#so. shapeless forms it is

[davestaresatthesun]

Doodes

[lemonduckisnowawake]

I've been using tumblr wrong

[violetnaps]

greatest contenders for most boring bankai designs ever

[onceuponaroast]

I'd like to propose a new gender everyone:

I call it, 'Cis For Convenience'. This is the gender for people who, upon further introspection, could not give less of a shit. Pronouns? Whatevs. Presentation? Sure. And the agab is like, fine, so it's more convenient to use that one than to try and change it up. People have been using those pronouns your whole life, might as well stick with 'em.

'Cis For Convenience,' for when your gender is just your gender I guess

[bigskydreaming]

Also, does anyone else feel like this is all Locutus related? Everything weird about Jack, the Changelings’ mysterious benefactor, Picard’s original body....

I’m just saying, I feel like this is a Locutus thing but I don’t know how common that guess is.

[huffingtonpussy]

The insides are wayyy darker than this but i don't gaf abt being acurate rn

[hellotailor]

Apologies if you've already done a post on this and I've just missed it, but can I ask for your take on the pyjamas worn by the cast of interview with vampire? I mean technically they're not a 100% necessary item, but just from a quick look there seems to be a lot of variety and they do change over the series

ok, i’m delighted by the specificity of this question, and it turns out that i have a VERY extensive answer.

there’s a lot of sleepwear in IWTV due to the volume of bedroom/coffin scenes, and like any other outfit, these costumes are shaped by characterization and historical period. for instance claudia initially wears a long, modest, frilly nightgown - an old-fashioned style that plays into her girlish doll wardrobe purchased by louis and lestat. however her sleepwear matures over the years, including a trendy lace nightdress with bloomers in the 1920s (note the rectangular silhouette), and a pink padded jacket/pastel robe outfit in 1940s paris. she's following contemporary trends while charting a visible trajectory from child to adult.

when i wrote about the Théâtre des Vampires coven costumes, i noted that while their wardrobes share certain themes (ie. monochrome patterns and stripes), they each have specific personal tastes. that holds true for sleepwear. in the S2 finale we see the coven going to bed in their coffins, with Eglee in a gorgeous (maybe 1940s?) robe, Celeste in a striped pajama suit reflecting her 1920s-30s cabaret style, and Armand in a plain grey set of prison jammies because he's Suffering.

of course, the star pajama outfits all belong to Louis and Lestat, playing into their wealthy domestic aesthetic in S1. they receive multiple bedroom/coffin scenes, and Lestat's gold Leyendecker robe is obviously iconic.

touching on the historical side of things for a moment, pajamas (as in a matching buttondown top and loose pants) were popularized in the western world in the 19th century, as a repurposed south asian import - kind of like how banyans became trendy among the upper classes in 18th century england. this was when loungewear started to catch on as a concept, both in terms of dressing gowns and smoking jackets (which you could wear while socializing at home) and actual pajamas, which became unisex in the 1920s.

back in his human life in the 18th century, Lestat probably slept naked or wore a shapeless white nightgown (and possibly a nightcap, the sexiest of garments). but in New Orleans he adopts Louis' lifestyle, which involves a luxurious wardrobe of fashionable menswear. they're both into shopping and looking good, and i think they enjoy the ritual of getting dressed together each night.

(i also have a personal theory that Lestat may prefer to sleep fully clothed because his formative traumatic memory involves waking up naked in the dark. after all, he doesn't need pajamas to stay warm, and he doesn't have a recent habit of wearing them in his human life like Louis does. then again, maybe he just enjoys having a new outfit for every occasion!)

in Dubai, we only get one scene (iirc) with Louis and Armand in their pajamas, lying in bed wearing outfits that tie into the striped prison bar imagery of their bedroom. Armand is in warmer brown tones (like his Paris wardrobe) while Louis is in black and grey, like the rest of his Dubai outfits. i'd also note that this is the one place where they're genuine in private, meaning that they aren't putting on a show for Daniel. so this is potentially Armand's most relaxed costume in the present day.

the fact that they're wearing this kind of old-school sleepwear feels very appropriate for their whole deal, imo. in the 21st century, a lot of people just sleep in boxers and t-shirts or whatever. there's a slightly 20th century vibe to wearing a full set of buttondown pajamas, and Armand's outfit reads as more stylish (and possibly more wealthy) than your average millennial guy. which makes sense! they're old men.

i think we can assume that every single thing in their Dubai home is ferociously expensive, even when it doesn't need to be. considering the way Louis gives himself a modern makeover in the finale, i do wonder if he'll switch over to sleeping in t-shirts etc next season, or if he'll stick with variations of the same sleepwear he wore during his mortal life.

p.s. all of my iwtv design posts are available on this tag!

[zepskies]

Green

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader, Ben and daughter!OC

Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

AN: Another one-shot for the BMD-verse, set sometime after "Until Morning" (you'll see). This can be read as standalone as well!

Word Count: 2,500 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Father and daughter fluff, followed by husband and wife spice.~

Read more of the BMD-verse! ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Father and daughter were glaring at one another, gazes locked.

Green against green.

“Young lady, I’m telling you right now. I’m not gonna tolerate any more of your little attitude,” said Ben. “If you want to try me, be my guest.”

He held the ravioli poised on a pink plastic spoon. His daughter Lila sat in her highchair in the kitchen, boldly refusing any more of her lunch.

Her stubborn face reminded him entirely too much of you. But he needed her to eat. He wouldn’t have it said when you came home that he couldn’t feed a damn two-year-old.

He huffed. “Work with me here. Just a couple more bites.”

Lila made a shrill sound of refusal when the spoon came near her face. He knew she could use a spoon just fine. She was being difficult on purpose.

To demonstrate her resolve, she slapped at the ravioli with a chubby little hand, and it ended up splashing back into the bowl. A bit of red sauce splattered onto Ben’s cheek, with a pinch of it hitting his eye.

He blinked in annoyance. “Delilah Marie, I swear to Christ—”

She’s just a baby, a voice that sounded a lot like you infiltrated his mind. It still didn’t take away his aggravation.

“No!” Lila insisted. It was her favorite word, right behind Bluey.

She then pushed the bowl right off the highchair. It spilled ravioli and pasta sauce all over the floor in spectacular fashion. Ben was sitting in his own chair by the dining table, where he moved his feet back at the last moment. She almost got his Italian loafers.

“You gotta be f…” It took every scrap of patience within him to hold his tongue…and breathe calmly through his nose. He didn’t want to reward this destructive, disrespectful behavior, but he also knew that he needed his daughter to eat.

“Want some applesauce?” he said, as a peace offering.

Lila’s face scrunched.

“No applesauce, huh?” Ben muttered. He glanced at the mess across the highchair and the formerly white tile on the floor. “Your mother’s gonna have a conniption.”

“Mommy?” Lila asked. “Mommy’s home?”

“No, she’s not here right now,” Ben replied. “She’ll be home later.”

Lila seemed to understand, because that’s when she got upset again. Her red-stained finger drew a shapeless form in the sauce as she pouted. At least she wasn’t crying.

Ben sighed, once again, and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

Fuck it.

“You want some ice cream?” he bribed.

Her sadness dissipated at the thought; she smiled brightly and nodded. “Yeah!”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grumbled.

After a scoop of strawberry ice cream for each of them (she liked it because it was pink), Ben wrangled her up out of the highchair and declared, bath time.

He did fine with the bathing process. He’d helped you with this before, and so he knew what to do in order to wash the sauce off her face, hands, and even her hair. It was what came after the bath that remained a problem.

Lila was stubborn beyond belief, even before she could articulate what it was about the soft green onesie that she didn’t like. No, she wasn’t satisfied until Ben pulled out the yellow Starlight themed pajamas. Probably because they had “Auntie Annie’s” face all over them.

He rolled his eyes, but this wasn’t a hill he needed to die on. He dressed Lila and tried to tuck her into bed for her afternoon nap. The problem was, she refused to lie still in the crib.

Instead, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, using the edge of the crib for balance. He’d be impressed, if she wasn’t trying to climb out and give him a small heart attack.

He grabbed her and gathered her against his chest. Despite the super strength you’d temporarily displayed off and on throughout your pregnancy, Lila’s powers were latent at the moment. Dr. Baker seemed to think Lila would start to display them once she got old enough. Like Ryan, who hadn’t started growing into his powers until around 10 years old.

So for now, Lila was a mostly normal two-year-old who could still get hurt.

Ben frowned. “This is the time you usually go down. Why do you have so much energy?”

She just giggled at him and put both hands on his face, over his eyes.

“Daddy, guess who?”

He sighed, but couldn’t help smiling. As usual, he indulged her.

“Could it be my baby girl?”

He waited until her hands came away from his eyes, and he opened them wide.

“There she is!”

She squealed and giggled and grabbed his hair when he kissed her cheek. In the comfort of his own home, he could afford to be this openly affectionate.

Aw shit, he thought, as something occured to him.

He finally realized why she was so fucking hyper. Maybe it had something to do with the giant scoop of ice cream she’d had for lunch.

Goddamn it. Ben sighed and unwrapped her arm from around his head.

“Okay, let’s watch some TV.”

Lila didn’t seem all that interested in watching anything, or even playing with her toys. She mainly wanted to jump on Ben’s stomach while he was trying to relax on the couch. He put on a football game you taped for him. Or recorded, as you'd said.

“All right, enough. Your old man’s trying to watch the game,” Ben said, bringing Lila down to sit in lap.

That lasted for about two seconds. Thereafter, she was climbing up his chest and trying to smother him with her little hands.

He took her hand from his nose so he could at least breathe in peace.

“Where’s Mommy?” Lila asked, as she sat on his shoulder and beat a little fist on the top of his head.

“She’s with your aunt,” Ben replied. “Well, not your real one, the fake one.”

Lila made a sound of confusion. Realizing that she didn’t know what the hell he meant, he rephrased.

“She’s with your Aunt Annie. They’ll be back soon,” he said.

He didn’t mind you wanting a day out to yourself. What he minded was the attitude you’d struck when he suggested dropping Lila off with Louisa, your actual sister.

“What, you can’t handle her alone for one day?” you’d asked.

His pride hadn’t allowed him to say no to that.

So here he was, with a wily toddler who was doing her damndest to suffocate him. Better attempts than this had failed, but it was still annoying while he was trying to watch the game.

Somehow, he managed to tune it out while he watched the ref make a bad call.

“What was that?! You gotta be kidding me!” Ben said, holding Lila to his chest even as he pointed and shouted at the TV. “Son of a bitch. What a pussy call that was.”

“Bish, bish, bish,” Lila said, making a game out of the word. It called Ben’s attention.

He forgot about the game for a moment when he looked down at her. His eyes widened a fraction, even as a smile pulled at his lips.

“What’d you just say?”

“Bishhhhhh,” Lila repeated. “Somvabishhhh.” Her lips squished like a fish. And then she giggled, like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

“Aw, fuck,” Ben uttered.

And he pressed his lips together with ever widening eyes at what he’d just said.

Lila grinned. “Fack!”

“Uhh, no. No. Don’t say that,” he said, trying to sound stern. Inside, he was trying not to laugh. He didn't really give a shit what she said, but you were particular about the kid not inheriting his vocabulary.

In fact, he was pretty sure you were going to go nuclear for this one.

“Why?” Lila asked.

“Because it’s uh…a bad word,” Ben replied, even though he wanted to roll his eyes at himself. This was what he’d become. A suburban dad.

"And it's not ladylike," he added.

“Fackkkk,” Lila giggled some more.

Christ on a cross. Ben bit the inside of lip hard to stop himself from laughing.

“Whatever. Just don’t say it around your mom,” he relented. He brushed his fingers through her soft brown hair. She preened at the attention, like the little showboat she was.

“Daddyyyy…” Lila wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled as deeply into him as she could, like a koala clinging to a shaking branch.

Ben sighed and rubbed a hand up and down her back as he cradled her against him.

These were the moments he didn’t mind. In fact, these were the moments he did his best to remember. They helped block out the older, darker ones that this kid would never know.

Ben woke to the shutter of a camera going off.

He blinked his bleary eyes open to find you standing there with a highly amused smile on your face, and your phone poised in your hand.

He groaned, but he soon realized that Lila was sleeping in his arms, on his chest. You leaned down and rested a hand on her back. You also greeted him with a kiss to his temple.

“Long day?” you teased quietly.

Ben gave you a deadpan look, one that had you straining to taper down your giggles. Though he drew you closer by your hip and squeezed the soft flesh over your white sundress. He took you in with a lazy once-over.

You looked good. Sexy as hell, really. Your face was glowing and relaxed, and he liked the shade of red you’d done on your nails.

“You have a good time?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, massaging his shoulder. Though you arched a brow. “There’s a catastrophe in the kitchen.”

Ben blinked.

Fuck. He forgot about that.

“Yep,” he said, giving you a teasing smirk of his own. “Right on time for you, baby.”

You chuckled, though your eyes narrowed in warning. “Yeah, right.”

You still helped him put Lila down in the nursery for the rest of her nap. She yawned and turned over onto her back. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, though you had to smile when it accidentally left the red mark of your lipstick behind.

You bit your lip and gently rubbed it off without waking her up. (An amazing damn feat, as far as you were concerned.)

Ben laid a heavy hand on your back, prompting you to straighten up and turn into his waiting embrace.

His lips curved as he looked down at you. “Hey.”

You laughed quietly. “Hey, yourself.”

Your hands glided up his chest, and further still to hold his face. You brought him down to kiss you, with your fingers slipping into his hair, and your nails dragging along his scalp. He hummed into your mouth.

“Miss me?” you teased.

Ben huffed. As usual though, his answer was in his actions. He held you close for a moment, just to feel you there.

Your arms slipped around his, clinging to his shoulders as you rested against him. This was your safe, comfortable place where you always felt at home.

But, you couldn’t help but break the spell.

“Come on. Clean up on aisle 12,” you quipped, reaching around to smack his ass.

Ben rolled his eyes, but when you pulled away from him, he followed you into the kitchen.

“You know, I had a lot going on. Your kid is a fucking menace,” he said. “Like a bull in a China shop.”

You scoffed. “She’s only my kid when she gives you a hard time. Where do you think she gets it from?”

“You,” he retorted.

You had to laugh at that one. It still didn’t get him out of helping you clean the kitchen from top to bottom.

After a long shower, waking an errant child from her nap, dinner, and a joint effort of getting Lila to sleep for the night, Ben joined you in bed wearing just his usual sweatpants.

You’d opted for some black satin, he noticed.

Good, he thought, for the night to come. You’d spent the whole day getting massaged and moisturized and whatever else women did on a day out.

When he rolled onto his side, you greeted him with a smile and a hand running up his arm, already pulling him toward you. His hand glided along your bare thigh as you hooked it over his hip.

“I need to tell you something, but you’ve gotta promise not to say anything to anyone,” you whispered in the small space between his face and yours, and you tapped his chin.

Ben raised a brow and squeezed your thigh. Whatever it was, couldn’t it wait until long after he’d undressed you?

“What?” he asked.

“Annie’s pregnant!” you said with a wide smile. “Six weeks. She just told me today.”

Ben blinked at that one. “Is it Hughie’s kid?”

“Wha…of course, it is!”

“Wow. Guess he had it in him after all,” Ben remarked. “Who woulda thought.”

You shook your head, but his grin made you laugh.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, through your remaining giggles, though you leaned forward and stole a kiss. It led Ben to want more, and more of you.

He started to ply you with slow, lazy kisses that grew deeper, becoming all-consuming as his tongue warred against yours. His hands dove under the satin covering your body, and his thumbs brushed the sides of your breasts.

“Maybe it’s time we go for number two,” he said.

You uttered another incredulous laugh, gripped a fist in his hair and tugged. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me,” Ben said. He rolled you onto your back and pinned you there. “Ain’t no way we’re stopping at one. Lila needs a brother.”

“You can’t even handle one,” you teased. Your hands slid up his arms and then down his chest. “Baby, we can talk about having more kids, but—”

“And? We’re talking now,” he said. He dipped his head to start kissing a hot, wet line down your neck. It made your breath falter and your back start to arch. Your hips shifted against his, trying to find friction. You could feel his length hardening against your thigh.

“Ben,” you warned, and implored, but the graze of his teeth on your neck made you shudder.

Your grip on his arms tightened. “Please…”

“Please what?” he smirked against your skin. His hips rocked against your heated core.

This conversation was going into a no man’s land very fast.

You literally took matters into your own hands…by reaching down and grasping your husband’s cock through his sweatpants. You gave him a demanding squeeze.

His breath hitched. Ben paused, unlatching from your neck, and turning his lips toward your cheek.

“I’m listening,” he said, in a gritted voice. You smirked.

“We can, and we will talk about this,” you promised. “Just not when you’re about to be balls-deep inside me.”

You were back on birth control anyway (the pill this time).

Ben chuckled. His hand reached up and smoothed your hair away from your forehead.

“Fine,” he conceded. A smirk grew across his face. “But we can still practice.”

A giggle fell from your lips, just before he claimed them once again.

AN: A little callback to the BMD Epilogue at the end there. 😂

What did you think about the father/daughter time? And do you think Ben won against either of the ladies in his life? 🤣

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, in a drama-filled episode, you and Ben do what you two do best in Calculated Risks:

Summary: You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

▶️ Keep Reading: Calculated Risks

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxoviennaa @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[twstfanblog]

Hello I have a request, if you aren't doing requests please ignore this! But anyways the request is that may I have the TWST characters (especially the housewardens) and how would they react see their s/o in like traditional clothing from their world (example: Chinese traditional clothing is like qipao) Thank you so much! Have a fabulous day 💝

Qipao (Traditional & Modern) Reactions

Housewardens x Reader

Riddle

Traditional

Thinks the dress is beautiful. Even though it's loose, it still carries an air of professionalism. A perfect garment for his lovely rose. Really likes the modest nature of them.

Asks you lots of questions on the history of the garment if you know it. Ask if he could wear one as well. Just so many questions, he's pulled out a notebook to take notes.

Matching rose patterned qipao/tang suit for walks in the garden together!

Modern

WHY IS THE SLIT SO HIGH!?

Still thinks it's a very pretty dress, but he can not stop looking at the thigh slit. It compels him. Good lord, you're not even wearing tights!

Struggling to remain polite, but the dress is form fitting and you have a very lovely ass- excuse him, he needs to...be...out of the public eye.

Leona

Traditional

Jokingly calls it your fancy potato sack. Apologizes if you get actually mad at him calling it that.

Lowkey, he really likes it and does enjoy that it's still comfortable enough for you to nap with him. Half serious asks if they're pajamas.

Will start wearing Dashikis when you wear your qipao. Cultural matching ❤️

Modern

AYO-

Goes dead silent, his eyes are watching your every move. The dress is tight, the slit is mid thigh. You look good and he's pissed you're not in grabbing distance.

Tells you you can't wear that qipao outside of his room. Not even Ramshackle. Now walk closer, he's gonna...grab ya.

Azul

Traditional

Fascinated and asking questions. Both about the cultural history and the manufacturing side.

Thinks it's a very lovely dress with high marketing potential; simple yet perfect for all class levels due to the fabric and embroidery you can make with.

Lowkey wants to gift you some more because he just likes them so much and he thinks you look elegant in them (Be his spouse please).

Modern

Honestly, it took him a hot minute to really notice. Since modern qipaos are made to be so fancy, he first started picking it apart to discern value like he does all new things.

Really noticed the silhouette and how revealing it was once he looked at the chest area and saw how tight it was.

Compliments the dress but then says he has important business to do. No, he will NOT stand up-

Kalim

Traditional

OH! You look so pretty! You always look pretty, but the qipao just makes you look EXTRA pretty like every other thing you wear.

He's breaking down the outfir by the quality of fabric alone. He pouts it's not 100% some super rare silk that only grows in 4 parts of the world in Spring during the rain on a full moon.

Whining at you and Jamil to let him make so many qipaos. He will have a literally factory up and running by mid day just to make you more of these gorgeous slips so that you're always cozy.

Modern

Nearly ruins it doing a spit take at seeing you. The boy is too stunned to speak, mouth open and getting coconut juice all over his front.

Once he snaps out of it he's all smiles again and asking you to show it off. Do a spin! The fabic is so pretty when you twirl, can you dance in it!? Come dance with him!

Lowkey just way too excited about you being in them. Fills him with some kind of energy where he just wants to hold you and spin around with you. Keeps fighting himself to not get down on one knee.

Vil

Traditional

'Oh?'

Interested in them but has his complaints (as always). He doesn't like how they hang shapeless, but the positives manage to outweigh the negatives in its function and appearance. Over all thinks its a cute house dress design and that you look nice in them.

Ends up commissioning some silk qipaos to have as lounge wear. Being comfortable, yet ready to host is an amazing new option he's gained.

Modern

'OH!?'

More complaints but it's because the dress is so sexy. It's too tight, the slit shows too much thigh, the boob window is unnecessary. He won't stop complaining but lowkey is so FLUSTERED.

He keeps tugging and picking at the outfit like he isn't pulling you into his lap to mutter into your neck all his frustrations on having such an attractive partner.

Idia

Traditional

Almost didnt really notice because he was showing you something in his game. Once he does notice he remarks on how nice you look.

Honestly, doesn't say much about it but will take notice if you wear them a lot when you go see him. He'll ask about them, asks if you really like them. He can and will buy you a bunch of them in various colors and patterns.

He does get you matching ones of your mains in the current MMO he's dragged you into. Lazy cosplaying for the win.

Modern

He took one look and froze, only unfroze because he started dying in game.

How could you do this? Why have you come into his room looking SEXY and forced him to look at you? What do you think hes gonna do???? Rip your clothes off and throw you on the bed????

He keeps peeking at you then turning away with his hair giving away just how flustered he is. Still manages to stutter out how nice you look.

Malleus

Traditional

Oh look at this. His lovely child of man is in new clothing. Please give him the entire history on the garment.

Lowkey, I think he'd really like them. It's very simple but with the potential of being super fancy just with easy fabric choices and embroidery.

Compliments you all the time when he sees you wearing one. Asks if only certain people can wear them. Do you think he'd look good in one? Just really likes them.

Modern

"...So, would you like a Summer wedding?"

This a dangerous game. He loves you so much already, but now you show him how attractive you are in tight clothing that shows off your skin? He will marry you, he will marry you so fast.

Lowkey rips it on accident, and apologies for hours. God forbid if you got one with a dragon winding around you. He honeslty got a little territorial and that's why his claws got caught on the stitching...

[kokororyuu]

sleep well [bakugou katuski x reader]

synopsis: being sick is a crime, you decide, and katsuki just so happens to be a cop.

warnings ⚠️: none c:

word count: 641

author’s note: ngl i’m using this blog as an excuse to post my almost yr old drabbles yippee hurray

it’s cold.

and it’s six am. another sleepless night has passed. you drag yourself from the warmth of your bedsheets and blankets, up and out of your dorm room, and to the common room.

your feet meet fuzzy carpet with every step, and you thank it’s not tile as a shiver travels down your spine.

six am and the dew on the windows is still fresh, sunshine casts through them in rays, and you grumble at the lack of warmth they provide you as it hits your skin.

maybe it’s time to sit, you bargain and plop onto the grey sofa in the living room, curling up into the arm of it as your eyes slide close.

it’s like a spell. your body molds into the crevice of the sofa the second you land. your mind fogs up, head warm — hot — you’re shaking — you’re shivering, but your eyes are too heavy. you don’t know what’s going on.

you can’t even open your eyes to the steady footsteps padding down the hallway. they come closer and closer, louder and louder. they echo in your head.

there’s a pause as they reach the end of the hallway, and they make a gruff noise, a click of their tongue before trudging towards you.

a hot hand rests against your forehead for a second, and you both flinch — too hot.

“you’re fucking burning,” katsuki hisses and pulls his hand away. you moan and groan when he clicks his tongue again, but can’t find the energy to wiggle out of his grasp when calloused hands reach for you, and he holds you so gently in his arms. “idiot,” he jabs in a murmur, the sway of his steps carrying you to who-knows-where a distraction.

a door opens, then closes, and you’re eventually enveloped in soft linen and cinnamon (and faintly caramelized sugar).

you take a deep breath and sigh so soft. your head is supported by piled silky sheets, and a blanket swaddles you so gently. you feel safe.

there’s a chuckle and shuffling of feet. katsuki rests his hand on your head again and makes up his mind on whatever he had been grumbling about earlier. he fades away, out of the room. you take a breath in and out, and he’s back.

hands sit you up despite your mumbled protests and a spoon prods at your lips. you open, yuck, it’s bitter, and your face shows it, but the spoon is more insistent than your pursed lips.

after the bitter sip comes something warm, flavorful, and you know it’s katsuki’s cooking. you can hear it in the prideful hum he gives when you eat the soup without complaints.

he finishes feeding you, and you finish eating, now warm and content and sleepy.

there’s more steps being taken, leaving and coming back before you finally hear his voice again and feel his touch.

“sleep.”

he says, and it seals your fate, every bone, every fiber in you relaxing with his knuckles grazing your cheek. you feel him begin to pull away but muster the strength to lift a hand from under the heavy blankets and stop him.

your gaze, heavy-lidded and hazy land on the shapeless form of him, dorn in loose sweatpants and a tight-fitting tank top, though his usual scowl is replaced with something serene, soft.

“stay.”

your voice is hoarse and no more than a whisper, but he hears you anyway (he always does). he sighs, quiet, and easily lifts the weighted sheets to slide under them with you. you shuffle back to make room, but once he settles, his arm circles around your waist and tugs.

you’re sick, but you’re warm, sleepy, and wrapped in the arms of a boy who hides his red face from you, your head tucked beneath his chin.

you’re safe.

finally, you lose yourself to sleep.

[gingerteawrites]

CARE - Where Zhongli takes care of sick reader

A/N: I've been feeling pretty unwell these past few days, so of course I had to make it a fictional character's problem. I'm also trying to post more often, but finals season is kicking my butt. I'm SO looking forward to winter break.

Content: Zhongli x reader, comfort, fluff.

Banner by: @anitalenia

Zhongli first realized something was off when the smell of his delicious breakfast and tea did not lure you into the kitchen like it usually did on Saturday mornings. After plating the food, he walked into your shared bedroom, quietly pushing the door open. The blinds were still shut, but small rays stubbornly filtered through, casting light over a shapeless form under the sheets.

"My love?" he called out, his deep voice coming as a soft rumble. With you not responding, he moved to sit on his side of the bed, reaching over to place a hand where he estimated your waist was. "Do you want breakfast?"

Your response was a grumble, reluctantly pulling your head out of the shelter of the duvet. He placed a hand on your cheek, ready to coax you out of bed, but his brows furrowed at the uncomfortable warmth radiating from your skin.

"You're burning, love," he moved his hand to your forehead, then down your neck to confirm the sensation. You sighed softly, his cool hands offering slight relief over the large expanse of skin they covered.

"My head hurts..." were the first words you managed to mumble, eyes closing again.

Zhongli, who spent the rest of the weekend nursing you back to health. His sweet words and gentle hands were all he needed to persuade you to let him help, even after your weak protests of being potentially contagious.

Helping you wash up. Making sure you were hydrated. Feeding you lotus and egg soup and even requesting advice from Baizhu. He was as diligent as ever, pushing his worries aside. And instead taking action to ensure you were well.

"Another bite, sweetheart, okay? You need your strength back," He held the spoon up to your lips, voice as soft as ever as he fed you a concoction the doctor recommended.

You felt bad for being so difficult, cursing your body for its weakness and susceptibility to microbes. But Zhongli was quick to dissipate these noxious thoughts, kissing your cheeks with an overwhelming tenderness.

"You can never be a burden to me, Y/N. In sickness and in health, remember? Taking care of you is just another declaration of my love for you." His amber eyes bore into yours. "So let me, okay?"

He had vowed to love you regardless of circumstances, and was firmly committed to upholding that promise. Love was, after all, the most powerful of contracts.

Since his banner is currently on re-run I have been thinking a lot about Zhongli. Hope you enjoyed!

Comments are reblogs are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[elvirable]

Ambrosia (Act 1)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act ———–

Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you. *will update description at some point. ———– A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!

-------

Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.

Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.

Astarion knew all this. 

He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?

And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.

Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.

Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.

It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront. 

With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips. ==

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth. 

But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.

Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him. 

However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.

And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise. 

“Shit.”

You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.

He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between. 

Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.

“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”

Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.

Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”

He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.

Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.

Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw. ==

There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you. 

Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue. 

You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.

Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.

Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open. 

That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.

He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.

Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .

Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware. 

You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.

This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm. 

==

The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit. 

Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.

“You’re such a tease .”

You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed. 

When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow. 

He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.

Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock. 

Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked. 

The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss. 

Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.

It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.

Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.

He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest. 

In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of. 

His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.

Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

[coldfanbou]

Tiebreaker

Umji fic! I really wanted to write Umji again, so I came back to this little series.

Length 2.4K

Umji x Mreader

Previous Part

Next Part

The next day, you woke up beside Eunha. You turn onto your side, watching her sleeping form as she turns to face you. The last night, you had gotten home and crashed on your bed before Eunha had even arrived. You continue to watch her for a few more moments before slowly raising your arm and cupping her cheek. It was soft and squishy, making you smile. You pull back your arm as she yawns and opens her eyes. “Good morning,” she mumbles before stretching her arms toward you. “I want a hug.” You move closer, letting her wrap her arms around you. 

“Good morning, Eunha. About last night…”

“Did you enjoy it? Umji told me all about it.” She kisses your cheek, her soft lips lingering on your skin for just a second before she pulls back. “So? Did you?”

“I-uh, Eunha, why did you let her?”

“She said she wanted to repay you for helping her out earlier, and I suggested it. Guys like sex, right?” Eunha gives you an innocent smile, seeing nothing wrong with the situation.

“Yeah, but I’m dating you. I just think it was…” You trail off, unsure how to continue.

“I know we’re dating,” Eunha says before giving you a kiss. “SinB is also my best friend. I know she’s not going to take you away from me.” Eunha buries her head in your chest, moving from side to side as she rubs against you. ��Besides, it’s not like I’d like just anyone have sex with you. You’re my boyfriend, after all. Now, did you enjoy it?”

You sigh, “Yeah, I enjoyed it.” 

Eunha giggles, “I’m glad. I hope you know you have to make it up to me now. I want to have some fun, too.” 

“Of course,” You say, moving your hands down her back until you reach her ass.

“Not now. We have class soon.”

“Can’t we just skip for the day?” Eunha fills her cheeks with air and furrows her brow, giving you her angry face. “Okay, okay, we’ll go to class.” Eunha squishes your cheek between her thumb and index finger before getting up. Her oversized T-shirt gave her a shapeless form; it hid her curvy body from you. You continue to watch her as she gets it over her head, leaving her in just her panties. Eunha felt something watching her and turned around to see you staring. A slight blush crossed her face before she threw her shirt at you. 

“Stop staring; we have to get ready,” Eunha said, covering her chest and denying you a look at her perfect mounds. You sit up and turn your back to her, grabbing your clothes and getting ready for the day. Once you were prepared, you turned back to Eunha, looking her up and down. 

“Aren’t you going to get cold?” You ask, pointing to her bare legs. Eunha’s outfit consisted of a white T-shirt, an oversized wool coat, a short skirt, and boots. 

Eunha looks down at her outfit before returning her gaze to you. “I’ll be fine.” Eunha presses her thighs together; they jiggle slightly as they come unstuck. “If my legs get cold, you’ll warm them up, right?” You huff and agree. She gives you a toothy smile before turning to the mirror in the room and making some last-minute adjustments. You come up behind her and wrap your arms around Eunha. She can’t help but have a massive grin on her face. Her small hands tapped your arms; they were cold and sent a shiver down your spine. Eunha noticed your reaction and reached up, poking your cheek with her cold finger. You pull away from her; Eunha spins around, still pointing her finger at you, and begins to follow you. “It’s not that cold!” She shouts as she chases you around the room. 

“It is that cold!” You yell back as you roll over your bed to get to the other side. Eunha leaps in an attempt to get you but ends up halfway on the bed. You laugh at her as she remains lying on the bed face down. You reach over and poke her cheek. “You can wear my gloves. Now, come on, you said we have to get to class.”

Eunha raises herself onto her arms and stares at you, pouting. You just think about how cute she is and use your pointer fingers to force a smile on her. The situation is too silly for Eunha, and she breaks into a genuine smile. Kissing Eunha’s forehead, you grab her bag and wait by the door. Eunha pops up from bed and hurries to your side, holding her bag as you go out the door.

“So what's on the menu today? What class are we going to go to?” 

“I can’t remember. I wrote it on this piece of paper, but it got all smudged.” Eunha replies as she pulls out a piece of paper from her bag. “At least I can read the building and room number.” The two of you continue to chat until you reach SinB’s home. She heads out the door, scratching her head as she yawns. She pauses when she sees you, giving you a look before grouping up with you. Eunha is the one to break the silence, “SinB, why the face? Are you too busy remembering last night?” 

SinB turns her head away from you two, “As if, why would I want to remember having sex with him?” 

Eunha has her usual playful smile as she pats SinB’s bottom, “Don’t say that; Umji told me all about how much you were enjoying it.” SinB’s face turned red; she struggled to believe that. She stammered, unable to get a word out and instead walking faster, just ahead of you and Eunha.”Yah, don’t be so shy, SinB.” Eunha says teasingly as she catches up to her taller friend. You watch the two bicker as you make your way to the classroom, stopping only when you see Umji. Eunha noticed her, too, “UMJI!” She yells, waving her arm in the air. The young woman notices you all and nervously approaches. “Umji, SinB was having fun yesterday, right?”

Umji blushes and looks at the ground, embarrassed after being put on the spot. She gives a slight nod. “See! You were enjoying yourself. Was he that good that you’re embarrassed?” Eunha asked.

“I- Why don’t you just fuck him yourself?!” SinB retorts. 

“That doesn’t help me at all! I already know he’s good. Umji. Be our tiebreaker.” 

You jump into the conversation. “Hold on a second; this isn’t what the conversation is about. I don’t think we need to-”

“I’ll do it.” Umji interrupts. You do a double-take after hearing that. 

“Yay! We have about a half hour before class starts. I’m sure we can find a room for you two; let's go. You try to argue why your thoughts don’t count, only to be rebuffed by Eunha saying they need to know. You look over at Umji, but she refuses to look at you for the moment; anytime you glance at her, her eyes shoot in the other direction. You look her over; Umji is a pretty girl with a great body.  She wore a nice dress, revealing her shapely legs and thick thighs. She caught you staring at her and had on a shy smile. Eunha pushes you to her side, “Don’t be shy, you two.” Your group walks around the building looking for somewhere appropriate when Eunha ends up finding a classroom that wouldn’t be in use today. “It’s perfect; here, you two go in, and we’ll wait outside.” Neither you nor Umji get a word in because Eunha pushes you inside the room. It was a science lab with large tables set up for groups to work on experiments. 

Once inside, you stare at each other, unsure who should make the first move. It came down to Umji; she raised her dress. You got a good look at her panties; they were a red lacy pair. She was still nervous, looking at the ground, struggling with what to do next. She slowly raises her eyes, stopping momentarily when she notices your growing bulge. “C-can I touch it?” You nod and watch her step forward, her hand extending out. Umji’s hand rubs your bulge through your pants. 

“Can I touch you?” Umji gives you a nod. You move your hand under her dress, moving along her smooth stomach until you reach her panties. As you move across her cunt you feel a small wet spot. Umji lets out a small whine as you touch her. Her breathing gets heavier. “Excuse me,” You say before capturing her lips. Your other hand moves one of the shoulder straps off her before you do the same with the other strap. Umji’s dress falls to the ground, revealing her matching underwear. Your hands wander her body, touching and squeezing her as they explore it. They find a home at her waist. 

Umji moans lightly as you dig your hands into her waist. Her hands work to get your pants, initially struggling with your belt before managing to get it unbuckled. Once that’s done, she pulls your pants and underwear down as you plant another kiss on her. Umji finds your cock; she runs her fingers along your shaft before reaching the head, making you grunt. Her hand fully wraps around your cock; Umji takes her time, pumping your cock slowly as she watches your reaction. “Does this feel good?” 

“It feels really good, Umji.” You moan. She was in full control for the moment. While she pleasured you, you decided to strip her further, unlatching her bra and tossing it onto one of the many tables. Umji’s tits were slightly bigger than SinB’s and topped with small nubs. Her nipples were hard; you raised your hand to them, pulling them lightly, eliciting a moan from her. Umji’s voice was beautiful; in a way, it was thick and smooth like honey. You were drawing close to your climax, and wanting to delay it, you moved your hands down to Umji’s ass, lifting her onto one of the tables. She continued to jerk you off her palm, rubbing against the head, being coated in your precum. 

As you hook your fingers around Umji’s panties, she stops and lays back on the cold table. You pull them off slowly, dragging out the process as you get a look at her pussy. She had a landing strip of hair above her wet cunt. Umji’s lips were plump and glistened. You unconsciously inched closer to it, your tongue poking out between your lips as you kissed her folds. Umji ‘s body shudders as she feels your tongue move between her lips. “A-ah,” she moans. Umji has one hand on her breast, toying with her nipple as the other rests on your head. You drag your tongue along her lips again and spread her legs further apart. You spread her lips apart and look at the pretty pink color of her pussy before pushing your tongue inside her. Umji’s back arcs, and her hand grabs onto your hair. “It’s inside,” she whispers. Umji shuts her eyes as your tongue continues to invade her. Her senses focus on the pleasure, the feeling of your tongue pressing against her walls, and the slight pain she inflicts on herself as she pinches her nipples. Her core begins to tighten as her orgasm begins to come forward. Umji rocks her hips; her voice fills the room for a moment before she covers her mouth and muffles them. 

You can taste her nectar on your tongue and figure with her actions; she was on the verge of cumming. You pull away, denying her for the moment. You take in Umji’s body again as you grab your cock and slide it between her lips. “Mmm, please, I want it. I’m so close.”  You continue to slide between Umji’s lips, coating your cock in her nectar before you press the head against her entrance. You push in slowly, and Umji’s walls squeeze your cock as you move inside her. “Oh god,” Umji groans as she cranes her neck back. 

“Fuck you’re tight.” You grunt. Moving your hands to her waist, you hold onto her tightly and pull her closer. Umji grips your arms as she feels your cock bury itself inside her. Umji wraps her legs around you, holding you in place. You lean in and kiss Umji before you begin thrusting. Your foreheads remain together as your thrusts find a steady pace. Umji shuts her eyes and moans your name as you take her; her legs lose their strength as she becomes overwhelmed. You move down her body, kissing Umji’s neck as you make your way to her breasts. 

You use your tongue to flick her hardened nubs, and Umji’s moans become louder.  She leans forward, her legs squishing your sides. As she whines, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” You feel her walls clamp down around you. Umji was getting too loud as she came; you covered her moans by kissing her again. You played with her tongue as you reached your climax. Unable to pull out because of her leg lock, you bury yourself inside her as you cum. Umji’s whine goes higher as she feels your cum pour into her. Umji wraps her arms around you, holding you to the kiss. You softly thrust, giving Umji every drop before you pull out. Umji rests on the table, covered in a thin layer of sweat as cum flows out of her cunt. Umji scoops some of it and brings it to her face, spreading her fingers and watching the sticky strands stretch between her fingers. She brings her fingers into her mouth, sucking on them as her other hand teases her clit. 

The door to the room opens slowly, with Eunha entering while SinB stands guard. “It’s so nice to see you guys enjoy yourself.” She sees Umji on the floor with cum pouring out of her cunt. “Was it good, Umji?”

“Mhmm,” Umji hums as she nods her head. “It was great.” 

“I was right, SinB!” She shouts. “Come on, we have class soon. Get dressed!” Eunha says as she grabs your clothes, helping you get dressed. As she helps you, Eunha kisses your cheek. “I loved watching you have fun with Umji. I’ll have something special for you soon.”

[misspelledwordswizard]

Some forms of courtship of male wolves are to adopt dominant postures, like show their teeth or they may give gifts such as meat or bones, all to impress the female

I like to think that Twilight unconsciously does something similar, he stands at attention around you, puffs out his chest a little, if he hunts an animal he makes sure to pass close to you so you can see it, finds nice things around and leaves them in your stuff, etc

It's all about you, he wants your attention and approval so much unconsciously that he's like a puppy, If you want, he can lie on his back in front of you (act of submission or surrender) Just so you understand how much you have him wrapped around your finger, But please tell him he's doing everything good 🥺

I really like this, this idea itself is very good, and maybe it's because I like it so much that it was so difficult to do.

It took me a long time to get around to writing something about it, because all the ideas didn't seem good enough, and I still think it didn't turn out the way I wanted. But here it is!

Instincts

The Rancher approached me, with something in his hands, crouched down in front of me, where I was sitting, extended his closed hand towards me and opened it, revealing a golden ring with a blue stone in it. 

— What is this? – I asked, confused about why he had it, and why he was showing it to me, and not about what the object itself was. 

— A ring, I found it in a chest. It’s for you. – He answered, still with his hand extended, offering me the ring. – As soon as I saw it, I thought of you. – He concluded with a sweet smile on his lips. 

That made me smile too, it was really nice to know that someone thought of me seeing something like that, especially when that someone is Twilight. This feeling has been following me constantly for the last few weeks, I feel strangely silly when he’s around, and it feels like I’m going crazy, because I’m starting to think that maybe this could mean something more coming from him. This is probably just my deluded mind seeing things, but it makes me happy. 

I accepted the ring, he didn’t seem willing to give up on the idea of ​​me wearing it, and it fit perfectly on my ring finger, it felt right to be there, and it was really very beautiful.  Satisfied with that, the blond stood up and turned his attention to something Time had said, but I hadn’t heard it, as I was too focused on the present to notice the things around me. 

I sighed and hoped that no one was around to hear my silly act of a little girl in love, especially the Veteran and the Captain. I got up from the place I had been sitting under the shade of a tree. It was still morning, some of the boys had gone out to explore the surroundings of the place where we were camping and had just returned, as had Twilight. This ring was probably found in the surroundings. And now, he, Time and the Champion were going to hunt for our food. There wasn’t much to do. We would be staying here all day to replenish our supplies and regain our strength, as the next city was still far away. 

I went towards where Sky was sitting, he was sculping something on a small piece of wood, which ended up catching my attention.  I sat down next to him and was greeted by a kind smile. He seemed to understand my curiosity, because before saying anything he showed me the object he was working on. It still looked very unfinished, almost shapeless, but I was able to recognize that it was a bird. 

— It’s a hobby of mine, it helps me to distract myself.  

— I liked it, it’s really cool, but it seems difficult. You’re talented. – I replied, enchanted by the manual work, I wanted to know how to do things like that, it would be great to give as a gift.  

— Do you want to try? I can teach you if you want.  

— Are you sure? I won’t get in your way? – He just laughed at my question.  

— No, of course not, it will be fun!  

That was enough to convince me, after all, I was already very tempted. Sky gave me a square piece of wood that I could make whatever I wanted and asked me to choose something to carve. I thought for a moment, but soon a perfect image came to mind. He helped me mark the shape on the wood, and then he showed me how I should use the tools.  

It took a while for me to get the hang of it, but soon I was in the mood and we were both working on it, focused, taking advantage of this quiet time to talk.  He told me about his Zelda, and how he used to make her these cute little gifts. There came a time when we just talked about whatever came to mind, without much concern. 

Until the hero stopped talking, and something covered the sun behind me, creating a large shadow. Sky looked at what was behind me, looking surprised and confused, mostly confused, which made me look back too. And there he was, standing, at his full size, carrying a slaughtered boar on his shoulders with a certain pride, with his clothes even a little stained by the animal’s blood, Twilight. For some reason, he was just standing there, without reacting, staring at his brother with something that looked like a frown, which only made the situation stranger and more confusing. 

— Well, if you’ll excuse me, I needed to talk to Time, now that he’s back. – Sky said, getting up from his seat and leaving, with an expression that looked like understanding. 

I could see the wolf boy’s posture relax drastically, and finally, when Sky left us, his gaze turned directly to me, with a big smile on his face. I stood up, putting my unfinished work in one of the pockets of my belt, and turning my attention to him. 

— I got this. – That was all he said, keeping his proud smile on his lips, making me smile with his attitude. 

— Impressive! I’m sure the Cook and I will be able to make something very good out of this. 

His smile faltered for a moment at my words, but then he just nodded in agreement, satisfied for some reason. 

— Yes, I’ll help you. 

— Oh, no need, you’ve already done great at that. 

— No, it’s okay, I want to help you. 

I ended up just accepting that, so I went over to where Wild was to prepare lunch. He didn’t take too kindly to the idea of ​​the Rancher helping, saying there wouldn’t be much for him to do, but his insistence ended up winning the argument. He ended up only being left with the task of cutting the meat, in the end, but that seemed good enough for him. While the Champion and I took care of the rest and talked, he kept staring at his brother with that same weird frown. What’s gotten into him? 

After we did most of the work, all that was left was to wait until the meat cooked, so Wild released us from the task. I went to a corner to read, and for a moment, I thought Twilight would follow me to that corner, if he hadn’t been called by Warriors, making him sulk again. It’s a shame, I really wish I had his company right now. 

 I didn’t see him again then, at least not until now. After lunch I spent the rest of the afternoon going back to work on the wooden sculpture, I wanted it to be perfect. This was good, because it distracted me for hours, when I saw it, it was already getting dark, the boys who were out, for unknown reasons, returned, including my wolf boy, who came straight towards me, ignoring any calls from his brothers.  

He threw himself down next to me, resting his head on my shoulder and sighing. Poor thing, it must have been a tiring day for him. I put my work, now finished, aside and moved so I could look at him better, making him raise his head, attentive to my movements. I put a hand on his cheek, I felt hypnotized by his beauty, and it hit me even harder when I saw him melt into my hand, smiling. That was, until his smile died, for some reason, leaving me worried. Did I do something wrong?   

Before I could ask him anything about it, he pulled me into his lap, making me squeal in surprise, and pulled me close to his body, hugging me tightly in a protective manner. I couldn’t be more confused, but I’m definitely not complaining. 

— What’s wrong? – I asked softly, and he took a moment to answer, looking thoughtful. 

— You still smell like Sky. I’m taking care of it. 

I didn’t know what to say to that, I didn’t imagine that I could smell like someone else like that, but there was no point in contradicting him about it either, after all, Twilight’s sense of smell is definitely quite sharp. I sighed, relaxing against the strong man’s body with a goofy smile on my face. What a good day. 

— Oh, I have something for you! – I said, picking up the sculpture I had been working on, which was shaped like a wolf, or rather, Wolfie, and handing it to him. – Sorry, it didn’t turn out very well, I’m still learning. 

He held the gift carefully, analyzing it, looking surprised. Then he pulled me closer, giving me a tight hug and burying his face in my neck, I could feel him smiling against my skin. 

— Thank you, dear. – He said, looking me in the eyes again, and placing a warm kiss on my right cheek. 

[hayatheauthor]

Hi! Newbie writing who loves writing, I just wanted advice for how to write a character who is emotionally numb and distant and how they can overcome it?

Or who to write numbness in general?

Writing Detached Characters: A Guide to Emotional Numbness

Welcome to the latest instalment in my series on ‘how to write different emotions’. Contrary to the series title, today’s blog will be covering how to write a lack of emotion, or rather, emotional numbness. This is an area many writers covering PTSD, depression, or closed-off characters might be interested in. Thank you anon for the request, and I hope this blog helps you with your writing! 

Understanding the Motive for Emotional Numbness

Emotional numbness can stem from various sources and they all influence a character's behaviour differently. Understanding the root cause of their numbness is crucial to portraying them authentically. 

Trauma-Induced Numbness: Characters closed off due to trauma may appear more disconnected and guarded. Their numbness is a defence mechanism to avoid reliving painful experiences.

Chronic Stress: Prolonged exposure to stress can lead to emotional exhaustion and numbness. These characters might show signs of burnout and a lack of enthusiasm for activities they once enjoyed.

Depression: Characters dealing with depression may exhibit numbness as a symptom. They might struggle with feelings of hopelessness and an inability to experience pleasure.

Each motive ties directly into the character's behaviour, so it’s a good idea to research how numbness varies based on the cause.

How to Showcase Emotional Numbness in Your Writing

When crafting an emotionally numb character, subtlety is key. Here are some ways to show their numbness through various aspects of writing:

Body Language

Closed-off Posture: Crossed arms, avoiding eye contact, slumped shoulders.

Minimal Gestures: Limited use of hand movements, lack of expressive body language.

Tense Muscles: Frequently clenched jaw or fists, indicating suppressed emotions.

Lack of Physical Contact: Avoids hugs, handshakes, or any form of touch.

Facial Expressions

Blank Stare: Eyes that seem to look through people rather than at them.

Neutral Expressions: Rarely smiles or frowns, maintaining a consistently neutral face.

Delayed Reactions: Slow to show any reaction to surprising or emotional events.

Flat Affect: Consistent lack of facial movement or expression regardless of the situation.

Note: remember to not take this too far! This isn’t to say your character doesn’t feel anything at all and will never react to anything but more so that their reactions will be very muted. Yes, they can get happy/surprised, etc. but they won’t have wide grins or loud exclamations of shock. 

Appearance

Plain Wardrobe: Clothes that are simple, unassuming, and devoid of vibrant colours; preferences for baggy/shapeless clothing. 

Neglect of Personal Grooming: Messy hair, unshaven, or generally unkempt appearance.

Monochrome Outfits: Preference for neutral, muted colours like grey, black, and white.

Practical Over Fashionable: Chooses functionality over style, reflecting a lack of interest in appearance.

Dialogue Cues

Monotone Speech: Flat, emotionless tone without inflection.

Brief Responses: Short, to-the-point answers with minimal elaboration.

Avoidance of Personal Topics: Steers conversations away from personal or emotional subjects.

Lack of Expressive Language: Uses simple, direct language without metaphors or descriptive flourishes.

Adjectives and Verbs

Descriptive Words: Detached, apathetic, vacant, stoic, unfeeling, indifferent, withdrawn, impassive, numb, aloof.

Action Words: Avoids, withdraws, dismisses, isolates, ignores, neglects, shuns, evades, suppresses, restrains.

Emotionally Neutral Verbs: Walks, talks, looks, sits (instead of strides, argues, gazes, lounges) listens, observes, reacts, replies, continues.

Subdued Descriptors: Plain, muted, dull, flat, colourless, bland, lifeless, monotonous, reserved, restrained.

Overcoming Emotional Numbness

Since there are several reasons why someone might be emotionally numb, each cause has different ways to overcome it. Here are a few common approaches:

Therapeutic Intervention: Therapy or counselling can help characters address underlying trauma or mental health issues. Techniques like cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) are often effective.

Supportive Relationships: Developing a trusting relationship with a friend, family member, or romantic partner can provide the emotional support needed to open up. This would be a better option for a character who has developed numbness due to past relationships and needs to ‘heal’. 

Personal Growth and Self-Discovery: Characters may embark on a journey of self-discovery, engaging in activities or experiences that help them reconnect with their emotions. It would be fun to see a numb character do this with a love interest or close friend. Maybe they’re ‘forced’ to go to an amusement park and the other characters are shocked to see them whoop/yell on one of the rides. 

Resources for Understanding and Overcoming Emotional Numbness

Here are some valuable resources to help you better understand and write about emotional numbness:

Books:

The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk

Waking the Tiger by Peter A. Levine

Research Papers:

Emotional Numbness in PTSD

Emotional Numbness Research Papers Directory

More:

Scholarly Resources on Emotional Numbness 

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[merakiui]

perverse phantasmagoria: a tentacular theatre for the timid.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, mentions of death/murder, obsession note - something short to satisfy the craving for shadow monster azul.

The monster under your bed is a marvelous magician.

Most marvelous indeed—for he can ensorcell with all manner of fantastical tricks! In flickering candlelight, shapes shift in shadow—a rabbit hopping to and fro or a bird taking flight in a flurry of feathers. A ship sinking in a sinister sea or a worm wriggling through soil. Illusions waltz upon your wall in a graceful ballet, a comforting distraction meant to soothe you to sleep when you grow somnolent.

You are the only one to witness the magnificence of this tentacular theatre. It is confined within the cubic space that is your bedroom, a nightly display projected onto the walls and ceiling, just beyond the curtains of your creaky four-poster bed. He entertains until you’re properly heavy-eyed, slipping through the slivers of reality into fruitful slumber.

While cradled in a sea of sheets, buoyed by curious, curling limbs, you dream of devilish pleasures—of treacherous temptations so visceral they would certainly scandalize the sisters at the church.

The monster under your bed never utters a word, but you know he is there.

He is cold and calm like Death, yet merciful and mystical like an angel. He carries with him odors of the ocean, enveloping you in his briny embrace every night. Tentacles loop gently around your body, sliding beneath silken nightwear, and he plays in the same skillful way he manipulates shadow. You’re strung along the highs and lows of bodily bliss, rocked gently by a creature who dwells in the darkness.

The monster under your bed does not possess a true form, but he holds bright shallows in his eyes.

Shapeless and transient, wavering through dozens of features, he mesmerizes with his stunning hues. They blink at you in the darkness, twin beacons set into a towering lighthouse. You reach for him, pushing past pitch-black phantasmagoria, and beg to see his face. He swallows all light sources, so you will never truly know if there is anything more to those beautiful blues.

The monster under your bed does not have a name, so you call him Azul. Much like his eyes when they pin you to the bed, the name sticks.

A terrible tempest rages outside, rattling the windows in their frames, battering the glass like bullets, and howling through the trees in a most fearsome gale. You lie in your bed, wide-awake and disturbed, and gaze at the canopy. Lightning cracks across the sky in a violent arc, brightening your room for a single second. The thunder follows, rumbling in deep, foreboding notes. With a shiver, you pull your duvet up to your chin. Fear is encroaching. You steel yourself, steady your pounding heart, and inhale sharply.

The monster under your bed is gentle.

He has never hurt you and you suspect he never will. But he is vindictive, a dangerous force who lurks in forgotten corridors and corners during the day. Though he remains out of light’s reach, avoiding the sun’s fingers as they spill in from windows with parted curtains, nothing escapes his glance. He is always watching. You can feel it.

The monster under your bed is brilliant pest control.

He rids the manor of rats and insects alike, swabs the ceilings of cobwebs. He feasts on venomous spiders and snakes, blood drained from carcasses small and large. Trespassers wander far enough to find themselves tangled in the tendrils of a beast. Skeletons snap and shatter in his grasp, so startlingly fast and brutal. There isn’t a scream. No tears. He does not grant them the permission to confess last words.

Flesh rots away, stripped clean from the bone. There is no distinction to be made here. Suitors are trespassers. Thieves are trespassers. Trespassers are trespassers, and they will die as such.

The monster under your bed has a sweet tooth, a discovery you’ve only recently determined. You plate pastries and slide them under your bed, and the porcelain china is returned by morning, licked clean of crumbs.

For all of his mysterious qualities, the monster under your bed is your paramour.

“Azul,” you whisper, your voice much louder in disconcerting quiet. “Are you there, Azul?”

Shadows slither up the expanse of your mattress, crawling over wrinkled linens, to meet you in the gloom. The tip of a tentacle nudges your cheek. The monster—your monster—is here.

“A detective came by today…” Blue meets you in the dark, snapped open at once. “To inquire about a select few.”

He blinks, offering silence as his stubborn reply.

“Missing lords and ladies. They say my manor is cursed and that it is these very disappearances that keep the grounds so lush. An immature accusation.” You search the shadows for a response. “You mustn’t send them to their graves, Azul.”

Another tentacle peels the duvet back to find your hand. It fits into your palm, wrapped tight like a bow on a present. Slowly and slyly, more appendages rise from the space beneath your bed to coil around your person. They massage soothing circles into your skin, exploring eagerly and peppering your flesh in frigid kisses. The effect is soporific. You slacken against the sheets, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mmh… Azul, I’m quite serious…” You close your hand around the tentacle. “You mustn’t—oh!” Your legs are yanked apart then, and a thick tentacle presses up between your thighs. You peer into his narrowed eyes. If you could see his mouth, you’re certain it’d be turned down in a petulant pout. “Won’t you listen to me?”

The tentacles curled around your thighs constrict. He teases your special spot, fine-tuning your body to sing the sweetest of songs. Two more attach to your chest like lecherous leeches, tweaking your nipples under soft suckers. You sigh, pent-up emotions unfurling from their ravel. Lightning flashes again, the rain insistent, and so he drapes a tentacle over your eyes.

“There’s no need to do that.” You run your fingers over it, but you don’t pull it off. “I want to see you. I want to hear your voice. Tell me—” you whine in relief when he pushes in, your anatomy accustomed to his size after months of midnight whimsy— “Let me… Oh, won’t you speak to me, Azul? Tell me—promise me you won’t act so callous the next time I welcome visitors.”

“Intruders,” he finally answers. Despite the malice shot through those three syllables, it is a musical intonation. His voice is deep and dulcet, tickling your ears in the best way.

“You’re being rather unfair in your narrow-minded assessment.”

“And you are not narrow-minded enough,” comes his rumbling reply, synced flawlessly with the thunder just outside. “I shall protect you and this property for as long as I continue to exist. That is my priority.”

Your lips part in a retort, but all that comes out is a shuddering sigh.

“Visitors are not villains,” you manage after you’ve found your voice. “P-Please—aah—be kind… You mustn’t hurt them. They’re—haa—only visitors. I promise you I’m safe.”

“Visitors are the same as intruders. They’re unwanted. Unnecessary. Nuisances. Pests.”

Azul rocks the tentacle deeper inside you. Your nails dig into the one in your hand, and you heave a wobbly sort of groan.

“I won’t arg—ooh—won’t argue with you. I only ask that you understand. They are not dangers.”

“They are,” he snaps, pistoning roughly. You cry out when he pierces a specific spot nestled within. “They will take you away from me. Poison your head with foolish ideas. Destroy our home…”

“T-That will never happen. Not if I can help it.”

Another beat of lightning. Thunder follows suit. Gingerly, he lifts the tentacle veiling your visage. Blue blinks back at you.

“Promise.”

His whisper is broken and sad. Strangely, your heart aches.

“Only if you promise to cease your slaughter. It’s not—” A tentacle presses against your mouth, silencing you. When it draws away to give you another chance, you sigh, knowing just what to say. “Thank you…for protecting me, Azul.”

Satisfied with your submission, he smooths his pace out into slow, sensual lovemaking. You ride the waves of mutual merriment alongside him, no longer fearing the raging storm beyond your room. The world shrinks down to fit inside your bedroom, where paradise is found in the sheets, and nothing else matters here. Swathed safely in shadow, wrapped around the monster under your bed, you drift off into sleepy delirium.

He remains, ever-present like a parasite, the sole actor standing on the stage in this thrilling, tentacular theatre.