that you wore to bed that night, trailing your sides like handing a delicate doll. "Tengo miedo de lo que pueda hacerles. For you I'd do anything." 

His body didn't feel suffocating to be lying beneath, as he cradled the both of you to be meeting halfway. It was heartwarming, being clung to like a teddy bear by a man who's trying to hold up an entire city with his own two hands.

You realized his suit was only partially off, head uncovered as well as part of his chest– the suit clung to his waist like a lifeline. Needing to see his soft little smile that he held so selfishly against your neck, you led his face to be held over yours. A soft whine escaped his lips, missing the warmth your neck provided, but a quick hush quieted himself easily.

"Don't act like a sad puppy, my love." You whispered into his lips, breath fanning an old cut just underneath. Inspecting the damage, Miguel's eyes fluttered shut as you smoothed over the stress lines between his eyebrows. Not too rough today, expect a few cuts and bruises. So in your terms and conditions, today may even be considered a great day. "Aww, look at you. You did so well today, didn't you?" Awarding him with a kiss, Miguel melted into you like a weighted blanket.

Both hands cupping his jaw, you held him there for a long while, relishing in the moments of peace and quiet with him. Peppering quick, feathery kisses over his lips and gliding over cheekbones and freckles upon the nose, kissing the stress line you smoothed out, before doing the routine all over again. You strayed, always did– couldn't resist his alluring features and soft pleas to continue kissing him. 

Miguel isn't always so docile. Some nights he'd storm into your bedroom in a trance of pent-up frustration and stress with bruising kisses and bites that took home amongst hidden skin. But most nights, he could be handled like putty. It was an adorable sight to see, as his fangs peeked through his plush lips from the tension going slack in his jaw.

Your lips finally met his for the first time that night, yet it wasn't heated or filled with ulterior motives. Miguel's mouth met yours, and he lazily tasted every inch of your mouth, grazing his fangs against your tongue by accident. He needed to know every inch of you, and remind himself a hundred times over.

"Miggy.." you mumbled between his kisses, and happiness dripped from your voice as he barely let out a "mm?" Separating for just a moment, he decided to simply nuzzle your hand as a substitute.

"Let me run you a bath."

This sparked his attention, a quirk of the eyebrow and a stare of disbelief. "Eh?" Miguel chuckled stiffly, his nuzzles coming to an abrupt end. "¿Qué piensas de mí, un niño pequeño? I'm no toddler." By his response, he hasn't heard such things in ages. But as you slipped away from underneath his grasp, you padded towards your shared bathroom without a word. He was the one to bicker, but once the plan was in motion Miguel couldn't help but abide with a light begrudge in his step.

"The little cakes can wait, honey. Don't try to use those as an argument to get out of this." Your words would come out as a scold to anyone else, but as you turned to start the water it was clear you simply just cared. Too much for your own good. "Let me just do this for you, I missed you today." You admitted. 

"It's too late for this still, cariño." He groaned with a tint of guilt as you started helping him undress. "I'll just shower, go on. Vete a dormir." Yet he did not swat away your advancements to prepare a towel, nor even the drop of bubble bath mix in the water. Miguel looked at you like a deer in headlights, mouth agape as you did so.

"I added the bubble bath formula only because you told me to sleep." You said deadpan, grabbing the suit that's fallen to the floor to hang it on the rack. Miguel's expressions contorted to annoyed, then shocked, to just downright amused of your antics that always had him guessing. He cackled as you kept yourself busy, until you finally signaled to get in.

It was as if you tried to get a cat in the water, as he stared at the mountain of bubbles that rivalled the skies. "I'm not getting in. I can't lose the rest of my dignity." This time, his tone was solid– nothing sounded as if it could get through to him. But you could read your boyfriend like a book, solve him like a puzzle in a matter of seconds. 

"Miggy, my love. My other half. My everything." You cooed, dropping to your knees to poke at the bubbles. "You don't get in this forsaken bathtub with just the right warmth and the bubbles I made with my own blood, sweat and tears, you will sleep on the couch until I give you explicit permission to lay with me." His scarlet eyes glowed with genuine fear in his eyes. "And then, you will just lie with me. You would not be able to hold my hands or waist or twirl your finger around my hair– you will be in timeout. No bed, no holding–"

A splash interrupted your words, wetting your legs as his size struggled to stay in the tub. His arm hung out of the side as his feet kicked up on the tile walls, and he looked as flustered as ever. "No me lo puedo creer." Miguel blew at the bubbles that settled on his face. "I'm no dog who needs a bath, cariño." 

Shaking your head at his rare childish antics, you leaned over the tub to kiss the bubbles upon his nose. It was a sweet, domestic little moment between the two of you.

Small little scars littered his form as you glided a soft wash cloth over the grime of the city that washed off onto him. When the fabric slid over a sensitive muscle or wound, he'd hiss a curse and a "be gentle with me, love." You only responded with a lick into his mouth, which earned you a bite to your lips. "I'm not trying to hurt you, just wanna take care of you, my angel." You whispered into the bubbles, shuffling your knees the closest you can to the tub without falling into it– and massaged the tension in his shoulders.

This elicited a groan to rip through the bathroom walls, a low rumble that he couldn't contain to himself following. Miguel was like a domesticated tiger, all bark and bite yet the rare moments of silly tenderness peeking through his rough exterior. "Ah, that feels–" Miguel hisses again in pleasure, his brain short circuiting under your graze. ".. increíble. Tú eres mi medicina." 

His forearm hanging off the side of the tub twisted to bring his grasp to your face, locking the both of you into a heated kiss, one that stored the unspoken words of lonely nights as Miguel's shifts grew longer and more tiresome. "Missed you, baby. I need you, need you always with me. Wouldn't know what to do without you, I'd go crazy." He rambled as one of your soap filled hands snaked into his hair, to lather his curls and simultaneously scratch where he loves. 

It was an endearing sight whenever Miguel openly expressed his adoration of you, both his thoughts and worries.

"I love you more, Miguel." You giggled as his nose scrunched together at the abrupt sensation of water cascading over his head, the bubbles falling from the softness of his hair and down the ridges of his jaw and nose.

Silence comfortably enveloped the two of you as you rinsed him off, scattering kisses on his skin whenever he mumbled declarations of affection.

As you wrapped his curls in a soft, small towel, his sleepy grumble of a question caught your attention. "What about your little sweets, mi amor? Do you need me to help you finish them?"

Laughing, you shook your head only to shush him softly. "No, no baby. Let's just do it together tomorrow once you get some rest." Leading him to stand, you began draining the tub. 

Miguel didn't argue with the idea of that, purring softly as he imagined the two of you frosting little delicacies– something incredibly cozy and lovely. He loved that about you, the way you reminded him about his own humanity, the little hanging reminder that he needs his own time to help to heal and thrive. 

"All done, baby." You slid your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest with a sigh. The towel hung around his waist was as soft as the fleece of a sheep, lulling you into the serene sleepiness your body craved to have. "How was your bubble bath?" The words tumbled from your lips as Miguel led the both of you to your shared bed, tucking you into the bundle of blankets scattering about. 

Before long, he slid into the opposite side with his own sigh of relief. Your hands grabbed at his now clothed chest, peeking at his exhausted, but content expression staring right back at your own. "Perfect, mi conejito." Miguel whispered with honesty, bringing you closer than ever as his breath fanned the crook of your neck.

Sleep began to take you as the strong scent of bubblegum flooded your senses, the slightly damp curls of Miguel tickling your neck and cheek. He intertwined his soul with yours, purring with a calm he could only achieve with you.

"Cupcakes tomorrow?" You murmured into his shoulder, soft and sleepy.

"Cupcakes tomorrow, cariño." A kiss to your neck. "Dulces sueños, goodnight."

[dinogoofymutated]

Okay so like,,,,I usually never make requests (I’m a lurker fr fr) but your writing Is god tier, so I gotta ask:

Could you do a fic for Hank/Beast? He’s my personal fave but I never see any content for him ever, like the fic scene for this man is a ghost town. he’s underrated as hell. My man is ripped, highly intelligent and respectful of the arts! Yet he doesn’t get any attention.

I would love to see some general headcanons (SFW & NSFW) if you’re up to it. no problem if you don’t write for him or something, I just thought i would ask.

Thanks!

SFW!Beast/GN!Reader

To be honest, I actually wasn't really sure about writing for Hank at first because I've never really had a connection to the character, but he grew on me!! Plus, I'm here to serve lolol we've been starved of fics as a Fandom for basically forever and it would be a disservice not to fill the Hank void out there! Hope it's okay that I only wrote Sfw headcannons, I have a separate req for NSFW for him so I decided to split it into two to save my sanity lol. Finals are gonna be hell for me.

-ps- Should I be writing right now? no. Am I doing it anyway? Yurp. Also, I'm basing his history off of the fandom wiki, so I'm sorry if anything is off.

Tws: none that I can think of atm. As always, reader written while picturing fem but no pronouns mentioned.

Hank, despite what some would think, was most definitely a heartthrob, particularly in his college days!! I mean, a man who's confident, smart, respectful, and also an athlete? Who wouldn't swoon? He was 110% the guy that everyone wanted to take home to their parents.

And He's such a sweet, attentive lover too!! Acts of service almost definitely is a love language for him. He cooks for you, fixes the broken things that you didn't even realize were broken, even organizes your notes before a difficult exam.

He loves to surprise you with flowers, even if it isn't any special occasion, and if you ask, he'll help you preserve them as well!

He loves to kiss your forehead, temples, and hands. On top of that, he's very touchy. The two of you were most definitely seen as the parents of any friend group.

Things changed a little after he took the serum that mutated him further. His confidence had taken a blow, and he just didn't quite know how to approach you anymore.

It took a hot minute to reassure him that you didn't really care if he was blue, or furry, or beastly, he was still Hank Mccoy, wasn't he? He was the man you were in love with, and you certainly weren't going to stop now. Besides, you still thought he was handsome. With the kinds of books he's seen you read, you're a bit surprised that he didn't think you would find him attractive.

Things gradually got back to normal, but for a while, he didn't kiss you as often as he used to. Well, he didn't kiss you period. Even though he knew the incredible extent to which you loved him, the shape of his mouth had changed. Hell, he had fangs that he would rather die than mark you with.

You practically had to tie him down into a contract to get him to kiss you again. He was always one to experiment, why not treat this the same? If you kiss, and it goes well, you do it again. If it goes well a second time and a third, you have a pretty reliable test. Validity shouldn't matter when he knew that you loved him to bits already.

He felt like he was falling in love with you all over again, and yet he still hesitated. It wasn't until you had grabbed him by the collar to drag him into a kiss that he actually relaxed, and what do you know, it was a pretty reliable test after all. A predictive one too, with how often you continued to kiss him afterwards.

Domestic was the best way to describe your relationship with Hank.

    You yawned as you made your way down to the lab, still in your pajamas and slippers. Just a few hours previously, after a shower and self-care routine, you had settled into bed with an eyebrow-raising book as you waited for your husband to come to bed. This was a normal routine for the two of you, you immersing yourself into a book to stay awake until Hank entered, kissed your temple sweetly, and began his own nightly routine. It was a set of events you were used to. 

    Today, however, you felt like you had done a lot more reading than usual. When you finally pulled yourself out of your book and checked the time, the clock by your bed read 11 pm. A rather late time for Hank to be out, but you already knew where he would be. The lower levels of the mansion were extra cold at night, and you find yourself rubbing some warmth into your arms as you approach the lab. 

    The doors open with a swish, the light of the lab having all been darkened exempt for the lamp on Hank’s desk. He’s so immersed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t even realize when you come in. You walk up behind his chair, running your hands through his hair softly when you reach him.

    Hank isn’t surprised, sighing at the pleasant sensation as he tips his head back to encourage you. You giggle a little, leaning down to press a kiss to his head as you begin to massage his scalp.

    “It’s late.” You say gently. Hank hums in response, eyes closed as he appreciates your touch. 

    “I’m sorry, my love. Seems I was a little entranced.” He says. You huff at him playfully.

    “You say entranced, I say you’re overworking yourself. You’ve been working on this project all week. Don’t let it cut into your rest time.” Your scolding always sounded too nice, but he knows you mean it. Hank sighs again, this time sounding a little more tired, but he doesn't argue. He rolls around to face you, pulling you into a tired hug from his chair. 

     “Perhaps it is time I go to bed. What time is it, my dear?” 

    “Eleven.” Hank lets out a quiet chuckle at your quick reply, finally standing up. He doesn’t let go of you however, choosing to rest his head on your shoulder as he sways the two of you back and forth.

    “You’re most certainly right, it is late. Much too late for a man to leave his lovely spouse waiting. Oh, whatever shall I do to make it up to you?.” His words come out as a purr, and you let out a curt laugh at him. You pull away a little, taking his large hands in your own as you lead him to the door. He smiles widely when you stop for a moment, remembering his glasses and placing them on his face before starting to drag him to bed. 

    “I’ll let you decide that, Love. As long as you make it to bed, that’s apology enough for me.”

[soshirohoshinasimp]

Boy-Dad Soshiro?

Boy-Dad Soshiro?

He's a loving father who can be a bit strict with his boys at times.

His son often playfully wonders if he has fangs like his dad when he smiles. 

He believes in letting his sons express their emotions freely, unlike dads who insist on toughening up.

When you get sick or hurt, both he and Soshiro jump in to take care of you

Your son tends to cling to you, so when you and Soshiro cuddle, he always wants to join in for comfort.

One rainy day, your son asked to play in the rain, and you both ended up catching colds. Soshiro took care of both of you until you recovered.

He enjoys teaching his son sword fighting and plans to teach his daughter too, sharing his skills with them both.

If you had twin boys they would literally fight for your attention, gripping onto you and showering you with gifts. (like a cool rock they found, flowers, and their favorite toys) Their jealousy was evident when your husband was touchy (this jealously stopped after they turned 5)

[edandstede]

we could have had ed asking “hey, d’you wanna do something weird?” before they got married and stede answering with a knowing grin. we could have had a wedding with a swelling drop of gnossienne no 5, a culmination of all their moments leading to this most precious one. we could have had the crew helping each of them get ready, lucius no doubt chatting away with a giddy and nervous stede, and fang putting flowers in ed’s hair. we could have had them running hand-in-hand beneath the crew with all their arms up, cheering for their captains one more time, being showered in petals. we could have finally got to see them have their dance they were robbed off at calypso’s birthday, with new rings on their fingers. we could have had stede’s wish of marrying for love come to fruition for him, and ed’s wedding-topper daydream become a reality as he married his handsome blonde groom. we could have finally heard stede specifically say the words “i love you” during the wedding we all knew was coming, and gotten to see ed’s eyes widen and shine. we should have.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Can I request "Please tell me you have a plan" in Hic Sunt Dracones verse pretty please ? <3

You certainly can! This is something I've been wanting to write for a while: a little bonus scene from Eddie’s pov, some time before the spring festival.

Come what may

Rated: T

Words: 998

Tags: Fantasy AU; Dragon Eddie; Prince Steve; Platonic Stobin; Hurt/Comfort; Mates; Soul Bond; That dragon is down bad

Notes: Bonus scene to Hic sunt dracones

Fate has a funny sense of humor.

You spend your entire life thinking that you don’t care for small things. Delicate things like dewdrops glistening in the morning light. Pretty things like smooth skin and chestnut hair, glowing gold in the sun. Soft things like the silky touch of flower petals. And then, one day, your world comes crashing down in a cloud of splintered wood and shattered stone and blood and pain, so much fucking pain- … only to reshape itself into something new, with the prettiest, softest, most delicate creature you’ve ever laid eyes on at its centre.

He never thought such a thing was possible. Then again, he only ever heard vague stories about what it felt like, finding your mate.

“Sweetheart? Everything alright?”

He never thought of himself as sweet, but here he is. He would be anything for this boy.

“There you are,” his beloved smiles when he turns his attention back on him, and pats the fresh bandage at the base of his tail with gentle hands - always so gentle. “Had me worried for a moment there. Thought I'd hurt you.”

“As if you'd ever hurt me, my love,” he wants to say, but all that'll leave his throat is a low, amused rumble. He goes for nudging his snout into his little mate's chest instead, and the boy yelps and nearly topples over.

He has never missed his other form before, content to stay this way for days and weeks on end, but now he finds himself longing for hands to return the boy’s touch, for lips to shower him in kisses, to press sweet words and playful bites into that soft skin.

“Hey, careful, you big brute,” his beloved scolds, but his smile is bright and happy, his voice brimming with pride. “You're getting stronger every day.”

“Uh-huh. Fantastic,” says another voice, and they both whip around. Oh yes, that's right, his prince brought his little friend today. She's perched on a rock a little way off and watching them with an unhappy quirk to her mouth. “What are you gonna do once he's back to full health? Have you thought of that at all?”

That smile dims. He bares his fangs at the girl and snarls, but his prince puts a hand to his snout and he quietens reluctantly. The girl sighs.

“Listen, you know I'm on your side, but you can't hide a fully grown dragon forever. Just- … Please tell me you have a plan?”

His mate sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Steve?”

“Not much to plan, is there?” The words come out clipped, all fake resolution. “He recovers, and then he leaves.”

The girl takes one look at his mate's face and her expression softens. “Listen, dingus, I know you two have gotten … attached. I wish there was another way-”

“-but there isn't,” his prince interrupts, suddenly intensely focused on searching for something in his bag of medical supplies. “I know that, you don't have to remind me. Now, don't you have somewhere else to be?”

She doesn't look insulted at being dismissed like that. In fact, the only thing swimming in her eyes as she stands is sympathy.

“Take care,” she mutters, patting his mate's shoulder. He doesn’t look up. “You too, big guy.”

He waits until her footsteps die down, and then he nudges his mate's shoulder with his tail, whining softly under his breath.

You don't seriously think I'd ever leave you, do you, my little love?

His prince finally drops the bag, sitting down in the grass and curling up against his side, soft and small and warm.

“Yeah, I'm alright. Don't worry about me.”

He grumbles in annoyance, once again wishing for a set of human lips. His little mate still misunderstands him, sometimes. He has no doubt that this will change in time, once their bond grows stronger. Here and now, though, there's no comforting words he can offer, and the thought fills him with helpless rage.

There's a patch of wildflowers growing just next to their spot, bright and colorful and pretty. Following a sudden impulse, he snaps them off with his teeth. He needs to be careful with them, because they're so tiny and delicate, but he's starting to learn more and more about delicate things.

“I'm pathetic, huh?” his prince mutters, pressing his face into his side, fingers absentmindedly tracing the pattern of scales there. “I mean, I know you can't stay forever, it's just … I wish you could. It's stupid, I- ugh, what are you doing?”

His little love yelps as he drops the flowers on his head, reflexively trying to brush them off. Then, he realizes what they are and pauses. His pretty eyes are large as he looks up.

“Sweetheart? Are those for me?”

He rumbles his confirmation, basking in the picture that is his mate. Flowers in his lap, on his shoulders, in his hair. They suit him so well. He's going to crown him in flowers one day, whole wreaths of them so he'll never need to wear the ugly, heavy things made of metal and gemstones that humans insist on putting on their kings.

His prince smiles, warm and bright like the rising sun, and he purrs in reply, leaning their foreheads together. He cannot convey his love in words yet, but he can show it with touch. He cannot return those caresses and kisses yet, but he will. He'll return them a thousandfold, once he's strong enough to shift again, and he won't ever stop, for as long as they both live. He belongs to this boy, just like this boy is his. His beloved may not fully understand it yet, but he does. Their very souls started to entwine on the day they met - a bond that will only grow stronger for as long as they both live.

They won't ever part, come what may.

And when they leave this place, it will be together.

More celebration ficlets

[quitealotofsodapop]

I was also thinking of shower thoughts and it occurs to me that Marbled Egg! Wukong is pretty paranoid to a rather ridiculous degree. Now, I love him like that, it makes sense for him to be protective of his cub after everything... what I was wondering tho is WHY! Because if he had Nezha as more support, than presumably he should have less reason to be distrustful of people near MK... then a small though came to me.

What if it's because something had happened before?

Look, Wukong has a LOT of enemies. More than anyone can possibly count. The show even goes so far as to say he's fought and presumably killed hundreds upon hundreds of demons. In the show, it's been established that even if Wukong had once killed someone, it isn't impossible for them to come back to life. Both Macaque and Azure are both heavily implied to have done so.

So what if one of Wukong's other enemies, one that has perhaps fallen into obscurity with age or their influence downplayed by historical biases, were to return long before Wukong ever met Tang. When MK was still a newborn cub, I was too young to remember much of anything. What if they tried to attack FFM and somehow got their hands on MK, if they tried to do something to him because he is Sun Wukong's son and heir? What if the event left Wukong paralyzed with fear to the point he becomes overly paranoid and protective of his cubs, to becoming a helicopter parent?

My mind immediately went to the Demon King of Havoc/Confusion - Wukong's first ever victory. Not sure if I like the big cat or the baboon versions more (maybe a Gelada?).

Its been over a thousand years, and while some old villains have redeemed themselves and adapted to their new lives (Black Wind Demon and Moon Jade Rabbit in particular), some are so "off-grid" that its hard to get a read on them and their motives.

Enter the former terror of Flower Fruit Mountain. A demon who initially presents himself as reformed to demonkind... until he learns that Sun Wukong has a helpless infant in his care.

Wukong is fast asleep, exhausted from caring for both his cub and his Stone Egg. A earth-shaking scream of dispair rings through all Three Realms when he awakens to an empty nest and broken doors.

The Stalwarts assemble immediately. They recognise the foul stench of the Demon King long before Wukong - having each survived the beast's rule for over a decade.

They find the Demon King burnt to a crisp inside his old cave.

Wukong never thought he'd be so relieved to see his baby crying on the dusty cave floor. Xiaotian is shaken but completely unharmed.

This leads to a little bit of confusion to how the baby survived such rough treatment. And why the Havoc Demon is currently little more than a pile of ash.

Nezha (alterted by Wukong's call) explains sheepishly that he placed a stronger-than-usual Man Yue blessing that activated when true danger threatened the baby. The blessing + Xiaotian's inherent power had pretty much vaporized the former Demon King the second a claw or fang dared touch his skin.

Wukong is too relieved to even listen to the reasoning. He's just overjoyed that his cub is ok!

Despite the kidnapping having a happy ending, it left its mark on Wukong. He became more cautious, more paranoid of other demons - especially ones he knew from the old days. He never wanted Xiaotian out of his sight, something that annoyed the little monkey as he started to grow.

A similar kidnapping likely occurs in Aus where Xiaotian's connection to Wukong is also known.

The only difference being; the Demon of Havoc likely doesn't get far before the Six Eared Macaque rips him to shreds. Or getting a furious pig charging at him with a kitchen knife.

[homelanderbutbig]

You Love Me For Me (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1938 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander gets drunk, and things become a little silly. Inspired by a conversation with @sehtoast (this is dedicated to you, brother man).

You don't know how it's come to this. One minute, you were making a comment on whether or not Homelander could get drunk, and the next thing you knew there was a delivery of booze to the penthouse. You weren't expecting something so stupid to become an arguement, but he was adamant on proving to you he wasn't just your average supe. He is stronger, bigger, and better than everyone else. His body is impenetrable, superior, and won't allow him to get intoxicated.

And yet… he got drunk.

It's late in the evening, and he's sprawled out on the couch with his massive head in your lap. His eyes are half-lidded and glossy, drifting lazily around the room and he gazes at who knows what.

Running your fingers through his hair, Homelander is powerless to stop all of his content little noises from seeping out as his mouth hangs open ever so slightly. His smile is woozy, and his hot breaths let you smell the alcohol permeating his entire being. All of his limbs are outstretched, with his left arm and leg laying heavy on the floor. One of his gloves is on the coffee table, and you have no idea where he put the other one.

You sigh to yourself, having no idea how you're going to get out of this predicament.

Your attention is turned back to the deep voice chuckling below you as Homelander nuzzles his large head into your chest, finally focusing on you.

"You doing okay?" you question, giving his scalp a generous scratch. The leg he has on the ground starts bouncing up and down, like a dog getting a good pet.

"Yeeaaahhh…" he drawls, still grinning at you. His once glazed over expression now seems to have a sense of purpose, and you can see a mischievous spark in his eyes. "Yoouuu… y-you're cuuuute."

"…Thank you?" you tell him, confused.

"Hmmmm…" he hums, before lifting his arm off the floor up to your head, twirling strands of your hair in between his index finger and thumb. "I liiike… your hairrr…"

"What do you like about it?" you ask, returning the favour by snaking your fingertips through his undercut.

"S'prreeetty…s-soft… smells gooood…" he replies. "Like youuu… you allllways smell gooood…" he continues, moving his hand to boop your nose before settling it down on his stomach.

"What do I smell like?" you query.

"Mmmmm… heaaaavennnn…" he mumbles, leaning his nose into your chest.

You're surprised to hear him talk like this, so openly. One thing you've come to learn about Homelander is that is that he prefers to show his affection through actions rather than words. The most you've ever heard him express is 'I love you'.

Every day he showers you with flowers, gifts, hugs, and kisses. He enjoys cuddling with you, holding your hands when he takes his gloves off, and keeping you up to his chest so you can be at eye level with him. But get him to tell you what it is about yourself that he loves? Never.

Just as you get lost in your own thoughts about Homelander's tipsy confessions, he gets his own ideas. Abruptly, he raises his body just enough to grab you and pull you on top of his abdomen, keeping you seated in place with one of his immovable hands spread across your back.

Looking right at you causes him to start giggling, making you shake and feel like you're on an amusement park ride.

"What's so funny?" you question.

"Youuu," he proclaims, proudly showing off his fangs with his broad smile. He uses his hand that's not propping you up to squish your cheeks together. "Youuuu… y-youu… y-you're cuuuuute…"

The hypersensitivity Homelander usually has over his strength appears to have greatly diminished in his drunken state, evident by the painful pinches to your face. You try and give him a gentle reminder by holding onto his big hand and tapping his knuckles. Thankfully, even when he's hammered he can still pick up on your cues, and he releases his ironclad grasp.

"I liiike… like yoooouuu," he says, stroking your face with his long fingers. He carefully runs along every nook and cranny of your visage, taking great consideration not to miss anything. It's not like this is the first time he's touched your face, but something about it right now is completely entrancing to him.

"What do you like about me, Homelander?" you decide to enquire, seeing if he'll keep being honest about his feelings for you. You don't know if you'll ever get another opportunity like this again.

"Mmmm… y-yooou're nice," he professes, looking directly into your eyes. "Kiiind… goood… youuu… youu… you looove mee… f-for me."

The longer he talks, the more you can see some form of realization kick in. To what you don't know, but something that he's saying is slowly peeling away his happy grin, and replacing it with sad teary eyes.

"Y-you're not s-scaaared… y-you love m-me," he sputters, unable to halt the torrent of tears you've unleashed with your prying question. "Y-y-youuu… make m-me f-feel… n-normal!!"

Deep down Homelander has always known why he loves you, but he's never been able to articulate it. Even though he trusts you, he's always found it hard to be open with you about himself, and anything you're able to get out of him is in little teaspoon-sized amounts.

When it comes down to the main cause, he has issues trusting people. Those he's placed reliance on in the past have all lied to him, hiding information from him, to 'protect' him. They only wanted to use his longing for connection to further their own goals. How can he be expected to express his humanity, his inner pain, if the world can't even give him basic understanding in return?

But you… you're different. He doesn't have to put on an act around you. He can show you his vulnerability, and you don't laugh. No, you swaddle him in your love, and bring comfort to his insecurities. You guard him like he's your most precious treasure.

He has no idea how he got so lucky to find you, but he knows he can't ever let you go.

Wobblily, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a hug, nestling his head on your shoulder. He squeezes you so firmly you find it hard to breathe, and you're afraid he might accidentally snap you in half.

"H-Homelander," you manage to gasp, swatting his back as hard as you can.

"S-s-sooorry!! I-I'm s-soooorry," he babbles, loosening his hug enough to let you breathe again. "I l-l-loove youu! I-I looove y-you! I-I…" he repeats, though you're not sure if he's saying it at you or just to reassure himself. Regardless, you do your best to return his embrace.

"I know big boy, I know. I love you too," you console him, scratching the back of his head. Your enchanted fingers make quick work of his nerves, and he settles himself down.

He keeps you in this hold for a while, even after his tears are long gone. In fact, you realize Homelander's grasp on you is becoming more lax. Taking advantage of his limp arms, you lift yourself up and discover he is starting to nod off.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," you say, caressing his cheek. "I think it's time for us to go to bed, okay?"

"Mmhhmmm…" he murmurs, looking at you with barely cognizant eyes and giving you a tired smile. However, he makes no attempt to even get up. Instead, he just shuts his eyes and snuggles himself into the couch, deciding this is his bed for the night.

With a deep exhale, you know you don't have a chance in hell at lifting this eight foot tall man up off the couch. You know you have to put forward a different stragedy if you're going to get this giant goober into bed. Luckily, you have a pretty good idea on how to entice him.

You slide off the couch, leaving him alone while you walk over to Homelander's bed. Since you moved into his penthouse, you managed to convince him to put a mini fridge in his bedroom. It started out as something there for you, as you like to have cold water before bed and it's more convenient to have it nearby and easily accessible. However, the majority of the fridge is now taken up by bottles of milk. It's become a nightly routine for the two of you, sharing a sip with Homelander before cuddling together under the sheets. He just can't resist his bedtime milk.

Taking one bottle of milk out of the fridge, you unscrew the lid and let the faint smell of dairy do its magic. It only takes a split second for you to hear a sluggish rustling from the living room, but you don't hear Homelander's familiar footsteps.

You have to use all of your willpower not to burst into laughter at what happens next. Rather than risk stumbling and bumping into everything with his uneven gait, he decided to float into the bedroom. It's nowhere near as spectacular as when he flies into the air at the speed of sound. In this moment, the closest thing he reminds you of is a cartoon character floating to a windowsill over the smell of a freshly baked pie.

He lands his full body weight onto the bed, practically knocking you down in the process, and you have to cover the top of the bottle with your hand to prevent the milk from spilling out. Although you shoot him an unimpressed glare, he simply giggles at your expression.

"Come here, have your milk then it's straight to sleep, alright?" you instruct, feeling more like you're parenting the world's biggest toddler. You shift yourself up to Homelander's oversized pillow, patting it so he knows where you want him.

Haphazardly, he crawls up to you and lays down on his back, letting you cradle his head in the crook of your arm while you lean on top of the pillow. You angle his head upright, with his cheek to your chest, as he looks at you with hazy yet eager eyes. Usually he can just grab the bottle himself and down it in one gulp, but he's hardly conscious and you don't want to risk him doing something stupid like choking.

"Not too fast, okay?" you direct him, tilting the bottle into his mouth. He gives you a slow nod as he takes careful sips, his eyelids getting heavier with each swallow.

By the time he's drank all of the milk, his eyes are closed. Foolishly, you think your nonsensical evening has finally come to a close, but Homelander is always full of surprises. Just as you get ready to tuck him in, he rolls forward onto his stomach, trapping you underneath one of his arms.

"Homelander! Homelander!!" you yell in vain, smacking him on the shoulder as hard as you can. However, your hopes of rousing him are dashed when you hear him start to snore; he is out like a light. There is absolutely no chance you're going to wake him up.

You attempt to wage a futile war against the massive arm pinning you in place. Fortunately it's at a slant that still lets you breathe normally, but you succumb to the knowledge that you aren't going anywhere the rest of the night. Tonight's been enough of a wild adventure, you've earned some rest.

You just hope to god once the morning comes, his hangover isn't half as dramatic.

[transbookoftheday]

Showers, Flowers, and Fangs by Aidan Wayne

Darren is your average half-human, half-fae trans teenager, busy figuring out his powers and puberty while trying to survive finals. When Vlad, a newly turned vampire, moves in with the witch down the street, he and Darren get off on the wrong foot. Darren is always one to give somebody a second chance, though, and as they become friends, he realizes Vlad is just lonely and struggling with his new powers. That’s something Darren can definitely relate to, and he’s happy to lend his support.

But while he coaxes Vlad out of his shell, Darren ends up learning about Vlad’s past… and the danger Vlad is in. Darren only wants to help—help Vlad feel comfortable in his own skin and help him feel safe.

He hadn’t planned on falling in love.

[fang-and-feather]

Shower of Love

Ikemen Vampire: Leonardo/MC - Family fic

Prompt: Rainy Days

For the spring showers spring flowers event hosted by @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess and for Leonardo's birthday (I finished this in time, but posting kept giving me trouble)

AO3 Link / IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

The remains of a family picnic in a sheltered part of the garden, soft rain falling around your little piece of paradise. His wife was already asleep, head resting on his lap, the baby also fast asleep in her arms.

Usually Leonardo would have taken them both inside. A lazy afternoon in bed was usually too appealing to pass up, especially on a rainy day. But today he found himself watching over them for a little longer.

In all his years, he had never imagined such a happy moment. Not with him in it. For him, happiness and love were for other people, his cursed existence above this kind of normalcy.

Then she had come into his life and slowly changed his world. Changed him, into someone who lived for those idyllic moments. Lived for her and now the family they were starting. She had given his life purpose, brought such brightness to it that now he feared going back into the darkness of the lonely days.

And he wouldn’t. Leonardo always told himself.

She was bright like the sun to him, but also like the spring rain. Fleeting, but made everything around grow and bloom into something beautiful that remained even after her shower of love was gone.

For him, these blooms came in the form of memories he would always cherish, their presence bittersweet, but bright enough to keep him in the light. He was sure that would be enough. Her love would be with him for all eternity.

He caressed her hair, smiling tenderly, when he heard a tiny whimper and shifted his gaze to meet a pair of eyes the same color as his. The girl’s big, bright, curious eyes, besides the color, reminded him of her mother instead.

“Awake already, bambina?” He whispered, carefully picking her up from his wife’s arms, then kissing her forehead. The little girl’s attention quickly shifted from him to the rain and she reached out and started making noise as if talking to it. “You’re as energetic as your mamma, aren’t you?” Leonardo laughed in a low tone. “But you can’t go there today, so be a good girl, okay?” He started to gently rub the baby’s back, which seemed to calm her down a little.

“I think she just likes the rain.” His wife chuckled, reaching up to touch his hand. “Soft rain like this just makes you want to go outside.”

“Did she wake you, cara mia?”

“No. I was half awake.” She sat up by his side, leaning into him, and touched her other hand to her daughter’s, who tried to close her tiny hand around her mother’s. “Should we go inside already?”

Leonardo thought for only a moment, watching the rain fall.

“Just a little longer. We hardly have moments just for us in this place.” He leaned in and kissed her. “At least until she goes back to sleep.”

And his touch and warmth really seemed to be lulling the girl back to sleep.

“Okay.” This time, she was the one to kiss him. “Happy birthday, Leonardo. I love you.”

“And I love you, amore mio.” He whispered to her. “I love both of you. Always.”

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[cozzzynook]

Hot Rod is taking care of his newly emerged sparkling who is very clingy. He is exhausted and feels like a mess because he can't take a shower.

He's also very sore and has to sit a lot and take breaks which can be frustrating. One day he breaks down crying because he's so tired and his sparkling constantly needs him and he feels like a horrible carrier.

Soundwave comforts his mate and takes their sparkling reassuring him that everything is fine. He tucks him into bed and Hot Rod sleeps for a few hours. When he wakes up Soundwave helps wash him.

Oh my gosh

I can see this

But something i thought of immediately after him crying and breaking down, after Soundwave gets him to bed and takes their sparkling.

Is Hot rod waking up to their sparkling asleep in a soft cot, low lit candles that smell so good, surrounded by flower petals in a tub of very hot oil and solvent that makes his frame feel like his again, with Soundwave sitting behind him. Arms wrapped around Hot rod with the carrier sitting between his legs, using his servos to rub along his soft cushioned plating and protoform from carriage frame gain.

He’s massaging Hot rod gently with his face mask and visor off.

Chittering in his audio, exposed fangs from his heavily scarred face plate brushing against Hot rod’s cheek with all four purple optics softly gazing between his love and their sparkling.

Oh my gosh i just know Soundwave takes good care of him and Roddy returns the favor later on.

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: afab Character: Sabo Vibe: NSFW Consensual AU: Vampire AU Prompt: Bath/Shower/Hot spring (Writer's Choice) Gift Giver: @possiblyelven

Summary: Your lover is a vampire, and the contrary bastard has a mirror-lined shower.

Content Notes: mirror sex, vampire has no reflection, dirty talk from Sabo like he was born to do it, vampire strength, compulsion, mdni

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

You stood in the shower, unsure of where to look. The walls were mirrored, of all the terrible things, and even the stone work at your feet seemed to give you away. Even with water cascading over you, warm enough to be comfortable, cool enough not to steam the reflective mirrors, you could see entirely too well.

You felt him step up behind you before his hands were against your skin, lips pressing quavering and barely restrained kisses into the back of your neck and along your shoulders. The mirrors didn’t give him away like they did you, but the water made his golden curls cling to his face and neck.

“I… don’t know where to look.” You sigh as his hands move along your hips.

“Close your eyes, then.” He offers, before turning you to face him. His smile is devious and kind at the same time, clear blue eyes putting you at ease. “Or keep them on me. I will behold your beauty in mirrors wise enough to reflect only the most deserving, and you can honor me by keeping your eyes on me.”

He leans in, kissing you sweetly as the water flowed over you both. “Only me.”

“Only you.” You promise, eyes moving from his to his lips. “Sabo, please.”

Hands that are hot against the small of your back twitch, moving down to the curve of your ass and squeezing, eliciting a moan from you before he leans in and steals another kiss. His tongue was between your lips, hungry and thirsty, the harried space between you ensorcelled in water, making the entire affair messier than usual.

Sabo lifts you easily, the unnatural strength of his perfect for moments even as gentle as these. You seemed to float in the reflection of the mirrors, your breasts pressed against Sabo’s unseen chest. The grip of his hands in the meat of your thighs was the only indication you weren’t floating under your own power.

“Another time,” he grins, stiff cock already teasing your entrance, “and I want to put the mirror right between our legs.” He lets you sink down a little, teasing just the tip of his cock into you. “I want to watch your pussy, flushed and dripping, spread open around me.”

“Haaaa, fuh-fuck. Don’t say it like that,” you whine, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Held like this there weren’t many places to look. Nuzzled into him gave him access to your neck, and he didn’t leave the opportunity to pass him by.

Sharp fangs, and the euphoria that always followed the sting, sink into you as he pushes deep into your pussy. Your gasp of surprise is a bright cry of pleasure at the stimulation and it’s all you have in you to hold onto him. The bite is brief, a loving lick over the small wounds as he makes you ride him easily.

The slap of skin is wet from the shower and the frantic start has you panting into his shoulder.

“So noisy already?” He coos knowingly, licking against your neck again as he thrusts up into you. “Seeing the water mingle with your pleasure and drip onto the tiles is quite the treat.”

“I’m not dripping!” You cry. He was going to kill you with embarrassment one day.

“Oh?” Sabo pulls out of you, turning you around with such ease it almost makes your head spin. Your back is against his chest, and he’s holding your thighs, keeping you spread and purposefully on display for the mirrors. “Watch, sweet flower.” He says the words in a way that brokers no descent and you watch as he pushes his twitching cock back inside you.

“Sabo, please!” You cry, heart pounding in your head as he fills you back up.

“It’s not the best angle, but you do take me so well, don’t you.” He holds you steady, pushing up into as water cascades down his back and leaves your view of yourself unobstructed. His eyes flash, and the light is the only thing that reflects off the mirrors.

“Touch yourself,” he commands and your hand is moving toward your clit before you’ve fully registered it.

“Cheater,” you gasp. Your fingers feel almost foreign against the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending thrills through you. “Stop - Ahhh-fuck - commanding me like that!”

“Ah, but you love it.” He purrs in your ear, tongue teasing the curve of it. “Look, there’s no water, and yet-.”

“Don’t say it!” You cry. Your legs are shivering and you can feel pleasure rising inside you. With the clear view from the mirrors you swear the only thing you can hear dripping on the stone tiles is your own pleasure, despite the shower running behind you.

“Please, please, I’m going to cum, Sabo, please!”

“Look at me.” The edges of a command help you look up at him, and his eyes drink in your expression. Desperate and needy, and so close. “By the stars. I just want to press you against the mirror and fuck you until you drool down the glass, too blissed out of your sweet little mind to care.”

You try to protest, but nothing except a desperate keening cry escapes your lips. Sabo picks up the pace.

“Cum.” He commands, but there’s no magic to it. There was none stopping you from it either, but the way you waited, relentlessly begging for his permission in all the ways you could think of.

Pleasure shatters your face, still tilted back so he can watch you fall apart. He could enjoy the reflection, but there was something far more decadent about seeing it so up close. Especially as your body was compelled to continue teasing your clit even as your conscious thoughts were getting lost to pleasure.

A devious grin splits Sabo’s face as he steps toward the mirrored wall, pressing your fevered skin against the cold glass. You barely gasp from the temperature difference as Sabo continues thrusting into your dripping and trembling pussy.

“Since we’re here, my sweetest flower, let's see if I can’t make my earlier idea a reality.”

[miguelswifey04]

ohmygod i need a sugar!daddy x reader fic when their love language is giving gifts too. so she learn how to do crafts (knitting scarves and stuffed animals, making paper flowers, handmade perfumes, recyclable crafts, etc.) she just wanna spoil him so bad 😭😭

HI LOVE! yes, i’m going to assume it’s sugar daddy! miguel…? hopefully i’m right 😭

🌱🌱🌱

in the quiet sanctuary of miguel o’hara's apartment, a delightful and unexpected exchange of affection took root. miguel had always been a stoic and grumpy figure, rarely displaying much tenderness. yet, the entrance of a spirited sugar baby into his life proved to be a catalyst for change.

you, the creative and adoring sugar baby, had discovered a passion for crafting and gift-giving, driven by your desire to spoil miguel. you meticulously knitted scarves in his favorite colors, carefully stitched together stuffed animals that mirrored his animalistic charm, and fashioned intricate paper flowers to brighten up his space. your craftsmanship was a testament to your love, an expression that transcended words.

as each gift was presented to miguel, his sharp fangs couldn't help but form a smitten smile. it was a sight to behold — the gruff man, overwhelmed by the depth of your affection and the thoughtfulness of your creations. and in response, he made it a point to proudly display each gift, cherishing them as treasures.

but miguel couldn't let the scales tip entirely towards receiving. deep down, he longed to give you something in return, to shower you with his own tokens of appreciation. he racked his genius-level intellect, searching for the perfect gift that would express his feelings.

days turned into nights as miguel retreated into his laboratory, determined to create something worthy of your adoration. he poured his heart and soul into the project, focusing his genius mind on crafting a gift that would embody his love.

finally, the day arrived when miguel stood before you, his hands slightly trembling as he presented a small, intricately designed box. his eyes flickered with vulnerability as he spoke, "i may not have your craftiness, but i hope this gift shows you how much you mean to me."

you opened the box delicately, and inside lay a handmade perfume with intricate labels, each scent carefully selected to reflect a different facet of your relationship. the fragrances danced in the air, enveloping the two of you in an intoxicating aroma of love and devotion.

overwhelmed with emotion, you threw your arms around miguel, holding him tightly. "this is incredible, miguel. it’s absolutely perfect. i can't believe you made this for me."

he held you close, his once grumpy demeanor melting away. "it was worth every minute if it brings a smile to your face, mi amor."

from that day forward, the exchange of meaningful gifts became a cherished love language between you both. bound by a shared desire to spoil and be spoiled, you reveled in the joy of crafting heartfelt presents, while miguel found solace and expression in the act of giving. together, you wove a tapestry of love and appreciation, each gift a testament to the depth of your connection.

—

i love sugar daddy miguel sm <3

[colormepurplex2]

Flowers of Fate | MYG JJK KNJ PJM

▻ Flowers of Fate ↳ UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft. x UnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) ⤜ Fae/Magick ⤜ Strangers to Bonded Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 56,072 ⤜ Summary: You grew up hearing whimsical tales and ballads of magic and the hauntingly beautiful fae from your late grandpa. In an effort to feel closer to him and experience the joy he so often spoke of, you take a spur-of-the-moment trip to Scotland to partake in Beltane— a festival that took center stage in many of his stories. But, in a shower of yellow flower petals, you find yourself getting far closer to your grandpa's stories than you ever thought possible.

⚠️ Adult humor, crass language, talk of adult activities, drinking, mild angst/talk of the loss of a loved one, kidnapping, talk of murdered loved ones, angst, hurt feelings, vaginal sex, cum eating, body exploration, awkward yet endearingly cute sexual moments, jealousy, blood, stab wounds, violence, torture/being held captive, minor character deaths, first-time vaginal sex, not-so-first-time vaginal sex, nipple play, marking/biting, mfmm scene, kissing, guys kissing, blow job, cum swallowing, creampies, things get emotional Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Chapter 1: Honey Bells & Rosemary

Chapter 2: Lavender & Thyme

Chapter 3: Cedar & Clove

Epilogue: A Story Written In The Stars

Story is complete.

A/N: I have a lot of plans to revisit this world, often and a lot. There are drabbles, spin offs, and lots of fun things planned.

Part of the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Server A Spring Offering Collaboration.

A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi @moonleeai and @hisunshiine for beta'ing through this chaos so far and supporting me 💜

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

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