#the way he so quickly ADAPTED to his new form

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine, Ratio, Boothill and Sampo got body swap with reader

“Today, you're me and I'm you”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Platonic, Body Swap, Humor, Chaos, Identity Confusion, Transformation.

Warnings: Mild language, Slight violence(?), Confusion and identity crises, Possible mild awkwardness from body swap dynamics, Some references to body-related discomfort, Potential for humorously exaggerated reactions to new forms.

Aventurine never expected the day would come when his flawless, sophisticated appearance would be swapped with someone else, especially not with you. One moment, he was standing tall in his usual impeccable outfit, the swish of his coat echoing his poised elegance, and the next, he was you—dazed, confused, and staring down at an unfamiliar set of clothes.

The first thing Aventurine noticed was how strange the sensation of your body was. It was… compact, not the tailored form he was used to, and the clothes? The fabric didn’t fit him properly. He could feel his heart race as the disorientation set in, something he was not accustomed to.

You, on the other hand, stood in Aventurine’s body, completely overwhelmed by the sophisticated cut of the clothing that clung to his frame. The peacock feather glimmering in the hat, the soft thrum of anticipation in his chest—his body seemed to hum with a strange energy. Even his glasses—rose-tinted—felt like an alien accessory on your face.

In his new body, Aventurine felt the power of his manipulative charm. The confidence that had always been there, hidden beneath a smile, now flowed effortlessly. He stood straighter, the sharp wit in his mind already beginning to work. He gave you a charming grin. “It seems that fate has decided to have a bit of fun,” he said, his voice smooth and playful, though his usual cryptic flair seemed less effective in this unfamiliar form.

You couldn't help but chuckle, noticing how his charismatic aura still somehow seeped through, even in his temporary state. “This is… odd, but not completely unbearable, is it?”

Aventurine’s lips quirked, “Strangely… no. But I wonder how you’ll fare with my usual responsibilities?”

The two of you were forced into roles you never would have imagined for yourselves—he in your body, you in his. As the day wore on, Aventurine quickly adapted, using his newly acquired form to charm his way through meetings and strategic discussions. He realized how much of a game his life was. But it was your mind that guided his movements, your hand that touched the fabric of his destiny. And for a fleeting moment, he wondered how it felt to live without always having to manipulate the outcomes.

Meanwhile, you—now in Aventurine’s body—fumbled through things that were second nature to him. But there was an odd comfort in the sheer elegance of his every action. You realized something deep about him—the effortless way he controlled and guided people with nothing but his presence.

It was a strange experience, a dance between you both as you swapped the roles of puppeteer and puppet, your understanding of each other shifting in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

It didn’t take long for Ratio to realize that something wasn’t right. One moment he was basking in the glory of his intellect, dictating profound ideas about the importance of eradicating ignorance and spreading knowledge across the universe, and the next, he was—well, you. A flurry of thoughts rushed through his mind, as his expert control over his own body was suddenly gone.

The disorientation was almost maddening for someone so precise in both mind and form. He blinked—your eyes were not his, yet they still glowed with the same fiery determination that burned in his own. But it was the body that truly threw him off: clumsy and strange, foreign yet intimately yours.

He stood in your body, his fingers brushing unfamiliar fabric as he tried to make sense of the new sensation. His usual air of superiority faltered. “What kind of bizarre cosmic trickery is this?” he muttered to himself, brushing back strands of his newly acquired hair that felt too soft compared to the usual texture of his wavy violet locks.

Meanwhile, you, now inhabiting Ratio’s body, were struggling to keep up with his monumental intellect. His brain was filled with theories and facts, some that you could grasp and others that you couldn’t, like trying to read a book in an entirely new language. But there was an undeniable rush to the experience—a strange feeling of empowerment, to feel like you could accomplish anything, if only you could access all of it.

Ratio, in your body, was much less composed. You noticed how his personality started to crack when his usual confidence faltered. He paced back and forth, mumbling under his breath, trying to figure out how he could regain control of his situation. "This is utterly... inconceivable," he grumbled. "And what are these emotions? How do you function with this incessant need for... for... connection?"

You couldn’t help but laugh, the voice of his frustration amusing as you adapted to the newfound power in his frame. "You’d be surprised. You’re not the only one with a brilliant mind," you teased, trying to sound as intellectual as he would, though your unfamiliarity with his erudite style made it come out a little more playful than you intended.

As the day passed, Ratio found himself forced to engage with your responsibilities while you, in his body, tried to handle his lofty ideals. By the end of the day, there was a shared understanding—he couldn’t fully comprehend your world, and you couldn’t fully comprehend his—but both of you walked away with an invaluable lesson in perspective.

Boothill, a creature of vengeance, had always worn his identity like a badge of honor. The weight of his mechanical limbs, the edge of his cowboy persona, were all his own. But when the body swap hit, he was taken aback. One moment, he was sharpening his guns, preparing for another bounty hunt, and the next, he was staring at his hands—your hands.

"What in tarnation...?" Boothill growled, his voice now awkwardly foreign in a body he didn’t recognize.

Meanwhile, you found yourself staring back at Boothill’s signature red scarf and rugged cowboy body. The weight of his mechanical limbs felt heavy on your frame, the sheer force of his presence almost overwhelming. His boots felt too big, and the sensation of his long white hair flowing past your shoulders was a bizarre, disorienting thing.

Boothill didn’t quite know what to make of this. You had his body now—his cybernetic enhancements, his unwavering drive for revenge. But it was your mind guiding his movements. At first, you felt like an imposter—this wasn’t you. But as time went on, something within you clicked. Maybe it was the gun in your hand or the thrill of the chase, but you began to move with a kind of dangerous fluidity, just like Boothill.

“Guess I’ve got no choice but to walk in your boots for a while,” you muttered, the words coming naturally despite the disorienting feeling of someone else’s rage bubbling inside you.

Boothill, in your body, was even more frustrated. Your form wasn’t accustomed to the mechanical precision of his body. His mind was sharp, always calculating, but now, trying to function in your body, it was more difficult than he anticipated. “This is absurd. I can’t feel the gun as well, and this body is too... soft. How do you stand it?”

"You’ll figure it out," you shot back, spinning Boothill's gun expertly. "But I don’t know if I’ll last long with your anger burning through me."

The two of you spent the day navigating the harsh world of vengeance from different perspectives, each of you learning something valuable about the body you had stolen—Boothill about your resilience, and you about his need for closure.

When the body swap hit, Sampo barely even flinched. After all, he was used to change, used to the chaos. But waking up in your body was a new experience for him.

The first thing Sampo noticed was how small your body felt compared to his usual tall, lean frame. His light skin, dark blue hair, and mismatched gloves didn’t seem quite so impressive when he looked at himself from your perspective.

He grinned mischievously, “Well, well, looks like the tables have turned. I’m you now, huh?”

You were less than impressed, standing in Sampo’s body, feeling the weight of his charm press against your every thought. Sampo was a master of words, a smooth-talker who could convince anyone to buy into his schemes. But you now realized how tiring it could be to maintain that façade.

Sampo reveled in the new body, instantly seeing the potential for profit. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he casually walked around in your frame. “Oh, I can already feel the gears turning, ready to hustle someone out of their last coin.”

Meanwhile, you, stuck in Sampo’s body, tried to keep up with his unpredictable and slippery behavior. “I don’t think this is the time for business, Sampo. We need to figure out how to switch back.”

But Sampo only laughed, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all figured out. For now, though, I think it’s time we made a little profit out of this situation.”

By the end of the day, both of you had adapted in your own ways—Sampo, using his new-found ability to talk circles around people, and you, beginning to understand the fine art of deception. As always, Sampo made everything seem like a game—one that you were now reluctantly part of.

[simpingforcys]

Why did they have to make Turbo/King Candy so hot as a cybug!?

Like they didn't behave to, but they did anyway!! 😳🥰💖

How did they NOT know what they were doing?????? The claws, the teeth, the jagged hair, THE MONSTEROUS SIZE, the jiggery movements, THE LAUGH, THE PLAYFUL PREY/PREDATOR PLAY??? LIKE SIR- I keep forgetting who the animators for King Candybug were but they did an AMAZING job at making him absolutely terrifying, and freaking hot.

The creepy, terrifying form of a cybug but still keeping the 'elegance' of King Candy's lace wrists cuffs, collar and bow, showing how he became this terrifying hybrid who will not only toy around with its prey, openly claim how fun it will be to kill you, but do it with an excited smile and laugh.

Just- UUGHH ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

And don't even get me STARTED on the talons-!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since you've mentioned Scarlet Lady in one of your posts, what's your opinion on it?

I've mentioned before that I'm a big Scarlet Lady fan, which is the only reason that I'm comfortable answering asks like this one. I don't publicly criticize the content of hobby creators. That's wildly inappropriate! Punch up, not down.

The linked post was a general discussion of the adaptation process and how @zoe-oneesama did a fantastic job, so for this one, I'm just going to do some general gushing because I do actually like praising and enjoying things!

Scarlet Lady's chosen format (comic) allows it to have this wonderful conversation with canon where it can rely on the framework of canon to tell it's own story while also using canon for jokes and meta commentary. This means that Scarlet Lady is about as close as fan content can get to a direct reboot because it's able to have moments like this one from the comic's first post:

[Image description: Adrien standing in his room after transforming into Chat Noir for the first time. He is beaming and his eyes are shining with excitement as he exclaims, "This is gonna be awesome!"]

A single picture that communicates everything we need to know about Adrien getting his miraculous. When I've done this same thing in fanfic, I had to write out the full scene because that's how novels work. You have to give the full picture. With a comic, you can just quickly acknowledge this thing that we all already know and then move on to the new stuff. A picture really is worth a thousand words! (Or, in my case, more like two thousand...)

This allows Zoe to keep the same akumas that we get in canon without her story feeling like a boring rehash because she can focus on what's different in her version. A novelization of the same content would have to show both the stuff that stays the same and the stuff that changes for it to be coherent. That's a lot less fun to read and write. It's why I basically never revisit canon akumas in my own stuff. It's just too derivative for the written word.

This is one of the big reasons that I loved Scarlet Lady. Because it was able to have that more directly conversation with canon, it was able to take canon and say, "hey, why don't we embrace the tone that you established in season one and retell the story with that vibe?" That's something that I desperately wanted to see, but that is totally unsuited to my chosen artistic form. It couldn't be a novel. It had to be a comic.

If you want to know what a true formula show version of Miraculous would look like, Scarlet Lady is it. It does everything that Miraculous should have done:

Sticks to a lighthearted tone where nothing is ever super serious

Keeps Gabriel entirely unsympathetic

Has slow character development and background hints at a bigger plot as the only serial elements, allowing the individual episodes to be their own story while never feeling incomplete or rushed

Allows characters other than Marinette to shine while keeping Marinette as the clear main character

Makes Adrien narratively important

MAKES THE LOVE SQUARE CUTE SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHIP IT

Understands that Lila and Chloe can't coexist as antagonists

Reverses the love square, which is the best way to tell their story. Yes, I will die on my "love diamond" hill. It's a good hill. Come join me. I'll bring cookies.

I could keep going, but you hopefully get my point. While Scarlet Lady is certainly not the only way to do a formula version of canon, it's proof that a formula version does work! You don't have to go the serious route for Miraculous to be successful.

I want to take some time to gush about the ending, but I don't want to spoil it, so I'll put that gushing under a "read more" in case anyone hasn't seen it. I'll finish out this less spoilerish section with this:

I feel like some people are surprised when they learn that I love Scarlet Lady because - as some of you have probably picked up - it is quite different from my ideal version of canon. I'm not sure why that would stop me from enjoying a thing, though. It's important to remember that our personal ideals are not the only way to tell a good story. There are lots of ways to take what canon gave us and make something wonderful! It's part of the reason that I enjoy being in a fandom.

If I only wanted to see my ideal take on canon, then I'd stick to writing/imagining my own stories. But I don't want that! I like seeing alternate takes, too. Scarlet Lady is one of my personal favorites. It's completely different from anything that I'd ever think to write and that's why I'm so glad that it exists! I like being entertained just as much as I like creating my own entertainment and I don't want to only read stories that look like something I'd write. That's boring!

Spoilers below:

I've mentioned before that there are many, many ways to properly handle Chloe's character and Zoe did such a good job with her take on that! Chloe isn't absolved of all the things she did wrong, but she's also treated as a young woman with the ability to change.

While the comic bares the name of Chloe's alter ego, she was the never the main character. She never went on a journey. The story kept her to her shallow season-one self: a petty brat who just wanted attention. It did this because that's who Chloe was in canon and who Chloe needed to be for the comic to work.

The first time we see any complexity from Chloe is in the comic's final few episodes, which was absolutely the right call for Zoe to make! In a recent post, I talked about how the end of a formula show is the only time when you can break the formula in catastrophic ways and that's what Zoe did. She kept Chloe static until it was time to end the story and that's when the formula breaks. That's when Chloe gets depth because, once she has depth, the formula doesn't work.

That depth is not used to redeem Chloe, but to show us that there's hope for Chloe. That this petty brat who we've been dealing with has some serious issues and needs help. Help that she's going to get far away from the people that she's hurt because her issues aren't an excuse for what she's done. They don't erase the harm that she caused. At the same time, understanding her issues makes us hope that she can be better now and Scarlet Lady took a moment to give us that hope. To show us the START of Chloe's true story.

That is the kind of ending that I have wanted to see in so many properties!!! It was so wonderful to finally get one that did this right. A story that understood that full redemption to the team and damnation to death/suffering are extremes on a scale of possibilities. You don't have to go to extremes! You can fall in the middle and the middle is a perfect, natural place for Chloe to land in this kind of story. Fully redeeming or even fully damning Chloe simply doesn't work in lighthearted formula content. It's too big a lift as canon has already demonstrated.

I also loved Zoe's take on Emilie. I've mentioned that I don't like evil Emilie in part because it makes her revival feel like the start of a new story. She's back and she'd bad, so we have to take her down now! But I don't want that. I want the story to end when Gabriel is stopped. Zoe does this by giving us an Emilie that is another perfect middle ground. She matches canon's uncomfortable implications without feeling like a true villain who is a threat to society.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny- pt. 10

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9]

“This you?”

Danny glanced at the stone tablet in Spoiler’s hands and groaned, Phantom form flickering with embarrassment as his face got even more neon green. It was indeed him.

——

The first Atlantean and Ghost King encounter went something like this:

Imagine Danny, sleep deprived. Easy enough. Now, imagine Danny, trying to corral a ghost that had a penchant for sea life.

“Alabastor, I swear to Ancients, if you don’t get back here, I’m gonna make you into ghost sea-food boil!” Danny yelled as he chased Alabastor through the ghost zone. The crustacean shaped ghost cackled, skittering along the Zone.

"Make me, Phantom! You have not seen the might of the sea!"

"That's it, soup-time, crabby!"

Danny dove after Alabastor, chasing him face first into a temporal portal and right into the sea.

"BEHOLD!" Alabastor rumbled, claws raised and sea churning around him. Danny flew at him, noticing the screaming people below. He quickly raised a dome of clear ice to protect their entire city before returning his attention back to the giant crustacean. The distraction cost him, as Alabastor blasted him with a beam of his power. "THE MIGHT OF THE SEA!"

"SOUP!" Danny bellowed back, Alabastor's power forcing him into a giant crab form, aside from, hilariously, his head. Danny, always quick to adapt, slammed a massive claw straight into one of Alabastor's eyes and popped open the Fenton Thermos with a feral grin. In but moments, Danny manages to soup Alabastor but not before slamming him down onto the unbreakable ice Danny had just made.

Carefully turning by skittering sideways, he unmelted his ice.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly to the gawking civilians below.

"Suh-ree? What is suh-ree?" A brave woman asked.

"Oh," Danny uttered as he realized that he should probably switch languages. His giant crab body and small itty bitty human head swayed in an unsure motion. "Sorry means "my apologies." I had not meant to involve you. I am Phantom."

"It is alright... thank you for protecting us... God Phantom?"

He grimaced. "Not a god."

"King, then." She stepped forward. "May I ask of the ice?"

——

Spoiler, sensing weakness like the Riddler to a riddle, leaned in. "Did you know they have a traditional dance to honor the god that gave them the unbreakable ice that protects Atlantis to this day? It goes like this," Spoiler stepped back and did the dance, complete with exaggerated arm movements and, embarrassingly, the scuttle walk Crab!Danny was forced to learn with his new crab form.

"We shall never speak of this again," Danny huffed.

"But King Phantom, the God of Eternal Ice and Protection, how could we not celebrate your iciness?" Spoiler simpered, Black Bat not too far away and shaking with laughter. The purple donning vigilante did the scuttle dance once more, picking up bottles as she went a small circle around one of Bludhaven's rock beaches.

Danny scowled and plucked the tablet away from her, hair flowing an a more agitated direction. His jumpsuit burned brighter. "Why are you two menaces in Bludhaven? I thought your territory was in Gotham."

"Nightwing asked for back up and we were in the area." Spoiler, blessedly, stopped the walk to answer him. "By the way, are you and Danny dating?"

"Pardon?" He asked, insulted but highly amused.

"Oh, you know, he has your number, and you only ever talk to him outside of us, and how you guys have a high level of communication." Spoiler said leadingly.

Oh, Danny knew what this was about now. He found out their identities and now these two are interrogating him because he liked them best. They thought they were so clever. Well, they clearly haven't gotten to know Danny at all if they thought he was going to make good decisions.

Danny tilted his head, making sure his face gets as eerie as possible, shadows elongating and eyes burning just that much brighter. The neon green of his face shone even brighter against the suddenly dark landscape of the place. Black Bat stood up, laughter seizing immediately. Spoiler tensed.

"I have a riddle for you. You are good at those, are you not?"

Spoiler blinked but gamely said, "Bring it."

"What do these things have in common? An arguing couple, papers on a stranger's desk, and Star City's robbers."

"..." Spoiler slipped into her solving mode. "Stolen goods. Stolen hearts?" She guessed.

"No. The answer is that they're all none of your business," Danny snarled. His form flickered. "Keep your questing away from Danny- Daniel, vigilante. Your duty is to protect your city and help her," Danny swept an arm out. "Stick to that instead of inserting yourself into places you are not wanted."

Then, with a toss of an ecto-crossed recorder that held the verbal report he'd promised Nightwing towards Black Bat, Danny blinked out of the visible spectrum and flew above the two.

"... Shit, I think I pissed him off."

Black Bat nodded. "He was defensive."

"Yeah... did you hear that slip? Oh, they are so dating."

Danny grinned. He couldn't wait for Tim to interrogate him soon.

——

"You're kidding."

Danny shook his head, maniacal grin still on his face hours later. He'd taken the liberty to call his best friends before classes started for the day.

Tucker groaned. "Danny, I can't believe you're messing with Batman. Why are you like this."

"Look, I need your help."

"Oh no, keep me out of your dumbass plans, Fenton," Sam pointed at him through the screen, immaculately painted black nails threatening.

"Okay, if you go along with my plan, I'll give you Dr. Isley's number."

"Deal," Sam said immediately, changing her tune at a drop of a hat. Or, at a drop of a number.

"What about me?" Tucker asked, offended. "I deserve compensation for my work too, dammit!"

"I'll give you Tim Drake's number and persuade him to let you have a crack at Wayne Industry's tech basement."

"Deal, what are we doing?"

Danny's grin spread even wider. "We're dating. And, you two? You're Phantom's exes. Tucker, you say good stuff about me. Sam? You make up terrible things about me. But we're all dating each other and I'm dating Phantom on the side."

"I hate you," Sam deadpanned. "But fine, it's not that hard. I've got tons of embarrassing stories about Phantom. You better get me that number, Danny, because you know Dr. Isley was my gay awakening."

"For Tim Drake, I'd be willing to puff up your ego." Tucker said solemnly.

"Perfect. I'm cleaning his brother of ectoplasm today. so expect a call later! Love you guys!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, boyfriend." Sam clicked off the call.

"Think Tim Drake would be interested in a date?" Tucker asked Danny.

"Nah, I think he's got his heart on Benard."

"Damn," Tucker sighed. "Guess I'll have to mend my broken heart with the tools of a state-of-the-art lab, right, Danny?"

"Yep, see ya!" Danny hung up. Today was going to be a good day.

[slushycoookie]

Kinktober Day 4 ~ Praise Kink

Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Summary: Miguel discovers something new about himself. Minors DNI!!

A/N: This man deserves praise idc. Enjoy!

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next

Kinktober '24 Masterlist

It was two simple words.

“Good job!” You praised with a high five after taking down an anomaly together.

Miguel reluctantly reciprocated the gesture, but those words have been stuck in his mind. He hardly remembers the last time any of his other teammates told him good job or good work. So why does his heart beat fast when you say it? Sweat forms on his skin, and he almost opens his lips to get you to say it again.

You were clueless about his seemingly normal reaction.

Now, he starts doing things to get you to say it again to him.

That means an influx of missions where it’s just you and him. A vast difference from before, when you hardly went on one with him every couple of weeks.

Miguel knocks over anomaly after anomaly to hear you say, ‘Good work’, ‘Nice job!’, ‘You’re amazing Miguel!’

Your positive words make him all fuzzy on the inside, butterflies soaring in his stomach.

Just hearing it from you that one time isn’t enough. Miguel starts recording your missions with him together. You get his permission as he uses the excuse of the recordings being for training exercises. So other spiders can learn and adapt. He wasn’t lying. He has Lyla set up the recordings in the training area. But he has a separate file comprising snippets of you praising him. You having that smile on your face, eyes soft whenever you gaze at him.

You were always friendly, striving to be helpful and praising others whenever possible. You were so kind and so sweet.

Miguel swore he almost broke the rewind feature on one of his screens the way he kept going back to your words. He takes in your gentle smile and the way your eyes twinkle while looking in his direction. And gets aroused.

Heat goes to his cheeks as his suit starts getting tight. No, he couldn’t be sexually attracted to getting praised. Could he?

It’s all because of your looks, he thinks. Miguel does think you’re attractive, but he wasn’t going to act on his feelings. Yet, you telling him ‘good work’ was making him hard.

He decides to reluctantly take care of it, knowing that it wasn’t going to happen again. The way he pumps his cock, watching you praise him for taking down that Scorpion anomaly so quickly. With a pat on his back. He recalls the warmth left on his body once you did that. His stomach in knots.

Miguel bites his lip, watching cum leak from his tip. He collects it and smears it down his shaft for extra lubrication. Would you keep telling him ‘nice work’ anywhere? If he helps you with any villains’ in your universe? Watching your pretty lips compliment his work ethic.

Or would you praise him in bed?

Say what a good job he’s doing while he’s eating out your soaked cunt. Sucking on your clit, two fingers inside you while your legs were spread wide for him.

“You’re amazing, Miguel…” You’d say, hands gripping his head and tugging on his brown curls.

That gets him going, picking up the pace in pumping himself.

“S-Say it again…” He mumbled, squeezing his shaft. His chest rises as his breaths start picking up the pace.

“You’re such a good boy.”

Miguel chokes, head back and lips parted in pleasure. Yeah, he’s good. So good for starting a group of elite spiders to help save the multiverse. So good for taking on this burden that no one else could because it may be too much. That’s all he wanted to hear. From you.

He wished you were here to say that to him in person. To give him the praise he needed in his line of work. Instead he let himself linger on your kind words, more pre cum leaking, tip aching for relief. The talons on his feet dig into the platform as his strokes are sloppy. He lets out a few groans, not caring if any other spiders could hear him from the lab.

Miguel lets go, abs tense as his cum shoots out, staining his hand and the nearby console. All while growling your name.

Miguel takes a moment to get himself together before a picture of clarify hits him. He can’t believe he came due to a few praises uttered by you. Something new about him he wasn’t sure he liked.

“Uh, Miguel?”

His heart drops to his stomach at your voice. “U-Uh one moment.”

Miguel desperately tries to clean himself up with some tissues he had Lyla stashed. He hoped you didn’t hear any of that. He did say your name awfully loud, but there are other people with the same name as you. He could play it off as he was bringing up someone else and not you. While in a fit of ecstasy.

This wasn’t going to work.

When he lowered the platform, he noticed your face was flustered. Yeah, you definitely heard it.

“I can explain…” But when the air was quiet, he couldn’t. Words not able to reach past his lips.

“Well, I heard my name as you groaned and…” Your brows furrow, trying to make sense of it yourself.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again-”

“Why not?” You tilt your head.

Miguel pauses, still hearing his heartbeat. “What?”

“Why…not?” You say while inching closer to him, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. "I liked it..."

He gulps, unsure what to say at your odd confession.

“This…you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“You mean a strong, handsome man like yourself?” He releases a sigh at your praise, muscles that were previously tense, relaxing. “Who’s such a good boy?”

Miguel took in a heavy breath before calling Lyla. “Lock down the lab. I won’t be out for a while.”

Tags: @fandomfics @freythecrazyfae @maddyperezzzsstuff

@mynamesstevenwithav @eyes-ofhell @maxad99

@howlingco @cherrypieyourface @snails-doodles22

@siren-141 @nega-omega @sweetimpurity

@hehekittyhawk @spencerswh0r3 @saintdiior

@maliaofthevalley @hyjionie @wolverigrl

[lxkeee]

MY HEART IS BROKEN SO I NEED TO CRY First of all, I LOVE how you write, and I wanted to make a request about Lucifer breaking reader's heart, it doesn't matter how, I just want a broken heart 😔note: Sorry for the English translator, I don't write it but I understand it, TOTALLY CRAZY

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—Part One

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: angst (for now)

Warnings: none.

Notes: this one is short, 450 ish words but will serve as a foundation for the entire series lolol. Also, it's okayy:) your english is finee^^

PART TWO | NAVIGATION

Life was good in heaven. Having been brought to existence by our creator, we were given a chance at life. The world is still currently in progress, slowly changing to adapt to newer life forms.

We angels were tasked to help this new world grow into such an amazing world. Speaking of worlds, I am very much grateful to be alive as I am given a chance to love. As one of the first few angels created, I was able to befriend Lucifer. God's most beautiful angel and whom I have the honor of calling mine.

Lucifer was such an awkward romantic lover, showing off his affections in his ways. Giving flowers, a pretty stone he managed to pass by while flying around, or perhaps by giving her kisses.

They've been married for some time now, being together for a few decades and recently got married. The wedding was amazing, friends and their creator attended the celebration. It was a very beautiful celebration, the wedding night was awkward yet romantic, two innocent angels experimenting, learning about the art of making love. It was wonderful. Despite being inexperienced, both had a great time being each other's firsts.

Life was truly good, until God announced that he made new creatures, mortals or humans as he calls them.

They looked like angels but without wings. They will be the very foundation of humankind.

Slowly and surely, Lucifer began to act weird. Ever since he visited the garden of Eden, he's been purposely avoiding [y/n]. Making up excuses to not spend time with her.

Rumors started to spread that Lucifer has begun to form ideas that threaten the order of heaven, [y/n] tries to stop him but Lucifer is stubborn. He believes that mankind needed this.

[Y/n] was heartbroken, why is the love of her life acting like this? Why doesn't he look at her with love and passion in his eyes like he usually does.

Why does it look like he doesn't love her anymore?

Deciding to spy on him, she followed him to the garden of Eden. There he saw her husband looking at the mortal woman, named Lilith with so much love and adoration in his eyes.

[Y/n] felt her heart and entire world shatter. Broken hearted, she quickly fled the garden. Returning back home and sobbed into her friend's slap.

She cried the whole night, Lucifer didn't even notice she wasn't home.

Not long after, Lucifer was cast out of heaven along with Lilith. [Y/n] was heartbroken beyond her understanding. She couldn't understand, her emotions all over the place. Her husband doomed humanity and was cast out of heaven with another woman.

[Y/n] didn't even get to tell him she was pregnant with his child.

Happy Valentine's Day:)

Also, guess whose lap she was crying on? His name starts with A;)

[the-maddened-hatter]

Alright so I pretty much said all of this verbatim on a reblog of someone else's post, but I wanted to put it here on my blog too.

As I've mentioned before, I would *very* much like to see Peri canonically having a disability that causes him to use his wand/cane and not just have it be an accessory, and so I analyzed the episodes he's in that I've been able to see so far and came up with a few observations:

As much as I'd be unopposed to seeing it portrayed, leg issues don't really seem like a major deal to fairies in general given as Cosmo misplaced his for most of an episode and a pair of sticks were a good enough replacement for him to have fun at the arcade in human form (without even drawing human attention)

And Peri can apparently use his powers as listed above without his cane since he doesn't always immediately have it on his person (especially since Dev & Hazel took his cane in Lost in Fairy World and he didn't have any power or mobility problems)

But!

I *could* easily see him having some kind of magical fatigue issue or magical equivalent of hypotonia or balance disorder, since he's shown to be

very tired after a morning spent magically creating cupcakes (a probably small but very repetitive task that leaves him running low on energy)

When his stationary float is disrupted he remains seated instead of floating back up again

3. A minor contact/startle reflex is enough to disrupt his hover and cause him to immediately fall pretty hard if not very far

4. speaking of distance, he is shown to sometimes float a bit lower than his parents, which, while not consistent and likely just an animation choice, could tie in with the other points to support the diagnosis theory

However, pain may admittedly be more of a factor than the above images suggest,

he may not just be tired from shape shifting like I'd thought since right before that he was walking (albeit in horse form) and afterwards (low) cloud float is apparently easier and faster for him than just quickly trotting past his parents

He also didn't really seem to be having too much of a problem at all before he hit the ground

Where it goes to a definitely tired and possibly more pained look.

Maybe he didn't want to tell Dev that it was painful either out of pride or because he didn't want to potentially upset him and just went with "tired" because that was what he assumed. It'd be interesting to see if it happens again in a different form.

Personally I think it'd be cool to see both and have it be a chronic condition (directly magical or otherwise) that he already had before the series began (diagnosed or not).

If he's the first fairy kid born in a long time he probably would have been monitored very closely, but it may have taken a while for doctors to notice a problem since there was little reference for comparison and may have even caused some potentially serious problems that gave Comso & Wanda a bad scare, which could tie in pretty well with their developing a high amount of over protectiveness of him, and that in turn leading him to try and behave too far in the other direction (not seeking help when he really does need it, pushing himself way too hard and suffering the fallout which he then tries to hide, ect)

If he's undiagnosed but having the problems it could be interesting to see sort of an inversion of the "character must learn to accept their disability" storyline wherein he's more connecting certain events & symptoms and we get to see him adapting to accommodations and letting himself try different approaches moreso than to having new symptoms (though we as the audience may see these symptoms more or behaviors contextualized as symptoms where they weren't necessarily before).

Idk either way I just think it would be cool (and I've probably put away more analysis into this than will ever pay off lol)

also to everyone who draws him as a disabled mobility device user: ILY please draw more of it it feeds my soul

[rashomonss]

Learning To Adapt

context: readjusting dealt with MC, learning to adapt features how each of the brothers try to adjust to life after you disappeared, let me know if y’all want a dateables version! again some, short and somewhat angsty headcanons, enjoy!

come back to me

Your room is always visited every day by Lucifer. His visits are early in the morning and they usually consist of checking and cleaning your room for even the slightest speck of dirt or dust.

When you come back he doesn’t want a messy room on your to-do list. That and just being in your room gives him a little peace of mind, that a part of you is still here with him. Even if you aren’t actually there to reassure him you’re okay.

Lucifer will make the mistake of buying you something while he’s out shopping and it’s only when he returns does he realize his mistake. Because of this a box of things intended for you is collecting dust in the corner of his room

The piano is another thing that collects dust in the house. With you not there what reason does he have to play it? Even the thought of actually playing it makes him walk out of the room.

Of course, like usual his coping mechanism throughout this time period is to drown himself in work to the point of collapsing. Nothing new here. If anything he needs to show his brothers that he can keep it together; for they’re sake and his.

Mammon checks his pact mark in the mirror every day when he gets up. That’s the first thing he will do when he’s fully awake. Once you left and it started to fade all hell broke loose Due to this he constantly freaks out about it now.

He won’t let anyone touch him if they’re in the vicinity of his pact mark. Mammon actually moves away quite quickly, worried that the slightest touch might make it fade for good.

Any piece of clothing you stole from him, he decides to take it back and wear it. It smells like you and it’s the only way he actually stays calm, if not be warned of violent outbursts every once and awhile.

Much to his brother’s surprise he actually doesn’t hole himself up in his room. He instead picked up a few jobs and took the liberty of taking care of his brothers when Lucifer was too exhausted. Though at times he felt even more exhausted than Lucifer.

Mammon spends the most time in your room out of all of the brothers. Sometimes he’ll ignore his room for days and just stay in yours till Lucifer kicks him out. Though he just goes right back when the oldest leaves.

Levi constantly checks in and logs into your accounts for any games you have. He wants to make sure you don’t miss anything. A new event came out? Don’t worry he’ll speed run it and get everything for you. A new skin came out? Don’t worry you have it now.

He becomes so immersed in making sure you have a good ranking in a game or you get all the things he’ll believe you’ll want instead of actually taking care of himself. So when Lucifer and Mammon finally pull him away he collapses from sheer exhaustion.

He doesn’t leave his room per usual, the only other room he heads to if he gets up is yours. However, he walks in and then proceeds to hole himself up in there too until his brothers drag him out.

Lothan has been summoned many times when his brothers tick him off so the house is always a bit damp now.

Levi takes this time to finish the cosplays you both were working on, however, as he’s in the middle of sewing yours many emotions come on all at once and he becomes angry with you for leaving him.

He does understand that you didn’t have a choice and it’s not your fault at all, but he still becomes upset about the current situation and rips the costume. Once his breakdown is over he then cries at the destruction he’s caused.

Satan finds himself more irritated with everything these days. One wrong word from a lesser demon and he’s in his demon form causing a rampage across the Devildom.

Or one snarky remark from his brothers and a whole wall at the house of lamentation is suddenly is gone.

This man is irritated with everyone and everything. The only thing he finds comfort in now is the cats you both would feed in the alleys of some Devildom streets. However each time he goes to feed the cats, his wrath will boil up and he goes on a rampage due to the memories of you and him.

Not worry because he won’t finish any books you two were currently reading, instead, all those books get stacked neatly in your room for when you get back.

All the cleaning progress you made in his room went to waste because of how many times he’s had angry tantrums in his room.

The thought of cleaning his things does cross his mind, but then it makes him think of you and he decides against it, soon throwing more books around in a fit or rage.

He’s having trouble processing that your gone. After all this is his first time “losing” someone so dear to him, so give him time.

Asmo finds himself using everything he had to drag himself out of bed. He still does his regular routines but they take much longer now because he can’t find any purpose behind them anymore.

At first he went out and partied till he dropped or had to get picked up by Lucifer or Mammon. However while he was at a certain club, a demon had asked him where you were, since you both go clubbing together. And upon hearing the question Asmo literally broke down in the club, and hadn’t gone back since.

He’ll still wait by each classroom door to go pick you up. Asmo always made it a point to walk you to every class even if his was on the other side of RAD so he’ll still continue to wait for you due to it being such a habit for him.

However as soon as he sees the last student exit and there’s no sign of you he then remembers that your not there. Sighing he heads to class by himself, not particularly concerned if he’s late anymore.

Asmo tries his hardest to delude himself that Solomon will bring you back soon, each time he wakes up he wishes that this whole ordeal was just a horrible dream.

Whenever dinner comes around at the House of Lamentation each brother is forced to eat, per Lucifer’s demands. However as each of them put food on their plates, a separate plate of food is set at the end of the table in your spot along with silverware and a drink.

Throughout dinner, the food doesn’t go touched by anyone and once they all finish eating Beel takes the plate wraps it, then places it in the fridge with the rest of your leftover dinners.

They soon take up most of the fridge room but Beel forbids anyone from throwing them out. Including Lucifer.

No one is allowed to touch anything that had your name on it, Beel makes sure of that. Every single snack or dessert you had in the fridge or pantry is still there for when you come back. It doesn’t matter if it expired or not Beel refuses to throw them out.

Beel often floods a corner of the pantry with snacks you favored, and again doesn’t allow anyone to touch them. Every time he goes shopping he’ll buy you something as well, it’s become a problem for Lucifer since not many things fit in the pantry anymore so Beel can only be on grocery duty now if someone is with him.

When he has trouble sleeping Beel will look up to his ceiling and speak to himself as if he were speaking to you. He hopes you’ll reunite soon so he can tell you just how much he misses you and loves you. He’s dying to hear you say you love him.

Belphie curses you in his sleep. The youngest demon brother believes if he just sleeps throughout this whole period he won’t have to deal with the fact your not here.

Instead he tries to escape to his dreams, but in turn he finds you there greeting him with a smile. It hurts to see your smile.

Due to this he’ll often wake up in a cold sweat or to Beel shaking him awake out of concern. He then sighs and decides against sleeping for awhile. Which doesn’t turn out to be good for him in the long run.

Dark circles become more and more prominent as he goes some days without sleep. Belphie never took loss well, in fact he hated the whole thought of not being able to see you asleep next to him when he did awake.

He refuses to go to the planetarium for awhile due to being reminded of you. In the beginning he also stayed clear of your room too. However as the days pasted if his older brothers didn’t occupy the room he’d try to get a nap in your bed. It was difficult though.

There was a period of time he locked himself in the attic with a hope that maybe you’d come find him again in the spot you both first met. Much to his dismay Lucifer and Mammon found him and dragged the grumpy youngest back to his room.

part 2.

[aangelfish]

☀️ – ADA with reader on their period !

TW: period talk, blood mention, dazai

🥃 note: reader is afab, but no pronouns are used <3

Yukichi Fukuzawa:

Very sweet man, he buys whatever you need as soon as you ask for it

He has a lot of snacks in stock already, so that's covered, no problem!

(If Ranpo whines about his snacks going missing, he’ll get smacked)

He's not well versed in female anatomy (haha who said that omggg??) But!! He's willing to learn and adapts to your needs very quickly

Will leave in the middle of an agency meeting if you call him, you don't even need to ask

If your cramps get so bad that you cry, he'll do his best to find the strongest (and safest) painkillers in literally all of Japan. Fukuzawa spares no expense for your comfort

Also he does NOT get embarrassed if he has to go out and buy pads or tampons for you!! He's in and out of the store with literally zero issue 100/10 husband material

Doppo Kunikida:

Probably has it written into his schedule depending on how long you two have been together lmfao

Listen!!! He's a busy man. He needs to make sure every single thing in his day to day life is planned for, including his partners cycle

Usually, he doesn't need to go out and buy anything for you when your period hits because he's stocked up on everything well in advance

But if you beg him enough, he might go out to buy you some extra snacks,, and herbal tea,,, annddd that really fluffy blanket you saw at the store–

It's really a toss-up on if he'll leave work if you call him. He adores you, but he's got a duty to uphold! (“I ran out of painkillers, please–” “I'm on my way.”)

Blushes when he buys pads/tampons for you, but otherwise doesn't react. God forbid Dazai tags along for whatever reason, because then Kunikida might actually die of embarrassment before he leaves the store

Dazai Osamu:

Acts like he forgets your period, but the first day it hits you there's literally a care package left at your flat with all your favorite snacks, a new heating pad, and a bunch of other goodies

He's not one to complain if you need anything from the store, he'll buy whatever you want (with Kunikida's money) plus some alcohol for himself

If you call while he's at work, he doesn't mind at all 99% of the time. He probably even uses it as an excuse to dip if nothing interesting is going on tbh

“Ah, my Dearest! You've called at the perfect time. Do you need me at home? No? Are you sure? How about I come over to check on you just in case, hmmm?”

If you need pads or tampons, Dazai doesn't get embarrassed at all. Very smooth, might even boast about how he's “just doing what any good boyfriend should”

^ If he simply doesn't feel like it, though… He'll send Atsushi to buy them instead. It's endless amounts of fun for Dazai to torture the poor boy, he really can't help himself </3

Atsushi Nakajima:

Atsushi's lived a pretty solitary life before joining the agency, so his knowledge about menstruation is limited to what he's read in books

He doesn't get queasy with blood, though, so that's good! Very much willing to help if you bleed through your clothes or anything like that. 100% the boyfriend ever

He might go overboard when buying things you want/need, practically begs for Dazai's help to cover everything

Tiger form is very warm btw. Atsushi is a living heating pad, and he absolutely lets you take advantage of that

If you call him while he's at work, he may be a bit reluctant to leave at first… A little bit of pleading gets him to cave near instantly, though :P

Might cry when he goes to get you some pads/tampons?? He's aware it's something you need, but he's terribly anxious and will panic if someone asks what he's up to

Akiko Yosano:

Yosano feels most equipped for dealing with this, and she is! She is a doctor after all :3

She keeps track of both of your cycles, and if they happen to align at any point, she will make a remark or two about how close you've both gotten

^ (She then proceeds to infodump about how periods don't actually sync up due to proximity. Might even show you a medical study or two on the subject!)

Depending on when you call her, Yosano may or may not leave the agency to check in on you. If nobody's injured or if she's out shopping, she'll drop by just to make sure you're alright <3

She probably doesn't need to go buy you pads/tampons because she has some for herself that you can easily use?? But she's not opposed to buying more if needed

Yosano knows how bad cramps can be too, so if anybody tries to bother you about going to work she can and will rip someone in half

Buys your favorite takeout on her way home from work.. Of course, she reminds you to eat well during your period,, but she can't help but spoil you just a bit

Ranpo Edogawa:

This literal CHILD of a man acts like he's on his period too 😭 he whines so much if you ask him to do anything

He still gets everything you need, he's just complaining the entire damn time… But you'll praise him either way, right? Right??

Ranpo might have to ask someone else to buy snacks for you because if he does, he knows he'll eat like,,, half of them

If you call him while he's at work, he literally doesn't hesitate to leave. It's been so boring all day, so he'd rather spend time with you anyway!!

He'll go buy you pads or tampons if you ask, but uh,,, please make sure to text him what brand, because he'll just toss in one of each if he forgets </3

For all Ranpo’s whining during the day, as soon as he gets home he's ready to cuddle with you under the warmest blanket he can find. He will NOT take no for an answer, so get cozy!

Jun'ichirō Tanizaki:

Will give you cavities with how sweet he acts while you're menstruating. He's already the perfect boyfriend, but during your period he dials it up to a thousand

He's no stranger to periods and all the annoyances that come with them due to having a sister, so he's not at all fazed by any of it

He calls you from work instead of vice versa. “Hi, Love. No, no, just wanted to ask how you were doing! Need me to buy anything from the pharmacy? No? Are you sure you don't need me to-”

Honestly just tell Tanizaki to come over during his break or something, he'll be a nervous wreck if he goes without seeing you for a whole day </3

He buys you anything you need or want with a smile on his face the whole time!! He likes taking care of you

Cooks your favorite food for dinner, and it's literally perfectly made somehow?? You two end the day by enjoying your dinner snuggled up in bed and watching your favorite movie

🤍 : [ PLATONIC ]

Naomi Tanizaki:

Zero complaints from her if you want her to stay over for the week, she'd be happy to help out! Though Junichiro might come over too sometimes (he'll cook, don't worry)

If anyone at the agency (Ahem, Dazai–) tries to bother you, Naomi chews them out with no mercy. NOBODY will call you for any reason other than to entertain you or ask if you need anything

Buys you anything you need without any fuss, it's not like monthly trips to the pharmacy are new for her. She'll stop by a local bakery to get you pastries, too

No work talk, nope! If you have any seriously pressing issues to get done with at work, she takes care of them (or makes her brother handle them)

Kenji Miyazawa:

If you need the fastest errand boy around, Kenji's the one to call for sure!

He's used to helping others out, so he has no problem buying you whatever you need and then delivering everything to you

Likes knowing he can be a dependable kid, even for mundane stuff like this. It honestly makes his day if you ask for his help

He'd offer to bring takeout or something to you, but he's sure that he might eat it before he even arrives at your home. He ends up just ordering delivery for you

Izumi Kyōka:

She has a map of the entire area memorized, so she can go store to store for anything you need and then drop it all off in under 30 minutes

However, Izumi does get distracted easily. If you give her some money to buy herself a snack too, then she's less likely to get sidetracked

Does whatever work you had for you, for the whole week. You don't need to ask, it's all taken care of already

If you call her a good kid for helping out, she'll walk with a skip in her step for at least a good few days after

[regressionschool]

Maturity Test Part 4: Life as a toddler

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A year had passed since Anna had taken Olaf and Becky into her care, and the routine of their daily lives had settled into a comfortable rhythm. The once stark contrast between the two of them had grown even more pronounced, as Becky’s preschooler skills flourished while Olaf’s regression deepened. They shared a brightly decorated bedroom, with walls painted in soft pastel colors and shelves filled with toys and books, each reflecting their distinct stages of development.

Becky’s side of the room was neat and organized, her bed adorned with colorful blankets and a couple of plush animals. A large, colorful potty training chart was pinned to the wall beside her bed, and it was covered in suns, each one representing a day where she had successfully used the potty. There were a few clouds scattered here and there, but overall, it was clear that Becky was well on her way to mastering potty training. Her pride in those suns was evident whenever she looked at the chart, a smile lighting up her face.

Olaf’s side of the room, in contrast, was a little more chaotic, filled with stuffed animals, blocks, and other toddler toys. His bed had guard rails on the sides, making it resemble a large crib, and next to it was a changing table stocked with diapers, wipes, and powder. Olaf had become completely accustomed to his diapers over the past year, his potty training skills having long since faded. The few times he had tried to reach for the potty in the early days had ended in tears of frustration, leading to Anna’s gentle but firm reassurance that he didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

Olaf’s dependency on his pacifier had also grown. It was almost always clipped to his shirt, and when he wasn’t sucking on it, he seemed restless, his hands fidgeting or his lips quivering slightly. The pacifier was his comfort, his security, and it had become a constant presence in his life. He had adapted to his toddler role more fully than anyone could have imagined, and while there were moments of confusion or sadness, they were fleeting, quickly soothed by Anna’s comforting touch or a favorite toy.

Anna had taken great care to treat each of them according to their assigned ages. Becky was praised for her growing independence and learning skills. She attended preschool every day, where she was learning to read simple words, count to ten, and even beginning to write her name. Becky beamed with pride when she showed Anna the new things she learned at school, and Anna encouraged her every step of the way. At night, however, Becky still wore diapers due to her heavy wetting, something that she accepted without much fuss. It was just part of the routine—something that separated her from being a "big kid," but not something that bothered her too much.

Olaf, on the other hand, spent his days in daycare, where he played with blocks, listened to stories, and napped in a room filled with other toddlers. His diaper changes had become so routine that he barely noticed them anymore, and his remaining potty training instincts were long gone. Anna treated him like the toddler he had been classified as, her voice always soft and reassuring, never pushing him to do more than what was appropriate for his age.

One afternoon, an official from the reclassification center visited to check on how things were going. Anna had been expecting the visit, but there was still a nervous energy in the air as she welcomed the official into the house. The official was a stern-looking woman with a clipboard in hand, her expression serious as she began her inspection.

Anna led the official into the shared bedroom, where Becky was proudly playing with a set of alphabet blocks, forming simple words she had learned in preschool. Olaf, meanwhile, was on the floor with a pacifier in his mouth, stacking large, colorful rings onto a peg.

The official’s sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the distinctions between Becky and Olaf’s sides. She walked over to Becky’s potty training chart, tapping it with her pen. "I see Becky is doing very well with her potty training," she remarked, her tone neutral.

Anna nodded, smiling. "Yes, she’s been doing great. She’s very proud of all her suns. But she still wears a diaper at night since she’s a heavy wetter."

The official made a note on her clipboard. "And Olaf? I see he’s fully adjusted to his toddler classification."

Anna glanced at Olaf, who was happily chewing on his pacifier as he played. "Yes, he’s doing well, too. He’s very comfortable in his diapers, and he’s still quite dependent on his pacifier, but it helps keep him calm."

The official walked over to Olaf, crouching down to his level. She carefully examined his diaper, noting its slight sag, indicating he was wet. "Olaf," she said gently but firmly, "how are you feeling today?"

Olaf looked up at her with wide eyes, his pacifier bobbing in his mouth as he nodded. "Good," he mumbled around the rubber nipple, his words barely understandable but filled with contentment.

The official straightened up, her expression still serious. "It’s important that Olaf remains in his toddler role," she said, turning to Anna. "He shouldn’t be encouraged to behave in ways that are beyond his assigned age. Any attempt to push him toward behaviors that are too mature could be detrimental to his well-being."

Anna nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course. I always make sure to treat Olaf appropriately for his age. I want him to feel safe and secure."

The official seemed satisfied with the response and moved over to Becky, who was showing off her block words with a big smile. "And Becky, how do you like preschool?"

Becky beamed. "I love it! I’m learning to read, and I can count to ten now! And I almost never have accidents anymore."

The official gave a rare smile. "That’s wonderful, Becky. You’re doing very well." She glanced at Anna. "It’s clear that Becky is progressing appropriately for her classification."

Anna felt a surge of pride as she looked at Becky. "She’s a bright little girl, and I’m very proud of her."

The official finished her notes and then looked at Anna with a hint of approval. "It seems that everything is in order here. You’re doing an excellent job maintaining the appropriate care and boundaries for both Becky and Olaf. I’ll submit my report, and we’ll schedule another check-in in a few months."

Anna nodded, feeling relieved. "Thank you. I just want to make sure they’re both happy and healthy."

Two years had passed since Anna had taken full guardianship of both Olaf and Rebecca, and the rhythm of their days had settled into a comfortable routine. Each day began with Anna waking up her two littles, getting them ready for the day ahead, and ensuring they were happy and well cared for. Today was no different.

Anna quietly opened the door to the bedroom they shared, the soft creak of the hinges echoing through the stillness of the early morning. The gentle hum of a white noise machine filled the air, a soothing background to the scene before her. Becky was curled up on her side in her small bed, her thumb nestled in her mouth as she slept peacefully. Across the room, Olaf lay sprawled out on his back in his toddler-sized bed, his pacifier bobbing gently in his mouth as he dreamed.

Anna’s heart swelled with affection as she stepped into the room. It was always a bittersweet moment, seeing how much both of them had changed and how deeply they had regressed into their new roles. But she loved them both dearly, and they seemed happy, even if they didn’t fully understand the depth of their regression.

Gently, she knelt beside Becky, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Becky," Anna whispered softly, her voice as gentle as the morning light streaming through the window. "It’s time to wake up, sweetheart."

Becky stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked a few times, then yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "Morning, Mommy," she mumbled sleepily, sitting up with a small smile.

Anna smiled back and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Good morning, Becky. Did you sleep well?"

Becky nodded, though her face fell slightly as she shifted in her bed. She glanced down at the thick nighttime diaper between her legs, her lips forming a small pout. "I…I had an accident again," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "I thought I could keep it dry this time."

Anna’s heart tugged at the disappointment in Becky’s voice. Despite her progress during the day, Becky still struggled with nighttime accidents, and it clearly frustrated her. Anna reached out, gently cupping Becky’s cheek. "That’s okay, sweetie. You’re doing so well during the day, and nighttime accidents are nothing to be upset about. We’ll get you all cleaned up and into your big-girl pull-up for school."

Becky nodded, the disappointment in her eyes softening as Anna helped her out of bed. Together, they made their way to the changing table, where Anna efficiently removed Becky’s soggy diaper, wiped her clean, and helped her into a fresh pull-up. Once dressed in her favorite preschool uniform—a light blue dress with a white collar—Becky’s mood had already lifted.

"All set!" Anna said, smoothing out Becky’s dress. "Ready for a big day at preschool?"

Becky smiled brightly and nodded. "Uh-huh!"

Anna turned her attention to Olaf next. He was still fast asleep, his pacifier gently bobbing in and out as he nuzzled into his pillow. His nighttime diaper was clearly soaked, the faint yellow discoloration obvious through the thick padding. Anna couldn’t help but smile as she reached down and gently shook him awake.

"Olaf, time to wake up, little one," she cooed softly, rubbing his back. Olaf blinked his eyes open, his thumb automatically moving to replace the pacifier in his mouth as he stirred. He looked up at Anna with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, his pacifier still firmly between his lips.

Without a word, Anna guided him to the changing table, where she expertly removed his soaked diaper, cleaned him up, and slid a fresh, thick diaper beneath him. The crinkling of the plastic filled the room as she fastened the tapes securely around his waist. Olaf remained quiet throughout, still too drowsy to do much more than suck on his pacifier and stare up at Anna with wide, trusting eyes.

Once he was freshly diapered, Anna dressed him in a simple t-shirt, the diaper peeking out from underneath. "There we go, Olaf," she said, tapping his nose playfully. "All ready for breakfast."

Olaf giggled softly around his pacifier, still content in his little world.

Together, they made their way to the kitchen, where the familiar morning routine continued. Becky, being a preschooler, was allowed to sit at the regular table and make her own breakfast. Anna handed her a slice of toast and a small jar of jam, and Becky eagerly set about smearing the jam across the toast, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she tried to keep the mess contained.

Olaf, on the other hand, was placed in his highchair, the familiar click of the buckles securing him in place. Anna tied a bib around his neck, the bright fabric adorned with cartoon animals. Olaf pouted slightly, but he didn’t resist. It was a ritual by now, and despite his occasional grumbles, he had grown used to it. He waited patiently as Anna prepared his breakfast—warm porridge, sweetened with a touch of honey and a splash of milk.

As Anna fed Olaf small spoonfuls of the porridge, he happily kicked his feet, enjoying the taste. "Good boy," she cooed, wiping a bit of porridge from the corner of his mouth.

Between bites, Olaf absentmindedly played with his pacifier, his focus entirely on the bowl in front of him. As Anna continued to feed him, a soft hissing sound filled the air, faint but unmistakable. Anna’s eyes flicked down to Olaf’s diaper, just in time to see the slight yellowing of the material as it absorbed the wetness. Olaf, however, didn’t seem to notice. He continued eating his porridge, blissfully unaware of the accident he had just had.

Anna sighed softly, her heart aching a little at how deeply Olaf had regressed. He had become so accustomed to his diapers that he didn’t even realize when he was wetting them anymore. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she finished feeding him, then gave him a gentle pat on the head.

"Let’s get you dressed for daycare, little man," she said softly, wiping his hands and face clean before lifting him out of the highchair.

After a quick check of his diaper, which was indeed damp but not soaked, Anna dressed Olaf in a pair of shortalls, the thick padding of his diaper barely hidden beneath the fabric. He looked every bit the part of a toddler now, from his pacifier to his bib to the soft crinkle of his diaper with each step he took.

Once both Becky and Olaf were ready, Anna ushered them out the door and into the car. Becky, buckled into her booster seat, chattered excitedly about the day ahead at preschool, while Olaf, in his toddler seat, quietly sucked on his pacifier, content to watch the world pass by outside the window.

Their first stop was Becky’s preschool. As Anna helped Becky out of the car and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, Becky waved enthusiastically. "Bye, Mommy! I’ll see you after school!"

"Have a great day, Becky!" Anna called back, watching her run off to join her friends with a smile.

Next, it was time to take Olaf to daycare. As they pulled up outside the building, Olaf’s eyes widened slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Mommy…" he mumbled around his pacifier, his voice barely audible.

Anna smiled down at him as she unbuckled his seatbelt and lifted him from the car. "Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re going to have lots of fun today, just like always."

Olaf nodded hesitantly, clutching tightly to Anna as she carried him inside. She gave him a reassuring hug, rubbing his back softly. "You’ll be okay, Olaf. Mommy will be back to pick you up before you know it."

With that, Anna handed Olaf over to one of the caregivers, who smiled warmly at him and led him toward the play area. As she watched him waddle off, his shortalls riding up slightly to reveal the edge of his diaper.

[ghostgirl101]

Being In A Relationship With Feyd-Rautha Would Be Like This...

A/N: Yes yesss, I'm back from the deepest depths of the dead, finals kicked my ass earlier but now its almost october and I'll burn any exam paper I see from this moment onwards 😀 don't even question why I used this gif, it pretty much summarises the whole headcanon lmao🖤so enjoy it and lmk if you want to be added to the taglist thing at the end. Keep in mind that requests are not open currently, as I'm catching up with ones already in my inbox for Dune and other dark fandoms.

Warnings: Kind of dark themes, mid violence.. it's Feyd Rautha, idk what to tell you 😐

Next Week's Fanfic: Headcanons for a love triangle between you, Feyd-Rautha and Paul Atreides 😎😎

☠︎︎• You got yourself into some weird territory with this one 😵‍💫

☠︎︎• If you're expecting any semblance of stability and pure romance, then I'd turn and run for the Dunes to find Paul instead, because this Harkonnen doesn't have an ounce of level sanity in him, and the amount of spiking tension you'll have to cope with on a daily basis is enough to give anyone a literal heart attack 💀💀

☠︎︎• My guesses are that you were introduced to Feyd-Rautha as either a pretty young Bene Gesserit girl chosen to weave her way into his life to continue the bloodline, or he liked the look of you when he was off-world in one instance to look over Spice production with his uncle, and took you back as a trophy because he liked the look of you. So lucky you. 🙃

☠︎︎• This boy is an absolute sadist and an unpredictable unhinged mess, so there's a lot to get used to, and even when you do get used to things, it could all flip and spin just as quickly. It would take a hell of a time to truly understand Feyd-Rautha enough to predict him one hundred per cent and longer to have his trust that you won't run off or try betraying him.

☠︎︎• There's definitely a kind of dangerous allure to him that he uses to his advantage, a smug grin on his face when he enters the arenas, most likely to make kills in your name. It wouldn't be a massive surprise if you became some figure in Giedi Prime to sacrifice the dead to, like some kind of goddess of the kill (ik that sounds dramatic as hell, but i see it happening .-.)

☠︎︎• Feyd-Rautha is absolutely not used to the concept of looking out for anyone other than himself, or feeling anything close to respect and love for anyone other than himself. So the relationship he forces between you and him is a shaky and slow-burning bond that works in its own weird ways and quirks, and adapts to him and him only, so there are a lot of adjustments to be made on your end. Because even though Feyd isn't sensitive in the general sense, he's majorly unpredictable, and one wrong word could set him off. Just, tread carefully in the early days.

☠︎︎• If you want affection in any other way than corpses and bruising hickies, it may take a little while, because he has no idea how to pull that kind of gentleness off, and doesn't necessarily want to either. But if it's something that'll get you to submit to his hold over you more, then he'll come round to it, and when there's absolutely no one else in the area, you might get some actual, genuine passion, though there's always a part of it mixed in with some darker conflict in him.

☠︎︎• If you want attention from him, you've got it anyway. Feyd has his own form of attachment, pretty much an obsession, but it's always tangled in with his desire to dominate and possess. It's a suffocating relationship and tipped-scales dynamic, and the only way you can really get him to see your side of things is by wording it in ways that'll make it sound like it was his idea in the first place, and that the reason is because it'll feel better for him.

☠︎︎• Needless to say, if you're a little firmer and have a dark side to you (i'll make a safe bet that you do if you want this guy x_x) this Harkonnen is a thrill seeker to the extreme, someone always looking to feel something new and raw and insatiable, like the sharpest peaks of ecstasy and adrenaline, so will he try out new stuff with you even though it sounds mental and freaky and dangerous? That's a rhetorical question.

☠︎︎• Despite all the bloodshed and his ruthless havoc in the arenas, taking lives and living for the pain of it, believe it or not, Feyd is actually vulnerable in the least suspecting way. He doesn't have an emotional connection with anyone, because he's an unhinged psycho amongst a crowd of pale unhinged psychos who expect nothing less (and.. have you watched the film?? It's confirmed that this dude has mummy issues, so... i'm just saying, look at this hc's front gif 😏)

☠︎︎• If we're talking romance and affection, just think intense. Intense intense intense, because that's the best way to describe it. His hugs are breathtakingly tight and forcefully smothering, and he doesn't kiss, he full-on makes out with you. Public or not doesn't matter, it's just an opportunity to mark you as his in front of an audience, and he'll gladly perform, so suck up your shyness.

☠︎︎• Thinking of pet names, I see Feyd-Rautha calling you either by just your true first name and having everyone else address you just by your general title, or using other typical nicknames he'd use with satisfied smirks and lingering looks. Maybe his dearest darling, because you're higher than the pets he feeds and used before you (apparently they're called harpies??!? idk what the heck lol) I don't see him saying my love or honey unless he's just being a jackass in an argument, because I'm betting my life savings this boy only eats bitter things, and he sure as hell can't define love like you can.

☠︎︎• Feyd comes across as pretty dominant in everything he does, which is right, and even if it's you questioning him, he'll throw a dangerous fit that escalates within a second no one sees, so, again you have to be clever with the way you word things. You physically and mentally cannot be independent with Feyd-Rautha, because he'll break that spirit right out of your soul. Would he physically hurt you? Not badly, no, but just don't push him, because he'll lash out without a second thought in the moment of impulse.

☠︎︎• Again with the independence, another thing that stops you from getting any is how absolutely suffocatingly obsessive he can get, which turns on his possessiveness. You're essentially an extension of himself, something that's peaceful and pure and perfect in so many ways he'll never understand and will always pull your mind apart to try to. So if any other skulking Harkonnen looking to impress you by challenging Feyd himself or devoting a kill in the arena to you, has immediately chosen the slowest, most humiliating death, that you'll probably be tied down to watch -_-

☠︎︎• And if he can tell in even the smallest way that you're drawn to someone aside from him, there's a chance you'll be kept locked up in his chambers for a month or two with no servants, nothing breathing at all permitted to trespass except him, until he's satisfied and you have him wrapped around your finger again. And that means you can get him to do practically anything if it benefits him and draws you closer, like a kill.. to maybe even destroying a whole planet, it's not impossible for him. Once he has his mind set on something, he's a hunter, he's found his target, and he'll go wild until he destroys it.

☠︎︎• He's protective in the way that he will not let you die, or get hurt in any way by any person other than him. If another Harkonnen draws your blood in the tiniest scratch, or hurts your feelings in some way, Feyd will use that as an excuse to wring their necks. You're his to look at and admire and dress up and be close to and make you feel things, so anyone else daring to step up beside you will get knocked down and fed to his darlings. The only time you'll actually see him being doting and surprisingly, cautiously gentle is when he's healing a wound without the audience of any nurses or outside help, an uncharacteristic and uncomfortable silence in the air as he concentrates and gets you back to rights.

☠︎︎• The moments where he'll allow himself to be truly close to you go unspoken, like in the cold hard nights of Geidi Prime, where he pulls you up from your bed and tugs you down the short dark corridor to dump you in his own instead, with nothing else but the need to feel smotheringly close to someone who understands how his mind works. You'll remind him of his mother, and that's all good, so long as you stay by him and with him always, because if you take the opportunity to turn and run, don't let him catch you in the act. There's a 50/50 chance he'll keep you in his rooms for the rest of the relationship, or just straight-up kill you and take in your memories and mind to possess you that way ._.

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Next Week's Fanfic: Headcanons for a love triangle between you, Feyd-Rautha and Paul Atreides 😎😎 ⊹˚₊‧───────────────────────────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @milaeth @ennycutie @nckcn @void21 @leighta @williamtt33 @deathsimp @tatumrileyslover @beebumbo @the-dark-dreamer25 @lilepad @skboo @keicdcat @1950schick @reggiesmoon @velosrantipole @yoonessa @anonymjuni @saturnhas82moons @xlxnq @frickyea-guacamole19 @meowmeeps @chalklate

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DUNE MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ MAIN MASTERLIST

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

How To Adapt To Fire (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, death/gore, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, fade-to-black, nudity, suggestive descriptions, dirty jokes, etc.

A/N: Taglist is full.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Johnny watches you slap another news clipping to the board he’d bought you for thirty-two dollars and twenty-three cents, tired eyes blinking slowly. Standing in his apartment’s living room in his boxers and an oversized shirt, he’d woken up to the sound of muttering, and it had been just that for the last week. 

When he’d allowed you to live in his spare room until you could find a new apartment building to call your own, he didn’t expect you there to be so much grumbling. Like a little bug in his ear—not that he minded all that much. At least, if you were that bug.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” you groan, running a hand down your face. “How did he find me? How did he know I already knew so much about the case?”

He, the arsonist.

Your entire building had been a total loss—and, sure enough, the lock had been busted off of your apartment door just like the scene of the fires that resulted in casualties. You had been targeted, and it wasn’t just an accident. There was intent there; a threat. 

Stay away from me, or else. 

Johnny had sighed long when he read that in the report he’d gotten his hands on—there was no way in hell anything was stopping you except…well, except yourself.

While he had envisioned one day potentially asking you to move in with him, he hadn’t expected that to happen so soon. Certainly not before the first fucking date. He hadn’t even gained the courage to ask you out yet, and here you were—pajama pants polling at your ankles and Johnny’s baggy sweatshirt loose around your shoulders. The Scot stands with the heat of sleep and attraction on his skin. 

He tried not to stare, really he did, but the way you looked in his clothes was too much of a distraction for his own good. 

The man clears his throat, face burning. 

“I’m beggin’ you to give it a rest, Dearie. At least five minutes.” Johnny sighs. “It’s not healthy.”

He doesn’t think he’s seen you shed a tear over your apartment—about your belongings. In reality, he was taken aback by it. Soap wouldn’t have blamed you at all…but you just seemed angry. It worried him, but the emotion was well within your right to hold. Just as it was within his right to try and keep you from rushing into danger.

“Not now,” you grumble. “Not until I know how he found out my room number.” 

“You aren’t exactly unknown.” The fireman walks closer to your standing form, hand moving up to scratch at his back as he gunts. “Mostly everyone who would care to look into your career knows about you. It wouldn’t be hard.” 

Johnny moves his vision over the board, pausing before he licks his lips.

“...They’ll be needing me in today, Hen,” he breathes. 

Your lips tighten, and you glance over quickly to find blue eyes already looking. Snapping your attention back to the board, you push back against the burn of your face.

“It’s your job, I’m not going to tell you not to go in.”

“If you need me here, then I can—”

“John,” you interrupt, shaking your head with a heavy frown and turning his way. “No way. Go in.”

Johnny’s serious face doesn’t lessen, and you’re struck with how often those lines on his face are becoming commonplace.

You wouldn’t say that you were taking this well. 

Forcing yourself to work; making your mind push back at the deep pit that seemed to be growing. Everything you’d worked for—everything you’d had. Gone. Up in smoke.

Two people had died in that inferno, and you can’t help but put that on yourself. 

Fingers going up to tap at your chin, your attention goes back to the board, the heavy weight of bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. You’d tried to re-write what you had in your notes as well as you were able, but there had been a reason for making a physical board in the first place. 

Johnny watches you, his brows tight and his fingers twitching. Sighing, he fixes his feet and lightly places a hand on the back of your spine, blinking quickly your eyes dart over before the tension begins to bleed from your muscles. 

Your gaze begins to soften, but your voice is still a light firmness. “Stop that.”

The man blinks. “Stop what?”

“Stop being all…” You huff, sagging into his hand. “You.” 

Johnny pushes a chuckle, shifting to stare at you fully and letting the smirk move over his lips. His fingers move along your back, rubbing tiny circles as the room goes airy—how quick it was that you could fall into this sense of attachment. To anyone outside of the apartment, it would seem the two of you were in a strange relationship, and that would be true to some extent. 

Your face heats up, and Johnny’s large palm flattens. He moves and presses his nose into your hair.  

“Now what’s that supposed to mean, then?” He grunts, and you can feel his flickering smirk as clear as day. 

Leaning over into him, you sigh, glaring at the board as your heart patters. 

“It means you’re distracting me.”

Johnny hums, thumb moving up and down over the knob of your spine.  “Talk to me,” he mutters. “Let me help, aye?” He blinks slowly, face hot and his lungs palpitating in his chest. The man cared about you so much—his heart ached for what you’d been put through. Losing a home like that. 

Your lashes flutter, a near purr emitting from your throat at the hypnotic movements of Johnny’s grip. Like a damn harpy, he was digging his claws into you; it had been happening for months. Of course, you’d let him touch you—how could you not? Even his sense of courage and justice was something that let you know his character, his honor. 

This case was just as important to him as it was to you. 

“Go,” you mutter, shifting your head so that you can stare at him. Johnny’s visage pulls back, his stubble moving with the worried angle of his lips; his skull tilts, almost like a dog cocking its snout. “We can figure something out later—if I get you fired I’d finally gain a conscious.” 

Johnny sighs, looking you up and down. “...I’ll be making dinner tonight. Just,” he breathes, and as his hand leaves you, your body fights the instinct to shiver. “Wait for me, Bonnie.” 

You take in the closeness between the two of you—how your bodies melt into one another as if on instinct. Something was startling about how easy it was to live in the same apartment as Johnny. It had almost been too easy. Sharing food, blankets, and looks.

Your eyes follow after Soap as he brushes your cheek with the back of his hand before turning and walking back to his room, bare feet padding over the floor. His legs move, small burns and scars all over before your vision travels up the broadness of his back; the stretch of his arms as he brings them up with a groan to itch at his head.

Licking your lips, the sight is enough to quiet your mind. Seeing how, like water, his clothes morph into the swell of his thighs and the…your face bursts into fire, and your head snaps away. 

Clearing your throat, you blink quickly and try to re-focus on your board of suspects.

—

Johnny tightens the belt over his waist, huffing softly as he walks into the fire department’s bay door—passing the red trucks and patting the dogs as they come up to mob him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, the clicking of little claws tapping over the concrete floors and the panting of hot breath. “Good to see you too, little rascals.” 

The fireman looks around the area, seeing some of the boys mulling about doing repairs or fixing up the slight mess. Johnny motions a hand when he’s greeted, and before long he’s entering the main hub of where he wants to go—the kitchen. 

Grabbing a cup, the Scot’s intention is to get some water before settling into his desk and diving into something that can take his mind off the woman living in his apartment. Licking his lips, Johnny gets momentarily lost in the remembrance of your skin—your determination. 

He’s angry. Angry that someone’s done this to you; had disrupted your life so violently. A question was stuck swirling in his head as he began hearing the murmuring from the walk-in pantry. 

What would have happened if you hadn’t been with him that morning? 

“What do you mean ‘that was you?’” Johnny’s fingers freeze around the rim of a glass, blinking into his own smaller reflection. Brows furrowing, the Scot’s head swivels to the kitchen pantry and the barely cracked open door and the voice that emanates from it.

For some reason, the stagnant air after that sentence makes Johnny’s spine straighten. Blue eyes stare blankly, and fingers twitch as the same voice starts again.

“I thought you said it was over?! That the last one was,” a strangled word, a fast inhale. “We had a fucking deal.” 

Heart slow in his chest, Soap stares the longer this seemingly one-sided conversation goes on. There was something off—the words seemed hurried; panicked, even. It wasn’t the usual emotions you had when having a talk with someone. 

Taking a steady step back, the Scot remembered how fast your pulse had run when he had you at his chest a week ago—the fast slam and the whites of your eyes on full display. Even if you didn’t confess it to him, Johnny knew you’d been afraid of the fire. Fearful. He knew you weren’t sleeping. 

Maybe the fireman was being paranoid, but anything that he didn’t understand made his hackles rise like a feral dog—certainly with you, technically, under his watch now. Everyone was a potential threat. Face stiff, Johnny begins walking over to the pantry with nearly silent feet, boots softly flattening to the tile floor.

Stopping outside of the door, his ears hone in. 

“This isn’t right! There’s a difference between what you do and what I do! We stuck together, but this is it. I’ve covered for you—I’ve tried to smooth everything out, but this isn’t something that I can look past anymore. She wasn’t even involved yet!”

Johnny’s lips tighten, his eyes burning through the barrier until he lifts his hand and settles it loosely on the doorknob, not pushing even as the thin material shifts minutely. The alarms in his head were going off, and he didn’t like that. 

Muscles tight, the Scot moves a bit closer, shoulder just beginning to touch the wood before—

Kurt Matthews, one of the rookie firefighters, shoves himself through. 

Johnny strangles a gasp as the two men nearly collide with one another, only shoving out, what he hopes to be, a casual call of, “Hell’s bells. Careful there, Kid.”

The man’s wild eyes lock on him, stumbling back before Soap’s hands move to grasp his arm, a dark phone held lightly in Kurt’s hand. Johnny looks at it silently before he forces a blank chuckle. “Sorry, then. Was going to get some bread—you know how it is, eh?” Kurt looks frazzled, a sheen of sweat over his face; eyes tiny. “The boys never fill up the bread box after they finish a loaf.”

“What?” Matthews quickly mutters, before shaking his head and waving a hand. “Yeah, right, whatever.”

He swiftly moves past the Scot, brushing shoulders. The mohawked man’s nose pulls in, and blue eyes watch the disappearing individual. 

Johnny’s throat swallows down saliva. 

Kurt Matthews smells like gasoline.

—

You hear the sound of the TV and sniffle, pushing the heels of your hands into your stinging eyes. 

It wasn’t a question as to why you had waited until Johnny left to let yourself feel the hopelessness that was sinking into your chest—you were surprised you lasted that long, though. Tiny tears dribble out over your cheeks, but you fight them with a growl. 

“Keep it together,” you sigh harshly. “C’mon, keep it together.” 

Your heart jerks when the front door of the apartment opens, and you’re quick to stand up from the couch where you had been sitting, clearing your throat as Johnny’s call echoes. 

“Just me!” 

You divulge immediately into your hurried sentences, waving a hand. The shake in your voice is obvious. “I have some of the names I remember writing down—it isn’t much but I—”

“What happened?” Johnny’s hands capture your face in a swift second; he isn’t even out of his work clothes before he’s over and touching you. It’s like he teleported over at the slightest hint of distress, not even a moment of hesitation. “Whoa, hey, hey,” he breathes a bit slower, softer. “What’s this then, Bonnie?” 

Delicate movements of his fingers scrape your flesh, thumb running as blue eyes come into focus. Your lungs tighten up again at the sight of tense worry—Johnny’s face all hard with the lines of his forehead and the narrowing of his eyelids.

“Let me see,” he utters, tilting your head up so the brightness of your eyes is visible to him; the wetness of your flesh. “Hey, now.” 

The man’s attention goes up and down on the off chance this is physical pain instead of the internal kind. But he knows better than that. So, Johnny stuffs down the hunch he had about the man in his own ranks and places all of his concern on you and your bitter tears. 

Even when you try to grumble his worry away.

“It’s just stupid tears, MacTavish,” your voice cracks as he drags you to him, curling his arm behind the stretch of your shoulder blades in an addictive display that leaves your nose sniffling again. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Quit it,” the Scot pleads. “Jesus, Pencils,” he sighs, arms trapping you in just like before. “Just let me hold you, yeah? I swear, you’ll make my heart burst ‘fore I get you to admit you’re feeling something.”

Your glossy eyes flinch into a weak glare. “I’m not that emotionally constipated, jackass.” 

Johnny’s breath moves over your scalp.

“You sure about that?” Your face goes to an annoyed sheen, and from the soft rest of Johnny’s chest, you look over at him. He’s trying a light smirk, but his eyes are still serious. 

Letting yourself melt into him, you take in his scent and the heat he offers you, surrounded by the remnants of his life and future—this apartment that offers you a reprieve. 

You close your eyes and let your hands shift up to grab at Johnny’s shirt slowly, your heart gradually easing. Unaware of the soft gaze watching every second; his own grip tightening.

“...You’re like a dog,” you whisper, tears drying. “Always running over.” Your pause lays out a beautiful scene. “I like it.”

Johnny’s cheeks flare to a bright red. He clears his throat, glancing away from your face. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“Hm,” you hum, shrugging and nuzzling your nose into his pulse. You hear it racing. “Up to you, I suppose.” 

The man laughs, chest jerking. 

The silence that falls after is like a blanket—settling thickly over the space as the last of your sniffles finally halt. You didn’t like crying; not in front of others. It was easier to just push through it, but Johnny’s presence made you soft, at the same time you can’t tell if that’s good or bad. But it did make your fear lessen, and maybe that was something you couldn’t overlook. 

You tighten your hold on his waist, and he grunts, glancing down at you as his gut swirls. The man’s half-lidded eyes flutter, fingers flinching along your clothes. The room gets warmer, or maybe it’s just him. 

“I guess,” you begin under your breath, voice muffled by his skin. “I could use your help. Officially.”  

“Ooo,” the Scot whispers. “‘Officially’—look at that.”

You huff, lips pulling up. 

“Well,” the man mutters, chin resting on top of your head as the sun outside begins to dip lower. “‘Officially’ I have some information that my Bonnie little boss might like to hear.”

Your smirk grows wider, your heart hammering faster as your pulse moves with fire. 

“Oh?” Your nails drag his sides, and you feel Johnny’s breath hitch, a low purr emanating from his chest. 

“Oh, aye,” a hand grips your chin, dragging you back until you’re once more blinking into his gaze head-on. His finger pets your flesh, your breath puffing out as he stares down at you. He swallows down the nervousness in the back of his throat, the urgency that instinct pushes away in this moment of anticipation as he watches your face. “But I’m having a moment, it seems—can’t think straight.”

“Why’s that?” You lick your lips and see cobalt blue follow them.

“Because this Hen in front of me has been a damn tease since I’ve met ‘er.” 

Any snappy reply is cut short before it even can fully register in your head, and all thoughts halt the second his firm mouth is on your own. 

You gasp, but there isn’t an ounce of yourself that pulls back, not when Johnny’s fingers play at your shirt-hem, or even when your own slide under his clothes. You don’t pull back when they hit the floor—don’t pull back when your bodies follow suit. 

A dance of fire and ice moves with the writhing of flesh and the passing of heavy kisses; panting breath. Grunts and groans as if every pass of lips and teeth is a knife into supple skin. Tense legs and flexing arms—dragging fingertips digging into every latchable dip even as the dead of night grows longer. 

It’s only after every desire has been satiated that you finally utter about the finer details of this mess. 

Johnny’s hands move down your bare back, slipping to grip your waist and drag you into him as you sigh. Your thigh lifts to rest over his hip, leg hanging uselessly over as it brushes the ruffled sheets as lips find your neck, tiny nips and passes of skin mixing as your eyes flutter. 

The fireman makes a noise of satisfaction in the back of his throat, hand sliding to hook under your kneecap, caressing. 

“So attentive,” you murmur, and your fingers run through his hair, itching at his mohawk as the longer strands slip through. Johnny burrows closer, nose pushing your head upwards as he kisses the space where your neck connects to the underside of your chin. 

He chuckles smoothly, stubble scraping along as you shiver at the sensation. The hard press of his pecs shove into you, and you lightly breathe; fingers twitching.

“How are we feeling?” Johnny grunts in between his worship.

“Energized,” you grin, half-closed eyes shimmering. 

The man smiles widely, grip sliding downward slowly as he chuckles. “Yeah?”

“Not like that,” you groan, shoving his hand away as he laughs, rolling onto his back and folding his arm over his eyes. 

“Ah,” Johnny’s chest jumps with his amusement, itching at his bare abdomen for a moment. “Worth a try, then.”

“Dog,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve had enough of a fill.”

“That’s all up to opinion, Dearie.” He smirks, peeking at you as your face heats up.

Shoving at his shoulder, he laughs again and pushes up, hands melting into the mattress beside your head as he looms above you as a large wall. 

“I’ll never have enough of a fill when it comes to you and your wet c-”

You snap a hand to his mouth, covering it as you glare openly, sneering. “Finish that sentence and you’ll never have me in this bed again.”

Johnny’s glinting eyes stare from above your hand, and you feel his smile as clear as day as his face stays stuck close to yours. 

A teasing kiss is leveled on your palm and you roll your eyes, pulling away to lightly push at his forehead. The Scot lets you shove at him, and you sit up fully as he grunts and rests his back on the headboard. 

Shifting your body, you straddle his lap and grasp his chin.

“A few hours ago,” Johnny’s eyes are blown, and you feel his touch on your hips. He hums in question, barely listening above the squeeze of your legs. “You were going to tell me something—a lead.”

“Was I?” The fireman breathes, licking at your finger as it goes to rest on his bottom lip. 

You cock your head with seriousness and a level of amusement in your gaze. “You were. Tell me.”

“You need to work on your pillow talk, Pencils.” Johnny sets a sloppy kiss on your collarbone and sighs. 

There’s a moment where you both stare into one another, and the gravity of this begins to set in once more. Carnal desire and feelings aside, there was always an edge to the both of you—this need to be seen through whether for some sense of justice or care. 

“Kurt Matthews—rookie fireman,” Johnny grunts, looking away for a quick moment. “Heard him speaking on the phone, got a bad feeling ‘bout it that I can’t place. Might be nothing, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t tell you.” 

“Kurt,” you breathe, brows pulling in. There’s a long pause. “Kurt Matthews…that sounds familiar.” 

Hopping off Johnny, the man groans softly, a slightly needy look following after as your bare body slips away. He knocks his skull against the headboard, side-eyeing your backside as you hurry off to your board. A light smirk makes itself known before your voice snaps him out of his memories. “Stop looking at my ass, MacTavish!”

His face goes beet red as he grunts, quickly snapping his eyes away. 

You wrap yourself into one of the blankets that was on the couch, letting it hang off of your shoulders as you snatch one of the papers on your mess of information. 

“A fireman,” you mutter to yourself, finger running down names and brief descriptions. “An inside job? No, that would be…” Your eyes spark to life as Soap shuffles in, running through his hair. “That would be one hell of a story.” 

Attention locked in, your eyes instantly stop on your own chicken scratch—the name at the bottom of the page. 

Kurt Matthews. Witness to fire on the fifth; one dead. 

“Off duty? Or not hired yet?” You ask, lips tightening. “Why was he at the scene? Johnny,” your curious voice calls to him, and he slips up behind you, flattening his front to your back. You lean into him, showing him the paper. “When did he get taken on into the department?”

“Month ago,” Johnny’s face pulls, frowning. A name catches his attention, and he tilts his head. “Why’s Duncan on there?”

Your attention moves to the scribbled title. Johnny continues as you read, your stomach sinking. 

Duncan Ballard. Employee of Warren Electrical. No involvement.

You wave a hand. “He has nothing to do with this case. That was back when I was looking into the money laundering—”

“They’re cousins.” 

Your body twists, face confused. “What…?”

Johnny blinks, glancing at you and then back to the paper, he vaguely gestures to the two names. “Duncan and Kurt—they’re cousins. Met him at one of the department cookouts. Strange bloke, but I never thought much about it. Just thought he liked the profession a bit because Kurt was getting involved.” 

You stare at him, a million thoughts dashing from behind your eyes. “Duncan was the man I interviewed about the Warren Electrical case. He was cleared by the police,” you stutter, looking to the side. “He was the only employee of the company that didn’t confess or implicate someone else. There was no evidence to…”

You trail off before your spine tightens. Your body pushes itself out of Johnny’s hold, rushing to his computer and opening it like a bat out of hell. 

“Give me the name of one of the fire victims.”

The Scot watches after, hurriedly forcing out, “Mike Lane.”

An article pops up—one that you hadn’t written but that another journalist had. Warren Electrical Employee Exposes All. 

“Another,” you breathe, eyes stuck on the screen.

“Kit Cannon.”

Warren Electrical Employee—

“Johnny, one more.”

“Hadden Taylor.”

Warren Electrical Employee—

Your throat closes for a moment before you force out in the middle of Soap easing out another name, still not sure where you’re going with this. “He’s trying to kill off anyone who snitched.”

Johnny pauses, coming over to look as he thinks—as he looks over the articles you show him with a grim face, he tilts his head.

“Even then, why were you a target? All you did was interview him. And why now?” 

“He knows I have all of the resources,” you begin. “If anyone can catch him, it would be me—I interviewed him when he was in temporary custody. It would have seemed like he didn’t have a choice unless he wanted to keep his appearance of innocence.” 

Your mind struggles through the potential answers. “But you’re right—why now? Is it because of the trial coming up? And how does this connect with Kurt?”

“He smelled like Gasoline when he walked past me,” Johnny adds, rubbing at his chin; itching at his scar. He spares you a look, mulling over the words that he’d heard in the pantry. “...I think he’s trying to cover his cousin’s crimes with his own. Make it seem like they’re all a part of one damn scheme.” 

“He’s the one going for the abandoned buildings,” you agree, nodding a few times, looking over into Johnny’s eyes. “Kurt Matthews and Duncan Ballard. Okay. We have our leads.”

Before the Scot can speak on it, you’re rushing past, grabbing clothes from the floor and shoving them on. His face moves in, confusion overtaking his building shock. 

“What are you doing?” You shove into your pants, not sparing a look before you button them. 

“Get dressed, we’re going out.”

Johnny’s left in the middle of the room, naked, watching after you with a slack-jawed expression of disbelief. 

“...What?”

—

You hang up your phone with one of the many people you know in the city, dropping it to your side as you and the fireman stand in front of your car. You have an address for Kurt’s home—not one for Duncan, but that can happen later. With what Johnny had said not moments before, Matthews was expressing hesitation. Go for the weaker link first. 

The streets are lit up. It’s still night out but the long hours are beginning to thin into morning; it can’t be later than three AM. Vehicles rush past, and, occasionally, people walk to wherever they are off to. The city never sleeps, just as you don’t. 

“Woah,” Johnny grabs onto you before your hand can latch onto the driver’s seat door. He waves his other hand and stares at you heavily. “We can’t just go into this with our dicks in our hands, Bonnie.”

���Thankfully, I don’t have one of those,” you huff. “That’s why I keep you around.”

“That isn’t,” Johnny sighs aggressively, shaking his head. “I’ll not have you in danger. We need to pass this along the chain.”

“The chain,” you grumble, “hates me. We’re the best bet right now.” Raising a brow you point a finger under his nose. “If I recall, you asked to be involved.”

Johnny frowns heavily, looking unimpressed until he takes a deep breath. He rasps out, “You’re lucky you’re damn near a goddess—”

His phone goes off in his pocket, and not a second later, he’s answering as you mess with your satchel. Taking out a piece of paper, you try not to show how much his little comment made you want to float into the air, giddy, nearly, as you write down Kurt’s address sloppily. 

“MacTavish,” Johnny grunts out, turning slightly away. 

You open your car door, but a hand moves out and keeps it closed enough to a point where you can’t slip inside, you pout and Johnny raises a brow as he listens. Your eyes notice how his jaw clenches, and he lets off an aggressive sigh like a boar when he registers the words being said from over the line. 

Your heart drops when you watch his shoulders sag, hips moving as they situate themselves.

“Right. I’ll be over.” Cobalt eyes snap to yours when the call ends, deathly serious. “One of the boys had to run out tonight during his twenty-four-hour—family emergency. I was on call for him.” 

You open your mouth to speak. 

“No,” Johnny points at you, digging out his own keys from his pants as he backs up. He shakes his head. “No—you’re not going alone. Don’t even ask it, Pencils.”

Your loud scoff echoes. “I didn’t even mention it!”

“You fucking thought it,” he grunts, glaring. “Get your pretty arse back inside the apartment and we do this together tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes,” you wave a hand, stepping back onto the sidewalk as the Scot moves to his vehicle only two cars down, sarcastically monologuing. “All naked and waiting to be ravished by your brutish body. Whatever will I do without you, my brave firefighter?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Soap mutters to himself, and just as he unlocks his car and opens the door, you’re there at his side. A light kiss is pressed into his flesh, and he freezes. 

“Be safe,” you mutter, and he melts—tension loosening. He smirks and glances over, carefully grabbing your face before connecting his lips to yours with a low groan.

“Maybe you should be naked and waiting for me—”

“Go!”

Johnny chuckles against your lips. “Keep your head on for me, Pencils. I’ll be back soon, and we can find the fucker that did this, eh?”

As he gets into his car and drives away, you watch after him and bite at your lips. And then as he turns the street corner, you jog over to your car and slip inside.

—

The home was run down.

It wasn’t a place where you would want to raise a family, and neither was the neighborhood. In fact, barely anyone seemed to live on this street, and even if there were entire rows of houses, there weren’t even any lights on—nothing illuminated the streets except the lamps, and you were parked under one with your satchel in your lap. 

Experience didn’t mean you never get nervous.

You feel the clamminess of your palms as you flex them, replaying Johnny’s words in your head over and over. You knew the house was here, so, you could always just…come back later. There was no harm in it. 

Yet, your eyes narrow, and your rage builds. 

This fucker was related to the man that burned down your apartment building—was potentially covering for him so you wouldn’t break the case on Duncan killing off the snitches for Warren Electrical’s schemes. But all because of an interview with him? All you’d done was sit down with the guy; why did he feel the need to track you down? Breaking into someone's house and lighting it up with matches was personal—incredibly personal. 

Duncan had given you a warning to keep away, and you hated warnings with a fiery passion. If anything, it had just set you on his ass more. 

“Okay,” you huff, and reach inside of your satchel, flicking on the recorder you stuffed inside and stating your name, age, and important information. 

And then you open the car door and exit. 

Speed walking to the door, you look down the dark streets and hunch into yourself, the calls of crows and the wind moving the overgrown grass. Cracked concrete hits the ground as you kick pieces away, and at the two steps leading to the front door, you think that perhaps this might be a bad idea.

Bad ideas are what make good articles.

You hum, face innocent. “Johnny’s gonna fucking kill me.”

Knuckles raising, you send three firm knocks into the paint-speckled wood, and wait. And wait.

And wait. 

Your face tightens, your legs shifting minutely as the seconds draw long. A part of you is somewhat relieved until you hear a small creak just when you’re about to walk away. You freeze, and your eyes move slowly to the glass of the side window in a gradual glance. 

Your eyes lock onto a face staring back. 

Gasping, your foot takes a rapid step backward, but before you can rush away, Kurt rips open the door and pleads in a tiny voice as he grabs your arm. You flinch, raising up a heavy fist. But his words stop you from sending it forward.

“No! No, you can’t be here!” Your eyes blink rapidly, stuttering through your initial panic.

“What?”

“Leave!” Kurt snaps, eyes wild. “While he’s still asleep—he can’t see you here or he’ll—” There’s a splash of liquid and you shout. Kurt lets go of you quickly as he looks down at himself as his clothes get flooded from behind. 

The sharp smell hits you before your ears twitch to the sound of a lighting match. 

Kurt screams, snapping around as you fall backward off the steps, slamming into the ground with a panicked flinching in your lungs. A large shadow stands in the doorway. “I didn’t say anything—I didn’t—!”

Kurt Matthews goes up in flames, and in the fire and the rabid screams of sizzling flesh, you’re left shouting in pure fear. Duncan’s familiar face was illuminated by an orange and red inferno and he watches you blankly with a box of matches in his right hand.

You run off so fast, your heels get kicked off in a flurry of a chase.

TAGS:

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[cherryredstars]

hii i hope ur weeks been going okay!! ❣️

now hear me out

buff female reader…. as actor miguels bodyguard… ☹️ its a need

no specific scenario for it really but a pool perhaps… although idrk when an actor and a bodyguard would need to be in the same pool but erm we can maybe just use our imaginations on this one 🙏 but like again no specific scenario tbh i’ll take anything

i NEED!!!! miguel and buff female ready bruh im actually tweaking thank yew… need him to admire the muscles🤫🤫🤫

uhhh have a sweet day!!! 👐

Pairing: actor!Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: SFW, Reader has prominent muscles, Swimsuits

A/N: Hello, love! I hope you're having an amazing day!

Unedited

Miguel has always preferred to really prepare for his roles.

It's something you've admired about him since you've started working for him. No matter what the role is, he does his research. You've seen the man spend hours studying dinosaurs and going to museums because he once had a role where his character was an archaeologist. He is completely dedicated to his craft, and he always brings an authentic experience to the screen.

For his newest role, he's starring in a film about an inspirational story of a want-to-be Olympic swimmer who had their journey postponed due to an accident that had them unable to swim for a year. He had come to you, mentioning offhandedly that he'll have to hire a swim coach soon to learn professional swimming techniques to elevate his performance. You had nodded, until you remembered your years spent in college and university doing swim.

"I can teach you." You had said, shrugging and telling him of our experience when he had questioned it. Almost instantly, he had agreed.

So now, you stand in his outdoor pool, waiting for him to exit the house. You've already adapted to the temperature of the water, not that there was much to adapt to with the water heater he has. You sigh to yourself as the sun beads down on you, overly aware of how tight the swimsuit you have on clings to your body despite the water softening it. The one piece was sitting in the back of your closet, the same one you would wear to practices when you were still in university. With the new muscle mass, the material stretches and clings to every indent of your body.

Miguel comes out eventually, wearing swim trunks. You can't help but oogle at him, seeing the toned planes of his chest and stomach. If he catches you staring, he doesn't say anything. Maybe that's because he's too busy staring at you too. His eyes scan the navy blue material of your swimsuit, following it down to where it gets distorted by the water. He clears his throat awkwardly, apologizing for taking so long as he climbs into the water.

You start off simple, showing him the basic strokes. You can feel his eyes burning into you as you swim quickly to the other side of the pool, eyes trained on the fluid movements of your muscles as they slice through the water. He finds himself distracted each time he tells himself to pay attention, eyes wandering from their focus on the basic movement to your muscles. Your arms and legs are powerful as they carry you through the water, the muscles on your back flexing and rippling. He wouldn't be surprised if he was salivating.

When you look back to him from the other side of the pool, you yell at him to try out the movements himself. He blames the burning in his cheeks on the sun as he tries his best to mimic your fluid movements, mind trying to piece together what you were doing. It's clumsy, and he breaks form a handful of times as he tries to swim over to you. You take mental note of what needs to be fixed, encouraging yet strict as you explain his mistakes to him.

By the end of the session, Miguel's bones feel like jelly and he can feel an aching in his muscles from fighting against the water. His eyes stray to you as the two of you dry off with towels, and he curses under his breath as he watches water drip from your skin and sees the way your arms flex trying to reach the water sitting on your upper back.

He doesn't know how long he'll survive this.

I spent 3 minutes watching some random guy swim on YouTube to write this LOL.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Kai with his babies?

Tides of Fatherhood

kai (merman oc) x reader

warnings, children and babies, you have twins (a boy and a girl) no childbirth/labour mentioned, only afterwards, kai speaks choppy english still

word count- 1,380 words

Kai's golden eyes softened as he gazed at the two small bundles nestled against you. They were newborns, still fragile with tiny limbs and delicate scales that shimmered faintly in the dim light of the cave. You could see their small gills fluttering, adjusting to their new world. Their tiny bodies curled closer to you, seeking warmth and comfort.

Kai had never been more terrified.

The water lapped gently at the edges of the rocky cave, the sound mingling with the quiet breaths of your children. Kai crouched beside you, his large, webbed hands hovering nervously over the pups as if unsure how to touch them without breaking them. His English had always been halting and rough, but right now, he struggled to find any words at all.

You smiled at him, tired but full of warmth. "You can touch them, Kai. They're stronger than they look."

He hesitated for a moment before finally reaching out, his fingers trembling as he gently stroked one of the pups' tiny arms. His touch was tentative, as though he feared his strength would be too much for their fragile forms. But the pup responded to his touch with a soft, contented sound, their small eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again.

Kai let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, his broad shoulders relaxing slightly. "They… ours," he whispered, his voice thick with awe.

"Yes," you said softly, watching him. "They're ours."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raising two newborns had proven to be a far greater challenge than either of you had anticipated. Your pups were half-human, half-merman, and their needs were unique. They needed water to breathe, yet their lungs were also developing to survive above the surface. The air-pocket cave you lived in became both a refuge and a playground of trial and error.

Kai adapted quickly, more so than you expected for someone who had spent his life beneath the waves, in a world so different from your own. He learned how to cradle the pups in his large arms, his touch always gentle despite his size. He built makeshift cribs out of driftwood and seaweed, creating small nests for them in the shallows, where the water would kiss their skin but not overwhelm their still-developing lungs.

Kai was fiercely protective from the start, always watching, always alert. "I… guard," he would mutter, his English improving little by little as the weeks went on. He often stayed near the cave entrance, scanning the ocean with those sharp golden eyes of his, ever-watchful for any danger that might threaten his family.

But when he wasn’t standing guard, Kai was with you and the pups. He was an eager learner, mimicking the way you held them, the way you spoke softly to soothe their cries. At night, the pups would sleep on either side of you, with Kai close by, his hand always resting on one of them as if needing to reassure himself they were real.

One evening, as the moonlight filtered through the water, casting shimmering reflections on the cave walls, you found Kai crouched over the pups, one in each arm. His usually stern face was soft, a rare smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he hummed a low, gentle tune. You couldn't help but watch, warmth blooming in your chest as you saw him embracing fatherhood so naturally.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When your pups began to crawl on land and swim through the water things became a lot more chaotic.

They were fast. Faster than you expected. With their small tails and webbed hands, they zoomed through the shallow pools of water in the cave with surprising agility, leaving you and Kai scrambling to keep up. Kai, ever the protector, would dart after them, his large frame moving gracefully through the water as he scooped them up, one under each arm.

"You stay close," he would say, his voice firm but filled with affection as he brought them back to your side. The pups would giggle, their laughter like the soft chime of seashells clinking together, always wriggling out of Kai’s grip the moment he set them down.

It wasn’t long before they started exploring the world outside the cave. Kai was hesitant, always on edge whenever the pups swam too far from the entrance, but he knew they needed to learn. And so, he would guide them through the shallow waters, teaching them about the ocean, pointing out different creatures as they swam by.

"This… fish," he would say, showing them a colorful school of fish darting through the coral. "Not eat. Friends."

The pups watched with wide, curious eyes, soaking in every word, every lesson. You watched them too, heart swelling with pride as you saw the way Kai cared for them, teaching them in his own gentle, patient way. He wasn’t just their protector—he was their guide, their teacher, their father.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time your pups reached the age of five, they were a force to be reckoned with. Their personalities had begun to show—

Hali, your daughter, was calm and thoughtful, often following Kai around with wide, observant eyes, while your son, Aenon was mischievous and energetic, always looking for new ways to test the boundaries of their world.

Kai loved them fiercely. You could see it in the way he interacted with them, how his eyes softened when they tugged on his fins or asked him a hundred questions about the ocean. His English had improved dramatically, though it was still broken at times, and he would often stumble over words as he tried to explain things to the pups.

"See… stars?" he said one night, pointing up at the dark surface of the ocean, where the light from the moon and stars filtered down. "Those… light in sky. Far away."

The pups looked up, their eyes wide with wonder. "how fare" Hali asked, her voice filled with awe.

Kai nodded, smiling. "Yes. Very far. But… we see them from here. Always watching."

The pups seemed to take comfort in that, their eyes still locked on the stars as they drifted off to sleep, nestled in the warmth of their father’s arms.

Of course, it wasn’t always easy. There were moments of frustration, especially as the pups grew older and more independent. Kai struggled to balance his instinct to protect them with the knowledge that they needed to explore, to learn on their own. It was hard for him to let go, to allow them to make mistakes and face challenges without his constant presence.

But he tried. For you, for them, he tried.

One day, after the pups had ventured out farther than they ever had before, you found Kai pacing near the cave entrance, his hands clenching and unclenching as he muttered to himself. "They… too far," he growled, worry etched into every line of his face. "What if… hurt? What if… something bad?"

You placed a hand on his arm, stopping his pacing. "They’ll be okay, Kai. They’re strong, just like you."

He looked at you, his golden eyes searching yours for reassurance. Slowly, he nodded, though the tension didn’t fully leave his body until the pups returned, laughing and unscathed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time the pups were old enough to venture out on their own, Kai had become a different man. He was still fierce and protective, but there was a softness to him now, a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

He had raised two beautiful children, and they were as much a part of him as the sea itself.

As the sun set one evening, casting a golden glow over the water, you and Kai watched as your pups swam together, laughing and playing in the shallows. Kai's hand found yours, squeezing it gently as he smiled.

"They… grow strong," he said quietly, his English now more fluid, though still touched with his unique cadence. "Like you. Like me."

You smiled, leaning into him. "Like us."

Kai nodded, his eyes filled with pride as he watched his family, the love in his heart as deep and vast as the ocean that had brought you together.

[sandboxwritings]

you know what its late and im too tired to think of words anymore so im just gonna post this wip here and go to bed

enjoy!

If there was one thing that was not on Grian's New Years' bingo card it would be growing wings. In fact, if anyone had so much as suggested it as a possibility to him he would have laughed them off, assuming it was the prelude to some strange prank. And yet, here he was two weeks into the new year with what were undoubtedly wings sprouting to either side of his spine, connecting to his shoulder blades in a way that they should not be able to.

That wasn't the only strange thing happening to him either. For one, he's lighter. Not in a diet-culture-fad or hitting the gym to meet that New Year's resolution that'll fade out in a month or so, he is just literally lighter. Less dense? Like the amount of physical space he takes up is the same but his mass is…less? Now, Grian is far from an ornithologist but he was able to quickly learn that bird bones are hollow and he does not like the implications that has for him and his new feathered existence. It does, however, mean he can jump higher, which is kind of fun to test out whenever he's taking the lift to and from his apartment unit.

It also means he's a bit more fragile than he's used to being.

Now, one might be asking, shouldn't a person who has strange growths go see a doctor immediately? And the answer is yes! Of course, and in Grian's defense, he did do that! It's not his fault that the hospital was overflowing with people at the time, most of which were in much more dire straits than he himself was and so he elected to turn around and go home. He would just go back. . . later. Eventually. He swore he would. Maybe.

Surely it would resolve itself.

That was ten days ago, before Grian's new wings had become more distinct and feathered and had only barely been strange misshapen lumps on his back. And in those ten days the entire world had changed.

An emergency notice had been sent out across the city, played on every news broadcast in the district, an alert sent to every cell phone registered to the local area code. Some strange bacteria had been discovered in the water ducts that fed into every reservoir across Hermitopia and it should be avoided at all costs. Citizens were instructed to limit skin exposure and refrain from drinking any sources of unsealed water. Stations were set up across the city to provide clean, filtered water in the meantime while the contamination was dealt with.

It was too little, far too late.

While Hermitopia was effectively put on mass lockdown, Grian's wings continued to fill out. He was almost glad for the shelter in place orders as it meant no one saw the process of his strange, wrinkly-skinned chicken wings double in size day after day. No one saw him nearly scratching the things bloody while the pin feathers grew in. No one was there to see him standing in the middle of his living room and struggling to activate muscles that hadn't existed days ago. No one else was there to look on in awe as he finally stretched both fully feathered wings out for the first time, touching wingtips to diagonal corners of the room.

Just over three weeks into the New Year, Hermitopia holds a press conference. It plays on every device from the heart of downtown to three cities over. As many have already come to realize, the contamination was more than simple bacteria in the water. It was a chemical agent, a biohazard, that was capable of adapting to and changing different forms of matter. Particularly, it changed living matter down to the DNA. Irrevocably.

The city weeps. There is fear and panic. Questions fly about what this means, what comes next, what do we do? Social media forums explode with speculation and rumors. Friends and family hold one another close amidst the chaos of a changing world.

Grian turns off his phone, sits outside on his tiny balcony, and looks at the stars. He feels the wind ruffle his feathers, feels the way it tugs at his skin, pulls him toward the edge. He flexes new muscles that support new, fragile bones.

Spreads his wings.

They say there's no better way to learn to fly. . . right?

And he jumps.

[twisted-tales-of-all]

When Insanity Works

Summary: In a world where men have learned not to summon succubi for their own pleasure, Mingi decides to try it anyway. Pairing: Song Mingi x afab!Reader Genre: Smut, Fantasy, Horror(?), One Shot Tropes: sub!idol, succubus!AU Word Count: 1.3K Contains: mention of the existence of sexual assault (no details), mind reading (kinda), demon contracts/summoning, somnophilia, big dick!Mingi, oral (m. receiving), scratching, reference to porn-watching and masturbation, pet names (kitten, pet, sweet angel, toy), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple rounds (not overstim though)

Normally, when your kind is summoned by humans, it's by women trying to get back against their assaulters or men who want to sabotage their crush's current relationship. With the obvious downsides of interacting with succubi, men haven't requested for themselves in decades. So, why have you found yourself summoned by the one man who insists he'll survive despite all the warnings?

"No. Send me to someone else, just like people always do."

The tall man sitting against the bed's headboard insists, "Let me choose for myself. If my life is at risk, that's my call. I'd like for you to bed me."

"Why in Hell's great name would you want to risk your life for some sex? I assure you, it's not special enough to place your life on the line for."

No, wait. Why are you even fighting him on it? He had to do a lot to summon you, so he had plenty of time to change his mind, and yet he's still so adamant about it. Who are you to deny him? Especially when you came here to eat anyway.

Cutting him off midway through his monologue you weren't listening to, you cave, "You know what, fine. I have to start when you're asleep; I'm sure you know that. So fall asleep and I'll do it."

Happily, the lanky man slides under the covers with the biggest smile on his face. Without the context you know, you would've assumed he met the love of his life or scored his dream job based on that smile.

Strangely enough, he falls asleep rather quickly. Hovering over him, you peek into his mind to find some of his desires. In this way, you learn his name, his urge to be used, and some of the names he'd like to be called. Finding more than enough substance to use, you move the covers off of him to find him in nothing but a loose pair of boxers. You rub him through the fabric until a sizeable bulge forms. The scent of his eagerness fills your nose as you lower his underwear and release your meal.

Starting slowly, you leave kitten licks upon his tip while stroking his length. Although you've seen countless appendages - human and otherwise - this one has a length you only find on creatures who had to adapt after struggles to mate, surely not in humans. You enjoy his small whines and twitches as he reacts to your tender touches in his sleep. Dragging your hand down his thigh, you find muscles perfect to grab hold of. When you move that hand back up to his waist, you begin to understand his desires more. With each simple touch, his body reacts in multiple ways - tensing, twitching, whining, and even flailing around at times. It almost feels like he's meant to be used for others' enjoyment.

Learning enough about him, you increase the intensity. As you suck on his tip, you drag your fingertips around his waist, your nails scratching him enough to mark but not quite enough to tear the skin. With these increased sensations, his whimpering gets louder, even so much as mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

You move up to look at his face, checking to make sure he still hasn't woken up, and ask him, "A deep sleeper? Is this how you want to be used?"

Upon kissing his temple, you gain the answer for yourself as you witness him watching somnophiliac porn to pleasure himself. With a giggle, you find the new information as delectable as his massive size. You return to his crotch with a newfound mission. Sloppily, you continue giving him oral with the sole intention to prepare him for your pussy.

As your saliva glistens on his length, you position yourself above him. With your hands resting on his chest for balance, you lower yourself onto him, feeling the addictive stretch as you take all of him in. Settling onto his lap, you watch his face contort from the sensations. You stay still as he twitches inside of you.

"Shh... don't worry, kitten. You'll get what you want." You cup his face and lean in to kiss his nose before adding in a whisper, "Just be a good little pet and be patient."

After repositioning yourself upright again, you allow your natural urges to win. You grind yourself on him, thinking only of your own pleasure, exactly like he wants you to do regardless. As his whines grow to a higher pitch, you work yourself faster, enjoying the sexuality you're gaining from the insane man who requested you for himself despite all the warnings from his ancestors.

Suddenly, his hands wrap around your butt, his fingertips molding the soft plushness. Looking down, you see him looking lovingly up at you with barely-awake eyes. Averting your gaze, you lift your chin to the ceiling and focus on feeling him inside of you. With him now awake, you flex your muscles to tighten around him, wanting to play with him more. In stark contrast to the high-pitched whines from his sleeping form, he releases a deep, throaty growl as he feels you grip him tighter.

"Oh, sweet angel, that sound is music to my ears. Keep it up and I'll suck your soul out with your juices. Be careful, now."

Through gritted teeth and a fuzzy mind, he muses, "Take it. It's already yours."

Fueled by his lust, you focus on his enjoyment for a moment to continue hearing his magical noises. You adjust your movements to be better for him and work him to his first high. As his seed shoots up into you, his fingernails dig into your flesh and his back arches from the pleasure. Curses mix into the devilishly good noises erupting from his throat.

You lean forward and lock lips with him as you return to moving in ways that'll pleasure you. You dip your tongue into his mouth to occupy his mind, trying to remove his focus from his sensitive dick still getting attention despite the violent orgasm moments ago. You hear him beg in between your lips, unsure whether he wants you to stop or give him more. When he glides his hands up your back, you understand that he wants to make things more intimate, so you console him.

"My lovely toy, you asked me to play with you. Are you already done playing? Should we stop?"

"Not stop. Just a break. Please, let me recover for a few minutes. That was the hardest orgasm I've ever had; it was almost painful."

"Almost? You weren't in pain, kitten?" Shocked, as you often leave your victims in tears with their first orgasm, you halt all movement to look at him.

"N-no. It only stung for maybe a second. I'll be ready again in a few minutes. I'm sorry I need to recover."

Running a hand through his hair and removing the strands that stick to his forehead from the sweat, you admit, "Don't apologize, Mingi. You're stronger than I expected. Most men are in tears already. I'm amazed, not upset."

Sure enough, his grip loosens after only four minutes of waiting, and he asks you to move again. Despite the intensity of his previous orgasm, he still wants more. With a smirk, you understand why he called you for himself, even if he didn't quite know himself.

As the night continues, you earn three more orgasms from the beast of a human, following the same cycle of rest between them. Not a single tear falls from his eye, and you find yourself full before you can completely exhaust him. Due to this, you aren't allowed to return to hell to seek out another victim, so you decide to help each other out by continuing your service with him as a demon contract rather than your typical succubus call.

Now tethered to him until he wishes to release you, you find yourself itching in anticipation for the nights to come - something you've never expected to do with a simple human. But, he's clearly not just a simple human, not with that libido and stamina combination.