#replace fear with wonder and curiosity

[funsimplethings]

[dearest-little-doe]

Imagine taming the monster in your closet.

It starts with you hearing the soft scrape of claws on the wooden planks - the ones that cover the floor of your closet.

The first night you heard this, you trembled beneath your blankets despite the warmth they provided. You were wide-eyed and kept a bat clutched to your chest like it was a sword. However... after a week of the nightly visitor’s presence and nothing else actually happening - just the soft sounds of scratching and gentle breathing behind the closet door - curiosity replaced the icy fear in your heart.

You sat in bed one evening and waited for the noises to start, as they always did soon after the clock struck midnight. That night, you had a plan. Clutching a spare blanket, you cracked the closet door open. A single glowing eye blinked back at you through the pitch black. It was large, luminescent. A strange, quiet blue. Not the color of eye you expected from a monster.

You didn’t scream, and it didn’t growl. You both just… stared. Frozen.

“Hi,” you whispered, heart hammering in your chest so hard it ached. “I brought you a blanket. You must be cold in there, it's the coldest place in the house...” A deep, gravelly purr answered you. You gingerly left the blanket at the threshold, and in the morning, it was gone.

As more nights passed, little gifts were exchanged between the two of you. Dried flowers, shiny buttons, and smooth pebbles appeared on your windowsill. You would leave food, puzzles, and soft objects for the creature in return.

The monster in your closet never stepped fully into your room, but its silhouette, outlined by the small nightlight in the corner of your room, started to linger longer in the doorway. Its breathing was slow and calm as you hummed lullabies to it each night.

“I think you’re sweet,” You declared softly into the darkness of your room one rainy evening. “You don’t scare me anymore.”

A clawed hand emerged from the pitch black of the closet, hesitantly pushing the door open a little wider. The closet door creaked in protest of the movement. You watched for a moment, transfixed, then reached out your own hand slowly. You touched its rough, warm palm with your fingers.

“You can come out if you want,” you coaxed sweetly. “You don’t have to hide from me... I won't hurt you.” The monster hesitated, processing your words, but only for a moment. It stepped out of the closet, into your room, as you took a step back to accommodate it.

The monster was tall, easily towering over your form. The creature was odd, strange, yet beautiful in a way that defied words. Its eyes were soft and it gave you a crooked smile with too many teeth, which should’ve scared you, but you found it oddly endearing. The expression on its face was awkward and hesitant. It blinked slowly, nervously, like you were more dangerous than it - this creature with teeth and claws that could’ve easily ripped through your flesh like paper.

“You’re not what I expected,” You giggled as you looked up and down the creature’s form, "you're beautiful." You took in this mysterious creature, then looked up to meet it’s eyes with a smile of your own, lips curled upward in wonder. The creature startled at the sound of your laughter, enchanted by the noise.

"You...are bewitching." The monster croaked out, its own hand finally responding as it wrapped around yours. Its sharp claws carefully brushed against your soft skin once its hand fully engulfed your own, the creature afraid to hurt its newly acquired treasure.

[beloveds-embrace]

I dunno if I've harassed you yet buuuut,

I just read the newest take on the text and they'll be there guard dogish 141, and just. What if an anxious little bird just walks up to one it the group and just squeezes into the crowd and just.

"ignore me I'm about to lose my shit" or just stands there and gives a small hi cause they're overstimmed or need a break or someone's been creepy and they see that people keep a wide berth from said person or group.

Hi I'm excited I hope anything here made a bit of sense. Also possible reverse 'guard dog' distribution system, the small bird doesn't find a dog. The dog finds a bird.

You aren’t harassing me at all! Please don’t ever feel like that 😭💕 i love, love both scenarios, so I’ll do the second one later as well. Thank you for this wonderful ask!

The dim hum of the pub was comforting- warm light glowing against worn wood, the steady murmur of conversations buzzing around you. It had been your usual spot for a quiet drink after a hard week, but tonight was different, and not in a good way.

Someone had been watching you, and not in the harmless, fleeting way most people did. His gaze lingered too long, his smirk too wide, his attempts to approach you far too persistent even when you refused the drink he’d sent towards you. When you’d brushed him off the third time like that, you could see clearly on his face that he didn’t like that.

Men like him were common, but that just made them all the more dangerous.

The weight of his presence was suffocating, so you’d bolted toward the one corner of the room where you felt the most secure. Them.

You’d seen them here before- an unassuming group at first glance, but the way they carried themselves screamed “don’t mess with us.” Four men with their thighs each bigger than your head at the very least, and tonight, they were your only hope.

Standing up and doing your best to ignore the angry gaze practically boring into you, you approached their table cautiously, feeling several pairs of sharp eyes land on you. Mutton chops tilted his head, pretty boy stood from his seat slightly, brow furrowed. Mohawk’s wide grin faltered, replaced with curiosity, while the last one’s gaze, though obscured by his balaclava, was cold and assessing.

You should probably ask for their names. If they let you sit you with them, that is.

“Uh- so sorry to bother,” you started, voice shaking slightly. “But…there’s this guy…” You didn’t need to finish. Balaclava’s attention shifted subtly, big shoulders tightening as his eyes flicked past you. Mohawk’s grin returned, but this time, even in the dim light, you could tell it was dangerous.

“Where?” Mutton chop asked, his voice steady but just as sharp as his eyes

You subtly nodded toward the man at the bar, who was now visibly trying to act like he wasn’t watching your every move. The second he noticed who you were speaking to, his face drained of color. He turned away, gripping his drink like it might shield him.

Pretty boy snorted. “Well, ain’t that something? Big man suddenly doesn’t have the guts, eh?”

“Stay here.” Balaclava said firmly, standing up with the kind of slow, deliberate movement that made your stomach flip. The other three followed suit, each moving with the kind of quiet unity that could only come from working together for years. Maybe they were a team? You knew there was a military base somewhere nearby, could they be from there?

Still, you obeyed and stayed behind, heart thundering in your chest as they approached the man- not from fear, but from excitement. Ghost leaned in, his imposing frame towering over the guy. Whatever was said was too low for you to hear, but the way your harasser paled, hands shaking as he grabbed his coat and bolted from the pub, told you enough.

When they returned and introduced themselves, Soap clapped you lightly on the back with a bold grin. “Dinnae think he’ll be botherin’ you again, lass.”

Price pulled a chair out for you, right with their table. “Sit. You’re safe here. Anyone who’s got a problem with you’s got a problem with us now.”

You sank into the chair, warmth spreading through your chest. You didn’t know them, not really, but in that moment, you felt like you’d just gained four overprotective, no-nonsense bodyguards. Is this what celebrities felt like? It was amazing.

“Thank you, really,” you repeated, giving them such a grateful, blinding smile. “Again, I’m so sorry for bothering you like that. It was just-“

Gaz shook his head, not letting you finish. “No need to, love. We don’t mind at all. Just enjoy your night now, yeah? No more of pricks like him bothering you.”

And judging by the way Soap was already offering to buy you a drink and Ghost’s subtle but watchful eye, you were honestly more than okay with that.

[soul-controller]

The Scent of Studliness

When Martin first signed up for a gym membership at a brand new local gym, the Mexican man had originally planned to use the facilities to get rid of any remaining fat on his body and replace it with muscle so he could finally have the jock body of his dreams. This plan worked for a bit, but the top of the line machines of the brand new gym soon drew in a brand new form of clientele - aspiring bodybuilders. In the span of a month, the formerly dead and quiet gym became overrun with cocky hunks who had biceps larger than Martin’s own head!

As a result, the 24 year old couldn’t help but grow increasingly self-conscious due to just how much he stood out against the gym’s brand new members. It seemed as though the other bodybuilders around him also picked up on this stark difference as Martin soon found himself constantly dealing with taunts and disparaging remarks from the hunks who were more than willing to put the man down in order to get him to leave their desired machine.

Although he had fairly tough skin due to being bullied back in his high school years, there was something about the brand new torment from a jock named Alex that constantly left Martin fighting back tears. Not only was the man insanely buff, but the man’s deep and intimidating voice loved to hurl insults Martin’s way that were extremely personal for no reason. Much to Martin’s annoyance as well, but Alex was incredibly hot! In fact, his obvious thirst for the man left Martin wondering if Alex was homophobic and decided to be especially cruel after picking up on Martin’s longing stares.

So once the weekend ended and Martin headed into the gym after work on Monday, the man was mentally preparing for more issues to arise between himself and Alex. So as he made his way into the locker room and suddenly heard Alex’s deep and booming voice fill the empty space, Martin suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

“Nah, fuck you bro! I’m not gonna let some fat ass loser talk to me like that. Get ready for the ass-beating of your life!”

With his curiosity piqued about who Alex was speaking to (along with his relief at knowing that he was escaping the man’s wrath for the day), Martin quietly shut the locker room door and began to pace past a series of lockers to both hear and see the debacle better. Walking on tiptoe, the man successfully avoided alerting anyone of his appearance and was able to get a spot just a row of lockers away from the confrontation.

Peering his head slightly around the corner, Martin’s eyes narrowed as he attempted to figure out who the sweaty jock was talking to. Upon hearing the mystery man begin to speak though, the man quickly realized that Alex was cussing out the slightly overweight gym janitor. From what he could recall the man had always been super sweet whenever he talked to Martin, so the Mexican man had no doubt that Alex was exaggerating and being cruel for no reason.

“I don’t think you’ll want to do that, sir. If you so much as touch me, you’ll severely regret it.”

Upon hearing the meek janitor speak, Martin’s eyes widened at just how unfazed the man seemed to be by Alex’s threats of violence. If only Martin had an ounce of confidence that the janitor had! Unfortunately, it seemed as though the janitor’s words weren’t convincing enough as Alex chuckled.

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about this then,” he asked, moving closer to the overweight janitor and extending a finger out.

As soon as he watched the man’s thick finger prod at the janitor’s flabby chest, Martin was expecting a big brawl to suddenly break out in the locker room. But out of nowhere, Alex let out a deep groan as his eyes suddenly rolled back and head slumped forward. Despite his clear shock at what he was witnessing, Martin refused to make a noise in fear of somehow alerting the janitor of his presence. This became a rather difficult task though as a loud ringing suddenly filled the locker room. Cringing in pain, the man cupped his ears from the high-pitched screech while continuing to stare at the jock.

Out of nowhere, a loud pop filled the room and the noise disappeared in an instant. As soon as the pop occurred, Martin’s jaw dropped as he watched Alex suddenly disappear. But as he continued to stare in their direction, he quickly realized that not everything had disappeared as the man’s sweaty workout clothes remained levitating in the air. After rapidly blinking his eyes a few times to verify that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, Martin watched as the janitor suddenly snapped his fingers and the clothing stopped levitating. As the snap finished echoing around the room, the clothes suddenly fell to a heap on the floor, causing the janitor to victoriously chuckle.

“Serves you right, you goddamn prick,” the janitor exclaimed, smirking as he leaned against a locker and stared down at the pile of clothes. “Looks like those muscles of yours didn’t come in handy huh? Now you’re just a discarded pair of clothes with no way to turn back.”

Despite the shocking sight he had just witnessed, the gym novice mentally forced himself to remain as quiet as possible. There would be nothing worse than somehow getting found out by the janitor and receiving a similar fate to Alex! So after holding his breath for several moments and remaining hidden in the corner, Martin was relieved to successfully avoid detection as he heard the janitor’s footsteps grow more distant just as the sound of the locker room door opening was heard.

After waiting a minute or so to verify that the locker room remained entirely silent, Martin finally forced himself to move out of his hiding spot and observe the fate that had befallen his jock crush. Upon making his way over to the area of the confrontation, the man tilted his head downwards and found himself looking at the two lone pieces of clothing strewn about on the floor. As he continued to look at the tank top and gym shorts, Martin was suddenly overcome with an urge to grab the clothing and inspect it. Given the fact that the janitor had said that the clothing was actually the real Alex now, the novice was quite intrigued to inspect the jock’s new form.

As he grabbed it and held it up to his face though, Martin found his inner kinks emerging in their full glory. The man had an intense kink for sweat, with his mind having countless fantasies of being forced by a jock to shove his nose into their sweaty pits and take in the ripe odor. Although this situation wasn’t at all similar to his fantasies, the prominent scent of Alex’s sweat was just as he had always envisioned it. So after checking to make sure that there was no one around to observe him, Martin gave a slight smirk before shoving his face deep into the damp fabric of the clothing.

Allowing the hunk’s sweat to pass through his nostrils and enter his body, Martin had no way of knowing that the still-potent magic that had just transformed the bodybuilder was having an unintended side effect on him. With each inhale he took from the sweaty clothing, the man’s average body was undergoing a drastic transformation as the magic was transferring Alex’s physique to Martin. As the man’s nose started its exploration on Alex’s shirt, Martin was oblivious to the fact that his upper body was transforming in severe ways.

All at once, the man’s body was exploding with muscle growth, shifting the man from a novice to an avid gym goer in seconds. As he continued to sniff, the man’s shirt was suddenly facing intense stress to the point where the seams were suddenly tearing. With Martin now in possession of softball-sized biceps along with a wider torso due to his brand new lat muscles and prominent pecs, the seams eventually gave and filled the room with a loud popping sound. Despite the loud disturbance and discomfort of his tight yet tattered clothing, Martin remained completely oblivious to what was occurring to him.

Once the man’s slightly flabby lower torso disappeared and a prominent and well-defined six-pack of abs had finished growing, it seemed as though the sniffing of Alex’s shirt had finished providing all of the possible transformations for the young man. Luckily though, this was perfectly timed as Martin decided to stop sniffing the shirt and shift his attention towards the sweaty gym shorts.

As Martin observed the soft fabric for a second though, he noticed that sweat wasn’t all that was on the shorts as he noticed a wet spot on the front of Alex’s shorts. Upon leaning in and sniffing the area, Martin let out a slight gasp as he picked up on the salty scent of pre-cum. With the man considering the possibilities of Alex either getting turned on from his workout or the transformation that was occurring to him, Martin’s horny mind went into overdrive as he rapidly shoved his face directly into the wet spot.

With his eagerness to take in every morsel of odor from the shorts, Martin’s transformation to his lower half occurred even faster than his upper body. In an instant, the man’s legs were inflating to unimaginable proportions just as his calves were becoming thick bundles of muscle. While the man’s legs were undergoing their transformation, Martin was oblivious to the fact that he was gaining nearly a foot in height as his legs and torso were suddenly lengthening to inherit Alex’s 6’4” stature.

Now that his legs had finished their transformation, the man’s ass and cock began to undergo their changes in tandem. All at once, Martin’s formerly flat ass suddenly became a thing of the past - gaining two prominent ass cheeks that filled out his size medium shorts with haste. The man’s shorts soon underwent further assault as Martin’s cock and balls began to grow more and more prominent. With his dick suddenly snaking out until it became a perfect replica of Alex’s 8” manhood, the bottom of his shorts soon had a lot of weight to carry as a heavy scrotum with golf-ball sized testicles emerged to complete his lower body’s transformation into Alex.

With his body now a complete replica of Alex’s former bodybuilder-level physique, the connection between the clothing and Martin was becoming stronger than ever. Now that the man had fully indulged in his kinks for sweat, random thoughts began to quickly manifest into Martin’s mind - this time telling him to pull the clothes on and wear them. Although there was a slight moment of trepidation knowing that the clothes were the real Alex, Martin was unable to resist temptation and began to pull the clothes on.

As the man quickly stripped down out of his tattered clothing until he was fully nude (a random impulse made him eager to free-ball in the athletic shorts), Martin wasted no time pulling on the shorts. Once the shorts passed his prominent calves and thick thighs and stopped around his waistline, the man couldn’t help but smirk as he felt how great and form-fitting they were around his cock and ass. Despite not having any idea what was occurring to him as his skin was lightening to turn him Caucasian, Martin was adoring the way the cold sweat of the fabric was aligned flawlessly against the crack of his prominent ass cheeks and how the pre-cum stain on the shorts was perfectly lining up with the thick bulge that was now filling out the fabric.

Encouraged by just how great it felt to wear the shorts, Martin wasted no time grabbing the compression shirt and beginning to pull it on. While the man was most excited to lift his arms up once he finished putting it on and smelling Alex’s sweaty scent around his armpits, Martin had no way of knowing that the wearing of the shirt initiated the final changes. The first stage of this final act came in the form of physical changes, as Martin’s average features were quickly altered to become a perfect replica of Alex’s. As painless cracks in his jaw gave way to a wider and more prominent jawline, the man’s nose, eyes, and lips were also changing in severe ways. While the position of his eyes changed just as his lips began to inflate as if each one was the victim of a bee sting, the man’s nose and eyebrows soon became the most noticeable features on Martin’s new face. This was due to the widening and thickening of each area as Martin gained Alex’s perfectly shaped nose along with the man’s dark and bushy eyebrows.

Beneath the man’s skull though, the magical garment was quickly transforming every aspect of his mind. Although there was no complete personality shift to turn him into Alex in both body and mind, there were still severe changes to Martin’s personality to make him the perfect amalgamation of both men. Due to Alex’s prominent knowledge of fitness routines, counting calories, and diets, it quickly became clear that something would have to be sacrificed to allow all of that knowledge to transfer to Martin’s at-capacity brain. The magic of the clothing was quick to elect his video game skills along with all nerdy facets of Martin’s personality such as his intelligence to be erased to give him Alex’s bodybuilding info. Although that meant that he would become a stereotypical himbo given his newly dopey mind, it was a worthy sacrifice so that physique wouldn’t go to waste now that it was inherited by Martin. As reality further altered to make it so Martin was the bodybuilder hunk from now on, the man’s age was changing to where he became 22, the midpoint between the two men’s original ages just as Martin’s homosexuality and Alex’s heterosexuality was combined to turn the new man into a bisexual hunk.

So once the shirt was finally pulled over his head and in place, the apparent haze that was temporarily over Martin’s mind was lifted. Due to this, the man was understandably shocked as he looked down and noticed the brand new bodybuilder physique he had. Upon pulling off the tight compression shirt, the man couldn’t help but spend the next several minutes admiring his muscles. Although he knew that this wasn’t how he originally looked, the magic of the clothing had erased the entire transformation from his mind, making it so that no memory of Alex or his transformation into clothing existed.

With this slight confusion eventually emerging in his head, an intense migraine suddenly emerged for Martin. Needing to think quickly, the man took note of the stain of pre-cum in the front of his shirts and smirked as he realized what he needed to do. Whenever his himbo brain was being strained, there was nothing that provided more relief than slipping his hand beneath the waistband of his shorts and rubbing one out!

So as he went through with this and began bucking his hips as he felt himself rushing towards orgasm, the post-nut clarity would fully erase the experience of his transformation and thus remind him that it was time for his daily workout. Although he was looking forward to showing off his ripped physique to the countless people who couldn’t resist staring at him, there was this random fear that he had towards the awkward and chubby janitor that he always bumped into at the gym. He didn’t understand why, but he felt like something bad would happen if he bumped into him. Maybe if he offered to help him lose weight or give him access to worship his muscular body those fears would melt away...

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[lateniteprogramming]

elevator man

seong gihun x fem!reader

summary: you never thought you’d be stuck playing deadly children’s games for a shot at financial freedom. you never could predict what situations your desperation would land you in, especially not getting entangled with a fellow player amidst all the chaos

cw: smut, oneshot, implied age gap, dilf gihun, daddy kink, size kink, some freudian vibes sorry, ooc/mischaracterization, just pure filth in general hope u enjoy

a/n: were starved for gihun fics so im posting this here from my ao3. i miss my widow (title is also an oingo boingo song!)

please, pretty baby

won’t you come to me?

won’t you let me be your daddy?

come sit here on my knee

-

your life was a constant stream of ups and downs, last resorts, and circumstances gone horribly, horribly wrong.

you could only be so shocked as gunfire rang out during that first, seemingly innocuous game, when you realized how much deep shit you were truly in.

the situation was almost comical in absurdity, but you were much too shaken to find it humorous

you followed the strained command of a man, donning the number 456, as he attempted to heard the player body to safety

as you sat collapsed past the finish line, head racing and fear subtly resigning, you found yourself eyeing the man and wondering who he was. how he knew what was going to happen, why he seemed so hellbent on the protection of others.

shamefully, you found yourself admiring his entrancing features and presence, as well

-

the remainder of the day was full of theatrics.

panic came and went among the lot of the dormitory as a hefty cash prize was announced: a whopping 45.6 billion won. the desperation to leave among many of the players was quickly replaced with a desperation for something else entirely.

a vote was conducted — at the stern request of mr. 456 — to decide whether or not players would participate in whatever sick game awaited you next.

as X’s and O’s tallied up, your attention was yet again grabbed by the older man as he pleaded with players to truly think about what they were gambling here.

you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your core as you watched the man speak, your curiosity blossoming.

182 - 183

O’s WIN

-

over the course of the next couple of days, your fascination with the man only grew.

at first, you told yourself these feelings were of pure interest, but you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards him.

you knew it was ridiculous, to be worked up, in this way, in a life or death situation — but the reasoning didn’t deter you.

with the fear of death looming over you, you felt bold enough to approach the man and his growing group.

you comed to learn that mr. 456’s real name was seong gihun, and he had participated in these games 4 years ago, emerging as the sole winner with a guilt settled on him. you couldn’t help but but feel that at a closer distance, his sharp features seemed even more enticing.

as another harrowing day came to a close, you caught eye of gihun sitting upon the steps to the beds, apart from the group. lounging would be the wrong word for it — his tired eyes held a thoughtful and worried gaze. you walked towards him cautiously, not wanting to disturb or startle him.

his eyes flashed up as your frame closed in on his, softening ever so noticeably in a way that made your heart thump.

“are you alright? you seem stressed, gihun-ssi.”

the question echoed in your own head. who wouldn’t? especially someone who—

“oh, yes, a little,” he replied with a nod, voice faktering ever so slightly, “im alright. you should get settled in for bed.”

you sighed, debating speaking more

“you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, sir. you should prioritize yourself, too.”

he blinked up at you, taken a bit aback by your words.

“i will put an end to these games. for good.” he declared, as much to himself as to you, “but right now, i want to— i have to try and save as many people as possible. it’s the least that i can do.”

“you’re going to drive yourself crazy. it isn’t your responsibility—“

“i have to do something.”

you clenched your jaw.

“gihun,” you nearly choked on your own words. “let me do something for you.”

his brows quirked up, visibly taken aback once more.

“you do all of this for others. let me do something for you for a change.”

-

“oh, fuck-“ gihun groans sinfully into your mouth as your tongue meets his, your crotch grinding onto his clothed bulge.

you had almost regretted telling gihun to meet you in the bathrooms, thinking you’d been far too forward with flirting with an older man. but now, as you buck against each other, his warmth and ever growing arousal clouds your worries.

“mmh— are you sure—fuck— ya wanna do this, baby?”

you nod almost pathetically enthusiastically, hiding your face besides the crook of his neck. his stubble against your cheek sends chills down your body.

“here, get on my leg,” he huffs, adjusting your body with ease, making you straddle his thigh.

“hump.”

the way he says it is so stern, yet gentle. you think you could pass out right there, but instead your body complies, rocking your hips against him as he settles his hands on your waist, spurring you on. you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“god.. please, sir— gihun..”

he pants, his own erection getting painfully larger as your wetness grows, going to pepper kisses along your neck.

“please— daddy—“

you can feel his fingertips dip into your sides as the name falls from your mouth, and he groans. his hand trails down to the waistband of your tracksuit then, tugging. you understand without words, lifting yourself up as he stabilizes you, ridding yourself of your pants and your panties in one go. you’re quick to help him free himself from his own clothing then, tumbling with his boxers as his cock springs out, red at the tip.

you wonder how long its been since he’s done this.

your lips crush together then, mewling into him as your arms wrap around behind his head. his fingers reach for your cunt, feeling your arousal.

“so wet f’me, god.. what do you want, baby, hm?”

“need you, please!”

his lips curl up on the sides almost cruelly, looking up at you with teasing eyes.

“you want daddy to fuck you, baby? is that what my sweet girl wants?”

the pads of his fingertips start in a mean assault against your needy clit, making you whine. you nod and he grins.

“thats my girl.”

he puts his forehead to yours, his toned arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him.

your hand finds its way to his cock, now leaking with precum. you pump it in and out of your fists, earning a string of moans from him.

“need to feel you,” he mutters through his teeth then, “need to feel you on my dick, baby”

with a swift movement, he grabs your thighs, positioning your slit above his cock head. he rubs it through your folds teasingly, looking in you in the eyes lustfully before sinking himself into your warm cunt. you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from yelping.

you lower yourself down on his thick member, one of his hands feeling up your body from under your shirt and the other holding your hips, your own hands placed on his chest.

“there you go.. good girl, baby,” he hums praises in between equally lewd kisses, sloppily exploring your mouth, making you whine, “thats my baby, so pretty, all f’me..”

the noise you make when you bottom out, you’re almost sure the guard outside could hear.

you bounce on his cock eagerly, both of your panting echoing in the stall. you peck needy little kisses to his slack lips as you both chase your high.

“daddy— daddy, sir— fuck!”

“you have the tightest little cunt, sweetheart’” he huffs, “want you to make a mess all over me.”

“‘m close, gihun.”

with a groan, he goes to circle your clit so fast it makes you mewl

“cum with me, baby. can you do that for me, hm?”

with another thrust, you cum — so hard you swear you could see stars — and gihun’s not far behind, shooting ropes out into you as his head falls to your shoulder.

you both stay there for a moment longer; enveloped in each others warmth, as you both come down from your high, panting.

-

gihun’s learned a valuable lesson about letting someone help him out whenever he really needs it ♡

[sweetestsong]

i think tf141 cuddle pile (either platonic or not) would be wonderful

you’re cuddled up on just one at first, mister johnny soap mactavish himself. ever the touchy one, he begged to nap with you in the rec room. he whined about being tired, the both of you having nothing as far as you knew for the rest of the day but dinner, and he said his back was ‘right killin’ him’ and he thought that if he was able to snuggle with someone it’d make him relax enough to sleep. you asked if it would be better to go in a private room, but he just wiggled his eyebrows and tried to make a snarky comment. of course, the pillow flying at his face at mach speed didn’t allow for him to get it out. after making a pile of spare blankets and stiff throw pillows, johnny even went to his and your rooms to grab your sleeping pillows. you wondered out loud in fear if simon or john would get mad at the mess, but johnny brushed it off with a nonchalant “they’ll get in on it or get over it, lass!” you sighed, and gave in to it as you began to settle in the messy pillow nest he made.

kyle was the first to discover you and johnny. he had been walking by to head to the mess hall for a late lunch, having gotten caught up in the gym doing extra reps with one of his teammates, and stumbled upon the messy collapsed-pillow-fort-looking pile with you two in the center. johnny’s head pressed on your chest with a protective clutch around your waist as he snored, and if you weren’t fast asleep yourself you’d be beating him with a hard pillow for drooling on your uniform. kyle watched for a moment in curiosity before shrugging, deciding to crawl under the blanket with you both. he looked for an open spot for a moment before he settled his head on johnny’s back. the scot barely moved, but mumbled a “hi garrick” in his sleepy tone before returning to his dreamy state.

simon is next, reports on the last mission in hand to be turned in. he was just coming from his room, and had to pass the rec room on the way to the office, and was shocked to see three bodies snoozing on the floor. he was about to shout as soon as he saw the boots sticking out under the blanket, but he noticed the familiar mohawk, and then noticed it was you under johnny and kyle lounged on him. and then he began to grin like a kid finding a candy stash. taking off silently, he raced to grab his own pillows and came back, whispering to wake you up to let him hold you. everyone grumbled for a second at having time readjust, but once you all were back in your familiar postions—with the addition of a warm body under you instead of the cold floor—you were all content.

john had been looking for all of you for an hour by the time he found you, and he was almost ready to fly off the handle because of it. when he rounded the hall with stomping boots, ready to rip you all a new one when he was told what was going on by a shithead newbie, his feet stuttered when he came upon the scene before him. you’d all shifted by then to mold together easier. simon was still under you, but johnny had slid to the side of you two to hold both of you, and kyle had taken to holding you and simon from the other side. john is a tough man, but he doesn’t consider himself a cold one. he noticed the reports simon had failed to turn in, the original mission of his, and he decided with a sigh to quietly take the folders and return them to the office himself. of course, though, he made his journey quick and returned to you all in record time. knowing he’s a furnace of a man, he stayed on top of the blanket as he crawled to replace where johnny once laid.

you stirred awake as the fourth pair of arms surrounded you, and the sight of your captain had your eyes popping wide with fear. “c-captain, i’m so sorry—“ you began to babble, hurrying to sit up, but john’s arms held you down tight. “lay down lass, s’alright,” he mumbled, his own voice quiet with sleepiness. you hesitantly settled back in, glancing over to see kyle’s eyes cracked and a soft smile on his lips. johnny and simon’s hands rubbed soothing circles on you as john shifted to get more comfortable. you shifted a moment, before finally settling back down once more, soothed.

a moment of silence spread over you all as sleep began to take over again, before you heard john mumble, “‘sides, i know it’s johnny to blame. he’ll run everyone’s laps in the morning.”

“WOT THE FOCK?!” johnny yelled up as he sat straight up to look down at a grinning price. three angry voices hissed a “SHHHHHHHH” at him, and he stared with wide-eyed shock at his traitorous snuggle buddies before he begrudgingly settled back down. you just barely heard him mumble, “dinnae know snugglin’ was insubordination, keep my fockin’ ideas for relaxin’ to meself next time.”

despite john’s threat, cuddle piles became way more frequent between you all and everyone was always welcome to join :)

[vampirequsa]

''When The King Whispers''

You shouldn't be here. No one should be. But in your dream, you step into the domain of Ryomen Sukuna--and instead of being torn apart, you speak to him.

The first thing you feel is warmth. Not the soft kind that cradles you in sleep, but something oppressive. Heavy. Like the air itself is soaked in blood and heat.

You’re dreaming. That’s the only explanation. One moment, you were lying in your bed at the dorms, still buzzing from the aftermath of a mission, and the next—you’re here. Somewhere else.

The sky above you is deep crimson, rippling like silk. The ground beneath your feet is dark stone veined with black-gold cracks, pulsing faintly like it’s breathing. There are columns rising into nothingness, carved with symbols you can’t recognize but that make your chest ache when you look at them.

And at the center of it all is the throne.

A jagged, monstrous thing built of bone and obsidian, taller than any human should sit upon—and sitting on it is Sukuna.

His eyes are already on you.

You freeze. It’s instinct. Fear spikes in your veins, but your feet are rooted in place.

He looks the same as he does when he wears Yuji’s body—but there’s a difference now. He isn’t just a passenger. He’s whole. And that terrifying presence, the one that always feels like it’s watching from behind your friend’s smile, is fully awake.

He leans forward slowly, resting his cheek on one hand. “Well. This is a surprise.”

His voice is low and silken, like it’s been dragged across your skin. You expect him to mock you. Threaten you. Rip you apart for daring to stumble into his domain.

But he doesn’t.

He watches you in silence for a long moment. Then, to your utter disbelief, he smiles—wolfish and amused.

“You’re not screaming.”

You gather your breath. It feels like the air itself resists you. “Should I be?”

He chuckles. “Most do.”

You take a step forward before you can stop yourself. It feels like blasphemy—like walking toward a god you were warned never to look in the eye. But you can’t help it. Curiosity pulls at you stronger than fear.

“What is this place?” you ask softly.

“My domain. My throne. My sanctuary.” He spreads his arms lazily. “What remains of it, at least. A shadow carved into a dream.”

You stare around you—at the impossible sky, at the quiet stone steps leading to his feet. “It’s… beautiful."

That gets a reaction.

His head tilts slightly, one eyebrow raising. The amusement fades from his smile, replaced with something unreadable. His eyes narrow, not with malice—but with interest. The kind of sharp attention that makes your skin prickle.

“No one has ever called it that,” he says.

Silence stretches between you.

You should be scared. You should run, or wake yourself up, or pray to someone stronger than him. But instead… you sit.

Right there, on the lowest step of his throne.

A strange calm settles over you. “If I’m already dreaming,” you say, “then I may as well see it through.”

He laughs again—rich and full, echoing off the distant pillars. “You’re bold. I like that.”

Minutes pass like that. Maybe hours. Time doesn’t flow the same here. He speaks of ancient things with cryptic phrasing. Of old temples that once chanted his name. Of wars he started and lovers he devoured. But something about the way he talks—slow, deliberate, almost wistful—makes you think… he’s lonely.

And maybe, just maybe, this dream was no accident.

Eventually, you ask, “Why am I here?”

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because you think of me. Even when you shouldn’t.”

You feel your breath catch.

His eyes gleam like a predator’s. “I hear it. When you wonder what I’m really like. When you see me behind that boy’s eyes and don’t look away.”

You open your mouth to deny it—but it would be a lie.

And somehow, you know he would see straight through it.

“I don’t fear you,” you whisper.

“You should.”

He stands, and the sheer force of his presence steals your breath. He descends the steps slowly, deliberately, each movement fluid and ancient. When he reaches you, you should flinch.

You don’t.

He reaches out and brushes a finger beneath your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“You’re fascinating,” he murmurs. “A little moth with no sense of danger. Or maybe… just enough to like the fire anyway.”

Your skin tingles where he touched you.

“I’ll be seeing more of you,” he says, as the dream begins to unravel—your surroundings dissolving into smoke and blood-red petals.

You blink.

And then you wake.

In your dorm, heart pounding, lips parted in silence.

On your neck, just beneath your jaw, is a faint, burning warmth. Like a brand kissed into your skin.

And you swear you hear a voice—his voice—whispering from somewhere deep inside your mind.

“Next time, stay longer.”

[dyns33]

Chosen

So it will be a Feyd story today ! I still have 3 others stories about him, some were supposed to have several parts but I don't think I'll finish them so I need to see if they will be publised or not.

Her parents had been kind enough to cry before she left their planet. They had also hesitated a little before agreeing to give her hand to the nephew of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen.

The marriage proposal had surprised absolutely everyone.

Y/N's family was part of the minor noble houses, not seeking to overshadow the Emperor but still important enough to have weight among the Landsraad.

The young girl had never met the Harkonnens and she had no reason to meet them, or to be noticed by their house.

Rumors circulated, saying that the Bene Gesserit had first wanted to cross their line with the Atreides, but that was now impossible, Lady Jessica having given a son to Duke Leto.

It would take time to find a suitable replacement.

There was also the desire to seize power, which made it reasonable to think that the Na Baron would try to obtain the favors of the Emperor's eldest daughter, Irulan Corrino.

There was no reason, therefore, for Feyd Rautha Harkonnen to even look at Y/N during a reception organized by the Imperium and bringing together all the great houses.

And yet, as soon as she entered the room, his eyes were on her and did not leave her for the whole evening.

He did not speak to her, remaining with the Baron, who eventually noticed that his dear nephew seemed preoccupied.

No one really knew who broached the subject first once they returned to Giedi Prime, but Feyd Rautha was very clear with his uncle. He would marry Y/N. She was his, only his, no one else would have her and he would not take anyone else.

At first, it was thought that it was just a whim. A joke. A trick of the young man to get something else by scaring the Baron, using the name of this girl that he really had nothing to do with.

But he insisted. Again, and again. As if bewitched, he claimed that Y/N haunted all his dreams, and she did not leave his thoughts when he was awake. Worse than a drug, it became vital that he see her again.

The marriage proposal was sent a few days later, and received with perplexity.

In turn, Y/N's parents thought that it was a joke, or a mistake. They did not understand why the Na Baron had focused his attention on their daughter.

Of course, she had many qualities, she was perfectly kind. But perhaps too kind for a Harkonnen, too pure, and certainly not important enough to appear as a good match.

Being their only daughter, they didn't want to sacrifice her to this horrible family, who risked torturing her or worse, once the heir's curiosity had been satisfied.

And at the same time, the Harkonnens were powerful. Even richer than the Emperor himself. The dowry offered by the Baron was almost indecent, with each day that passed without a response, he offered an even higher price to counter their reluctance.

No doubt he was under pressure from his nephew, impatient at the idea of ​​marrying Y/N.

Her parents cried, but they accepted without asking her opinion.

"My darling." he purred as he welcomed her to Giedi Prime with great pomp. "No. More than that, much more. My wife. My Na Baroness. I haven't stopped thinking about you since I saw you."

"I've thought about you a lot too." she replied politely, biting the inside of her lip to hold back her tears, not adding that it was wondering what tortures he had in store for her.

"It fills me with joy, my dear wife."

The wedding was grand. No emperor had ever had such a wedding, probably due to lack of means, and fear of the judgment of the great Houses.

The Harkonnens did not care, proud to show their power, and Feyd insisting that Y/N be surrounded only by the best.

In his vows, he promised to cherish her as a part of his being, to work for her happiness, and to never make her suffer.

Y/N wanted to tell him that there were many ways to hurt someone, and that he was already hurting her by forcing her to marry him and live on this planet without light, polluted, governed by a treacherous man hated by almost the entire Imperium.

"My Na Baroness," he sighed in delight as he laid her down in his bed, their bed, devouring her entirely with his eyes and ready to devour her in every other way possible during their honeymoon, and every night that would follow. "You are trembling. No man has ever touched you like this. It is good, I should have killed them. Fear not, I swore not to make you suffer."

"Some say you like it. The pain."

"Hmm. Seeing my enemies writhe in pain can indeed be pleasant, and if you wished to see me at your feet, I would do so without the slightest hesitation. But you, my wife ? I would never touch you like this. You are too important for that."

Their definition of pain must not have been the same, because Feyd Rautha did not hold back from biting her in several places, licking her wounds happily, and not stopping until he had poured himself inside her, caressing her stomach with a strange look.

"I don't know if I would be happy to see you pregnant. My uncle insists, the witches too. You will probably be beautiful, carrying our child, but once the thing is born, it could tear you away from me and I will hate that."

Many had thought that the Na Baron's obsession would pass after he had Y/N. She hoped so too, wishing to remain alone in her room. But he seemed to truly love her, with his distorted vision of what love was.

No doubt he got that from his uncle, who seemed to worship him, terribly proud of his heir, to the point of accepting his strange choice of wife.

He too had hoped that Feyd's affection for Y/N would only be temporary, and he now observed the young woman with a form of barely concealed disgust and jealousy.

For the Na Baron had eyes only for her.

He did not use the word love, however. Never. He spoke little in general, preferring actions, and not hesitating to offer gifts or try to impress his wife.

His wife. His Na Baroness. His Y/N. Possession was important to the Harkonnens.

He never spoke of her or addressed her without reminding them that she was his. It could seem horrible, dehumanizing.

But on Giedi Prime, it was a mark of affection, because by naming her that, Feyd reminded everyone that she was an extension of him that had to be treated with respect and protected at all costs.

This attention was also given to those he called his Darlings.

Dangerous mutant, obedient creatures, who devoured everything he was kind enough to give them.

"The Baron gave them to me when I was thirteen, to reward me for my first victory in the arena. They are fun, answering only to me. You have nothing to fear, my dear wife. They will not touch you, they know they have no right to."

"They still make me feel at ease…" Y/N murmured, watching them with fear, as they were crammed like cats in a corner of the room, staring back at her with empty eyes.

"I'll send them to their room when we're together, but I want them by your side when I'm gone. They'll protect you. Some might try to attack you to get to me, or find my sweet Na Baroness too tempting to fear my wrath."

"That seems unlikely."

"I wouldn't take any chances. Rabban can be stupid, the Baron can be sneaky, men can be envious, and witches can hold a grudge."

"Witches ?"

"Bene Gesserit." the Na Baron growled, nuzzling her neck, his hands never leaving her body, as they did every time they were in their room. "Damn witches. They like to decide alliances. Our union has not been approved, or at least their opinions have not been sought."

"Really ? I didn't know. But then, Feyd, why did you…"

"Say it again. Say my name, my Y/N." he purred as he laid her on the bed, making his pets snicker, who clearly wanted to join them, but didn't move since they weren't allowed to.

It wasn't fun to feel like she was being watched, even if she quickly forgot about them after several hours, caught up in pleasure, pain and shame.

The darlings dared to come a little closer when their master went out, watching Y/N's tears with fascination. She probably wasn't the only woman crying on this cursed planet that seemed to treat them like objects, but she was the only Na Baroness, the only one receiving all of Feyd Rautha Harkonnen's attention.

It seemed absurd that she would cry, if it wasn't from happiness.

She always held back her tears in front of him, afraid of upsetting him. Maybe her tender husband was blinded by love, but that could have its limits.

Without having received the training of the Bene Gesserit, she remained a noble's daughter, educated to never show her emotions. So when she was too tired to display a smile of circumstance, she kept a neutral face.

However, this did not have the slightest importance for the population, for the Baron, for Feyd.

At each performance, the inhabitants of Giedi Prime acclaimed her like a goddess, proud to have such a beautiful and exotic Na Baroness. Marvelous as their dark sun.

Not seeing her smile did not matter. The Harkonnens were not known for their smiles in your way.

For his part, Feyd Rautha did not seem to see her pain, simply delighted that she was present at his side. He had smiled a lot since their marriage, displaying his black teeth each time she entered a room.

The only time he looked furious was the day the Baron had the nerve to agree to receive the Bene Gesserit so that they could meet Y/N. They had given them enough time to have fun, it was time for them to test the one who would ensure the continuity of this lineage.

"Leave us." the Reverent Mother ordered, looking only at her.

"No. Out of the question."

"Careful, young Harkonnen. Lady Margot has already agreed that you are human, but that does not protect you from everything. We must determine if the one who was chosen as a wife without our agreement is also human."

"… If you hurt her, you will die." he threatened before following his uncle.

Having herself been tested by the witches, Y/N's mother had told her about the Gun Jabbar. About the box. About the pain. And if Feyd had also been there, he knew full well that he would kill the witch as soon as she walked through the door.

However, the Reverent Mother did not take out the box. She had studied her family's background beforehand, and she had decreed that if the young Na Baroness had managed to survive the Harkonnens for so long, then she must be somewhat human after all.

And if in the end she did not manage to offer the son they seemed to be waiting for like a messiah, that would have to wait for the next generation.

Seeing that she was fine, Feyd let the witch go with a hateful look, taking his wife in his arms in a protective gesture.

And at that moment, Y/N thought that despite all his flaws, his obvious madness, the harm he was capable of doing, he remained a suitable husband to this day. She could have been given to a much worse man, while everyone imagined that he was a monster.

He was possessive, but attentive nonetheless. He didn't see her tears, but she hid them from him. However, he had promised to make her happy, answering all the requests she dared to present to him, ensuring her safety, not caring whether she gave him an heir or not.

"Feyd… I want to go to our room."

"Of course, my wife. I will tell my darlings to come and watch over you."

"No."

"You will not be alone until these filthy women have left our planet."

"I want you to stay with me. Please."

This seemed to surprise Feyd, who looked into her eyes with a terribly serious look, searching for deception or fear, before taking her face in his hands, regaining a carnivorous smile before kissing her.

[visionsofmagic]

✧˚ · . mk1 men with villain!reader [bubbles] ˚ · .

tomas, kuai liang, bi han, raiden, liu kang, johnny cage, kung lao, syzoth, shang tsung

—⭒ intro. dialogues, fluff, spicy, crush!mk1 men, crush!reader, pet names, hurt/comfort, flirting, power play, 's all? • came to my mind & I wanted to write but it's my first time to write this kind of work [intro. dialogues], so, take easy on me please. enjoy!

y/n: oh hi pretty boy! already missed me? tomas: what would I miss? you tried to rip my heart last time we met!

y/n: c’mon tomas, be a good boy for me and maybe I will let you come and take a look up close. tomas: I prefer not to get so close y/n. I don’t want to end up like the last time.

tomas: it's tragic to see you as an enemy of mine, y/n. I wish we met before all the bad things happened in your life. y/n: don't, tomas, don't give me hope of having someone who understands me truly.

kuai liang: don’t play with me, y/n. y/n: what would you do? burn me alive? well, that kinda sounds sexy.

y/n: well well, it's good to see my favorite boy. kuai liang: favorite boy to kiss or kill?

kuai liang: you should join me y/n. together we can protect the earthrealm. y/n: it’s a bit sad how you chose to protect it when you can simply - burn it to the ground.

bi han: you were so much more fearful in my dreams. y/n: you dreamt about me? oh, so cute!

y/n: c’mon ice boy, I bet you need someone to warm your bed. bi han: I take this as an invitation, y/n. are you so needy for me?

bi han: together we can reach the power we need. y/n: baby, I can’t decide which version of you is sexier; evil or good boy. so, I would say; both.

liu kang: don’t play with this timeline, y/n. keep still. be good for once. y/n: but where is the fun in that?!

liu kang: for what you have done, I should punish you. y/n: it sounds kind of hot when you say it like that fire god.

y/n: I bet you would look so good on your knees before me. liu kang: you always have a side that is hungry for power, aren't you, y/n?

raiden: I wish you were on our side, y/n. y/n: it’s not my way to be a gentle farmer boy. I like it rough.

y/n: oh, is that blush on your pretty face? raiden: don’t even start again!

raiden: liu kang says we once were lovers - in previous timelines. y/n: you sound excited raiden. it’s a matter of time before we become one in this too.

johnny cage: oh, where have you come from? hell? because you’re burning like one! y/n: after this fight, I will not be the only one who’s burning, cage.

y/n: no one can replace me, so, I can choose to play in your movie, johnny. johnny cage: really?! baby, you even deserve your own movie! with me, as your partner.

johnny cage: you have all villain types baby; power, rage, a bit of sexy energy. y/n: and you have everything to be thankful that I will go easy on you, star boy.

kung lao: you should be on our side, miss. y/n: it’s boring, but I can let you be on mine farmer boy.

y/n: I like your hat much more now. how about we make a good use of it? in bed. kung lao: oh, right? thank you for the - wait, what?!

kung lao: liu kang warned us about you; about how bloodthirsty you can be. y/n: you shouldn't worry too much cutie, I will be gentle with you.

y/n: can you really shape-shift into a human and a reptile? it’s fascinating! can I have a close look? syzoth: don't even think about it y/n. the last time's marks are still on my tail.

syzoth: why do you keep fighting with me? y/n: because I wanna see the beast inside you. it’s mesmerizing.

y/n: you should be my assistant instead of milena’s. we can have so much fun together. syzoth: a voice in me says that the fun you refer to is not what I think it is.

y/n: don’t think I am at your side shang tsung. it’s just business. shang tsung: such a shame my lady. we could have been a great couple.

shang tsung: I wonder what you looked like in previous timelines, darling. y/n: curiosity killed the cat, sorcerer. focus on me instead.

y/n: you know, I kinda like seeing you on your knees shang tsung. no one can even guess how pathetic you’re for me. shang tsung: I don’t care my love. satisfying you is my priority.

💛

[prythianpages]

Outta My Mind | Cassian

cassian x love witch reader | summary: Cassian has not been able to get you out of his mind and after receiving a gift, he decides to finally visit your shop and take you up on a love reading.

warnings: tarot reading, fluff

word count: roughly around 3,700

a/n: I am not experienced in tarot reading (I've only been on the receiving end and even then, it's been virtual) so I just pulled from google and what I've seen on tiktok. I apologize for any mistakes there and will happily fix them!

As Cassian has breakfast with his family at the Riverhouse, the usual lively chatter fills the room. Feyre was talking about Nyx’s reaction to the sour taste of lemons, Mor cooing after him and Azriel laughing when Nyx pulled her hair. Rhysand had gone to check who had rung the doorbell. Cassian’s mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of a mysterious witch.

It was bewildering, really. 

The way he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you, despite barely knowing you. Since he first set his eyes upon you at the bar, he felt something. He couldn’t pinpoint the feeling but after you crashed into him, it all seemed to click into place.

You, a love witch, had found him.  

Just two weeks ago, he had been wishing upon the stars for love, and there you were, shining brightly with promise.

Your business card has been sitting on his nightstand since the night he met you. The pink card is like a night light, its shimmer never fading. He stared at it every night before drifting off, torn between fear and hope, wondering whether he should take you up on your offer for a love reading.

Yet, you had failed to fulfill one of the promises you made—buying him a shirt to replace the one you had stained. He could care less about the shirt, though. A part of him had been hoping you’d find him again, stumble upon him like you did at Rita’s. Because now that you potentially held the answers to his questions, a deep anxiety gnawed at him.

What if what you had to say wasn’t what he wanted to hear?

Fate was a fickle thing. What if it wasn’t in his destiny to have a mate? To have love? What if the stars had sent you to pull him out of his delusion and deliver bad news?

“Looks like someone got a present,” Rhysand says as he walks into the dining room with a handful of mail and another holding a package. He waves the bright pink package, ears straining to hear the sound it gives for a clue.

“Oh, they shouldn’t have bothered!” Mor quips, leaning forward in her seat with a grin.

But Rhysand places the package in front of Cassian, shoving his empty breakfast plate aside. The clinking of silverware against porcelain makes Cassian blink, snapping out of his trance.

“You?” Mor says in disbelief, eyes widened slightly.

Everyone turns their head toward Cassian, his red siphons gleaming under the sudden attention. He stares at the package, feeling the weight of everyone’s curiosity.

“Well?” Feyre urges, shifting Nyx in her arms to lean over too. “What are you waiting for?”

“Who’s it from?” Azriel asks, his shadows fluttering toward him, also curious. Mor stands from her seat to peek at the name, frowning when she finds nothing but Cassian’s name on the package. Feyre and Rhysand exchange a glance, the latter shrugging in response.

Cassian swats at the nosey shadows. There’s no indication of the sender. Yet, he has an inkling, the color of the package nearly screaming it at him. Knowing the others would simply follow him to his room if he chose to open it in private, he unties the red bow. There’s a nervous flutter of excitement in his stomach as he opens it.

Inside, he finds three neatly folded white dress shirts. The first two were silky and almost identical to the one you had accidentally stained. The third shirt was different. Bold. It was a short-sleeve, sheer mesh shirt that glimmered in the light. A shirt he’d never buy himself but felt inclined to try on. 

“Shirts?” Rhysand questions with an amused chuckle.

As Cassian unfolds the shirts, he notices that all of them have carefully placed slits on the back to accommodate his wings, as if they’ve been tailored after being bought. His family watches, intrigued and amused. 

“Well, come on, Cas. Who’s it from?” Feyre prompts and the toddler in her lap echoes her "come on, Cas" as if sharing the same sentiment, his tiny hands smacking the table in delight.

The room seems to hold its breath as Cassian runs his fingers over the fabric. He feels the subtle hum of magic beneath his fingertips. “Someone,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Someone I need to go see.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

Cassian ignores his family’s protest as he rises from his seat. Strengthening the shields of his mind, he thought he heard a hint of disappointment from Feyre. He didn't want to tell them about you. Doing so would only invite more questions—questions he wasn't ready to answer, as he was unsure of them himself.

He doesn’t need to return to the House of Wind for your business card, the address of your shop engraved into his heart after reading it so many times. As he makes his way to you, there’s that nervous flutter in his stomach again. It accompanies him all the way to your shop, threatening to burst when he finally stands in front of the door.

The words “Moonlight Spellcrafts” on the sign above shimmered, beckoning him inside with an irresistible allure. Bells chimed as he pushed open the door, and inside, he was greeted by a sharp “meow.”

A fluffy white cat with the brightest of blue eyes and pink bow around its neck blinks up at him before darting away and chasing after something unseen to Cassian’s eyes. His gaze follows the cat's movement, lifting to find you.

A vision in pink like clouds at the break of dawn. 

You wore a halter top that offered teasing glimpses of constellations etched onto your back, while your bell-bottom pants flared out with fluffy trimmings, resembling wisps of cotton candy that swayed with every step. Your platform heels tapped softly on the polished wooden floor as you guided a customer toward the wall of potions.

You pause, most likely from the sound of the bells, and just as you turn your head, Cassian swiftly ducks out of view. He hides behind a shelf—a challenging feat given his size and stature. He folds his wings tightly against his back to make himself as small as possible. He carefully walks around your shop, stealing glances at you every time he can.

He tells himself it’s to walk off the nerves.

Much like you, your store is bathed in hues of pink as well as reds and deep purples. Shelves line the walls adorned with an array of mystical books, each tome brimming with wisdom and spells of the heart. Tarot cards of all designs are on display and glittering crystals sparkle under the soft lights. They cast an inviting glow over the array of potions you are still showing the customer.

Heart-shaped mirrors with gilded frames adorn one of the walls and when he catches a glimpse of himself, he hastily fixes his hair. The fluffy white cat from before pops out of nowhere, startling him again. It watches him intently, as if sizing up the tall, Illyrian male before it. Had it been following him the entire time?

“Honey!” A voice cooes. 

Not yours.

He follows the voice anyway and meets the gaze of a young fae. Her skin is a soft green, intricate lines adorning her face. Dark hair, painted with bright fuchsia at the ends, seems to glow as she stares back at Cassian from behind the counter, raising her eyebrows inquisitively.

Cassian manages a small smile before quickly turning away, avoiding any further interaction. He finds himself along a back corner where rare herbs and jars of unknown substances are meticulously organized. The air there is thick with mingling scents of rose, lavender, and sandalwood, teasing his senses and lingering in his nose until he sneezes.

Loudly. Obnoxiously. He swears he hears a startled cry from one of the customers inside the shop.

His wings flare slightly, stirring the jars behind him. Eyes widening, he turns to stabilize them, only to accidentally knock over the other jars behind with his wings. He winces at the clatter and the subsequent sound of your approaching footsteps.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

“Are you alright?”

Shards of glass scatter across the wooden floor, the moonwater inside splashing out and spreading in a widening pool that stops at your feet. But your attention is focused on the hunched over Illyrian male.

Cassian stands up straight, hints of scarlet painting his cheeks, his broad shoulders tensing. “I’m sorry. I can pay you back for all this.”

Amusement dances in your eyes, finding this situation all too familiar. “You’ll have to take me to the moon.”

He nods, the sincerity in his expression making the corner of your lips quirk up. He has no clue over the contents he just spilled.

“Just kidding,” you say, giggling at the look of relief that flashes across his face. “It’s just moonwater. I can easily make more next full moon. We really have to stop meeting this way, though. It’s a bit too messy for my liking.”

At your words, Cassian moves to clean up the mess but you stop him by raising your hand. Pink stardust flares out from your other hand as you summon a broom. You lean it against your hip, hesitating for a bit. With a hopeful look in your eyes, you snap your fingers, bracing yourself. Just in case.

Cassian can't help but take a step back. Also, just in case, as he recalls the way your magic had failed in cleaning up the stain on his shirt. But much to your relief, the spilled moon-water magically disappears.

"Oh, thank The Cauldron," you murmur, sweeping the glass shards into one small pile before snapping that away too.

The sigh that leaves your lips is one of great relief. You wipe at the nonexistent sweat from your forehead. With a sweet smile, you look back at Cassian.

“I’m assuming you got my gift.”

“You didn’t have to, you know. I was also joking.”

“I wasn’t." Your smile falters. "I take fashion very seriously here, General.”

Cassian looked over your pink outfit again, trying his best to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the way you said his title. “Clearly,” he replies. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Magic.” You grin up at him, waving your fingers at him in a teasing manner.

His gaze narrows skeptically and you shrug in response. “Your wings and siphons gave you away. There’s not many Illyrians here in Velaris. Just the High Lord, the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed. And given that the High Lady was not with you and the lack of shadows around you and the way red suits you, I took an educated guess. It was easy to find you then.”

“Where’d you find the shirts?” He asks, giving into his curiosity. Though, he really wanted to ask how you knew they would fit. Not just his broad frame but his wings as well.

“Another perk of there being a few Illyrians in Velaris. I bought the shirts from a boutique up the street and then I visited a couple of tailor shops until I found the one familiar with dressing certain Illyrians. That’s why it took me a bit to get them to you. I do hope you like the third one. A little bold but I think you’d look great in it.”

Cassian’s gaze softens, touched by the lengths you went to keep your promise. “Cassian,” he says after a moment. “You can call me Cassian.”

“Okay, Cassian,” you beam, feeling a warmth spread through you at his name on your lips. “You can call me y/n, dear, spell-slingin’ sweetheart or just sweetheart. Whatever tickles your fancy.”

“Just don’t call me bewitching babe,” you add as an afterthought, nose scrunching up in a small grimace. “Or I’ll have to hex you.”

Cassian’s brows raise slightly, interest piqued, wondering how someone could ever get on your bad side. “Noted, y/n, ” he nods and you give an appreciative grin.

“I believe I also promised you a love reading, didn't I?"

You point your hand up and to the right, Cassian’s eyes following the movement to a vibrant neon sign that reads, “Love This Way.” The words are written in cursive, each letter beholding a string of small, glowing bulbs that twinkle like enchanted stars. The phrase is flanked by a trio of heart-shaped neon lights, each one pulsing and pointing toward dark, red curtains.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

Right. The reason why he came to you. Well, one of them, at least. The longer he lingers in your presence, the stronger the pull he feels towards you, blurring the line of reason. 

“Come on,” you beckon him to follow you but Cassian can’t bring himself to move. 

Sensing his hesitation, you pause, turning your head to look back at him from over your shoulder. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask me to.”

An odd yet thrilling shiver runs up Cassian’s side. His lips twitch upwards, indulging in the foreign sensation and then he’s following after you, careful to not knock anything else over.

"Can't say the same for the lovebugs that dwell in this place, though. Those sneaky little things love the element of surprise. They say it's luck if you're bitten by them. Means you've met your true love..."

As he walks behind you, he notices small altars dedicated to different aspects of love. Romantic love, self-love, platonic-love, erotic love... The flames dancing from the candles seem to burn with a life of their own, the ones from the passionate love alter swaying his direction as he walks past it.

You move gracefully, your presence as enchanting as your shop. There’s a pause in your step, the two of you reaching the dark, starry curtains. “Be a doll for me and tend to the front, will you, Moxie?” You call out, pointed ear twitching as you await a response.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Cassian hears the young fae from earlier grumble.

As you lean in close to Cassian, standing on your tip-toes, even in heels, he's reminded of just how much he towers over you. Your hair brushes against his leathers, red siphons softly glowing as he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of roses and vanilla.

“She’s my little apprentice and a little upset that her spell went haywire and turned her hair fuschia instead of magenta.”

Cassian’s brows knit together. “What’s the difference?”

“I cannot believe you just said that!” You gasp in mock horror yet Cassian detects a hint of sincerity in your tone.

“I can hear you, you know!”

You mouth a “whoops” to Cassian before exclaiming: “I’ll be in the back! Love you, my dearie!” 

Cassian watches in a curious, fascinated manner as you blow a kiss toward Moxie. Pink stardust glimmers and shimmers as it floats in the air, fluttering toward the young face. It meets her cheek with a small "mwah" and there's a softness on your features despite Moxie's groan that melts away at Cassian's earlier reservations.

His heart flutters in anticipation when you reach for his hand. Your fingers ghost over his wrist, sending a spark rushing through him, as you guide him forward while your other hand pushes the grand curtains back. 

“Don’t worry. This room is sound-proof,” you tell him. “Whatever you ask or speak will remain confidential. Cross my heart!”

Cassian’s eyes widen as he takes in the room that is also bathed in a palette of vibrant pinks and soft pastels. Yellow, glowing lights shaped like stars dangle from the ceiling and quotes of affirmations are framed along the walls. Two luxurious, bubblegum-pink sofas face each other, adorned with an assortment of colorful cushions in shades of turquoise, lavender, and blush. Between them, a low table draped with a velvet cloth holds an array of tarot cards, crystals, and other mystical tools, ready for the next reading.

“Have a seat,” you say, letting go of his wrist to seat yourself on the plush carpet. 

You had gestured to one of the sofas but Cassian follows after you, seating himself across from you. His large frame makes the small table look even smaller and there's a coy smile on your face. He wonders if you're thinking the same as him.

Dressed in black leathers with siphons and daggers hilted at his waist, Cassian sticks out like a sore thumb. Yet, despite his dark attire and rugged appearance, there’s an undeniable allure about him that seems to complement your ambiance.

Your eyes, wide and knowing, meet his. He swears for a moment your pupils formed a heart shape, but when he blinks, he finds them dilated into round circles. The star-shaped lights reflect in them, and he finds himself unable to look away.

“Is this your first time?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to know?”

Yes.

“No.” 

You give him a skeptical look, sensing the lie simmering beneath his calm facade. You may just be able to hear his racing heart.  “Are you scared?”

Yes.

“No.” 

“Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not,” Cassian insists, though his heart is ringing in his ears.

Humor twinkles in your eyes as you easily see through his lie.

“I’ll go slow and talk you through it,” you say, your voice teasing yet reassuring. “I'd offer to hold your hand too, but unfortunately, I require both for this,” you add, reaching for the deck of cards. “We can do a broad reading.”

The sound of shuffling draws his gaze from your eyes to your hands. He watches, mesmerized by the fluidity of your movements. The cards seemed to whisper secrets only you can hear, the loose locks of your hair swaying gently from an invisible breeze. One card flies from your hands, and you catch it mid-air between two fingers.

You lay it before him with a raised brow. The Lovers.

"It seems you are destined for a profound connection. Something tells me it will be unexpected but undeniable.” 

A wave of relief washes over him, lifting a weight from his chest. There’s a small part of him that remains skeptical. It seemed too coincidental for you to pull that card during a love reading. The way he leaned forward slightly betrayed his doubt. 

He barely knew you, but he already found himself trusting you. There was something about you that was inherently relaxing, almost comforting—like the feeling of being at home. You sure were a master of creating a wonderful ambiance.

As you continued to lay out the cards that fly out, each one seemed to weave a story of passion and a deep bond. Cassian finds himself drawn into the narrative you’re spinning.

"Who is she?" he asks, his voice softer, more serious.

"Usually I can gather some general characteristics. I fear I'm at a blank here. But..." Your gaze narrows at the cards, studying them intently.  "She is someone who will challenge you, make you see the world differently. She'll walk you through all aspects of love. Someone who is closer than you think...” 

A shudder runs through you, those heart-shaped pupils returning for a brief moment. "You'll never feel alone again," you add, voice a mere whisper and tinged with a wistful longing.

Cassian feels a strange flutter in his chest, an unfamiliar sense of anticipation and yearning. "And when will I meet her?"

You draw the final card, lips curving into a pensive frown. “It's a little unclear. You may or may not have already met her.”

Cassian visibly relaxes, leaning backwards, his wings meeting the sofa behind him. At least it has been confirmed that there is someone for him. That's what had mattered the most to him.

His thoughts drift back to the days before in deep wondering. Could it have been the pretty fae at the bakery who had slipped an extra croissant in his order? No, she’s married... Maybe, it was the friend Emerie had brought to Valkyrie training yesterday morning…

You must sense the thoughts racing through his mind. “What’s your type?”

The question throws him off guard. He tilts his head thoughtfully. “I don’t have one.”

“What of your past lovers?”

“I fear there’s too many to recount them all. Do you remember yours?”

“It’s kind of in my nature to,” You laugh softly, a sound laced with a subtle bitterness that matches the distant look in your eyes. “There must have been important lovers in your life, though. Ones that lingered in your heart, beheld the title of something more…”

“My first girlfriend was a Valkyrie. She died in the great war.”

Your eyes glistened with sympathy and he hesitates, a mixture of contemplation and something unreadable flickering across his face before he continues. “My second girlfriend was strangely also a valkyrie. I trained her, taught her everything she knows. But it didn’t work out, she didn’t choose me…”

“It sounds like you do have a type to me,” you say, trying to lighten the situation. 

Judging by the look in your eyes, he knows you’re also familiar with the heartache that comes with past relationships. He catches the way your gaze flickers down to your soft, manicured hands, noting the fleeting light of wistfulness that crosses your features. 

You blink and suddenly your face lights up, beaming with hope. “Third time's a charm,” you remind him of the old saying and suddenly your entire face lights up, eyes beaming like a beacon of hope. You jump to your feet.

“Sizzling Cauldron!”

Cassian startles at your sudden outburst. He watches you as you begin to pace back and forth, murmuring to yourself. His ears strain to catch the words slipping from your glossy lips but he only catches “stars” and “wishes.” 

You look at him, eyes still shining bright.

“We were meant to be!”

Cassian’s heart skips a beat, his wings fluttering as he looks up at you. “What?”

“I was meant to find you–to help you find love.” You clarify, pointing a finger at him before letting out a delighted squeal. “I’ll be your wingwoman–well, wingless wingwoman, ha! This is going to be just wonderful!”

Cassian rises to his feet, watching as you continue to pace back and forth, moving your hands animatedly. He's sure you're burning a hole into the plush carpet. He looks at you in slight concern when you suddenly begin to speak in riddles, gaze flickering to the curtains behind you, contemplating if he should sneak out. Surely, you wouldn't notice in your current state...

"In a quest to help you find true love, I heed the guidance from the stars above. The Cauldron's blessing and The Mother’s gentle kiss I shall earn. And with my magic, I shall return. Once my strength begins to grow…what I seek, I too shall know!”

Cassian makes a face. “I’m not sure we’re speaking the same language here…” he trails off. But your excitement and joy are contagious.

“Help me, help you,” you clarify again, your pacing feet coming to a stop. The room seems to buzz with the energy of your determination.

You turn your body to face his, outstretching a hand. He eyes it for a moment. A jolt of energy passes between you two when he takes your hand in his, the red magic from his siphons dancing with your pink magic.

Your eyes lock, and for a moment, Cassian feels a deep, inexplicable connection.

 “So...what now? ” He asks, shaking off that feeling as he shakes your hand. It has to just be your power charming him, you're practically glowing. "Does this make us friends?"

You give his hand a squeeze, mirroring the hope that had tightened in his chest.

“The best of friends.”

a/n: Little do you know that the true love you're meant to help him find is literally you lol. I live for the irony in this. Also, hope Cas isn't too out of character. I just needed him to vibe with love witch in the beginning of this au. She's a little delulu but I hope you love it as much as I love writing it <3

Since I live for the aesthetic of this au, I put the pictures I used for inspo for love witch's shop below.

[andy-15-07]

The Midnight Covenant

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1259

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The gardens of the imperial palace were alive with the soft hum of nocturnal life, a stark contrast to the brutal world that General Marcus Acacius commanded during the day. By the time the moon hung high, its pale light bathing the stone columns and lush greenery in an ethereal glow, Marcus was already waiting.

His armor had been set aside, replaced with a simple tunic that allowed him to blend into the shadows. Yet, he carried the air of a warrior, his presence commanding even in solitude. His thoughts were consumed by her—the woman who had unraveled him, who made him yearn for a life beyond the sword.

Y/N arrived moments later, her steps as soft as whispers on the marble pathways. She wore a modest gown of cream-colored linen that shimmered faintly under the moonlight. The garment was simple compared to the finery she wore at court, but to Marcus, she had never looked more divine.

“You came,” he said, his voice low yet rich with relief.

“I always come,” she replied, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Though every time, I wonder if it will be the last.”

Marcus stepped closer, his expression softening. “As long as I breathe, I will find a way to be with you.”

Their gazes locked, and for a moment, the world beyond the garden ceased to exist. He reached for her hand, his touch reverent as though he feared she might vanish if he held on too tightly.

“Come,” he said, guiding her to a stone bench beneath an ancient olive tree. Its gnarled branches stretched out like the arms of a guardian, shielding them from prying eyes.

Y/N settled beside him, her heart pounding in her chest. “You risk too much, Marcus. If the emperors knew you were meeting me like this—”

“They don’t,” he interrupted gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “And even if they did, what could they do that I wouldn’t endure for you?”

Her eyes searched his face, finding only sincerity in his words. “You speak as though I am worth the wrath of gods and emperors alike.”

“You are worth that and more,” he said, his voice unwavering. “Do you know how many nights I’ve fought battles not on the field, but in my own mind? The war within me is fiercer than any I’ve faced in the arena or on the battlefield. And it’s all because of you.”

She tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Because of me?”

“Because I am a man who has only ever known duty and bloodshed,” he explained. “Yet you have made me long for something else. Something more.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away, her heart aching with the weight of his confession. “I don’t want to be your distraction, Marcus.”

“You are not a distraction,” he said firmly, his hand cupping her chin and gently turning her face back to his. “You are my reason.”

Her breath caught, tears threatening to spill as she searched his eyes for any hint of doubt. She found none.

“Marcus,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You make it sound so simple, but it’s not. We cannot ignore the world we live in. The emperors would see us both destroyed if they knew.”

“Let them try,” he said, his tone fierce yet tender. “I have faced death more times than I can count. If I must face it again, let it be for you.”

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“And I cannot bear the thought of a life without you,” he countered, brushing her tears away with his thumb. “So we must find a way to make this life ours, no matter the cost.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their unspoken fears hanging heavy in the air.

“Tell me,” Marcus said softly, breaking the stillness. “If you could leave this place behind, where would you go?”

She opened her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Somewhere far from here. Somewhere quiet and beautiful. Perhaps a villa by the sea, where the air is always warm, and the sound of the waves lulls us to sleep.”

Marcus smiled, the image of their imagined life filling his mind. “A villa by the sea,” he repeated, as though committing it to memory. “And what would we do there?”

“Anything we wanted,” she said, her eyes alight with a mix of hope and longing. “We would wake with the sun, walk along the shore, and spend our days building a life together. A simple life, but a happy one.”

His hand tightened around hers, a spark of determination igniting within him. “Then we will make it so, Y/N. One day, we will have that villa, and we will live the life we’ve only dreamed of.”

She smiled through her tears, her heart swelling with a mix of joy and sorrow. “You make me believe it’s possible, Marcus. Even when I know it’s not.”

“It is possible,” he insisted, his voice steady and sure. “The gods may have given me the strength of a warrior, but they also gave me you. And I will not waste the gift of you.”

Y/N leaned forward then, her forehead resting against his. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them and the promise of a love that defied the stars themselves.

“Tell me about your dreams, Marcus,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering open to meet his.

“My dreams?” he echoed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “They are simple compared to yours. I dream of a life where I can wake each morning to see your face. Where the only battles I fight are for your happiness. Where the weight of the world no longer rests on my shoulders because you are at my side.”

Her tears returned, spilling down her cheeks like rivers of starlight. “You speak as though I am your salvation.”

“You are,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She kissed him then, her lips soft and warm against his. It was a kiss that spoke of love and longing, of desperation and hope. It was a promise sealed in the quiet of the night, a vow to hold onto each other no matter what the world might throw their way.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together once more, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

“Marcus,” she murmured, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you will never stop fighting for us.”

His hands cradled her face, his dark eyes shining with unwavering resolve. “I swear it, Y/N. I will fight for you, for us, until my dying breath.”

As the night stretched on, they spoke of the life they would build together, their dreams intertwining like the branches above. They shared laughter and tears, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment.

But as the first rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon, reality came crashing back.

“I must go,” Y/N said reluctantly, rising to her feet.

Marcus stood with her, his hand lingering on hers. “Until tonight?”

“Until tonight,” she promised, her voice trembling with the weight of their unspoken fears.

He watched as she disappeared into the shadows, his heart heavy yet full. For as long as he had her, he would endure anything.

And so, as the sun rose over the imperial palace, Marcus Acacius prepared to face another day, armed not only with his sword but with the knowledge that somewhere in the world, a goddess had chosen to love him.

[muletia]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 — [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑] ⊹₊⟡⋆

[tfp] yandere!soundwave x human!reader

summary: when soundwave returns in a sour mood you start wondering why do you even care. why do you care about him.

cw: yandere themes, captivity, isolation, reader's pov, elements of stockholm syndrome

word count: 960

[part 2]

Today, there’s something more human about him.

You noticed it right away, the moment he took his first step into his quarters. The calculated lethargy typical of him was left outside this room, replaced with a rigidity in his stride. His steps were faster, more aggressive.

He also skipped your routine greeting. Didn’t point to the tablet, nor gesture at the books with his thin fingers. He simply turned his head in your direction and looked at you for a moment. Your mind instinctively jumped to the idea of him looking for a scapegoat—a piñata to channel his simmering frustration. But he didn’t. Your interaction ended with a smile displayed on his face. That was all. No aggression, no violence, no crushing or death. He approached the keyboard and began working.

Under normal circumstances, he typed quickly yet lightly, pausing now and then to glance at you for updates on the movie you were watching, even if only ten minutes had passed since the last check-in. But something must have been different this time, because an hour passed. Then two, then three, and the giant remained laser-focused on the flickering screen, inputting data you couldn’t comprehend.

You’re reminded of the early days of your existence in these new conditions, when your only entertainment was watching him work. Back then, he wasn’t so protective, nor did he pay you much attention. He was a nightmare—a cold-blooded, emotionless beast that stripped you of your life and replaced it with a fight for survival.

But that was the past. Painful beginnings you tried not to dwell on. You wanted to focus on the present because you knew something was up. Something must have happened beyond your small universe that shook someone as stoic and composed as him. You knew your curiosity — and especially your concern — should end there. You should revel in his downfall, take satisfaction in the misfortune that befell him. It was the only possible form of revenge, the only way to feel a fleeting sense of gratification.

But you couldn’t. Because you saw humanity in his behavior. You saw yourself. You remembered all the times you’d been unsettled—when your steps quickened, when you reduced human contact, when your fingers struck the keyboard harder than usual. Even without context, you understood how he felt. It was terrifying, humanizing your captor, a faceless alien — a creature displaying the most human of traits. Yet, you couldn’t deny it to him, just as you couldn’t deny it to yourself. You were still human; you still felt, still tried to empathize, even if the subject was a gigantic, enigmatic robot. That intrinsic part of you, deeply encoded in your genetic makeup, was reaping its harvest. You just had to decide whether it was a good or bad one.

"Hey," you attempt. Your voice comes out uncertain, betraying your internal conflict.

The titan turns his head toward you, startlingly fast—too fast for your liking. His sudden attention strips away the last remnants of your courage. As he looks at you, waiting, expecting you to continue, you suddenly feel microscopic, recalling the dynamic between the two of you. You wonder whether you should drop the subject, let it go, and enjoy the rare day when he wasn’t bothering you. Pretend you came home from work and were watching a comfort movie. But as he stops typing and gives you his full attention, you realize you’re a coward. Because deep down, you do want to help him, even if it’s just with one question. But you’re held back by lingering fears, the remnants of a survival instinct that no longer belongs to you.

He tilts his head and leans closer to you—a wake-up call you needed. Was your lack of follow-up really that concerning to him?

"Is everything okay?" you finally ask, looking straight into the center of his "face."

He freezes, as if completely unprepared for such a question. Your concern is uncharted territory for both him and you, so his reaction doesn’t surprise you. It only serves to humanize him further, to draw you in with his awkwardness. And you willingly step closer to the trap.

A thumbs-up emoji flashes on the screen, breaking the awkwardness.

You smile faintly; his use of human emojis has always fascinated you. And your giant seems to read your mind, sending you an adorable :3 moments later.

You feel as though a weight has been lifted from your chest, taking the tension with it. You don’t expect him to always be in a good mood, even though, for a victim, such conditions are favorable for living. But seeing him like this makes you feel better. Lighter.

He extends an open hand toward you, placing it on the desk. An invitation you cautiously accept. The titan gently wraps his fingers around you and pulls you closer to his chest, where you’re forced to press your whole body against him. Another novelty, another uncharted territory.

He’s unbelievably warm, a stark contrast to the chilliness of the room. The necessity of embracing his strangely soothing warmth shifts into a choice. Because whether you want to admit it or not, he’s offering you comfort.

Your field of vision is limited, but you see him return to his workstation. Two tendrils extend, typing on his behalf, while his head remains focused on you. One of his fingers begins to stroke your back, tracing soft circles, studying your anatomy. He lingers over your shoulder blades, subtly outlining their shape. It’s a gentle curiosity you can’t deny him because you feel the same way. You want to know more — about his species, why he’s here on Earth. But above all, you want to know about him.

"Who are you?" you finally ask, uncertain if you’ll receive an answer.

[moonlight-joy]

Hearts of Fire

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: Your betrothal to Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne, begins as a political match but blossoms into a profound partnership grounded in trust, love, and shared purpose. From taming dragons to navigating the weight of duty, your connection deepens, transforming a union of alliances into a bond destined to shape the future of House Targaryen. Amid the backdrop of Dragonstone, your wedding marks the beginning of a legacy forged in fire and strengthened by unwavering devotion.

Pairing: Reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and smoke as you stood on the cliffs overlooking Dragonstone, your gaze fixed on the waves crashing below. This island, with its volcanic peaks and watchful dragons, was now your home, a place where your fate had intertwined with Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne. Betrothed since childhood to solidify alliances, you had known Jace for years, but seeing him now, standing at the gates to greet you, made your heart race. The boy you once knew was gone, replaced by a man whose commanding presence and warm smile disarmed your nervousness.

“Welcome to Dragonstone,” he said, offering his hand. “It’s been too long.”

Placing your hand in his, you smiled, feeling the strength in his grip. “Far too long. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“And yet, I’d know you anywhere,” he replied with sincerity that made your chest tighten. From that moment, the boy you once knew faded, and the man standing before you became someone new—your partner, your future.

In the days that followed, Jace took it upon himself to reacquaint you with Dragonstone and, more importantly, its dragons. One morning, he led you to the dragonpit, his excitement palpable as he introduced you to Vermax, his bondmate. The dragon’s golden-green scales shimmered in the sunlight, his fiery eyes locking onto you with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Dragons sense more than you think,” Jace said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “They feel your intentions. If you approach with confidence, he’ll respect you.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding as Vermax’s sharp gaze fixed on you. “And if I don’t?”

Jace grinned, his confidence infectious. “Then he’ll sense your strength another way. You’re braver than you think.”

With his words echoing in your mind, you stepped forward, extending a hand toward Vermax. The dragon’s warm breath brushed against your skin, and as your fingers touched his scales, a surge of exhilaration coursed through you. Behind you, Jace’s pride was unmistakable.

“You did it,” he said, his tone filled with admiration. “See? You’re a natural.”

“Or he’s just being kind,” you teased, though your smile betrayed your joy.

Jace laughed, his brown eyes sparkling. “Dragons aren’t kind. He recognizes something in you—just as I do.”

As time passed, your bond with Jace deepened. The political match that had brought you together became something far more meaningful. In quiet moments stolen from the demands of duty, he shared his fears and dreams, his hopes for a peaceful realm tempered by the weight of his lineage.

One evening, as the two of you walked along the battlements of Dragonstone, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of red and gold, Jace paused, his expression thoughtful. “Do you think I’ll be a good king?” he asked softly.

You turned to face him, linking your arm with his. “I think you’ll be a great king.”

He shook his head, his uncertainty clear. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever be enough.”

Placing your hand on his cheek, you met his gaze with unwavering conviction. “You are more than enough, Jace. You care for your people, for your family. That’s what will make you a great ruler. And you won’t be alone—I’ll be by your side.”

His expression softened, his lips curving into a faint smile. “With you, I can believe that.”

Jace’s tenderness extended beyond words. He admired your strength and sought your counsel on matters of court, treating you as his equal in every sense. One night, as you sat together in the solar, he reached for your hand, his gaze steady. “Do you ever wonder if this was meant to be?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You tilted your head, your heart fluttering at the question. “Our betrothal?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Us. This connection. I’ve known you my whole life, and yet every moment with you feels new, like we were always meant to find each other.”

His words left you breathless, your heart swelling with emotion. “I don’t wonder,” you replied softly. “I know.”

The day of your wedding was one of celebration and fire. The skies above Dragonstone filled with the cries of dragons, their shadows weaving across the stone as lords and ladies gathered to witness your union. Standing beside Jace, your hands clasped tightly together, you felt the weight of your shared destiny settle over you like a mantle. Yet, it was not heavy—it was a promise, one you were ready to fulfill.

“You are my future,” Jace whispered as the High Septon bound your hands with a ribbon of red and black. “And I am yours.”

“And together,” you replied, your voice steady, “we will shape a legacy that will endure.”

As the ceremony concluded and the court erupted into cheers, Jace leaned in to kiss you, his touch a blend of passion and reverence. The roar of dragons echoed through the halls, a reflection of the fire that burned within you both. Your life with Jace was just beginning, but already you knew it would be a story of love, strength, and unity—a tale of two hearts bound by fire and a shared dream of a brighter future. Together, you would forge a legacy worthy of the Targaryen name.

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[vieoeil-riae]

how good it feels

steb/gn!reader

warnings: masturbation, masturbation in shower, guilt, minor gill play, pining, steb has a hemipenis, steb cranks it despite feeling morally dubious about it, 18+ MDNI, 1.5k words

synopsis: the thought of you is enough to make steb break his own unspoken rules

read on ao3 | ao3 profile | ao3 collection | masterlist

Hot water poured over his head, it didn’t compare to the heat simmering in his gut however. Shame and need rubbed up on each other, a grinding, churning mix that stuck heavy in his throat — too much to be swallowed.

Steb’s shoulders shook, hesitant and staring at the bottom of the tub but imagining you, reasoning with himself. Talking very little tends to make a person good with internal debates, but now Steb finds himself cursing the fact he couldn’t find the key to stopping himself toying with the idea of your eyes lustily taking him in and your hands lovingly sweeping his skin.

It was wrong, to imagine you as anything more than just a colleague, to imagine you so lewdly. It was disrespectful, you probably didn’t even like him like that if he was reading you right. But the thought of your hair clinging to the nape of your neck, damp with sweat, the imagined sound of you panting and groaning in his ear — clear with the recent memory of you straining to move filing cabinets at the station — made his cock pulse inside him.

He shouldn’t, but quietly as if he were afraid of being caught, his hands drifted over his hip and dipped between his thighs. His cock throbbed at the barely-there feeling of his fingers skimming over his slit with ease, slick arousal already eagerly leaking out. His ears drooped with guilt, but his gut tugged with pleasure. A blush prickled across his face, frills laid flat against his cheekbones.

With a raspy gasp, his fingers dipped into his slit, feeling himself grow harder with each swipe. Steb bit his lip to silence the building whines in his throat, he must look pathetic furiously rubbing at himself with his cock still tucked away — too embarrassed for it to come down.

What would you say if you saw him in this state? Would you laugh, sharper than your usual giggle, tease him backhandedly as you refused to take your eyes off his shame? The train of thought made him slow down, disgust aimed at himself weighed heavily on his heart and brought him to his knees, shower water pounding off of his back.

No, you were too kind for that, he thought, he’d seen the way you regarded him with a sense of wonder; staring at his fluttering frills and third eyelid with curiosity burning in your eyes. It was different to the way other people brushed him off, too quiet to be interesting, too vastayan, entwined with magic, to live without a mild fear of being shunned for the connection.

You peppered him with questions however, all unanswered by him but eventually figured out by you, waved at him whenever he walked past with genuine enthusiasm, spoke highly of him when you thought he wasn’t listening. 

Maybe you’d walk in and just watch, curious eyes peeled to the way his hand coaxed out his silky cock and stroked it slowly. Maybe you’d come closer, fixated on him so badly you got on his level, on your knees in front of him — still watching. Maybe you’d speak, in that lovely voice of yours, and tell him about himself.

What would you say? You were keen on praising him, sometimes it was a vague comment, but other times it felt like hearing about a completely different person; someone more competent, caring, gentle than he thought of himself.

Would you say any of that? The thought of you mumbling the words ‘good boy’ in his ear, your own hand coming to replace his own, drew a clipped groan from his lips. Would you tell him he had been doing good, that it was okay? You’d kiss him gently, treating him so preciously despite the way you would pump his cock, restraint cracking as you felt him melt at your touch.

Steb flushed at all the pretty words he wanted you to tell him; hot, pretty, good, yours. The tip of his cock met the rougher skin of his fingers, his mouth dropped open in a silent moan. It felt pleasurable, but your hands — ones he barely felt on him, stealing the barest of exposures from the times you’d tap the side of his head when he wasn’t paying attention — would feel much better.

Unpredictable, they’d skitter over his skin, less bashful than his own. His eyes closed, a pretty picture of your flushed face imagined behind them. The way your lips moved, talking to him or talking about him, was always enrapturing. The thought of huskily hushed compliments tumbling from then in a barely coherent string, too lost in watching his body react to you, made his hips jerk.

But maybe you would be a little teasing, you tended to be like that. Never mean, always careful, you’d draw him into little conversations and chit-chats with a teasing remark every now and again. Maybe the same clever, fond lilt in your voice would tell him to come to you when he was desperate and needing, that you’d be more than happy to help him out.

His cock slipped into his hand fully, thick slick slowly seeping through the cracks between his fingers as he fondled himself. How would you do it? Fast, almost feverish, needing to see him come apart or slowly, teasingly, denying him over and over with a purposeful smirk until you let him come but refused to let up? His cock throbbed.

Still, a sense of guilt stemming from what Steb saw as ‘ruining’ your image lingered over his mind. Abashedly, it mingled with thoughts of your mouth, how it would feel on him.

Hot, wet; you’d run your tongue down him, lather the frills lining his cock with your spit, look up at him with that damn ‘gotcha’ look when his head tipped back from the sensation of you around him.

Eager, you’d sink deeper and deeper, nose brushing the soft, smooth skin of his pelvis. Maybe you’d gag slightly, a glisten of tears welling in your eyes, and he’d have to pull you up to avoid bruising your throat with a violent buck of his hips. Your hair, twisted in his hands. He bit his lips hard at the thought.

He pumped his cock faster, thoughts turning blurry with the mounting pleasure, blushing all the way to his shoulders. You liked to push his buttons just a little, giggling at the irritated flick of his ear when you did, not the type to back down. 

Even if he came, in his mind that wasn’t a guarantee you’d stop sucking him, and you’d keep going until you heard a broken moan tear itself from his throat. The thought of his come dribbling over your lips made his pace stutter, the thought of returning the favour drawing out a quiet, utterly involuntary, whine.

You’d look ruined — such a departure from your usual appearance, so perverse, he thought guiltily — but you’d have gotten off on watching him squirm. Soaking with shower water, letting him mouth at you, take you. It was a greedy thought, one that had pre-come dribbling messily from his flushed head.

You’d sound so good, moans mixing with the pattering water, the pretty words tumbling from your lips garbled with pleasure. God, imagining you so lewdly was wrong but he’d never felt so sensitive, apologies spinning in his head wormed their way into the fantasy; you’d keen and gasp at the feeling of his lips moving over your skin, unaware of the chant-like praise and apology being muttered.

Sinking further into the hot, shameful feeling, Steb’s hand trailed towards his cheek. You were nice, you’d hold him, caress him, and he would give himself to you. It was downright weird, wrong on so many levels, but his cock jumped in his hands when his fingers slipped bare millimetres under his gill slits — imagining it was you.

It was a sting that sent him lurching over, a pain that clashed so weirdly with the fire in his gut, but he shivered at the thought of you being so delicate with him. Maybe it was unfair to think you’d pay enough attention to him to figure out the small detail of his rarely used gills, to think you’d know the weight behind the allowance. He still quietly gasped at his own touch, though.

But maybe you’d think it was too weird? Steb caught himself, no you wouldn’t, you were so kind to him that maybe he could just allow himself this, the thought of your warmth replacing the shower’s — all-consuming.

You’d kiss his neck and whisper so many adoring words while he took you with his cock, bite your lip in mounting bliss, clench around him. His cheeks have never burned hotter.

With a breathless gasp, he came over his hand, spilling over his trembling thighs in thick spurts. His brows pinched and his frills pulsed in time with the throbbing of his cock, more come, pearlescent and sticky, dribbling from his glistening tip with each sensation.

Softly, he thought, you’d kiss him while you came down, not rough and full of desire, but with care and contentment. He sighed into the damp warm air, you’d hold him close, warmer than the water.

Now, what was he going to think when he saw you tomorrow? Steb blushed down to his chest.

A/N: hi guys! i had to cut my nails in the middle of writing this :)

[bloogers-boogers]

—Swap au— part 1?

Once upon a time there was an angel named Adam The Angel of Life: He was God’s most perfect angel whose curiosity and joy brought hope to those of heaven and was considered the pure light of what heaven was truly all about.

However hidden by the eyes of every heaven born and God’s, behind closed doors, the counsel of heaven would push higher expectations on the angel than one could ever expect the angel of life to be given.

The elders were never pleased in regard of whatever Adam did or would punish constantly for not being able to do enough. Neither did they believed he was the epitome of beauty and perfection as God would claim he was, eventually, this lead the angel to do drastic measures to prevent any judgment of his person. Modifying his appearance to a less friendlier look, almost considerably scary beyond the opposite of perfection or beauty. Adam would hide behind a mask to cover the shame and disgust of his skin. No longer feeling proud to be content of his body or face; replaced with insecurities brought from those who he considered righteous and perfect. To those he saw as his family; those who were always right and should obey their every rule.

This caused stress and sadness to the angel, covering it with a smile and feigned oblivion. No one truly understood Adam, neither did he ever felt like he belonged or welcomed in the world of the devine.

And from the dirt came Lucifer and Sera, equals in every way: the first man and the first woman. God’s most perfect creation.

The first humans to wonder the earth, and the very beginning of humanity.

What one wouldn’t expect was for the two humans to not get along and argue plenty. Both stubborn and prideful to not submit to the other. Sera wanted control over him and to follow whats ordered, Lucifer wanted freedom and refused to obey. Neither wanted to give in to their wants and kept distant.

With time Lucifer began yearning companionship, but through his solitude he embraced his talents to create and dream. Unlike Sera, Lucifer went beyond what the angels ever imagined a human to be. He’d dream and dream so much that his hands were seen like brushes building and recreating those images to perfection. He began small; a simple robe made out of wool from sheep to mimic those of an angels attire, he’d discovered a sense of ‘style’ by painting his cheeks red claiming it made him feel special, different, a unique attribute of his for distinction and personality. He’d build toys or even cook extravagant food and gifts to the angels. He’d even create a new language to confuse the above and to speak with the animals.

Lucifer’s creativity stunned the entirety of heaven.

His beauty was enhancing to one’s eyes, his voice was considered angelic, alluring to their ears and his charisma captivated everyone.

Lucifer was the epitome of perfection.

And within Adam’s curiosity he convinced Lilith the highest seraphim to allow him to venture earth. With delight he wondered through the garden of Eden, the uniqueness and new wonders left him speechless. He admired the animals that lived peacefully and harmony inside the paradise creation his father would talk wonders about; the countless of fruit and vegetables, the greenery of the planet’s nature in its entirety and the beautiful blue but changing sky. But he hasn’t yet met with the creations so he kept his expectations low as he saw every form of life as perfect. He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to meet the humans, feeling slight fear of them rejecting him into their world.

He kept his hands away from touching it all fearing to stain its beauty. He admired the life inside Eden, wherever he’d look there was life; animals, plants, the air, inside water, even under the dirt it had little wiggling creatures living inside there.

And throughout his journey never did he feel frightened or threatened by the creatures there.

Earth had welcomed him with open arms and he never felt more warm and comfortable. As if he had belonged there too.

In one of Lucifer’s many escapes from his overly obedient but controlling wife. He found himself following his favorite path that lead to one of the most beautiful places in Eden.

But little did the first man know, that the most beautiful thing in all Eden would not be anything belonging of the garden but an angel.

Behind bushes and trees he almost stumbled to the ground when he came across a figure, his eyes landed in a very tall bird looking creature. He was beautiful. From the golden of his wings to the brightness of his halo, aura and the golden blinding eyes of his face; like two suns burning his every core.

Lucifer was beyond fascinated, he had seen angels. Plenty actually. Every one of them were unique and very divine looking.

But this one stole everything of its purity and was assembled into one; an ethereal being he had yet to discover. He was different from the other angels, the unique appearance added another touch of making him stand out from any other. Lucifer thought his face was very expressive unlike the other angels and that just made him look even more friendlier to approach.

Aside from that, the angel showed much wonder and joy to every single little thing he’d find in the garden it made Lucifer’s heart beat fast. Still hidden however he followed him watching his every move, unlike the other angels this one kept his hands away from touching anything however his gentleness and kindness embraced those around him without even trying to reach out. And, oh, did Lucifer wanted to reach out to him. The animals would nuzzle against him while walking past them looking through the depths of the garden.

Lucifer was captivated. Enchanted by whatever magic the angel held on to his every being.

Lucifer had fallen in love without realizing it.

When Lucifer mustered the courage to approach Adam, he had offered him a fruit basket as a welcome. Adam was stunned by the gift but grateful nonetheless of the first man’s kindness. The gesture of welcoming someone was foreign for Adam; but the simple gesture alone brought reassurance and a relief to an anxious soul like himself. He expressed his gratitude with a golden feather as he had noticed the first man’s eyes captive on his wings.

Adam was also speechless of the perfect creation of God. Lucifer was a being he’s never seen before, there was no denial in the exterior beauty of his form, and even as much as he didn’t look too far off from an angel the first man was a curious being like himself! Lucifer was a free spirit, he had a very unique way of thinking and abilities. For example he is far more talkative than any of the angels he’s met, very expressive, his skin was very fleshy looking but there was something in his eyes he doubted he’d ever see in angel, and that was… life. So much life in one being it made his heart pound rapidly.

Their first meeting was short for Lucifer’s displeasure. But ever since their meeting both beings couldn’t help but bring themselves from thinking about the other. Lucifer couldn’t help but to dream of a life with Adam. Adam couldn’t help but to find himself thinking how lucky Lucifer was to live in such a marvelous planet like earth.

Both dreamers wanted a sense of freedom to choose what their heart desires.

But that meant breaking rules and going against heaven.

[imababblekat]

Bayverse TmnT X Thankful Reader; HC’s

Anon Request, "Can I ask for Bayverse Turtles reacting to GN reader who thanks them for saving them instead of being scared of them?"

~xXx~

Michelangelo:

 Dudes pretty stoked when it hits him that you’re not running away screaming your head off after he’s saved you from some drunks

He’s really excited and almost loses himself to it, grabbing your hands and cheerfully introducing himself

Probs throws out some kind of pun or pick up line about how this must mean something, and for a moment almost really feels that when you giggle at his shenanigans

A human who thanked him with no shred of fear and thinks he’s funny?! Someone pinch him because there’s no way this isn't a dream

Would slip you his number before dashing off to the calls of his brothers, winking back as he waved goodbye, already picturing you as a new friend

Donatello:

Freaked out at first when he sees you still hanging around after he fought off a thug who tried to rob you, but that shock is quickly replaced with curiosity as you breathlessly thank him

He wonders if this is some other form of distress on your part and does a quick check up to make sure you didn’t hit your head or something

Is even more surprised when it turns out you’re perfectly fine, and you don’t shy away from his touch, a large hand still gently holding you by the shoulder

Donnie’s quick to pull away when he realizes, fumbling with his words for a moment and the soft smile you offer is not helping the warmth dusting his cheeks

The shout from his brothers for him is what saves him from further embarrassment, but as he turns to leave and sees you still standing, watching him go, he can’t help the growing intrigue he now has for you

Raphael:

You’re not running in terror, screaming bloody murder, and Raph isn’t sure how to feel

He just stands and stares absolutely bewildered as you offer him a kind thank you after saving you from random aggressors

He’s quick to catch your hand as it lifts towards his face, more shock coursing through him when he sees the rag in your grasp to clean at a cut on his face

Your fearlessness towards him is impressive, but he can’t help the internal panic

Yes there’s a joyful elation Raph feels, but this is all new territory to him

Sure, he has human friends like April, but even she freaked when she first met him

Not you though, and as he runs off to catch up with his brothers, he finds himself unable to stop thinking of this memorable encounter

Leonardo:

Leo is stunned by your kind thank you versus the usual display of fear he receives, there’s a reason he tried to be super stealthy after all

He’ll actually ask if you’re not scared of him, sounding casual about it but feeling the exact opposite

You’re denying response gives him a sense of relief and curiosity, but also apprehension

Are you trying to trick him? Are you secretly part of the Foot Clan?

He can’t help his skepticism towards your kindness, as the leader he’s sort of built this wall against newer people to protect his family

He’ll eye you for a moment, asking if you’re okay to walk home by yourself, and after he’s sure you are truly fine, he’ll be quick to make his leave

It’s sudden and abrupt and while a small part of him feels kind of rude about suddenly dipping, he’s too busy fighting an inner battle about how his whole existence is to stay hidden, and this new desire to be sought by you

Definitely doesn’t tell his brothers about this meeting, last thing Leo needs is for them to encourage the warm hope you’ve instilled within him

~xXx~