#something something something devour the hearts of those who once loved you to fill up the gaping chasm they left in your own chest

[theonewhowails]

family reunion

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Hugs

About time I finished this WIP that randomly appeared in my head. I've just finished defeating Cazador and mannnnnn I really really want to hug Astarion and never let him go.

Summary: Astarion learns to hug you.

“Can’t get enough of me, darling?” Astarion purrs into your ear, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you closer. He leans in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your ear before letting his lips trail downwards, sending a shiver up your spine but you push him away, placing a hand on his chest.

“We don’t need to do this.” You shake your head, “I just want you, not your body, not your services.”

He feels his heart jump into his throat, anxiety gnawing at him but he smiles outwardly anyways, as practiced. “Which part of me exactly do you want?”

“All of you,” you breathe. He blinks, surprised as you intertwine your fingers with his, a thumb gently brushing over his smooth skin. The warmth sends tingles from his arm to his body, a fuzzy feeling blooming in his chest that fills him with uncertainty.

Is this genuine love? Is this how love is supposed to feel like?

Why would you want all of him?

He cannot understand why you would want the monsterous side of him, the side that craves blood, the side that is spoken in hushed whispers, woven into stories parents tell their children to scare them into bed. He hides his fangs whenever he smiles, afraid that your gaze will be drawn to them and that they will be all you ever see of him but you never seem to be scared of them, always open to him sinking them into your soft neck so that he can drink the ambrosia that is your blood.

You place an arm around his waist, noticing that distant look in his eyes and press your chest against his, hoping the sensation will bring him back from whatever abyss he’s fallen into and his head snaps up, ruby eyes locking with yours with a look you’ve never seen in them before. You feel his hand tremble as he tentatively rests it on your back and he inhales sharply.

“If you’re not comfortable we can stop,” you murmur. “I don’t want to force you to do anything.”

“You’re…not, darling. It’s just…” He swallows. “It’s nothing.”

You narrow your eyes. If all this time spent with him has taught you something, is that every time he says ‘it’s nothing’ it’s always something.

“Astarion, you can tell me anything, but take all the time you need, alright?”

His lips quirk up for a split second, instinctively sending you a reassuring smile but the smile quickly fades, replaced by a sorrowful look. He gazes at the ground, suppressing the urge to just melt into you. You deserve someone better than him, someone who could love you properly, who understood what love truly meant and didn’t feel disgust rising every time they placed a hand on your skin because of their past. No matter how much he loves you, he’s not the best one for you.

You reach out to him, a hand gently touching his cheek but he pulls away with a snarl, fangs bared and you quickly stumble backwards, surprised at his hostility. His eyes widen when he realises what he’s done and guilt devours him even further. Your touch feels tainted, even if it lacks the usual lust and desire behind it, but that is no reason to hurt you. He forces himself to reach for your hand, muttering a quiet apology as practiced and rests it on his cheek, willing his body to remain still like always.

Doing this should be easy, he’s been doing this for centuries, so why does it feel so difficult now?

You look at him with concern, an emotion usually devoid in the eyes of those who touch him and pull your hand away of your own accord.

“I’m sorry.”

Why were you apologising? He was the one in the wrong, he was the one who had broken the moment, he was the reason the night had turned from one of tranquility to one of tension.

“There’s no need to apologise, love. Shall we continue?” He leans in once more despite the sickening smell that your scent has transformed into. “You’re just that intoxicating.”

Still, you push him away, noticing how he’s zoning out each time he moves closer to you. Worry creases your eyebrows and you take a step back, moving just out of his reach.

“Did I overstep any boundaries?” You ask. “I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t, darling.” He shakes his head. “You’re far too perfect to make such mistakes.”

Far too perfect for him.

“Astarion,” you realise what’s plaguing him. “No matter how long it takes, I will always be by your side. You are my star, my entire world, no one else can possibly replace you or be better than you.”

“I shouldn’t be,” he mumbles. “I only add to your burdens.”

“Well, it’s only fair that you do that since I do the same to you.”

“No you don’t!” Astarion snaps. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself!”

He glares at you, fists clenched, his clawed fingertips digging into his palms. You raise your hands in surrender, slowly stepping away from the riled up vampire spawn upon whom realisation has dawned. He inwardly curls up even more, despising himself for taking out his anger on you and yet no matter what he does, you refuse to leave. You’re still standing there, a safe distance away but within his line of sight with no intention of leaving him. He cannot wrap his mind around why you would do such a thing, why you wouldn’t leave someone as unstable and unloveable as him, but a small part of him is grateful for that, he can’t bear to watch you leave.

“Sorry.” He chokes out, the word leaving a foreign feeling in his mouth. “I —”

“It’s alright, apology accepted.” You smile. “We should return to camp, the others must be wondering what is taking us so long.”

Astarion shifts from one leg to another, scratching the back of his neck, “wait, darling, please.”

You pause, turning around to look at him, “yes, Astarion?”

“I…” He starts. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. Everything feels tainted, touching you feels disgusting, being so close to you feels nauseating, but it’s not your fault. It has nothing to do with you, I promise, it’s —”

“I know. You don’t have to say it out loud if you don’t want to. I’m sorry I can’t erase the past, but I want to help you forge new associations with touch.” You raise a hand, palm facing him. He does the same, shakily moving his palm closer to yours but encouraged by your smile, he presses your palms together. He swallows the bile rising to his throat and looks to you, waiting for you to make the next move. You take a step closer and he does the same, although his step is filled with much more uncertainty. You give him an encouraging nod and take another step. This time, his step is more certain, made with the signature confidence you know and love.

After a third step, the both of you are close enough that your nose fills with the scent of bergamot, rosemary and a hint of rosemary, overlaying Astarion’s real undead scent. You cautiously put an arm around his waist and when he doesn’t flinch, you grow bolder, removing your hand from his and putting the other arm around his waist.

He freezes, but the action raises no memories he’d rather keep locked away so he tries to keep himself grounded, to feel the soothing warmth of your arms around him that mean him no harm. He locks eyes with you and your gaze washes all the fear away, stirring something within him. He wouldn’t have dared do this before, but tonight you’ve given him more than enough courage to attempt this.

Astarion steels himself, and then puts his own arms around you. His undead heart thunders in his chest, fear consuming his mind. What if you pull away? What if you hate his cold touch? What if —

You lean into his embrace, silencing all his fears and nuzzle into his chest. He lets out a breath he never realised he was holding and buries his face into your shoulder, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Your embrace is vastly different from the previous embraces he’s had, all you want out of it is a display of love and care, you don’t want his body, you don’t want what he can offer, you don’t want anything in return.

As he continues to hold onto you, never wanting to let go, he lets a hand wander up your back, finding a better position to pull you closer and you hum in response, happily burrowing deeper into his arms.

“I like this, you know,” he whispers. “Whatever it is that we have, I don’t want it to end.”

“I feel the same way,” you whisper back, breathing in his scent. “Let’s stay here like this, the others can survive on their own for a little while longer.”

“I’m sure they can, my love.”

Hugging has definitely made its way to the top of his list of favourite things to do with you, Astarion thinks, listening to your happy hums as you soak in his embrace. He should do this more often.

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 1)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Part 2⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 3 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Part 4⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Warnings - heavy angst, betrayal, smut, non consensual, dom!Soldat. rough!Soldat Words - 2000

Bucky was already waiting on the couch, tormented by the decision he has made – to confront her. Y/n enters their shared apartment, carelessly smiling at him. She seemed so generous about her love – a constant presence and support since the fight on the airport years ago. Grace and patience and consideration is what she made him master once again, these little qualities are in his control, thanks to her kind soul. Y/n helped him forgive himself and he chose to return love and compassion, chose to fight his past. Wakanda was their secret - beautiful and peaceful. Her heart was born open and although his hands were empty at the time, he filled them with the soft fire made from the two ember eyes. The dreamy mind is full, overflows with tender memories… When she enters a room, it blazes with red, pink, roses, but behind her blossomed spirit stood a façade he was not aware of. The floral presence is poisoned, spreading into him. And just like the deadly nightshade, she is indeed is a poisonous flower.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks coldly, taking a sip of his bottle before putting it back on the table. A stressed dove, mournfully looking at her as he gets up. "How long?" he asks again. „Bucky, what is the matter with you?“ There won’t be a chance of escape, he steps closer, towering over her as some sort of a warning. He just came back to life, laying under the warmth of it and is already being burned by the person who he trusted the most. Abstained for far too long, he needs to hear her says it – he needs the truth to devour his life. "Can I ask what happened to your neck?" pointing to her neck, his tone is still neutral, but his eyes are exhausted by the phantom following his mind the past days. Love makes knots, now it is brutally tearing them apart. He ran from the darkness of his nightmares for so long, only to find himself in a situation darker still. „I don’t know“ she is wearing a turtleneck shirt, she hates those – inside she is crumbling as much as her lies. “You don’t know?” his tone strays to the realms of anger – it consumes him, fear ensnares her until her back hits the wall behind, Bucky not withdrawing from her face even for a moment “Who was it?“

"No one, Bucky" she manages to retain her posture, not giving him the satisfaction of telling the truth. The blade of her words hit a nerve. "You’re terrible at lying" He crosses his hands, nails digging into his arms. Silence looms for a while before he nods, his dearest love painting his misery and his eyes ache with the weight of the unspoken truth. “So no explanation, got it" „I don’t know how I got them…“ Bucky’s eyes narrow slightly, trying to shackle his intention of breaking something. "So you have no idea what happened to your neck? Are you making fun of me or do you have brain damage“ his tone finally rises as he takes the collar of her shirt between his metal fingers, pulling it down rashly to reveal the bite marks. The image wraps around his throat as a wreath of spikes. “Who did that to your neck, because I am sure that it was not me“ „Jesus Bucky, why are you so angry, I didn’t do anything. We literally spend most-“ He laughs devilishly, still holding her by the colar. “Just so many bad things happening in my life. Nothing important, nothing new, just one thing after another, you know?” There is no such thing as life for him , it's just catastrophe. Unmoored and alone, his eyes become full of tears. The only still part is his body. He gives her one more chance to say something, to explain herself in any way, but the silence is pain chiselled forever into his chest, it hurts more than words. "Don’t be angry, please…let me go…“ "Don’t be angry…don’t be angry" he whispers as a lullaby, staring into her teary eyes. His eyebrows furrowed at her audacity to even cry. "We shared a life and you to cheated on me" His favorite beauty and terror on myriad levels keep her silence. He decides to let go of her collar, his fingers clenching to fists as their drop weightlessly to the sides of his body. "You expect me to believe this…? Really, y/n?” he says , his expression is still angry, but it appears softer "If you didn’t want to tell me because you‘re afraid, it‘s fine. Just be honest and tell me that, why are you still lying? That hurts me more than you think." „I am not…“ He stands there unmoving, staring at her and it seems like he‘s still processing this realty of her not having any concern towards him. Her mind is resting whilst his is grieving, wondering and reasoning. He can’t gain control of his dreadful spirit, he is the shell he was back at Wakanda. A tear runs down from the wet, dreamful eyes, landing on his cheek as he looks down, trying to hide it from her. Bucky takes a step away from her and rubs his eyes. His hands are shaking and it‘s obvious that he doesn’t want to cry in front of her. Their love is his apparition, a figment of his imagination. He observe her for a moment, he is dying in that house, buried underneath the floor of their shared past and she just watches it unfold. Bucky finally shakes his head in disbelief. "So you‘re telling me you have no idea where that bruise came from?" a weak laugh escapes his lips, choking back a sob. „You’re lying, I know it“ he says in a calm voice, but there was a quiet threat hidden beneath it. „I don’t want to leave, Bucky“ "And I don‘t want to get cheated on" he counters with an angry scream as his pain is infinite at this point. All kind of thoughts stirring inside of him. „I won’t say it wasn’t meant to be, because it was. We were. Only for a short while, maybe. But we were.“ It makes him tremble to remember their daily life, but now he is unsure which pain is worse: the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will. „I can’t tell you...I can’t...I will leave“ she whispers, having found a comfort in hiding. "Fine, leave then!” Bucky snarls, before he spins around as his heavy footsteps resonate through the quiet room, but he stops himself to look at her for the last time – the end of the line.

Bucky watches her leave, already nostalgic for his love. He doesn’t say a word, not even bothering to close the door as he stands in the doorstep, watching her go. Y/n notices him staring from the darkness of the doorway as she makes her way into the world. Bucky’s inner self is shutting down more and more, as though to protect himself, but it became inaccessible even to himself. Over the next couple of days, Bucky shuts himself completely in his lonely home. He only leaves the apartment to buy alcohol and some food. His days are spent either drinking or sleeping, and when he‘s awake and sober, he just sits on the couch blankly, staring at the wall. He is composed of nothing, but illness – a phantom built out of pain. The days turn to weeks. With his heart broken, he despises life. Rising from a grave with each morning, wallowing in his sadness and alcohol. („What went wrong...Did I do something wrong?”) he wonders for weeks repeatedly, tears again rolling down his cheeks. „What did I do to deserve this“ he screams, slamming his metal fist into the wall, there is nothing but a stain in his heart, it grew – infecting the whole heart. He slowly slides down, sitting on the ground as he buries his head into his arms and starts to cry.

- Two days before she left - „Bucky, baby…I don’t wanna do anything tonight, let’s just sleep“ he was getting harder and harder, pressing into her back to let her know. He whispers in her ear, but the voice is huskier than usual and filled with seduction „Цветок...“ (Flower) Bucky’s control is slipping once again and y/n gups at the realization. The metal grip tightens on her hip, drawing her even closer to his clothed cock. Fingers pass through the fabric of the nightdress, pulling it upwards to reveal her butt cheeks. His warm hand, spilled under her body proceeding to lightly trace his fingers over her nipple. She knows to her remove the panties by herself, not wanting to anger the Soldier from the very beginning as it happened last time. He groans, closing his eyes to savor the scent of her hair. Vibranium fingers digs his into her soft skin, leaving prints of evidence. „No, don’t…please…he will see“ she desperately tries to voice her concern, knowing there is no way of fighting him in this state. „Пусть он увидит…“ (let him see) His breath fanned the skin of her neck, sending chills to the bone.

He dragged his length through her wetness, pushing in fully leaving y/n with no time to adjust. Tears roll down her beautiful face, why this keeps on happening? The warm touches of his human arm move to from her nipple to her stomach „Я хочу ребенка...да.“ (I want a baby…yes) She takes a deep breath, sometimes regret settles in for not telling Bucky that the Winter Soldier was very present and real. He never seems to remember, they operate as different people. She whimpers at the cold touch to her clit, he was flicking it, making her body shake. His hand returns to her hip, grabbing it harshly as he starts thrusting deeply. His pace becomes erratic, being closer to his orgasm. Soldat forcefully holds her in place so he can fill her with hot cum. Her reality hurts so much. She wants to get away, but when she had tried before – resulted in him being close to sadistic. His fingers trail to her hair, removing it from her neck and he sinks his teeth. Goosebumps trickle up there, from fear, from pain as he slowly turns her head towards him – there is no sight of Bucky.

[moochalove]

Thinking about how…

You would lead Sunday away from a busy crowd during one of his important dinner gatherings. How you lead him by the hand to a nearby storage room and begin to kiss his sweet face. At first, he was opposed to the idea and tried explaining he was far too busy to be messing around. But the way you kept teasing him throughout the night, the way you made his ears feel hot while you were reaching for a dropped utensil. The way you “accidentally” squeeze his thigh under the table.

How bold of you to pull such a stunt, especially in front of all his business partners. He should reward you for being so brave.

Sunday grabs your wrists and pins them above your head while he kisses and licks at your exposed neck. He loves to see you flustered and breathless, panting softly as you try to keep your voice down.

He’s surprised when you break free from his grasp and mirror his actions. Sunday lets out a small surprised moan when you take the reins. At first, he was taken aback by your actions, usually, he’s the one who has control over everything.

But he is exhausted from all the mingling he’s done throughout the night. Guess it isn’t so bad to let someone take control every once and awhile.

He immediately relaxes when you free his aching cock from his tight pants. He takes pleasure in watching you spit into your hand as you begin to stroke it at a slow pace. A smile is plastered on your face when you begin to go fast and turn your wrist with each stroke- your eyes meeting his. You both gaze into each other’s eyes lovingly. Almost as if the world around you has disappeared and it’s just you two in this intimate moment. (almost makes you forget you’re in a storage room…) His thighs begin to shake as you get closer and closer to his pink tip. He loves the way your thumb swirls over his creamy tip. Using your free hand you gently rub his face. The way you handle him with such care makes his heart skip a beat, and he practically melts into your touch.

As he begins to reach his high he presses his lips into your palms, muttering small prayers and thanking those in higher power for such a blessing (you). His breathing has become erratic as his prayers are mixed with little moans and whimpers. You lean into him to seal his lips with yours, devouring all his moans and little noises, all while you pump his length at a rapid pace. The room is filled with the wet noise of his precum and your spit rubbing along his cock. When he finally teeters over the edge he feels nothing but bliss. The wings adorning his head flutter and flap in response to his hard orgasm, and his arms have settled around your upper half. He hasn’t even realized he’s soiled his dress pants and your palm with his seed. Not like that matters right now…

Once he opens his eyes he’s greeted by an angel- no, something of a higher power, his dear lover. You stare down at him with such a loving gaze that makes him feel warm and mushy inside. He can’t help but hold you close for a couple of moments. No words are spoken, yet thousands of praises are known to one another.

Once he settles from his high he’s even more exhausted… He feels a little ashamed that he didn’t get to reward you like he initially planned, but when you voice how this is what you wanted, he can’t help but feel flustered once again. His wings cover his flushed face in embarrassment. Yet you gently push them aside as you rest your forehead against his as his wings wrap around your head.

Seeing Sunday like this was a rare treat only for the eyes that were close to him. You were truly honored to call him your partner.

Once you get Sunday properly cleaned up you head back to the party. No one really noticed you were gone.

Robin can’t help but tease and point out the feathers in your hair.

“Haha, it looks like you were “fighting” with a bird!”

[nvoirs]

Omg i saw that ur requests are open 🥹😭 Is it okay if I can request a plaga re4leon smut? 😭 it’s okay if u dont want to 😇 have a great day 🫶🏼

Part 2 is here Because of all the support on this piece of writing I did I was able to create a part 2 and I'm thankful for those who wanted it!

When you had found out that Leon was infected by the Plagas your heart dropped into your stomach. You wouldn't know what to do, trembling as he got worse. Becoming more feral and looking like he wanted to rip your cute little heart straight out of your chest and brandish the still warm organ like a trophy. It got to a point where you had to restrain him, all you could find was a frail piece of rope left behind by one of the now dead ganandos.

Ashley was still with Luis, hopefully so close to finding the vaccine. So close to bringing Leon back to you.

His panting would worsen, as he struggled against your restraints, lashing out telling you to release him and that he was fine, he was okay and you didn't have to worry.

He'd put you in so much sorrow and guilt that you wouldn't even realise he'd managed to cut through the tied rope around his wrists with the small dagger you forgot to confiscate.

Silly old you. Always so naïve and trusting when it came to Leon. He was your weakness, and he now knew that and had used it to his advantage lunging for your still vulnerable, hunched over body.

He'd have you pressed to the dirty ground, the air smelling of gunpowder as he inhaled deeply. You're terrified he can see it, those widened eyes threatening to fill with tears once again.Trembling beneath him his weight sandwiching your body between the ground and his broad-ranging chest. His eyes were no longer that sky blue that you once loved, now becoming something far sinister, a raging crimson colour replacing them.

But he isn't fully gone, he's still Leon so you were confused when you felt something hard pressed against your thigh. He rutted his hardened cock against your tactical pants releasing a forced squeak from deep within your throat.

“Don't think I can hold back anymore.. fuck. Wanna fuck you into the ground please.” 

He continued to rut against you like a cat in heat, squeezing your legs together as you could feel the certain wetness collecting itself inside of your underwear.

“Leon what’re you- shit is this the plagas controlling you?”

“No goddamnit it's me- the plagas is just outing me.” He purred.

Chuckling he came closer to your pursed lips, wanting to feel the softness of them, his dark blonde hair brushing across your reddened face.

And you let him. You let him swallow you whole, devouring your mouth till your lips were a ruby colour, a string of his saliva evident upon them once he pulled away. Your lips still puckered, you wanted more, no you craved more of this side of Leon. You knew it was wrong, he was infected with stage four of the parasite but you just couldn’t help it.

The effects of the plagas were becoming more visible. The prominent darkened veins stood out creating a sort of jumbled up criss-crossed pattern on his pale skin.

“Shit this is your fault, I've wanted to fuck you since I met you six years ago back when we were both rookies in training” His extensive grin agitated you as he dived down for your exposed neck.

Placing a pointer finger on the pulse, dragging it down behind your appealing small ear. He licked a searing wet stripe up the shell of your ear, as he began to leave mauve coloured love bites across your supple flesh.

Dessert before the main course sounded real good to Leon right now, and you happened to be his dessert.

The plagas was altering his mind, and Leon was looking at you like you were a piece of vanilla cake. Squirming underneath his tight hold, releasing effortlessly, melodic sounds as he nipped and bit at your bare neck.

“Fuck Leon!”

 You grabbed the material of his tight black shirt, digging your hands in and pulling him ever so closer. In return Leon hummed in approval before breaking his lips away from your decorated skin.

“Now the real fun begins.”

Dragging your tactical pants down your thighs, swiftly pulling them off and chucking them to the side. His glowing eyes stared down at where you needed him most, he could see the wet patch you’d made from your endearing arousal.

“Well what do we have here?” 

Fingering the material of your thin panties, Leon advanced to the very centre. His hand hovered before ripping your panties clean off. Gasping as he also threw your now shredded panties on top of your discarded pants.

“Leon why’d you do that I need those- fuck!”

While you were busy being a blabber mouth not knowing when to shut up, he’d lifted your calves before shoving his tongue deep inside of you. Writhing and twisting at his straight up tongue fucking, you cried out when he began to abuse your clit circling it relentlessly.

Licking lengthy stripes up and down your sweet folds, he pulled back moaning from your taste.

“You taste so sweet, I knew you would, I always knew.”

Going back down on you, you felt a cramping sensation building up in your lower abdomen and before you knew it you were releasing all over Leon’s face. He carried on lapping you up eagerly, tasting your sugar coated juices on his lips and tongue.

Dropping your legs roughly, you both panting your vision seizing and taking sight of Leon unbuckling his pants. His cockhead strained against the material of his briefs, his precum staining the front.

“Want you on your knees, sluts like you have to worship someone isn’t that so?” Grabbing you by your neck, you yelped as he nudged your nose against his clothed dick.

Obeying his demand you felt yourself blush, now this is wrong, it’s wrong, wrong, wrong! Ignoring your intrusive thoughts, you began to pull his briefs down his meaty thighs. You’ve always wanted to be with Leon like this, and now you can. You just couldn’t hold back.

Taking him in the palm of your hand, trembling hoping you didn’t do something wrong. Leon was a lot stronger as of now, he could easily overpower you. His tip was a mouthwatering sight, you never knew it could look this pretty? Taking him into your warm mouth, tasting the salty precum and hollowing your cheeks as you began to bob your head. Leon released a guttural groan, grabbing you by the ponytail you had up.

“This is all I could think about ha- when your hair was like this.”

Dragging his cock inside your mouth faster, before shooting his cumload straight down your throat making you gag.

“Swallow it, you whore, or I’ll make you regret it.” His threats should scare you, but It just turned you on even more.

“Need you inside me.” You whined, humping nothing as you bounced on yourself.

“Christ, don’t do that or I’ll seriously make you pass out. Take off your shirt then.”

Enthusiastically you did just that. Flinging your top leaving you in nothing but your bra. Leon licked his lips delightfully, before unclipping your bra allowing your tits to spill out. You looked like a goddess in his eyes, as he palmed your squishy flesh between his skilled fingers.

“Mmhph Leon! Feels good.” Sweat was forming on your chest like you’d been dusted with golden powder. Smirking Leon continued his assault on your breasts, switching to your firm nipples. Taking one and pinching it before rolling his tongue over it and taking it into his mouth. His eyes met yours as he suckled at your nipple, still giving the other attention by squeezing it between his index finger and thumb.

“Jump up onto me.” His command rang through your ears, as you jumped wrapping your legs around his waist. Leaning against the cobblestone wall Leon’s cock rubbed against your cunt teasingly before shoving himself inside of you.

You nuzzled into his neck smelling the sweat and dirt of him, but he still smelt so good a hint of citrus filling your nostrils as your face carried on colliding with his neck as he bounced you on his cock. Your moans rang out into the empty room, muffled slightly because of your loving assault on Leon’s neck.

“Your so- tight didn’t expect that from a slut.”

His grip grew tighter on your ass, bruising beginning to form under the tips of his fingers because of how tight he was holding onto you.

“I’m not a ha- slut!” You wailed, the pressure in your stomach coiling up.

“Oh yeah? Then who was that guy you were flirting with back at HQ?”

No way was he talking about that one guy. The one guy that actually showed any romantic interest in you, he’d asked you out to dinner when Leon was in the room and you had refused. That was because you liked Leon, but you had no idea he liked you back.

“I said no- fuck because I like you!”

Leon cocked his head to the side, watching your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Is that so?”

His pace got faster, ploughing into your guts like it was nothing until the tightly fit coil snapped in two. You whined as you came around him gushing and milking his cock. He carried on fucking you through your high, trying to chase after his own release.

“Ah- too much Leon too much!” almost strangling him but withstanding when he came deep inside your cunt, the contents dripping down your legs.Your hands still curled in his locks, fingers glued to his scalp as he hissed from the pain of your fingernails.

“Sorry.” Mumbling, you expected Leon to send you one of those signature smirks but instead felt a prick in the side of your neck.

What? Everything began to get fuzzy, and you felt Leon placing you on the cold floor.

“Shush It’s okay now, Lord Saddler could use another follower. And maybe just maybe he’ll let me keep you and we can be together forever my darling.”

The last thing you saw before you became unconscious was Leon’s ugly grin smeared across his once angelic features. You’d been caught in his spider's web once again.

[writingescapades]

Book Lover P

I love how we all came as a community and agreed that Pinocchio is a bookworm. As a fellow bookworm, this worms my heart!

It was Lady Antonia who really introduced P to the library. Well more like she said the entire hotel was his to explore, and explore he did.

His desire for reading really came from a desire to be like his father. Get his approval. The big thumbs up from Papi.

He prefers to read at night, everyone is asleep and he has nothing else to do with this time. At first, he would just go out and continue to destroy puppets, but something changed after that first book.

The first book happened to be The Ugly Duckling. He would read and reread that story. Not fully understanding why he kept doing so.

It was in this state you found him. You promised yourself a night of reading as a reward for doing boring tasks around the hotel. Lo, and behold there was Pinocchio… reading.

He immediately gets up, thinking you had a task for him. Poor boy. You inquire into what he’s reading and he hands it over, as if guilty.

Reading the cover, you smile and give it back, along with another book. It’s a book of fairytales. Needless to say, Pinocchio devours this book. There were more books of this nature??

Thus starts a bond between you two. Late night reading sessions. P eagerly tapping your shoulder when he sees something interesting. You reading aloud passages.

Many times the hotel residents would find you asleep on the floor  while P sat beside you and silently read. Lady Antonia asked him to move a sofa into the library, so that you could at least prevent catching your death of cold.

That scared P, who then always ushered you to the couch once you got your reading material for the night. He wasn’t killing puppets just for you to die of a cold.

As P grows and understands emotions, he would often bring a book to you, point to a passage where a character felt something he felt and then point to himself. It helped when you put words to define his emotions. He would store away that knowledge.

There were moments when P would come home after a late night of stalking, and instead of just spending time in the library, he would wake you up and silently point to a page in a book. He never said anything in those moments but the passage he pointed you told all.

He’s very adept at matching the people he meets (their stories) to the fairytales he reads. It became a bit of an inside joke between you too, such as thinking of red ridding hood when Alidoro appears.

And yes, as you two grow closer and he gains more humanity, he really relishes the closeness reading brings the two of you. Sitting together reading often ends up being wrapped up in blankets, sleeping (resting in his case). And he loves how you never seem to stop analyzing the books you read. Sometimes when he’s bored or needs to get through some chore, he likes having you around to fill the silence.

Loves to rest his head in your lap, around your chest and listen to you read. It’s not just your voice, but the vibrations he feels as he listens. It just makes him feel nice inside. If you fall asleep, he likes to pretend he also fell asleep, just to hold onto the moment longer.

Most of the relationship is you giving him books to read, but every once in a while, he’ll surprise you with a recommendation. It’s not always something he read, but something he thinks you might like.

And yes, any book he finds outside comes straight to you.

Imagine teaching him to write down his thoughts and make his own story! That thought really hits him when he denies his father and the fight happens. It’s the first time he chose his own path.

You can always tell what mood he’s in by what he’s been reading.

The day that made you cry though was several weeks after Geppetto’s death. P was strangely quiet about his father’s secret and subsequent death, and though you pressed him to communicate something to him, you also knew he needed his space. So you took to seeing what he had been reading. But there was only one book, The Little Match Girl. He had been reading the story over and over again, seemingly lost in the young protagonist’s visions. You cried hard that day. How must he feel after being betrayed, insulted, and rejected by his father as both Carlo and Pinocchio?

You hugged him hard that day, and told him that he is not doomed by a fairytale narrative.

You knew you had your Pinocchio back when you hugged your back and you could feel just a few drops of tears on your neck.

[slashyrogue]

It takes a ridiculously long time for Wade to realize he's pregnant.

Like, super fucking ridiculously.

Truth be told, he didn't know that getting pregnant was in the cards for him but when he did it was so anticlimactic that really understanding the gravity of the situation seemed like an afterthought.

Rewind a bit.

He should've known that getting kidnapped by the government would result in more than just waking up sore when Logan saved him only two days in but really he just wanted to be out of there.

The exhaustion - something that he rarely had with the regeneration and all that - made it easy to fall asleep on Wolvie's shoulder during the ride home but when he woke up all he did was want to be in Logan's pocket.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Wade just nuzzled his beard - which was just as fluffy as you'd think it was - and sighed. "Just wanna cuddle with my favorite kitty cat."

"Wade---"

"Pretty please?" he faked a cough, "I was tortured, Wolvie. Peanut, they cut things OUT I saw them."

Logan growled and the claws that had come out slid right back in. "Fine."

And so began Wade's "Week of Cuddles" which was AMAZING to say the least. Logan was NICE to him, and practically babied him better than anyone EVER had. It was like Christmas and Halloween AND his Birthday fucked and had a million babies.

100/10 would recommend.

The ice creams and chimichangas were never ending; the cuddles were abundant, and he even got to fall asleep on Logan's shoulder.

He secretly loved that one the best by the way but pretended he liked the ice cream the most.

The "Week of Cuddles" was followed by "The Week of Sleepovers" and he began "The Week of Chocolate" which was, in retrospect, a big mistake.

The minute Logan brought home the Choco-Tacos (after scouring for HOURS he found one lone store that had a back inventory that was....questionable) and he devoured it in seconds a new week began.

"The Week of Is Wade Dying Again?"

It was a terrible fucking week, mostly with vomiting but also horrible stomach pains, like something was clawing his insides and not in a fun way like the Honda Odyssey.

Logan kept telling him to "go to the damn doctor already" while increasingly seeming agitated and snarly which was cute because Wade pretended it meant he was worried about him.

He knew it was because he hated the smell of vomit with his kitty cat senses.

Obviously.

Althea finally called the X-Men because she was "sick of hearing him puke."

How did she know their number?

Apparently Colossus and here were friends or something he didn't know but when they showed up and Logan dragged him off he was toast.

And he puked twice more on the ride.

Beast then gave him the news.

"Wade, I....it seems you're pregnant."

Wade started to laugh, falling back on the hospital bed, and when no one joined him he was given the results.

Those government fuckers had somehow knocked him up.

How?

Well, it seemed that his body could adapt to anything, even a reproductive system that he shouldn't have.

Logan made Beast take the tests again, and even try to pinpoint who's kid they put inside him.

And....ding ding.

"Logan, I...." Beast said, his voice shaking, "I do believe it's yours."

Wade started laughing then, unable to stop, and Logan left the room.

What a fucking joke.

He grinned at Beast as tears filled his eyes. "Isn't anyone going to throw me a baby shower? I'm sure I'm gonna need some mittens to handle this one, am I right?"

No one laughed.

And Wade got up, still wearing just his heart shaped boxers, and went to put on his suit.

"You....Wade, you have options."

He paused, holding his suit in hand, and put a hand to his belly.

Did he?

It was goddamn selfish to see this through, he knew that, but the thought of NOT seeing it through made him immensely sad.

A once in a lifetime opportunity.

He was an incubator for potentially the next Marvel Jesus. "No," he said, shaking his head, "I don't." The team tried to talk him into staying but he didn't listen and walked outside to find Logan waiting on a motorcycle. "Did you bring that here for little ol' me, Peanut?"

Logan sighed. "Get on."

Wade did just that, holding him tight, and they took off toward fuck knew where.

All he knew was that he was carrying what might be his only offspring that was going to the most wanted mutant in the world once it was born.

Whatever government had done this would come back at the finish line.

But he had scary dog privilege who was currently driving him to his nest or whatever.

They might've thought it was a funny idea to see what would happen if they scrambled the offspring of two immortals and give them something to fight for.

Joke was on them.

There was no way that if there was a baby at the end of this mess that either of them wouldn't fight like hell.

Wade could hardly wait.

And hey, maybe this would turn out to be like one of those 90s sappy rom-coms where grumpy and the baby mama fell in love.

Ha.

Wouldn't that be something?

[soleilceirinen]

WHEN THE DARKNESS COMES | Thomas Shelby x Shadowhunter!Reader - Part 5

Summary: you are a shadowhunter investigating the sudden rise of yin fen in the Downworld, the trail leads you to Small Heath and a blue eyed gangster. Warning: nothing. A/N: English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes and thanks for reading! Words: 2.9k

Part 4 - PEAKY BLINDERS MASTERLIST

What are you supposed to wear to the races?

Despite not having been there before, at least you knew that it was some sort of social event, right? So you decided to wear a dress, the one that you brought with you to Birmingham just in case. Guess today was the day.

You took your time doing your hair and makeup, feeling the palm of your hands tingle with excitement. Tommy was taking you to the races and that had to mean something. Was it a date?

A little voice in your head reminded you of the purpose of your presence in Small Heath, but you pushed the thought away. For once, you were going on a date with no one but the leader of a gang, who by the way, was quite attractive and also had shown an interest in you.

Just a day, you thought, tomorrow I’ll continue with my duty. I swear by the Angel.

Without realising it, you had been clutching your tiny purse in your fists, so hard that your knuckles had turned white. Slowly, you softened the grip while shifting your weight from the tip to the heel of your feet as you waited for Tommy to come and pick you up. 

There was no reason to be nervous, but nevertheless, you were. And it was kind of irrational because almost every night you faced the most disgusting demons, all your life since you were a little girl, you had been surrounded by horror and death. Tommy was just a man, probably mundane. The small possibility of him being a warlock was not clear yet but still, why couldn’t you think of him without your heart beating like crazy?

You did not have the privilege to behave like a silly teenager in love, you were a nefilim. However, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach whenever you remembered the night before. The thought of his plumped lips devouring your mouth with his hand on the back of your neck and the taste of whiskey on his tongue. 

Nothing to worry about, you repeated to yourself, like a mantra. You had been in worse situations.

In order to try to calm down, you started thinking. Perhaps you were feeling a bit uneasy due to the fact that you were quite exposed since you were not wearing any sort of shadowhunter gear or weapons. Only your trusted old dagger, attached to your thigh where your dress covered it from anyone’s sight. Your bag was too small to carry any weapon in it, even your stele did not fit, it was too long. 

Hopefully, none of those things was going to be necessary. Who or what was going to attack you in broad daylight? One of the horses? No demon would come out until the sun went down, anyway. And there were still several hours until that moment.

A car stopped in front of you, pulling you out of the tangled labyrinth of thoughts about everything that could go wrong.

Tommy was in it, watching you with interest. His blue eyes scanned you from head to toe. When he finished, you could see a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. He raised an eyebrow as you approached the vehicle.

“Hello, Thomas”, you said, getting into the car. With the small bag on your lap, you crossed your hands over it and stared at the man sitting next to you.

He leaned over to kiss your cheek, barely touching your soft skin. “Hello,” he replied hoarsely. The scent of cigarettes filled your nose. “That’s a nice dress.” 

You looked down and touched the fabric with your fingers. “Thank you, I wasn’t sure about what I should wear.”

“Well,” he started the car, “you surely look lovely.”

Biting your lip, you tried to hide a smile and glanced away in a futile attempt to keep your thoughts at bay. It was complicated though, with Tommy’s hand on your leg.

-

The place where the races were held was packed with people. You caught glimpses of them staring at you as Tommy guided you through the crowd with a hand on the small of your back. Even when he stopped to talk to some of them, about business or politics as you could hear, he did not let you go away. He kept his hand constantly connected to your body, until you found the stables and Tommy took a few steps away from you, stopping in front of a horse. 

You approached them carefully, trying to avoid ruining your shoes, and admired the beautiful animal. 

“This is your horse?” you wondered in awe, slowly bringing your hand closer to the animal’s snout. 

The smell of the horses and the hay brought back some memories from your childhood in Idris, suddenly you felt very small. Tommy nodded in silence, caressing the horse’s neck with affection. 

After weeks of following Thomas Shelby around, watching and studying his every move and even the slightest interaction, this was the first time you had seen him showing anything resembling tenderness. This man had nothing to do with the intimidating and cruel facade that he showed to the rest of the world. In front of you, you had a man who was whispering words of affection to his horse in a language that you were not able to understand. 

“Oh! You’re here, Tommy” a feminine voice caught you off guard. She hadn’t seen you yet, so she kept talking to him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, not before the races at least. I’ve been thinking about our last conversation and…” 

Her voice grew smaller when you moved to the side, stepping away from the horse and a little closer to Tommy. The lady’s dark eyes danced from you and Tommy, almost as if indecisive. 

“I’m showing the horses to Y/N,” he said as if that explained his presence there, brushing your arm when he said your name. Her eyes finally rested on you for a moment, taking in the information before returning to Tommy. He was looking at you. “This is May Carleton, she trains my horses.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you said, as friendly as you could. 

She nodded, touching her hair and quickly looking away. You almost felt bad for her, disappointment oozed from every pore of her skin despite her attempt to hide it.

It made you wonder if something had happened between them. Probably, based on the way she tried to meet his eyes but he wasn’t into her, at least not anymore from what you could tell. 

It did not surprise you. Actually, it just confirmed one of your assumptions about Thomas, the fact that he was the kind of man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. 

May’s face was so devastated that it only increased your sympathy for her. It wasn’t her fault to have fallen in love with him. The bastard had something that made it really hard to ignore him. He was like a light in the darkness alluring you to get closer and once you realise it, it is too late. You’re burnt and he is leaving you. 

Tommy cleared his throat and placed his hand in the small of your back once again, ready to lead you out of the stables. “We’re going to find our seats before the race starts, we’ll talk another day, May.”

As you two moved forward among the crowd, you gave him a side glance. He seemed unfazed after the encounter with her. 

“You could have been a bit nicer, you know. She clearly still feels something,” you said once you found your seats. 

He raised an eyebrow at you and shook his head, lightning a cigarette. 

“What May and I had ended a long time ago. Our current agreement is purely professional.”

“Does she know?”

“She’s a smart woman, she must have figured it out by now.”

-

You had no idea of what to expect of the horse races but definitely it was not this. People cheered and talked loudly about their bets and the horses and whatever. And you were bored as hell. Thomas kept his eye on his horse and he even smiled from time to time, probably every time he won a bet which meant he was making money.

It was hard to stay focused and enjoy, as much as you tried. Everyone around seemed to be having the time of their lives but you just couldn’t. The nerves were creeping up your stomach, making it impossible. Something was off, but you didn't know what it was. 

On more than one occasion, your intuition had saved your life. So you began to scan the crowd, searching for something that could explain your uneasiness.

As you did so, your fingers dug into Tommy’s forearm a little too hard. He frowned and turned his head to look at you. “Something is going on, I don’t know what it means yet but I would say that we are being watched,” you told him in a low voice. 

Tommy took a quick look around and shrugged before glancing back at you. He sighed at the sight of your face contorted with worry. His hand caressed your cheek.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to worry,” he said softly, resting an arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer to him protectively. As if you were a naive and vulnerable girl, as if he had forgotten the fact that you were a demon hunter. “People will stare, it’s normal. Don’t you know who I am? Also, my date is a beautiful woman. Let them look all they want.”

His arrogance made you frown. “No, Thomas. It’s not about that, you don’t understand what I mean. I think this is something beyond mundane, and we need to get out of here. We are too exposed, I need to figure out what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on,” he said firmly. You opened your mouth to reply but he put a finger over your lips, pressing them gently. “Take a look around, see all the Peakys? We are safer here than anywhere else right now.”

He was right, all around you could see men wearing peaked caps and tailored suits. You even recognised some of them, there was Arthur and others whose names you did not remember. However, you were convinced that whatever it was, they couldn’t stop it. 

“Love, look at me.”

You looked up at him, he seemed so calmed that it made you feel a bit embarrassed. What if you had just let yourself get carried away? Tommy squeezed your hand. 

“But Tommy…”

“But nothing,” he cut you off before you could keep insisting. “Enjoy the races. I have a surprise for later.”

He was smiling almost imperceptibly, only for you to see it. You pursed your lips and ended up nodding, there was no point in trying to convince him, he was as stubborn as a wild horse. Even more than that.

So you rested your head on his shoulder and looked up, staring at the sky. The sun was starting to set. Now, more than ever, you regretted not bringing enough weapons with you. 

-

Relief filled your body once everything was over and you stood up, ready to leave. Tommy seemed to be in a good mood. Once again, he guided you through the crowd, this time he offered you his arm to hold on to as you made your way back to the car. You let him guide you, without paying attention to him or what he was talking about, still alert to any suspicious movement around. 

As you walked further into the dark streets, the feeling of being followed intensified. You were only a few metres from the car when you looked over your shoulder and saw it.

You stopped walking, digging your heels into the ground and making Tommy stop as well, he gave you a questioning look that you did not return because your gaze was on the alley you two had just walked by a few seconds ago.

A creature had sneaked there so fast that if you hadn’t been feeling that something was off all that time, it probably would have gone unnoticed. It seemed to be a ravener demon, like the one you had killed the night before.

Was it following you, or Tommy?

With a fluid movement you unhooked your arm from his and threw him your bag. It hit him in the chest but he managed to grab it before it fell to the floor. Reaching under your dress, you grabbed the dagger. The blade shone under the street lights. 

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a second. Don’t get any closer,” you warned him, adjusting your grip on the dagger. 

Before he could reply anything, you had already disappeared running towards the alley. But Tommy was not the kind of man who follows other people’s orders. He headed towards the alley too, stopping a few steps away from the entrance, unable to take his eyes off the scene in front of him.

The demon was hiding there, waiting for you. It only took you a couple of minutes to kill it, although you ended up covered in black, viscous ichor.

“Damn it,” you muttered, dropping the dagger and wiping your hands and arms on the fabric of your dress, trying to clean as much ichor as possible from your skin. The dress was ruined. 

You hissed at the burning sensation, taking a moment to put yourself together. Then, you turned around to face the entrance of the alley. Tommy was standing there, a lonely figure in the middle of the dark street. But wait, he was not alone. There was someone else. 

Suddenly, it all clicked in your head. The ravener demon was just a distraction, the real danger was still out there. 

Tommy was staring at you wide eyed. He had presumably witnessed the whole encounter with the creature and now more than ever since he saw you for the first time, he looked as if he had lost his mind.

Actually, he was kind of astonished by the speed at which you had moved and the way you had made that horrible thing disappear. 

He was not paying attention to his surroundings and even if you warned him, he could not react fast enough to avoid the man approaching him from the back. Luckily, you could move faster than a regular human. Using what was left of your speed rune, which wasn’t much because it had almost faded away at this point, you run to get between the man with the gun and Tommy. 

If you hadn’t been busy with the ravener, this guy would not have had a chance to get so close. The man pulled the trigger just when you were about to push Tommy away, the loud bang of it sent a shiver down your spine.

The sound seemed to snap Tommy out of his stupor. A million thoughts and emotions flooded his mind, this could not be happening. Not again. All of a sudden he was no longer in the middle of a dirty street but knelt on the floor while holding the limp body of his wife, who had just been shot by a bullet intended for him.

Tommy held you tightly, with his vision clouded by anger but focused. He took out his own gun and shot the man many times, not stopping until there were no more bullets left. The man fell like a ragged doll on the ground, a dark pool of blood under his thin body. 

It had all happened so fast... as you held onto Thomas tightly, he spoke softly in your ear. Or maybe he wasn't speaking softly, but the gunshots had sounded so close that you couldn't hear anything now. Well, you could hear your heartbeat inside your eardrums. And something else, a sharp pain that increased by each second. 

With trembling hands, you touched your chest just below your collarbone, where the pain was coming from. You looked at your fingers, covered in crimson. A sob escaped your lips and then you began to understand what Tommy was telling you. 

He kept repeating that you had to stay calm, that everything was going to be okay. A few men, Peaky Blinders, arrived at the scene alerted by the gunshots and Tommy started screaming orders at them. 

“I need an ambulance now!”, he shouted, returning his attention to you. “You’re alright Grace,” his voice was barely a whisper as he caressed your hair and rocked you back and forth. 

Even though it hurt, you tried to get out of his hold. Although it was the first time you had been shot, there were worse kinds of pain than the physical one. Tommy tried to make you stay still but you needed to see the man who had attacked you. 

Being closer now, you noticed his frail body, he seemed young. A teenager or a young man, he could not be older than you. But his hair was matted and completely silver. It was too dark to see the colour of his eyes but you were sure that they were silver too, just like the greyish tone of his skin.

A yin fen addict. 

[synnamonroll666]

Finally Me

Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Warnings: Fluff, Implied Monster Fucking, Teratophilia, Breeding Kink, Implied Breeding... Word Count: 488 A/N: Ever since I wrote that monster fucking prompt, it's been heavy on my mind. So I wanted to do a little something that's more in the perspective of Syzoth. I hope you all enjoy! 😁💚 Main MasterList: 🖤 Syzoth's MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @mornandil, @queenkhepri, @bihansthot, and @mmeerraa.

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

He knew he was a monster, and yet she didn't see him that way. He had wanted it for so long but was scared to grasp it in his claws. And here she is, bearing her fragile self to him while begging for him to bear himself to her—his true self.

Though the desire in his heart and instinct in his mind screamed with need, he was afraid—afraid of hurting the only woman who truly loved him for all that he was. But with a gentle hand upon his and a few sweet words of encouragement, Syzoth found himself changing once again. But this time, it was not to devour another victim. At least, not in the way he would usually do so.

Skin morphs into scales, and her eyes are filled with awe as she stares up at the 8ft beast before her. Not a look Syzoth is used to getting in this state—or any state, for that matter.

Her hand reaches out—shaky and clammy. Not from nerves but excitement—and those soft fingertips he adores so much brush over his leathery scales.

A low, purr-like sound is heard emitting from inside the walls of his muscular chest. He is embarrassed at first, since he didn't mean to do so, but her sweet smile makes those worries go away. He lays his head upon her chest as she continues to stroke his head—as she waits for him to make the final move.

His heart pounds like a drum, and salty tears prick his crimson eyes. He had never been so vulnerable in this form—hell, it was made for fighting and being a predator—but here he is, in the arms of a pure angel, melting like some love-sick puppy dog. The Zaterran wouldn't have it any other way, though. He loved his human more than anything—she was more precious to him than any amount of money or any rare gem in the universe.

He was fine to bask in her heat for a little longer until that voice within began to talk again, telling him that he still had a mission to finish. He raises his head, looking for confirmation, which she gladly gives.

Then he releases a breath to relax; the cold air fans her neck and makes her smile. He slowly pushes himself inside her walls, grunting as her heat consumes a more intimate area. He waits, listening to her whine and keen beneath him as she stretches over his large members. She had never had someone this big before, so it will take some time to get used to it.

But Syzoth would gladly wait for her, ignoring those voices scolding him and reminding him that his job is much too important to care for her well-being. He will still wait—all while the corners of his stiff, Zaterran lips turn up into a loving smile as he thinks about the children he is about to conceive.

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

[ph0enix-12]

Ichorverse - chapter 3

~ Knowledge’s keeper ~

This may sadly be the weakest chapter in the story, there just wasn’t that much to say

<- Chapter 2 . Chapter 4 ->

He was named Dust, for that was all he was, dust to be swept under the rug and forgotten. To be left in a library and gather over the books, to be quiet and invisible, to not ever be seen by anyone.

His family was far too powerful and influential in high society to be seen with a son like him, a frail and cursed child.

He was never fully alone, he saw spirits as they moved around his parent’s villa, but even they didn’t spare more than a glance at the forgotten child.

Many of the books of the library were used as decoration, lining the shelves just to fill them, like magic books, his favorite thing in the world. He was honestly grateful to be in that family just because it meant he could study magic. His mana lines always felt full and stuffy, making him always sluggish and sleepy. He only realized once he grew up that the reason for that was a surplus of magical energy hidden inside him.

He studied science even if magic was his true calling. Reading every single book written by the greatest researchers he could find was easy, always hungry for knowledge and more stimulus for his head.

He found magic books of all kinds and he ate through each one, devouring the words eagerly and stewing over each single page for days until he knew it by heart.

He quickly learned that spell casters were able to save spells as cards. Spell caster, mage, magic user, he loved those appellatives, he yearned to be called that too. So, he started to make his own cards, and even if the first ones were incredibly unsuccessful, he kept going every day he spent in that library. Painting and writing each little detail he found described in the books he so loved.

And then his parents had to ruin it all, of course.

After almost his entire life spent in that library, he was dragged out to attend some sort of party, which was weird, but he would have been an idiot to question them.

The lights were too bright and the music was way too loud even if soft jazz was the only thing playing. He felt the expensive garments he was made to wear stick to his bones and the lace itched badly, the tag of the shirt dug into his neck like searing needles. It was all too much all at once.

He couldn’t look people in the eyes, even if it was required for him to speak to other nobles. He didn’t care about this stupid thing, he didn’t care that he had the honor to be hosted in the king’s palace. Why the heck would he!? His library was perfect, he liked his living conditions!- to a certain degree..

He ran out into one of the openings that from the ballroom gave into the gardens outside. His breath was short and everything was spinning. Dust tried to shield his eyes, because everything felt too bright, and loud and- Something was wrapped over his head…it was a nice fabric, it felt like good quality, but not like some stupid fancy lace.

He heard someone quietly guide him to take deep breaths and he listened, slowly being able to open his eyes again.

He was utterly stunned when he saw the man in front of him, who had wrapped the cloth over his head. This was no ordinary man, this was a god.

The god had a golden crack over one of his eyes and from that close, Dust could notice tiny cyan freckles over his cheek bones. He knew very well who the god was, since there was only one other god to live in the mortal realm. This man was Nightmare, Dust had read stories about the six gods before, and he was the youngest among them even if he came from a set of triplets.

His older siblings made the sea and the planets in their galaxy, while he made the night. From the moon and the stars, to the darkness that was casted over the world- he had made it all.

And now, there he was, looking at Dust with a calm yet worried expression.

“Are you feeling better? Can you hear me now?” He asked, making sure to keep his voice low for the startled mortal, “Yeah- i am fine-“ Dust blushed at his stuttering, it wasn’t often he spoke to new people and it was surely the first time he spoke with a god.

The star sighed relieved, “good. I worried when you ran out” he tenderly wrapped the cloth around Dust further, it was like a big scarf made of heavy cotton and thankfully not itchy wool.

The god sat beside him on the grass, keeping his legs gracefully folded under himself, “thank you..” Dust muttered shyly, “I- don’t know what happened”.

“You almost had a meltdown” he was hesitant, but he gently placed a hand over Dust's shoulder in an effort to soothe him further, “did something in particular upset you? Did someone bother you?” Dust closed his eyes, surprisingly letting himself get touched. “Uh- I don’t know” he spoke softly, starting to get embarrassed- fuck, the king had to step in to calm him from a meltdown, first day out into society and he was already messing up.

“It was…loud and bright. And these clothes suck” the god chuckled amused by his brashness. “Yes well, fancy clothing isn’t really ‘sensory friendly’” he smiled at him and the mortal felt..understood, maybe.

“You are Dust, correct? I learned just today that the Arkani family had a son” He tried his hand at some light conversation, maybe trying to distract Dust from the noise of the party. “Yeah..I don’t get out much, I mostly study” He perked up, looking interested, “really? What do you study? I enjoy litterature the most”

A small smile bloomed on Dust's face, hidden under the scarf that wrapped around his head, “magic…I like magic studies”

He was admittedly very excited to finally talk with someone cultured about it.

Dust proudly showed him his cards, he hadn't even realized how much he needed someone to ask about them and to see his achievements-

“It is rare for a young man like yourself to be interested in this field. Who taught you?” Dust blushed, ashamed, “..no one taught me..your grace” he lowered my head- most nobles had a proper education, none of them were self taught like him.

“You learned magic by yourself? That is-'' Dust hunched his shoulder, ready to be chastised or something, “-quite impressive!”

To say Dust was stunned was quite the understatement- he had understood this man to be someone interested in culture, he would have imagined to be reprimanded for not having a teacher-

“You have quite the interesting talent for cards too” the god gently picked up one of the spells Dust had displayed on the grass. He studied it carefully, squinting his good eye and rubbing his chin, the mortal admitted to himself that the god looked a little silly doing so-

“-and the writing on the cards is very pristine and polished, it means that you have been writing multiple cards for a long time-” Dust hid his little snort of amusement as the god kept examining his work, he honestly felt a lot better now, the sounds and lights were dulled by the scarf he had been given.

The star offered him a polite smile as he handed the card he held back to the mortal. “How would you like a place in my court?”

Dust blinked. “Me?” the god chuckled amused, “yes, you, Dust Arkani”

He blinked again, “are- you sure your majesty?” the god shrugged a little, “why not? I don't think you want to be stuck in a library forever, no?”

How did he-

~~~

I’m so sorry Dust, I promise you are interesting in other chapters 😭😭😭

[merbear25]

hii!!! sorry i forgot to specify gender- trans male reader 😭😭

mayuri was definitely. unnerving. seeing him at first … especially with how he treated nemu, you’re very right!! i started to really like him after his fight with szayelaporro, hes very interesting ^_^

-🐊 anon

Hello again!! I attached the original ask because it'd help with context. Thank you for sending something in, my lovely 🐊 anon. I hope you like it and are still enjoying Bleach 💜🧡

There would be no feelings—that was the agreement. He was in no position to take on a partner, seeing as his business took up far too much of his freetime. Even with knowing he wouldn’t give you what you really wanted, you couldn’t help yourself; you kept coming back for more.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, trans m!reader, hard sex, penetrative sex, general terms used for reader, top surgery scars briefly mentioned, undefined relationship, angst

Blurred lines (Crocodile)

A man like him was hard to get close to. Well, that was only half true. Physical intimacy could be given out like playing cards, but it so rarely was an entry to many’s hearts. 

“What were you doing messing around with a man like him?” You often asked yourself this question but never had the answer. Suppose you developed genuine feelings for him—you already had. Suppose you decided to confront him about your feelings—you wouldn’t be so brave. Suppose there was a chance he returned your love—wishful thinking, that was all it was.

Each time that familiar pain rattled in your chest, it was momentarily soothed by the affection shown in the bedroom behind closed doors, where only the two of you know of your relationship. A band-aid plastered on the open wound only to be ripped off at your darkest hour, and yet he was the only one who made you feel alive.

A tango with the wolf who had shed his sheep’s clothing brought on obvious danger, but were you wrong to crave more? You shouldn’t keep going back, let alone fall for him. The heart wanted what the heart wanted.

Escorted to the premise just as discreetly as all the times before, as you climbed the steps to the chambers of hot and cold relations, that unsettling pain spread throughout your chest.

The fire was set—leaving the embers to dance with the life that would emanate within the room without long. The bed was made with those silky sheets you commented on liking once—filling your head with thoughts that your opinion was held in high regard. The man who you’d be lying with—a thrill that accompanied each rendezvous.

The world was treacherous even on its calm days, and although you knew he’d never truly offer you solace from the gale force winds, you took comfort in his arms if only for a night.

His hands favor your hips. He guided you closer to him, and you allowed him to press against you. The grip he had tightened. Your hands found their way to his chest, already clinging to the fabric covering the body that kept you awake at night when apart.

Taking handfuls of the backside that left him wanting more, he leaned in closely. His lips ghosted yours as if savoring the light gasps that left them. So frail and weak on the outside but a starved attention whore deep within.

“You like how I touch you, don’t you?” A low grumble trailed past your ear.

Your fingers raked down his chest. The way your smaller frame seemed to fit so perfectly with his was a weapon you wielded.

“I especially love when you throw me around and pin me into whatever position you need to have me in.” Your voice lulled him into the trance he would never admit being under.

“Such a naughty thing.” He picked you up effortlessly and tossed you on the bed. Swiftly tugging your bottoms off, you eagerly ripped your shirt off. 

When he flipped you on your stomach, you arched your back—a succulent piece of meat ready to be devoured.

He ran his hand down your back, letting it linger on your ass before landing a rough slap to it. That yelp you made never failed to put a sadistic smile on his face. His hand gripped your soft flesh, unable to resist spreading you. The way your breath quickened had you squeezing each sensitive nerve under his watchful gaze.

Without warning, he spit on your most private area. His saliva was dripping down your taint, serving as a pathetic excuse for lube as he plunged a finger in. Your body took to him instantly, wrapping around his thick finger and meeting his pumps with your own bucking enthusiasm.

“What’s the matter? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last time?” He leaned down. With a fair amount of his body weight on you, your breaths quickened from the increased pressure. “Or are you just being greedy?”

He put in a second finger. His eyes stayed on your face, intently watching as the pleasure he was giving you etched on your face. Your body squirmed and withered under him, making you move further from where he wanted you. He slammed his hook over your neck. The sudden force of the chilled metal made you shriek.

“Stay still,” he ordered.

You huffed and panted, quaked and groaned: each sound and reaction you had was pushing his control to its limit. With your shame tightening around him, you were just about to go over that edge.

He pulled out. Your begs for more were only met with a low laugh—such a pathetic mess you were.

You felt as light as a feather when he manhandled you—flipped and turned however he desired you. On your back was one of your favorites. Adoring how his hand wandered over your torso, grazing your scars just to find your perky nipples. As embarrassing as you once thought, Crocodile couldn’t get enough of those sweet moans when he pinched and plucked at them. 

The heat nipping at your cheeks only added to your allure. Your legs trembled from the unexpected gentle caress between your legs. Such tenderness had your body rutting and pressing against his hand, yearning for more while desperately wanting more of what he was offering.

“Such a needy thing.” He grunted while positioning himself between your legs. The gaping hole of your arousal was beginning to twitch from the lack of attention. Slapping his cock against you, he barely gave you a moment before pushing inside of you.

A guttural groan sounded through the room as he picked up the pace. The way your body moved from the force of his hips combined with the silky fabric posed a slight issue—you escaping from him.

He pinned you under his hook once more, growling from the way you cried out. With your shoulders smacking against the metal and your lower half unable to stop shaking from your quickly approaching climax, you clung to him to help stabilize yourself.

“S-so good…” You whimpered through a clenched jaw.

Each thrust, your entire body stroking him fully, the choked gasps: you were perfect. A final thrust, he pulled out to coat you and the body he owned with layers of white hot lust.

Your shared high had the stars lingering in your vision, giving him an appearance that was far more angelic than he deserved. Gazing down at you, the same warmth was undoubtedly reciprocated. But he was a man with no time to commit to a relationship. That was what he told himself

[aclowntiny]

Puppy Love- Yunho x Female!Barista!Reader

I haven't forgotten about all my coffee shop stories 😁😁😁 Yunho in his ‘you like jazz?’ era

Word Count: 3536 | Coffee Shop, Fluff | Warnings: too dang fluffy 😝

Yunho’s dream had finally come true. A dog café had opened up within walking distance of work. What a time to be alive! What a lucky walk of the streets on his break, unsure how to spend his rare free time once he had it. Using it for an activity seemed simultaneously gratifying and overwhelming. Time to burn some energy off with some very good boys and girls instead! Some caffeine might also reverse-jitter him back into productivity…or at least into the right headspace to squeeze in an episode of that show he needed to finish.

Beneath an awning of striped lime green and white awaited the door to Leash Love Latte, the lovely windowed building decorated with paint-on art of joyous pups of all breeds, two of which held mugs and one of which was about to devour a bone-topped cupcake. Yunho couldn't help but smile as his eyes scanned the glass, jumping a bit at the noise when he opened the door, but the startlement easily fell into a laugh as he opened the security door once the front one was closed and was met with a barrage of dogs.

"Oh, hi," he giggled as one little papillon practically climbed up his leg, bending down to scoop her up into his arms. Flipping her collar tag, he saw it read 눈. A name meaning Snow made sense- she was a ball of pure white fluff after all.

Carrying her up to the counter, Yunho was met with the sight of an extremely nimble barista practically skating across the café floor to slide a pastry onto the counter and call out its owner’s name, then turn on her heels to catch a drink from the older man who held it out to her and repeat the process. Once that was done, she twirled around to face the counter.

“Sorry about that, just had an order to finish up,” she paused, taking a couple breaths and getting her hair back into place, smile never leaving her face, “oh, Nunie, are you making friends?” Her gaze had dropped to the sweet pup in Yunho’s arms, the nickname and her evident familiarity with the café dogs warming his heart.

“Yep," he agreed with a chuckle, holding her up a bit higher with fatherly pride despite their very recent meeting, "I think she'd have made a ladder of me if she could."

"Well, you are pretty tall," the girl joked.

"I guess that's true! So, what do you recommend here?"

She grinned. "Dog or drink?"

"Drink," Yunho responded, "I don't think I'll get away with any cheating today."

"How does a peanut butter mocha sound?"

"Great," he replied, "I've never had one before!"

Plucking a solid pink, paw-print-dotted mug from some unseen counter alcove, the barista grinned. "It's sort of my specialty."

"She's always trying to hock those!" The older man called out from deeper in the kitchen, offering a devilish grin.

"Hey! At least I have a specialty!" She called back, smiling when he shouted that she was a better barista than him and sliding the mug down the slick metal counter surface before turning back to Yunho. "Sorry, that's my uncle. He's a bit of a jokester. Your name?”

"Yunho. And that's ok. I can see how well you guys get along. So this is a family business, then?"

"Yep," she nodded, "everything I do, I try to do with my family."

Something about those simple words touched Yunho's heart, throwing its beat off even as he lowered himself into a bench, stroking his snowy new friend and laughing as a brown and white Jack Russel terrier and a little grey mutt with a folded ear scrambled up to fill his lap all the way. His gaze darted between them and the young lady behind the counter as she operated all the kitchenware with focused eyes and lightly smiling lips.

This place really was heaven.

~

"Here you go!"

Yunho's attention snapped up from the mutt, Sammy, to meet the eyes of the girl. He hadn't really paid attention to the color of them before, but the lime-and-pink shaded light dangling above his table must have somehow brought it out as she set his mug in front of him a respectable distance from the squirming dogs piled upon his lap.

"What was your name again?" Yunho blurted out before he could help it.

"(y/n)."

"(y/n)," he repeated with a smile, "wonderful. I just felt like I needed to have a name to go with the face."

Her eyes remained on him, though the smile on her face did not fade. Sammy licked at her sleeve, which only made it grow wider, her nose crinkling a bit. A wave of awkwardness crashed over Yunho.

"So, (y/n), you must really like peanut butter." That sounded much better in his head.

She just giggled. “I love it! I was eating a peanut butter cup when I got the idea for the drink.”

“That’s so cool! I have a friend who cooks and that seems hard, let alone designing something new, like I can’t even imagine.”

(y/n) waved a hand before reaching it back down to pet a fluffy spotted Australian shepherd that ran by her feet. “Oh, I bet you could come up with something,” she told him with a smile.

Yunho racked his brain, but beneath the tantalizing chocolate-peanut-butter-coffee-with-a-hint-of-espresso smell, the light of that obnoxiously cute lamp, the warm, wiggling puppy pile on his lap, and the faint, anticipatory flutter of the girl’s eyelashes, not much was floating up coherently. “I can’t think of anything that would be good in coffee,” he finally admitted.

“What about something that would be bad in coffee?”

“All my brain was giving me was fruit loops, so I’d say that.”

(y/n) gave a humored wince. “Ooh, yeah. Though that would make a good milk latte or shake! I could totally work with that!” And with that, she made another of her skate-like drifts across the shop, dodging three dogs darting at her feet as she fell back behind the counter, pulling out a couple appliances and taking notes like a mad scientist.

Well, that wasn’t too bad a response to fruit loops of all things. Patting Sammy, Yunho pulled his steaming mug to his lips, barely feeling the cup’s heat above that in his own sheepish cheeks.

~

A few days after his Leash Love Latte trip, Yunho was out for a walk to clear his head after a very early morning of choreography practice, having rinsed himself off and wanted nothing more than to get out into the sun and breeze, practically melting the industrial lighting out of his skin. Cleansing the sweat off had only been step one.

Veering off the paved walking trail, Yunho crossed over the inclination of a grassy green hill, wandering over the great emerald expanse and dodging the occasional frisbee. Ducking under one that was thrown high enough, even.

The small amount of skin exposed by his t-shirt warmed pleasantly in the moderate day's air as he passed an area surrounded by metal gating that bore a few tied-on signs. Within it, dogs of varying sizes tore across the grass, played tug-of-war, and ran to their owners with new friends in tow. As he got closer, he noticed that one of those owners had a haircut that looked quite familiar, a smile Yunho felt like he’d just been graced with.

It was (y/n)! Carefully undoing the safety gate with a deft motion of his fingers, he lifted the release and entered, immediately dodging dogs as he ran a hand through his hair hoping he’d straightened it. His other hand was already getting thoroughly sniffed, a few licks coming to it before he reclaimed it, giving a bulldog and a border collie some pats as he milled through the park. A mutt- maybe half terrier- ran up to him snuffling with a squeaky toy in its jaws, so Yunho threw it, laughing as it turned into a little spotted streak of lightning. Hopefully its owner was young. And then, turning on his heels, he faced you.

“Oh, hey, (y/n), right?” He leaned forward, resting a hand as casually as he could atop the bench a few feet from him, mock-guessing your name like it hadn’t made a few runs through his head of late. “Didn’t see you there. I’m-”

“Yunho from the café. Fruit loops guy.”

Fruit loops guy. “Yep, that’s me.” He put a hand to his chest. “Fruit loops guy.”

“I’ve been tinkering around with stuff and that idea is something that we might be adding to the menu if my uncle lets me!” She added, grinning as a pup Yunho recognized as Sammy ran up to her, leaning into her offered pets.

“Really? That’s great!”

“Yeah! Should I name it after you?”

“The Yunho? Might confuse some people-”

(y/n) chuckled, wrapping her arms around Sammy to pull him onto her lap. “Yunho, I was kidding.”

“Oh, right, yeah, I knew that. So, uh, taking Sammy to the dog park?”

“Yep,” she nodded, smiling, “I try to take all the adoptables out on an alternating schedule.”

“Oh,” Yunho tilted his head in thought, “the Leash Love Latte dogs are for adoption?”

“Indeed they are. The goal is people live them so much they want to take them home!”

“Guess then they’d really need a doggy bag,” he quipped.

(y/n)’s eyes widened as she burst out with a laugh. “Ok, that’s so perfect, mind if I steal that?”

“Be my guest.”

“I’ll try my best to credit you where I can. Hey, wanna play frisbee with Sammy? It’s practically as big as him, but he loves it.”

Was there even a question? “Of course! Come on, Sammy, let’s go!”

And with that, they both pushed off their respective bench seat and lean, jogging deeper into the park’s grass and dodging a fire hydrant in the ground as they took turns tossing the blue plastic disc (y/n) had ready in her backpack.

~

“Hey, remember the guy who inspired my fruit loops latte?” You called back into the kitchen as you refilled the coffee bean jars up front, dim evening lights of closing time filing Leash Love Latte.

“Tall fellow, right?” You uncle questioned in response.

"Yeah," you nodded, "him. If he comes back, I'm going to get him in the kitchen."

"In the kitchen?" Your uncle's voice raised both in incredulity and response to some barks from your café companions. "I thought you liked him."

"Oh, geez!" Plucking a not-so-wet grey washcloth from your counter, you lobbed it at your uncle and his jokes. "I do. You think I'd let any loser with a dazzling smile into my laboratory?"

The washcloth connected with your uncle's shoulder, breaking his face into a grin as he shook it into his hand and started wiping the kitchen surface with it. "Ugh, save the sappy crap for him, huh? What are you even going to make him do? A day of free labor?"

"No," you giggled, leaning on the shining metal of your counterspace, "I think he has better ideas than he gives himself credit for. I'm just going to let him try making whatever he wants."

"As long as you guys clean up after yourselves," your uncle teases you, giving you a fond smile.

"Of course we will," you reply with a joyous look of your own, anticipation coursing through you as you imagined all the things you could come up with on your quest for a new menu item...and maybe something else new for you.

~

"Get in the kitchen with you? Me?" Yunho looked at you with eyes wide, holding little Nun a bit tighter in his hands in startlement as if you'd suggested he set his pants on fire.

"Well, I wasn't exactly asking your invisible twin brother there," you teased, clicking the pen in your hand open, then closed again, as you glanced over his shoulder.

He turned his head that way too like there'd suddenly be someone there. There obviously was not. "Alright, point taken. You liked the cereal lattes that much, huh?"

That wasn't what I liked most, you wanted to say. You leaned a bit further out from behind the register. "Something like that. I think it would be fun! Don't you? We don't have to make something good, that'll just be a bonus!"

Yunho's smile returned as yours spread out, and he bent over and gently placed the little fluffball he'd been holding back on the floor, where she stood at his feet, sniffing Cherry, a black chihuahua. "I don't think it'll be fun, (y/n)..."

Your expression stiffened a bit, eyebrows raising to urge his trailed-off sentence on.

"I know it will be! Let's do it! As long as you're allowed to do this, of course."

And then you were smiling again, heart beating in anticipation. You were going to get this dog-loving man and his silly innocent brain in your life no matter what it took.

"Cleared with the boss man and all. Let's make something out of this dead workday!"

Yunho laughed at that, accepting the hand you held out, beckoning him into the sacred space behind the counter, aka your drink and treat lab.

"So," you grinned, folding both your hands under your chin, "wanna make a drink or bake something?"

"Why don't we bake?" Yunho replies, gaze breaking from yours in thought. "Hmm, what's a good dessert to go with a drink? Shortcake?"

"Like strawberry shortcake?"

"Yeah, but why is shortcake always strawberry? Why can't it be any other fruit?"

You shrugged, feeling your expression smugly egg him on. "Why can't it? What do you have in mind?"

"Have you ever seen those candied melons? What about melon shortcake? I bet no one's done that before," Yunho answered before pausing for a couple ticks of Leash Love Latte's dangly-tail dog-in-a-teacup wall clock, "or is that gross?"

Crossing further into the kitchen, you pulled open a silver cabinet and turned back to him. "Only one way to find out."

He shuffled into the kitchen beside you, bouncing on his heels. “Do you have a shortcake recipe?”

“I do indeed,” you said with a grin, taking an apron off the peg on the kitchen wall and handing it his way.

You set to work prepping and measuring the wet ingredients while Yunho took on the dry, the most prominent of which was the flour. Shortcake, you reminded him, wasn’t as sweet as a regular cake, so that seemingly small amount of sugar was in fact correct.

It all went nearly without a hitch, only a small chunk of butter plopping onto the silvery counter, which you quickly twirled around to wipe squeaky clean again. Yunho was doing great at sifting everything together, almost as if he’d done it before.

Well, until the last scoop of flour, that is. The last one hung just wrong, dropping from the measuring cup in Yunho’s hand and sliding down the edge of the mesh strainer, bursting in a cloud of curling pure white dust upon the counter, his apron, and even on the side of your pant leg.

"Oh my gosh, (y/n), I'm so sorry!" Yunho immediately exclaimed, holding his hands out like he didn't trust them anymore.

"Don't worry about it," you replied with a smile and a flippant gesture, "it won't be the first or the last time that happens in here. Besides, in Hallmark movies all things like this do is start a cheeky flour fight."

Yunho glanced down helplessly at his apron and the counter. "Wouldn't that just make it worse?"

"Oh, absolutely," you nod, "but if you just twirl it off your apron, you'll get a pretty cloud effect."

Expectation? A little shimmy. Reality? Yunho executing a perfect showman's leaping twirl, the move indeed enhanced by a puff surrounding him as the powder shook off of him and drifted down to the kitchen tile.

You might've been gaping, but it quickly faded into a smile as you drifted past him in search of a rolling pin. "Alright, so you're, like, an expert dancer, that's totally normal and not extremely cool."

"Oh, I'm no expert. I-I just dance for a living," he replied with a shy grin and darting gaze.

"I hate to break this to you," you leaned on the counter in front of him, rolling pin in hand and awe on your face, "but that makes you an expert. Certainly more than me. You should be there one of the many times I forget a step of the macarena."

Yunho's hands started drifting around in the general airspace above his shoulders, head, and hips. "Which part?"

All you could do was giggle and hold the rolling pin up in your hand, head shaking. "Have you ever kneaded and rolled dough before?" He had good dough hands. Certainly more proportional to the dough than yours!

~

"We did it, (y/n)! We made shortcake!" Practically floating above the tile, Yunho high-fived you after you set the tray down.

While your creation baked, the two of you had ditched your aprons and crossed the threshold back into adoptable territory to absolutely ruin all your kitchen-sanitary hands on the hurricane of dogs that surged after you, leaping into your arms like the sweetest of crests crashing onto your jean-clad knees.

This time you took Nun and Yunho had Mickey the Australian shepherd, who plopped right down on the café tile with his head in Yunho's now-seated lap. You held your fluffy ball of wonder close to your chest and she practically melted in, little black boba eyes fluttering contentedly shut.

Both of you whined how it was torture and apologized to the dogs as if it was a coordinated act as you waved and backed into the kitchen with four remorseful eyes on the adoptable crowd, and that was how the shortcake was procured.

Candying the watermelon went off without a hitch. Well, mostly. While a welcome strength boost to cut the honeydews, Yunho had you half giggling, half protectively extending an arm as he yelped at the bubbling sugar boiling in the pot. For that, you bid him mix the cream while you got the fruit ready.

More time with the adoptables as the candy set, and then you were stacking cake, cream, and shining, syrupy melon chunks into a light yellow-and-green treat topped with some melon balls and classic rosettes.

"It's beautiful," you congratulated Yunho with a wide smile.

"Better than the fruit loop latte idea?"

You just nodded as the sound of your business's door closing rang our behind you. "And here's our proof coming!" You clapped, rushing out of the kitchen in the bouncing dance of a barista on a mission. "Uncle, will you try our dessert please? Yunho and I worked really hard on it," you plead as you dragged your amused uncle into your workspace, one arm linked with his and the other gesturing with a flourish toward the lovely shortcake and your lovely fellow baker, who immediately bent his legs and struck an introductory pose at it himself.

"I can tell. This looks great, you two," your uncle told you, pride clear in his voice as much as on his face as he ruffled your hair with his free hand.

Wiggling gently out of your grip, he accepted the proffered fork from Yunho and reached over to dig into the plated treat you'd decorated on the counter, which of course you'd wiped down before he could see the mess you made. Didn't hurt to butter up the person trying your new innovation, right?

Your uncle's eyebrows shot up the moment the forkful of your shortcake entered his mouth, both you and Yunho leaping up as if watching the pinnacle of a photo-finish race.

"Well, how is it?" You burst out, practically wiggling under the suspense.

"Yes, sir," Yunho added, straightening the apron he'd put back on, "is it good enough to go on the menu?"

"It's very good, son," your uncle began, eliciting a loud cheer from you two and a resonant, stingingly strong high-five of elation to boot.

"But," he added, both of you inhaling at his next words, eyes not even leaving him when an audible, surely adorable play-wrestle broke out among the adoptables, "if you want this on the menu, there's one condition."

"Wh- what's that? Er, sir?" Yunho stiffened under your uncle's serious gaze.

Short-lived as it was; the expression soon melted into your beloved joker's smile of mischief. "You have to take my niece on a date."

"Uncle, I-" You began to protest, heat rising to your cheeks faster than any oven or milk steamer could preheat.

"Yes, sir," Yunho nodded, sparing you a quick glance and a small wave as if he'd forgotten you were there, "that's a much greater reward than the menu spot."

His smile turned almost into something you'd see on a lovesick cartoon, as if your heart hadn't flipped hard enough in the past few minutes or even from the first time he walked in and you saw him being gentle with the adoptables.

What could you say? Guess it was puppy love.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

okay so you know i had to send in a request!!! i’m so excited for you, congratulations again. could i get the prompt of handwritten letters with jamie, maybe he’s at England camp and they decide to keep in touch the old fashioned way? but honestly if you come up with another prompt that fits i’ll be very happy either way :))

The idea of spending months away from Jamie made your chest ache. You’d never tell him to stay home, not when this has been his dream for forever, not when you can text and FaceTime and call each other every day, but you had to admit that the idea of not waking up next to him for months made you a little sad.

Still, you sent him off to England camp with a big smile on your face, mostly because it would be impossible to look sad when Jamie’s next to you, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. So you gave him one last kiss and made him promise to call you once he gets there safely, and you return home to your empty house.

It’s only four days later when a letter arrives.

You inspect it thoroughly, confused as to who would send you a letter when all the mail you’ve ever gotten was bills and packages you’d ordered. When you notice the return address, the ‘Jamie Tartt’ in the upper right corner, you can’t help but to grin. Now that you know who it’s from, you waste no time in freeing the letter from its envelope, sitting yourself down at the kitchen table to devour everything Jamie wrote for you.

It’s a little less than a page long, in that sloppy scrawl you’ve come to love over the years. The letter recounts his first days at England camp but he mostly focuses on how much he misses you and how much he loves you and, to your slight embarrassment, what he wants to do with you when he finally comes home. Despite that last part that made your heart beat so fast you were sure you were dying, the smile didn’t leave your face the entire time you read Jamie’s words.

After reading the letter three times, you set it gently on your bedside table so you could look at it whenever you pleased before finding paper and a pen and an envelope, writing your own letters for Jamie.

This back and forth continues the entire time he’s away, giving you something to look forward to and a reason to desperately await the mail. Most of the time, your letters to him and his to you focus on how much you love and miss each other while filling the other in on day to day antics or any memorable moments. Sometimes, though, Jamie will write something so poetically raunchy that you need to set the letter down and let yourself breathe before you keep reading.

The two of you still text and call and FaceTime, but the letters are something extra special, something so sweet that Jamie came up with all on his own and when you think about it, your heart aches a little. Now, you have a whole box under your bed full of letters from Jamie that you can pull out and reread whenever you need to, whenever you’re feeling down or missing him a little more than normal.

Towards the end of Jamie’s trip, you stopped receiving letters. You’d sent a reply over a week ago but had yet to receive your letter from him, so you started to factor in time to anxiously wait for the mail into your daily routine. As you’re doing this, sitting at the kitchen table and bouncing your leg up and down, there’s a knock at your front door.

You practically throw yourself off your chair and hurtle to the door, unlocking and opening it as soon as you can to reveal Jamie, a letter in his hand. You waste no time in wrapping him in your arms, slotting your face into the space by his neck that makes you feel all safe and loved.

“Thought this would be better than another letter,” he tells you, and he’s completely right. As much as you loved receiving all those letters, nothing would ever be the same as having Jamie in your arms.

[ser3nityst4r]

Azul’s Backstory

Azul loved the water. It swirled around him, a comforting weight against his eight strong legs. He loved the way the coral reefs shimmered, the way schools of fish darted through the kelp forests. But most of all, he loved the quiet solitude of his secret grotto, a place where whispers of magic danced on the current.

But this peace was often shattered.

“Eww, look! It’s the inky octopus boy!”

Two mermaids, giggled as they swam past, their tails swishing with an irritating grace. Azul shrank back into his grotto, his heart a lead weight in his chest. Wishing to return to his usual state of being holed up into his octopot.

“Why does he even come here? The water gets all murky when he cries.”

“He’s probably just jealous he can’t swim as fast as us.”

Their cruel laughter followed him like hungry sharks. Tears welled up, threatening to spill and release the shameful ink that stained his reputation. He hated how easily he cried, how different he was from the sleek, graceful mermaids around him.

“They’re just ignorant,” Azul muttered to himself, clutching a worn, leather-bound book. It was a grimoire, filled with ancient spells and incantations. While other mer-children chased each other through coral arches, Azul devoured knowledge. He may not have been the strongest or the fastest, but he had eight nimble legs perfect for deciphering complex magical symbols and inscribing potent runes.

Years passed. The taunts continued, but Azul learned to find solace in his studies. He mastered spells that could manipulate water, control light, and even alter appearances. He learned of ancient pacts, agreements forged in magic, where power could be bartered and traded.

One day, a pair of eels, twins with mismatched eyes and sly smiles, stumbled upon his grotto.

“Look, Floyd, it’s the little octopus,” drawled the eel with jade green eyes.

Azul tensed, ready to unleash a blast of ink, but the other twin, Floyd, with eyes like the shifting sea, surprised him.

“Wow, what are those circles on the shells?” Floyd asked, swimming closer. “Is that your signature spell?"

Jade peered at the intricate patterns Azul had painstakingly etched onto the seashells. “Look at this, Floyd. Spells for changing forms, for stealing voices… this little octopus has been busy.”

Azul glared at them, his tentacles twitching nervously. “Don’t touch those! They’re not toys!”

Jade chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “We wouldn’t dream of it. But tell me, little octopus, what exactly are you planning to do with all this power?”

Azul puffed out his chest, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m going to become stronger than anyone, even the Sea Witch herself! Then I’ll make them all pay for laughing at me!”

Floyd and Jade exchanged a look. They saw something in Azul, a spark of ambition that they found intriguing.

Years later, the whispers in the coral hallways had changed. No longer were they whispers of mockery, but whispers of awe, fear, and bewilderment.

“Did you hear? Coralia, the mermaid with the most beautiful voice, can only croak now.”

“And Nero, the fastest swimmer in our school, can barely move his tail! It’s like he traded it for something…”

Azul, now taller and more imposing, listened to these whispers with a satisfied smile. He had honed his magic, crafting contracts that exploited the vanities and insecurities of those who had once mocked him. With a flick of his wrist and a whisper of “It’s a Deal,” he claimed their coveted traits, their speed, their beauty, their very talents, leaving them with only a hollow shell of their former glory.

Azul had become a master of deals, a weaver of fates. He was no longer the scared, lonely octopus hiding in his grotto. He had turned their scorn into his power, their laughter into his triumph. And as he surveyed his underwater domain, he knew that the whispers would only grow louder, a chorus of fear and admiration for the octopus who had mastered the art of the deal.

[homesickwhispers]

i’m here.

(van mccann x reader.)

you and Van get to the hospital to finally have your baby, and he is the best support you can have this moment.

💭 fluff + request 🌸

Van and I had been sleeping peacefully when I felt a sudden, warm rush soak the sheets beneath us.

I knew immediately that my water had broken. I couldn't even say we were shocked. Surprised? Sure, but not shocked.

The past few weeks had been full of intense preparation, both mentally and physically, for this very moment. We’d been anticipating it, counting down the days with a quiet, anxious excitement.

Van sat up beside me, his eyes widening with realization. “Is it time?” he asked, his voice still rough from sleep but laced with a thrill of anticipation.

I nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Yeah..It’s time.”

He was on his feet in an instant, gently but efficiently helping me out of bed. Despite the adrenaline now coursing through us both, he remained steady and focused, just as he’d promised he would be. We’d spent hours talking about this, about how important it was to me to have a natural birth, and how much it meant that he’d be by my side through every moment.

I’d been so lucky to have those conversations with him, to feel heard and understood. Van had been completely supportive, listening patiently as I explained how deeply I felt about delivering our baby naturally. He never once questioned my choice, even when I’d admitted my fears. Instead, he’d reassured me, holding my hand and promising he’d be there, every step of the way.

“I’m here,” he said now, his voice steady, his eyes filled with a love and protectiveness that made me feel brave.

I smiled through the nerves, leaning into him as another wave of anticipation washed over me. For weeks, I’d been doing physiotherapy, preparing my body through careful exercises and learning the movements that would help during labor. We’d done everything we could to be ready, but nothing could quite capture the reality of this moment.

Van’s arm was firm around me as we gathered our things, and he squeezed my hand, offering a smile full of warmth and excitement. “We’ve got this,” he said, and I nodded, feeling grateful for his unwavering support.

Together, we stepped into the moment that would change our lives forever.

We’d had countless conversations in bed about this moment, often lying awake in the soft glow of our bedside lamp, sharing our thoughts, our hopes, and our fears. I’d check in regularly with my doctor and devour every book on natural birth I could get my hands on.

Each time I learned something new, I’d spill all the information to Van, who always listened attentively, even when I knew I was rambling.

One evening, after a particularly detailed explanation of the breathing techniques I’d learned, I smiled and teased him. “You’re such a pro now,” I said, nudging his arm playfully. “I think you’re ready to deliver a baby yourself.”

He laughed, a sound that never failed to make me feel safe, and then he’d blush, looking both flattered and overwhelmed. “Yeah, right,” he’d chuckle. But I knew he was grateful for the knowledge, even if he’d never admit it outright.

Our hospital bag was already packed, sitting by the door for weeks, ready for this exact moment. We’d done everything we could to be prepared, from packing essentials to double-checking every detail

So when my water broke, there was no chaos, just a steady sense of purpose. I grabbed my coat while Van hurried to change into something comfortable, his movements quick but careful, his excitement palpable.

The ride to the hospital was filled with a mix of emotions. Excitement buzzed between us, vibrating through every shared glance and breath. There was no fear, just an undeniable, overwhelming anticipation. We were about to meet our little boy, and the thought made my heart race with a kind of joy I’d never known before.

Sitting in the passenger seat, I fidgeted with the hem of my dress, my nerves showing in the way I picked at the fabric. “Do you think he’ll look like you?” I asked, my voice soft, filled with a hope that made me smile.

Van glanced at me, his lips curving into a warm grin. “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice a little husky with emotion. “I really hope he has your smile, though.”

I laughed, the sound easing some of the tension that had built up inside me. “Well, I just know if he looks like you, we’re setting him up to be way too handsome,” I teased

He chuckled, reaching over to give my hand a gentle squeeze. “Then we’ll just have to be ready for all the trouble he’ll cause, won’t we?”

I looked out at the road ahead, the city lights blurring as we drove, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. Our boy was so close to us now, and the excitement grew with every second, making my heart feel full.

Van’s hand reached out to squeeze mine tight, his touch grounding me. His voice was soft, but filled with so much sincerity. “I love you so much. You’re going to be amazing.”

“I love you too,” I whispered back, brushing my fingers over his knuckles gently, the warmth of his hand giving me comfort.

When we arrived at the hospital, Van was right by my side, guiding me through the doors and helping me fill out the necessary forms. The contractions were still coming, spaced apart enough for me to focus, but I could feel the pressure building with each passing moment.

A friendly nurse came in, her smile immediately putting me at ease. She helped us settle into the room, giving us time to adjust before she helped me change into the hospital attire. “So, a natural birth, huh, mama? You’re a tough one,” she said with a playful wink.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the pain that started to creep up with every contraction. “I guess,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted, though it was getting harder to ignore the pressure building in my body. "Just trying to stay strong."

Van stood beside me, his hand never leaving mine. He was calm, steady, and always just a little closer when the pain became overwhelming. I could see how much he wanted to take the discomfort away from me, but all I needed was him by my side, reminding me of the strength I sometimes forgot I had.

“Don’t worry,” the nurse said with a warm smile, her voice soothing. “We got you a room specially for this delivery. Usually, natural births can take anywhere from 12 to 24 hours, so we make sure our ladies get everything they need to stay comfortable.”

The reminder of how long the process could take was always a sting, but Van and I already knew that. We’d talked about it, read about it, prepared for it. And now, there was no turning back—just the two of us, together, bringing our baby into the world.

“Thank you so much,” I managed to say, my voice still soft from the anxiety that was starting to blend with the pain.

The nurse nodded, leading us into the room. It was warm, calm, and everything I needed in that moment. “Here we go,” she said, her hands gesturing around the space. “There’s a yoga ball here if you need it, and a private shower in case you want to try that for relief. And, of course, we have the birthing tub if you’re interested.”

I smiled, relieved by the options. I appreciated how thoughtful they’d been in preparing everything for me. The room felt like a sanctuary—a place where I could focus on the task ahead, knowing that everything would be handled.

I settled on the bed, trying to get comfortable as the contractions came and went, still spaced enough to catch my breath in between. The pressure was building, though, and it felt like something was pushing down from the inside. I focused on my breathing, trying to stay grounded.

“How are you holding up?” Van asked, his voice filled with concern as he knelt by my side. “Can I get you anything?”

“Not really... just you being here helps,” I said, forcing a smile to reassure him, even though the discomfort was starting to grow.

He looked at me with a sad glimmer in his eyes. “Is it too much pain?”

“Yes,” I admitted, my breath hitching as another contraction hit, but I quickly tried to focus. “But honestly, I don’t even think this is the most pain I’ll feel today. Right now, it’s just this weird pressure like there’s something that wants to come out.”

“Well... there is, love,” he said gently, his eyes soft and filled with love.

I laughed softly, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. “Indeed, babes. We’re almost there.”

We sat in silence for a moment, and Van, ever the thoughtful one, grabbed the remote. He turned on the TV, picking a show to distract me. The familiar sound of the opening theme filled the room.

“Friends? Really?” I asked, laughing at the choice, my voice a little breathless.

“What? You said you liked it!” Van grinned at me, his voice teasing.

“Van, I said this like six years ago,” I said, chuckling.

“Well, yeah, but you still watch it every time we’re on the plane!” he shot back, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Okay, maybe it’s a nostalgic show for me,” I admitted, laughing at the familiar back-and-forth we’d shared many times before.

He smiled, his expression softening as he leaned in, his hand finding mine again. “I’m just trying to make you smile, love. I know this is tough, but we’re in it together.”

I squeezed his hand, grateful for the calmness he brought amidst the storm of emotions. We were here, together, and that was all I needed.

We sat there through what must have been five episodes, Van's hand wrapped around mine the entire time. The laugh track in the background somehow managed to ease me, taking me back to simpler days, when life felt less complicated.

“Why did you like this so much?” he asked, turning his head to look at me, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

I sighed, my gaze softening as I thought about it. “I don’t know... after I moved to the UK, I missed my friends a lot. Watching this was just kind of a comfort show, you know? Made me feel less alone.”

His expression melted into something tender, and he squeezed my hand. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to make fun of your comfort show,” he said, smiling softly.

I chuckled, but before I could respond, a sharp, sudden contraction rippled through my abdomen, and the laughter caught in my throat. “Holy fuck,” I groaned, clutching my side as the pain tore through me, far more intense than before.

Van’s eyes widened with concern, and he leaned closer, his grip on my hand tightening. “Breathe, love. I’m right here,” he murmured, his voice a steady, calming presence. He guided me to take deep, slow breaths, his own worry hidden beneath his soothing words.

I tried to focus on his voice, my nails digging into his hand as I rode out the wave of pain. It felt like an eternity, but eventually, the intensity lessened, and I was able to catch my breath again.

“That one... was a lot,” I said, my voice shaky, but I managed a small smile for him.

Van’s thumb gently brushed over my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re doing amazing. Just hang in there, okay?”

I nodded, feeling a mix of fear and hope, but knowing I had him by my side made it all a little more bearable.

“I think I’ll just get the ball, try some of those exercises the doctor taught us,” I said, exhaling through the residual tension.

“That’s a good idea,” Van replied, already moving to help me. “Come here, let me help you.”

He gently guided me off the bed, his arm steady around my waist as I wobbled a little under the extra weight of my belly. The heaviness was getting more intense now, but as soon as I settled onto the exercise ball, I felt some of the pressure ease away. Rocking gently, I focused on the rhythmic movement, the subtle relief making a difference.

Van knelt down in front of me, watching intently, his face lined with concern. “Is it helping?” he asked, searching my face for any sign of comfort.

“Somehow,” I said with a breathless chuckle. The humor felt necessary, a way to break through the pain and keep some sense of normalcy. “It’s not perfect, but it’s something.”

He grinned, relief washing over his expression. “That’s all that matters. As long as you’re getting through, one contraction at a time.” His hand reached out, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead.

Van stayed close, his hands resting lightly on my knees, offering steady support as I continued to sway gently on the ball. The rhythmic movement provided some relief, and I focused on my breathing, trying to stay centered.

“You’re really doing amazing,” Van said softly, his eyes filled with awe and affection. He rubbed small circles on my back, careful but comforting, his touch grounding me.

I let out a shaky laugh between breaths. “You say that now, but we’re just getting started.”

He chuckled, but I could see the worry hiding behind his smile. “Hey, you’re the strongest person I know. We’re in this together, yeah?”

I nodded, grateful for him. “Yeah. Together.”

Another contraction started to build, and I closed my eyes, gripping his hand for support. Van stayed silent, his thumb rubbing gentle patterns across my knuckles as I worked through it, my breath coming out in uneven gasps.

When the pain finally subsided, I opened my eyes, finding his gaze fixed on me with such intense care that it almost made me tear up. “You’re really good at this whole support thing, you know,” I murmured, trying to keep the mood light.

His lips quirked into a crooked smile. “Well, I had a great teacher. All those late-night conversations paid off.”

I laughed softly, the sound strained but genuine. “You mean all those nights you stayed up listening to me worry about this exact moment?”

“Exactly,” he said, his grin widening. “I knew every second was worth it. And I’m here for every second of this, no matter how long it takes.”

The hours passed in a blur of pain and effort. The contractions started coming closer together, each one pulling me deeper into the intensity. What had once felt manageable with Van’s steady hands on my back and the soothing repetition of gentle encouragement now felt overwhelming, all-consuming.

I gripped his hand tightly, my knuckles white as another wave crashed over me. Tears stung my eyes, and I let out a groan that bordered on a scream. The exercise ball had long been abandoned; I was now leaning against the bed, struggling to catch my breath between contractions.

Van wiped a damp cloth over my forehead, his face etched with concern. “You’re doing so well, love,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He hated seeing me in pain, but he stayed strong, for me.

I shook my head, my voice coming out in a desperate plea. “Van, I can’t... I can’t do this much longer without knowing if we’re making progress. Can you get the nurse? Please?” I was exhausted, my body trembling with the effort it was taking to keep going.

His eyes filled with sympathy, and he nodded immediately. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

He gently squeezed my hand, then hurried out of the room, returning moments later with the nurse in tow. She had a calm, practiced demeanor that put me at ease, even as I braced myself for the next step.

“Alright, let’s take a look and see how far along we are,” she said, her voice soothing as she prepared to check my progress. I held onto Van’s hand, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping that all this pain had brought us closer to meeting our baby boy.

Van leaned in, his forehead touching mine. “You’re doing this, love,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re so strong. I’m right here.”

The nurse gave a small smile as she finished. “You’re about seven centimeters dilated. We’re getting there, mama. Keep breathing through it, and let me know if you need anything.”

Seven centimeters. It was progress, but there was still a ways to go. I let out a shaky exhale, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. Van’s hand was still wrapped around mine, and I clung to him, knowing I’d need his strength to get through whatever came next.

“Holy shit... just three centimeters to go,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else, the reality sinking in. The finish line felt so close yet so far away.

The nurse smiled kindly, her demeanor calm and encouraging. “Do you think a warm shower would help?” she suggested. “A lot of moms-to-be love it. It can ease the tension and make the contractions a bit more bearable.”

I considered it, the idea of warm water washing away some of the pain sounding like a small slice of heaven. “Maybe,” I said, managing a weak smile. Anything that could offer even the slightest bit of relief seemed worth trying.

Van rubbed my back gently, his eyes lighting up a little. “If it might help, we should try it,” he said, always ready to support me in any way he could. “Come on, love. Let’s give it a shot.”

With Van’s help, I slowly made my way to the bathroom, each step feeling heavier as the pressure and discomfort increased. He stayed close, one hand on my lower back, steady and reassuring, as the nurse adjusted the water temperature.

Once everything was ready, he helped me out of my hospital gown and into the warm stream of the shower. The moment the water cascaded over my back, I let out a sigh of relief, the heat working like gentle hands on my tense muscles.

“How’s that feel?” Van asked, his voice soft but full of hope.

“Better,” I admitted, closing my eyes and leaning into the sensation. “At least for now.”

He smiled, standing close enough that I could reach out for his hand if I needed to, his gaze never leaving me. “I’ll take ‘better’ any day,” he said, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

For a few precious moments, I felt a hint of calm, the pain not gone but dulled, and I held on to that brief reprieve,

I stayed under the warm water for a few more moments, letting it soothe my aching body. The steam curled around us, and Van stood close, his shirt soaked from the spray but completely unfazed. He didn’t care about the water; he just wanted to be near me, to make sure I wasn’t facing any of this alone.

When the pain eased a little, I took a deep breath and stepped out of the shower. “I think I’ll go back now,” I said, feeling exhausted but a bit more centered. The nurse handed me a fresh hospital gown, and with Van’s gentle help, I settled back onto the bed.

“How do you feel?” the nurse asked, her eyes kind and compassionate.

I sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “God, I feel tired,” I admitted. “I don’t even know what time it is anymore.”

Van gently brushed my wet hair away from my forehead, his touch light and comforting. “It’s been seven hours since we got here, love,” he said softly.

My eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Seven hours?”

He gave me a small, encouraging smile. “Yeah... eight hours since your water broke. We’re almost there, baby.”

Before I could respond, the nurse, who had been checking my progress, beamed with excitement. “Oh! We’ve got one more centimeter,” she announced happily. “Just two more to go! I’ll let the doctor know.”

The news gave me a jolt of hope and renewed energy, even if the exhaustion still weighed heavily on me. I squeezed Van’s hand, a tired smile breaking through.

Him and I sat there, waiting patiently. At this point, I didn’t even have the energy for small talk. I kept my eyes closed, focusing on the feel of his presence beside me, the steady comfort he provided without needing to say a word. He had swapped out his wet shirt for a fresh one from our bag and settled next to me, his fingers never leaving mine.

Minutes later, the door opened, and Dr. Sanders, or Kayla as she insisted I call her after our first few appointments, walked in. She wore a warm smile, her energy instantly lifting the room.

“How’s the momma-to-be?” she asked.

“Kayla! It’s so good to see you!” Relief flooded through me. Dr. Sanders had been my obstetrician since the moment we found out about the pregnancy, and I couldn’t think of anyone better to guide us through this.

“Maya told me you’re at eight centimeters!” she said, snapping on her gloves and mask. “I told you that you could do it.”

Seeing her in her surgical clothes, the weight of the moment suddenly became too real, and I shivered. Van noticed and squeezed my hand, giving me a knowing, reassuring smile.

Dr. Sanders approached with practiced ease, checking me one more time. “Let’s see how you’re doing,” she said, her voice full of encouragement. Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh, (Y/N), you’re almost at ten centimeters, honey! I’m going to call the team, okay? Get ready to start pushing.”

The words sent a wave of adrenaline through me, and I looked at Van, my heart pounding. He leaned closer, brushing a kiss to my temple. “We’ve got this, love,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

The room quickly filled with a quiet but focused energy as the medical team entered, moving efficiently to get everything set up. The lights above the bed felt brighter, and the soft hum of activity surrounded us, making the moment feel surreal.

Van stayed by my side, his fingers threaded tightly with mine. His other hand gently brushed my hair back from my damp forehead. “You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his voice steady even as his own eyes glistened with anticipation and worry.

Dr. Sanders came to the foot of the bed, her smile warm and confident. “Okay, (Y/N),” she said, meeting my gaze. “It’s time to start pushing. Remember to breathe deeply and push with the contractions, just like we practiced.”

I nodded, trying to summon every bit of strength and focus. The next contraction hit, and I gritted my teeth, squeezing Van’s hand as I leaned into the push. The pain was unlike anything I’d ever felt, raw and overwhelming, but I could hear Van’s voice cutting through the haze.

“I’m right here, love. You’re so strong. You can do this,” he said, his voice filled with awe and love.

I drew in a shaky breath as the contraction ended, my body trembling with the effort. “Oh my god,” I gasped, tears pricking at my eyes.

Dr. Sanders gave me an encouraging nod. “You’re doing beautifully. Just a little more, okay? Take a deep breath.”

I leaned back, closing my eyes and focusing on Van. He was a rock, his presence grounding me even as I felt like I was unraveling. Another contraction hit, and I bore down, every muscle in my body straining with the effort.

“Almost there,” Dr. Sanders called, her voice full of excitement. “I can see the head, (Y/N)! Just a few more pushes.”

I could barely comprehend her words, the world narrowing to the pain and Van’s voice. “Just like that, babes,” he whispered, his lips brushing my knuckles. “You’re doing it. I’m so proud of you.”

The next few minutes felt like an eternity, each contraction pushing me closer to the finish line. Finally, with one last, desperate push, a high, piercing cry filled the room, and everything seemed to stop.

Dr. Sanders beamed, holding up our baby. “He’s here!” she announced, her voice full of joy.

I collapsed back onto the bed, sobbing with relief and exhaustion. Van was crying too, tears streaming down his face as he looked between me and the tiny, squirming bundle.

The nurse placed our son on my chest, and I felt his warmth and the rapid beat of his heart. He was perfect, his tiny fists curled up against me. “Hi there, little one,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Van leaned over, his hand trembling as he touched our son’s soft cheek. “He’s… he’s perfect,” he choked out, his eyes full of wonder. He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there as tears fell onto my skin.

The world around us felt suspended, time slowing as we marveled at the tiny miracle in our arms. Our son’s cries softened into little whimpers, and he nestled closer to my chest, his eyes squinting in the bright light. I felt a surge of love so powerful it nearly overwhelmed me, washing away the pain and exhaustion.

Van couldn’t tear his gaze away, his hand still gently brushing against our baby’s cheek. “He’s so beautiful,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. He pressed another kiss to my forehead, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to our son’s head. “You did it, love. You were incredible.”

I turned my face toward Van, our eyes meeting. The raw vulnerability and awe on his face matched exactly how I felt, and I managed a watery smile. “We did it,” I whispered back, tears slipping from my eyes. “He’s finally here.”

The nurse approached gently, a warm smile on her face. “We’re just going to take him for a moment to clean him up and do some checks, okay?”

I felt a pang of reluctance as our son was lifted from my chest, but I knew it was necessary. Van stayed beside me, his hand never leaving mine as we watched the nurse carefully weigh and measure our baby. He was tiny but strong, his little fists waving as he protested the sudden change in environment.

When they wrapped him in a soft blanket and handed him to Van, my heart clenched at the sight. He cradled our son so gently, as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Tears filled his eyes again, and he swallowed hard, looking down at the baby in his arms.

“Hey there, little guy,” he said softly, his voice full of reverence. “I’m your dad.” He choked out a small laugh, his lips curving into a wide, tearful smile. “I can’t believe it.”

I watched them together, my chest tight with love and wonder. “You look so perfect holding him,” I murmured, my voice breaking. “I love you both so much.”

Van looked up, his eyes glistening with tears. He came back to my side, carefully settling our son into my arms again. “We love you too…God, he's so tiny, love. I think he might break," Van said, his brow furrowed with concern as he gently cradled our son.

"I know, right?" I said softly, gazing down at our tbaby. "I feel like that, too."

Van leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. "Hey, buddy... You’re gonna be my best friend." He stroked our son’s tiny hand, his words filled with so much affection.

I couldn’t help but tease him, a smile tugging at my lips. "Hey, stop that or I’ll get jealous."

Van’s face lit up with that beautiful smile of his—the one that always made my heart race. "You’ll always be my number one best friend, love," he said, his tone so sincere, so full of love.

As the nurses carefully took our baby to get him cleaned up, Van kneeled next to my bed so we'd be face to face. "I can't believe you just did that," he said, eyes wide with awe.

"You can't?" I laughed, my voice still a bit breathless from the intensity of the moment.

"I mean, yeah! I always thought you could do it, but oh my god, you're the strongest person I know," he said, his voice thick with admiration. "I love you more than anything."

"Don’t make me cry more than I already am, Van," I teased, my voice shaking with emotion.

He smiled softly, brushing his thumb over my cheek. "Come here." He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. But as he pulled back, I caught the glint of mischief in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. "Okay, okay," I said, giving in. He kissed me softly on the lips, the kiss filled with tenderness and love.

"I can't believe you just did that," I said, laughing between breaths. "I'm all sweaty and gross."

Van chuckled, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You look perfect to me," he murmured, his gaze never leaving mine.

As Van leaned in for another kiss, trying to deepen it, I stopped him with a playful chuckle. "Nuh-uh, you're gonna have to get used to pecks, big boy."

He pulled back, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "I guess I will, huh?"

"Yeah, babes," I teased, "we're not teenagers anymore… Also, let's be honest, you can't handle a makeout session like you once did."

"What?" Van gasped, clutching his chest as if I'd wounded him. "You wound me, love!"

I laughed, crossing my arms. "You know what! If I use my tongue on a kiss, you immediately want to skip straight to bed."

Van's eyes widened in mock offense. "What can I say? I’m an efficient husband, love," he said, winking playfully. "And I’ll be an even more efficient dad. But if pecks are what you need..." He leaned in and gave me a quick, sweet kiss on the lips. "You’ve got them, anytime."

I couldn't help but laugh, feeling a warmth flood through me—this moment, with him, and our baby was all I ever needed in life. And I was ready for this new chapter.

Together.

[iamthecomet]

hi

do you have any ideas on predatory usage of quintessence

like murder ghoul aether cuz im still thinking about "pump them full of so much quintessence they dont know their name"

-🧪

I have so. SO many thoughts on predatory use of quintessence. And on murder ghoul Aether specifically. Someday, I would like to write full fics for each of my murder ghouls and their preferred methods (Swiss in particular is also quite fucked up). But for now, enjoy some thoughts about murderous, creepy, Aether.

Aether likes them calm. Dopey. Happy. Finds the blood tastes better when they're content. But, if he's honest, he doesn't really care about the meal. It's his least favorite part. Nourishing in a way that feels necessary but not pleasurable. Sometimes he'll even invite Dew in to actually finish them off once he's had his fill of their psychic torment. It's the lead-up he likes the best. The chase, the capture, the play. He likes smiling softly at an unsuspecting sibling. Likes furrowing his brow and asking for help with something. He finds that's the easiest way to get them. Asking for help. Humans are driven by the need to be helpful, the need to be useful. They toddle after him excitedly every time. He tries to pick humans that are over-eager. Excitable. The ones that babble at him as he leads them away from safety. He likes the way they talk. The waver in their voices. Nerves. Excitement at being noticed by a band ghoul. Sometimes he digs in right then, lets his powers drift into their mind and watches the fantasy unfold. Devours all of their hopes, their wants. The way they play out their future from this chance moment forward. They think about Aether noticing them, knowing them, loving them. Platonically or otherwise. They craft new worlds for themselves in the short walk to the basement door. And then, like clockwork, they stop. Hesitant. Aether tastes the bite of their fear as they look at the heavy oak door that they've been told never to breach. Those fantasies of a life blessed by a Ghoul's favor crumble. Apprehension eats them away like flame does to paper. They worry about Sister. About incurring wrath. About being kicked out. Thrown out into the woods to find their way home. About being pulled from the church--the only place they've ever found meaning. Aether looks at them, pulls his probing magic back. He reaches for them, claps one big hand over their boney shoulder and feeds them their first taste of his magic. They stumble a little. Dazed. Always thrown off. Hit with a wave of vertigo that Aether doesn't bother to explain. He looks at them like he's worried for them, asks them if they're alright. "Yeah," they say, "was just dizzy for a second. Must be nerves...I'm--we're not supposed to go down there." Aether shrugs, presses his quintessence in further, wraps it around their brain stem. Calms their racing heart. Feeds them back their thoughts of usefulness, of friendship, of a future with Aether by their side. "You're helping me, so I'm sure it's fine." And then, he leads them into the dark. No one who follows Aether into the basement ever comes back. He keeps them for a while, hours, days, sometimes weeks depending on what he can get from them. He feeds off of their emotions, of playing with them. Finds the psychic nourishment far more valuable than the blood and viscera. He digs into their memories. Watches their trauma play out like a movie. He keeps them drugged up on his magic, sedated. He used to restrain them early on, until he realized he didn't have to. Keeping them high on his magic was enough, drifting, delirious. Implanted memories making them think they're living the life they wanted. Their fantasies played out in brutal detail while Aether digs his fangs into their neck and tastes their pain, their pleasure, bursting bright on his tongue. When they've served their use, when their memories, and their trauma, and their desires start to taste....stale. He finishes them off, or has Dew do it. He cleans up. He starts again.