#I love it so much!!! This precious little creature (;-;)

[cerise-on-top]

Hiya! May I ask for a fluff alphabet for Price, if you haven't done that already. Since I saw in a recent post you only do 8-9 letters at a time now (which is okay!), may I specifically ask for: A, B, C, F, G, H, N, & Q? Thank you! 💗

Hey there! Sure you can! I've been in the mood to write something for Price anyway, so this came at a good time ^^

Fluff Alphabet for Price

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

On the one hand, he really loves going out to do something with you. Something along the lines of the occasional short hike, taking care of your shared garden or even just taking a stroll through the city, taking in all the sights and finding new ones you weren’t previously aware of. Those are things he likes to do when he’s been home for a while now. However, if he’s gotten home not too long ago then he’d much rather just stay in and sleep a little bit. Will want to cuddle you or just have you be his background noise. Don’t be mad at him if he dozes off while you’re watching a movie together, he’s just extremely tired and needs that rest.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He admires how resilient you are. Price knows that life isn’t easy, that it always makes an effort to throw one impossible thing after another at you, but you never seem to give up. No matter how rough life gets, no matter how often it knocks you down, you always get up, dust yourself off and continue to smile. Even if it really took its toll on you, you strive to make your life better. Although it may get you down when you’ve had the worst day of your life, you still won’t stay down forever. You do what you can, and that’s what Price loves about you.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

When you’re sad he’ll give you a hug, provided you’re okay with it. He’s a very good hugger, his hugs are very comforting and warm. Afterwards he’ll put on your favorite movie or series and watch it with you. If enough time has passed and you still feel down, then he’ll cook something you really like. Although he knows he can’t make the sadness go away forever, he’ll try to temporarily cheer you up. If you need to talk, if you need some advice, he’s also your man. If you have a panic attack then he’ll try to calm you down by taking you to a location with few people. Price can talk for a while if he needs to, so he’ll ask you to focus on his voice. Might also give you a rather simple task to take your mind off of things, such as counting backwards from 100.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

If it’s you, then he would forgive pretty easily, as long as it’s not something too big. If you accidentally knock down a mug he likes, then he might sigh and be annoyed, but he’ll forgive you. If you cheat on him, then he won’t. He’s usually calm and collected, even while fighting. Sure, he could be aggressive towards you and snap at you, but he loves you, so he tries not to. It’s sort of obvious when he is annoyed, his sentences become much shorter and he’ll actively try to get away from you. Won’t yell at you, won’t do any erratic movements either, but if he’s too angry then he’ll simply walk away from you until he’s calmed down.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Yes, he is aware and he is very grateful. How could he not be? You have the patience of a saint when it comes to him. He knows it’s rough to be with someone who is part of the military, he’s away more often than not, but you still decided to stay with him. You cook for him when he’s tired, you draw him a bath when he’s sore, you reassure him when he feels like you deserve better than him. You’re so much more than what he deserves, he doesn’t feel like he could ever repay you for everything you’re doing for him. He tries, though, but it’s never enough. Price could give you the universe and it wouldn’t suffice.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Aside from the obvious, such as military intel, he doesn’t really hide anything from you. Price doesn’t see the point in keeping secrets from you. You’re together, aren’t you? You deserve to know just about anything about him. He might not tell you everything from the get go, but once you’re close enough you can ask him about anything. You wanna know about his time as a private? Sure. How he came to be a captain? Yeah, he can talk about it. Just ask and he’ll likely tell you. But in the same vein he hopes that you trust him enough to tell him just about anything as well.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

He doesn’t really use very many nicknames. Just the classic ones, such as “love”, “sweetheart” and “dear”. Sometimes he feels the urge to call you “sunshine”, but he usually represses that since that’s what he’s called his soldiers before. As much as it would fit you, he tries not to bring work home. He likes to call you by your name too, though. But aside from that there’s nothing he really calls you.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He can keep calm in just about any situation, so he won’t lash out on you. He has an air of authority to him, so it’s not too often that someone is being a dick to him. And that extends to you as well. Price is a well respected man, so not very many people will come up to you and demand something from you. You, too, will be respected by most people, he’ll make sure of that. Regardless of whether you’re shy and timid or loud and boisterous, no one will bad mouth you. Price can fight, he will protect you. He will also fight for your honor if he needs to. He may have self restraint most of the time, but no one should ever talk badly about his partner.

[nyxyn0x]

Meet Panini the Fish-Cat

He is stupid and I love him!!!

I hope you love him too

[manofmanymons]

ramble

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

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It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

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[the-xolotl]

Sweet, Soft Shadow Man

Alastor x gn!Reader & Al’s Shadow

♡ Itty bitty snip

♡ a/n: i feel like i’ve only been writing smut recently so here’s something soft

summary: Alastor’s shadow adores you, because Alastor adores you, but he’s a lot more reserved with his feelings. His shadow on the other hand has little qualms about showing affection or responding to yours, and maybe Al feels a little jealous.

♡ TAGS: sfw, domestic fluff, slight jealousy, some banter, no use of y/n, latine coded reader lowkey.

One thing to get use to as you and Al had begun dating was his shadow constantly hovering around you anywhere you went where Alastor himself wasn’t. At first it had felt smothering, like he didn’t trust you alone or like you couldn’t defend yourself, when you in fact very much can. You’d roll your eyes every time you caught the shadowy figure out if the corner of your eye or even tried to get it to go back to Alastor but of course it only listened to its master and would stare at your blankly with the holes that are supposed to be his eyes.

However, as you got to know it and Alastor you realized it wasn’t that that your lover thought you couldn’t look after yourself. No, what you came to realize (and kept to yourself because it’s much too precious) is that Alastor is a proud man ok not that, you knew that very well but that he has his peculiar way of showing affection, one way was to keep his shadow with you when he himself couldn’t. His pride got in the way of him being outwardly affectionate towards you even after courting, properly asking you be his partner and all the time spent together, he still kept to himself a lot simply reciprocating what you initiated. But having the one thing that’s an extension of himself guard you and keep you company was one of the first tokens of care he’d given you.

Thereafter this discovery you didn’t mind it as much, in fact, you even gave it a name; Sombra. You grew very fond of the curious creature that mostly kept itself to surfaces or even in the silhouette of your shadow. It made you giggle every time Sombra did, because you could feel an odd, ghostly weight on your person when it did despite being in its intangible form. Sombra,you also found, is very animated with you. It showed a lot of emotion: joy, sadness, excitement etc. And it didn’t always smile like Alastor did, it could frown, or have a neutral expression. The more you got to know it, the more you became attached to it and it to you. Where to even without Alastor sending it to you, Sombra came to you out of its own accord or even when you called it.

While not entirely against it, Alastor found it a little irritating that literal part of him spent more time with you than he did sometimes. After all he’s an Overlord and the manager of the Hazbin Hotel with the Princess of Hell, he’s a busy man. And the fact you named it, like a pet. His shadow was wrapped around your finger the same way Alastor was, but at least Alastor didn’t show it so forwardly. This fact made Alastor a little bashful the first time you had revealed this to him, all of the little things his shadow did for you.

For example it would bring you little gifts, either from Alastor… Or its own. Small trinkets, flowers (not even store bought just wild flowers off the streets) or even limbs. You didn’t question the limbs even if they put you off at times. Sombra became very cuddly and liked to follow you around even when you only did mundane things. Like today, you’re in the kitchen making a dinner you had made Alastor promise to be there for. He’d been unusually busy recently and as much as you love Sombra, you miss your significant other. You had been prepping the ingredients for a special dish you wanted Alastor to try, that while not entirely southern food, it’s very similar to something like gumbo, when out of the corner of your eye you saw a flash of a black figure. It disappeared as soon as you turned to look in that direction, so you shifted your focus back to the food.

A few times more this happened before a menacing shadow loomed right over you as you threw chopped vegetables into the pot of already boiling water with salt and other seasonings on it. It made half the kitchen dim and it seemed to swallow up its surroundings. You smiled wide giggling looking up at the ceiling, “Sombra~” you sing-song, greeting the ghostly silhouette, “Want a taste?” you offered one of the still uncooked pieces of red meat. It shrunk down to its usual size on the wall taking the offered food. Chuckling at how the meat hovered in the air before it disappeared as Sombra put it in its mouth. The shadow smiled wide giving you a thumbs up as it watched you add herbs into the cooking pot.

“That’s not a pet, you know that right darling?” Alastor’s unfiltered voice came from the door frame as he entered unannounced. While his voice had its usual uppity lilt his tone came a little annoyed. You had reach to hug and pet Sombra like you always do to welcome it, you thought Alastor wouldn’t come for another while longer so you indulged the little servant before its master arrived but you got caught right in the act. It retracted to Alastor’s side like it always did as he threw it a sideways glance.

“Of course he’s not. But its cute, in its own way,” you smile. “Welcome home, my love,” smiling at the radio demon you gingerly made your way to him wrapping your arms around him with a tight hug. He did the same, planting a soft kiss on your forehead, your smile widen. “I missed you,” you whispered looking up at him with big doe eyes. Because you did. You really, really did. You didn’t want to say it outloud but you almost thought he wouldn’t show or he’d be late. So it made you exceedingly happy he had already arrived. “It’s almost ready, why don’t you go sit at the table.”

From his seat, he watched you prepare the side dishes as the pot on the stove simmered, however his eyes more than fixating on you, they followed the movement of his shadow standing next to you at all times. Handing you things, making you laugh and giggle with little actions. And of course it’s his shadow he could feel how giddy your attention made it. Every time you said thank you, every time you gave it a compliment or whenever you pet it. He felt it’s eye twitch seeing Sombra lay his transparent head on the shadow of your shoulder and you didn’t bat an eye. Part of it is guilt, guilt that he had been so absent and distant for weeks, because he’d been too preoccupied with other responsibilities, and jealousy. The jealousy is what bothered him the most. That damn shadow had been hoarding all your attention even as he’d been sitting in the same room with you.

Alastor wouldn’t admit it’s his fault, of course. So instead he gets up from the table again coming up to stand behind you, long arms wrapping around your middle. It surprised you a little, making your stutter the rhythm of your stirring. Alastor rested his chin on the same shoulder Sombra had, making direct eye contact with the sentient being and intimidating it into moving away from you. If it could hiss, it would have. But it moved away without you noticing. Alastor’s arms tighten around you for a second before speaking softly, “I apologize for neglecting you, or if you’ve felt lonely in my absence, darling,” his words were sincere. Alastor didn’t like being away from you very long, didn’t like having to go places filled with people he couldn’t care less about and having to deal with others he disliked. But duties are duties and work is work, he’s a man of principle.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t long to be with his beloved, and he know he’s godawful at telling you. Part of the reason he’d kept his shadow with you, in hopes to keep you solace, and company when he couldn’t. But seeing you grow closer to the creature and pouring all the affection you couldn’t give him made his chest tighten, a feeling that crawled under his skin and bothered him in ways that shouldn’t matter to him. You were his. Yet, here he is, acting childish even if you are probably mostly unaware. Or he hopes you are. Because this is embarrassing, it makes him feel embarrassed deep down. His ears twitched in annoyance as the thoughts swirled around his mind trying to push them away but failing.

“I know you’ve been busy. I wouldn’t call it neglect really,” you answer back, relaxing into the embrace and tilting your head so that you can press a soft kiss to his cheek then nuzzling him, “But you are gone too often, I had meant to talk to you about it but I didn’t really know how to. I guess I also felt a little bad asking you to give me more than you already do,” you chuckle unhumorously. Alastor did give you everything, hardly ever did he tell you no and did what he could to make you happy. Your relationship had been very rocky at the start. Both of you had to learn to make your relationship work and meet in the middle on a lot of different things. Alastor had to re-learn what it’s like to love someone, you had to adjust to his own way of loving and take baby steps, slower ones than you were used to. Both of you accepted the flaws that came with the other, you were in hell, he wasn’t the worst out there and you weren’t perfect.

“And you don’t have to be jealous of your own shadow, Al,” you quipped, a grin tugging the edges of your lips. You had to press your lips into a thin line to keep yourself from giggling at the flare of radio static around you after saying that. But he didn’t really refute it.

“Very funny, darling,”

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[bunicate]

Wrio with a cute bunny girl who goes into heat that actually makes him go at it like bunnies! >.< so much so that he couldn’t even get hard anymore and reader just whines and pokes it telling his cock to get hard again for more breeding!

i luv this idea eeeek. big domineering man + docile horny bunny girl will always be delish .

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི bunny fem reader ᕱ⑅ᕱ daddy kink. minor breeding ﾉ wc ꒱ 0.5k ﾉ 18+

wriothesley knows that for others they believe rules are made to be broken.

he didn’t necessarily follow that same philosophy. he preferred to run on the straight lines, rarely ever straying, but he knows that many wouldn’t do the same. 

luckily he’s more than capable of adapting and making sure that those who sought to play out of bounds would be dragged back in by his bare hands.

rules are there for a reason, and he couldn’t understand how they slipped from him this time.

he regrets giving in to your every request. he admits it’s because his heart softened at the sight of a creature so precious.

wriothesley is wasting away on the bed with his clothes disheveled and stained while the bunny he loves so dearly, ravaged him.

“you’re so handsome daddy . . .”

there it is again.

the dulcet sound of your soft voice feathered by a petulant whine.

your finger poked his spent cock. it laid wet and heavy on his taut stomach, with some of his cum damp on his chest. he can’t remember how many times he’s fucked you. he was warned about your heat, and nothing could prepare him for this.

he’s fought tough battles, taking on men thrice his size, skirting on the edge of death. they were brutal fights that nearly cost him his life, and somehow that seemed like a much easier hill to climb.

he’s exhausted and drained of every drop of cum he could pump out, and you still weren’t done. you continued to kiss his cock, lapping at it with long and rough strokes. the skin of his leaking shaft was raw from your sucks and the heat from your inner walls.

he could barely muster the strength to speak. his voice is hoarse from commands that fell on your deaf ears and all the groans escaping his lips.

“baby . . . daddy is tired . g-give-give me a second.”

he pulls at your floppy ears to halt your movement, but you only nose at his balls in response. your tongue darts out to taste his sweaty skin and he curses at himself when his body betrays him.

his dick twitches to life from your incessant nipping, and hearts take shape in your eyes.

you drag your soft body on top of his once more to straddle him yet again. your fat bunny cunt gaping and dripping cum hovers over his pudgy tip before swallowing his entire member.

“fuckkkkkk . . bunny, you’re gonna kill me. . .how much fuckin’ nut does that little pussy need ?”

you make a sound, halfway from a moan and a giggle. like a good bunny, you hop up and down until his head kisses your womb filling it with hot seed.

your tits bounce with every jerk of your hips and his hand on your plump ass encourages more of your of passion.

“daddy daddy daddy , I need all of it ♡ love y’r cum so much, hnn~”

there was never a battle wriothesley couldn’t win, not yet at least, but this time, wriothesley forfeits.

he’s accepted that he’s finally lost, and that his sweet bunny girl was the cause of his demise.

[yandere-romanticaa]

An idea that I really like is Ratio falling for someone who is his complete and total opposite in every way imaginable.

He is the kind of person that operates on pure cold logic and facts. He believes in what he sees in front of him with his own two eyes and yes, while it may be fascinating, perhaps even a little entertaining, to philosophize about various unimaginable concepts they are all indeed just that.

Concepts. Ideas. Things made up from the bottom of the bored human psyche.

Veritas Ratio is a man who is able to grasp many, dare he say, possibly every concept he has ever encountered. He loves a challenge but hardly anything is challenging to him because he is such a genius. He devours books that are over a thousand pages long, the most complicated equations of any science are finished by his hand with such ease that many people might mistake him for a machine rather than a man of flesh and blood.

That's what makes it so fun to see him fall for an airhead. A person who probably doesn't care, or doesn't have the mental capacity to care about such things. This person would rather spend their days dallying away, picking flowers, baking, just doing things that are so mundane and plain (to him). If they do decide to read, it is some trashy romance model, maybe even just straight up written porn if they're just that shameless.

And this is the person who has Ratio grabbing his head in frustration.

He's shaking with anger in his room, golden eyes wobbly as he watches you walk up and down the space ship. You got lost, again. How much of an imbecile are you? Do you truly need someone to guide you through everything? With a huff, the scientist grabs his head made of plaster and makes his exist. He puts the mask on and in no time finds you, all lost in the hallways. You hear his upcoming footsteps before you see him and once you turn around, you are greeted with that bizarre mask you've grown so accustomed to.

You greet the man cheerfully, to which he just huffs. With his arms crossed, Ratio gives you a long and detailed lesson on how you ought to be more careful and aware of your surroundings, that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated. You are not a child and should stop acting like one.

Tears swell in your eyes but none are shed as the two of you turn back, him being a few steps ahead of you. Two pairs of footprints sound incredibly loud in this long and dark corridor. Veritas hears you quietly weeping and he feels the slight inkling of guilt pulling his heartstrings.

... Perhaps he was a smidge too harsh with you.

You are a clueless creature, sure. But maybe, he sometimes reveled in that fact. It was wrong and he would never admit it out loud but his heart whispered it clearly to him - you like this.

Veritas watched you carefully through the reflection of the window, the plaster head concealing the expression on his face. With your lips in a full pout and eyes watery like fresh morning dew, he couldn't help but to be just slightly charmed.

He scoffed to himself as he pressed onwards. He figured he had better standards for himself but that was not the case, clearly.

And just like that, he had escorted you back to your room. He could hear you mumble out a quiet thank you, which he acknowledged with a polite nod with his head.

He's not that cruel. Or rude for that matter!

With the situation now swiftly dealt with, Ratio figured it was high time he went back to his studies. He has already wasted far too much precious time on this, he isn't even sure when he'll finish that -

His train of thought is broken when he feels a pair of arms gently embrace him from behind, the warmth welcoming and dare he say sweet.

Veritas stilled, his body like the statue which some saw him to be. You still could not see his face but his anger could still be felt.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" he spat at you, his tone cold but venomous.

He felt your face being pressed against his broad back, fat tears caking his fine clothing. Just as he was about to pry your hands off him, he heard you finally speak:

"Thank you for helping me. Really..."

Your tone was soft and remorseful. You did not want to disturb him but despite that, you did just that. He was willing to accept your apology and have this situation be over with but what you said next simply knocked all of the air out of his lungs.

"You see, I... I wasn't sure how I could get your attention. I just wanted you to notice me, to talk to me..."

.... Goodness.

He was used to people trying to get his attention but to act like such a pathetic damsel in distress was new. He had to give you credit for your creativity, at the very least.

"I want to be your friend. I also want you to teach me all sorts of things-"

Ratio stopped listening to you mid sentence, his mind running hundreds of laps in thought. Perhaps you weren't the idiot he saw you as. Your little ploy worked, clearly. And if he took you under his wing, who knew what would become of you.

He could turn you into a diamond with his own two hands.

It was embarrassing just how giddy the thought made him.

The shadows of curiosity and some other emotions took over his mind as he analyzed the situation. There really was no harm in taking you all for himself.

Besides, if you were capable of this deceitful plan, who knew what else you could do?

He was eager to find out.

[alastors-wife]

What is it with torties and ginger cats specifically that makes them like that

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[omniuravity]

Hazbin Hotel Characters During Rut/Mating Season

Okay, I love rut/mating season fics so much that I made headcanons. These are mostly based on actual animal biology, so I tried my best.

Tags: @bloodypeachblog, @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered, @pinkhimecat, @je-suis-eternel-jennie

TW: Sex (obviously), animalistic behavior, way too much research, creature cocks (kind of), mention of pregnancy, Alastor having sex despite him being asexual, Valentino is his own warning

Husk:

Husk does his best to keep his urges under control, especially in public. If Alastor caught wind of it, he would be tormented to hell and back. However, he does tend to be a bit more grumpy in public to hide it.

He tends to drink a bit more during this period just to help fight these urges and to keep them hidden from others.

He is also extremely protective, especially around Alastor. Other men don't bother him as much, but he absolutely despises Al getting even close to you when you are HIS mate after all.

To combat this, Husk makes sure to mark you with his scent every chance he gets. Even if he doesn't want Al to know he's feeling this way, he wants Alastor to know that you are his.

He is also a bit more adventurous in bed than normal. Typically, he prefers to keep things pretty vanilla, but due to his urges he does become a bit more possessive.

"What? Just want to try somethin' new. Maybe, make a few kittens while we're at it."

Sir Pentious:

Pentious can't hide most things well, let alone his need to mate with you. When he's not in his room, he is spending all hours of the day near you or talking about you. Though, other residents of the hotel find that pretty normal.

He also likes cuddling with you a lot during the early days of his mating season. Occasionally, letting his tongue flick against your cheek like a little kiss.

Though typically only female cobras build nests for their eggs (even if he can't impregnate you with his eggs like that), he will try and make one for you as a gesture of his love.

As for the sex aspect, you will definitely need to help him out. He does have two dicks, but he does not know how to use them.

He is a very sweet partner during his mating season, making sure you're comfortable every step of the way, even if he's a bit unsure of what to do.

"I've never had a mate thisss time of year before, but would you consssider making a nessst with me?"

Valentino:

Anyone who is "lucky" enough to be Val's partner during this time of year is in for a wild ride. Though his mating cycle is much shorter, he is much more intense than any other man you will ever be with.

Val is constantly making sure you smell like him both in and out of the tower. He wants everybody to know who you belong to. His aphrodisiac is so much stronger during this period as well.

He is also super overprotective. If another man so much as glances at you, Val will "have him fired". Which is code for, "I'm gonna fucking shoot him, so he doesn't look at my mate's face again."

Val's emotions are at an all time high during mating season, "for his future larvae" he says, but it's really an excuse to be more of an asshole to everyone except for his precious mate.

Val just adores seeing you filled with his cum. Even when it's spilling out of you he'll just finger it back in. Couldn't have you losing a single drop of his precious seed.

"Don't worry, chiquita, Daddy's home. Now I hope you're ready for me, because it's going to be a long night for the both of us."

Alastor:

Alastor's rut is practically unbearable, especially without a partner. However, this year, he has you by his side.

Alastor isn't really one for spoiling his partners, but he wants to make you feel happy and loved during this time. He'll buy you new clothes (after ripping off the ones you had), food, and cute little trinkets to remind you of him.

He is very aggressive around men. Lucifer, especially, though any man that crosses your path and so much as looks in your direction can set him off.

Alastor also doesn't normally entertain his sexual impulses. Of course, he'd do it for you, but typically, the most you'll get are a round or two if he feels like it. During his rut, he just let's himself go and fucks you until neither of you can move anymore.

He enjoys a little game of cat and mouse before having sex with you. It makes him feel powerful and feeds into his animalistic instincts.

"This has been an entertaining game, my dear, but you can't hide forever. You know I'll find you, one way or another. And when I do...well, I believe it'll leave you...breathless."

Lucifer:

Lucifer's ruts have been unbearable lately. It has been seven years since he's had a partner to indulge in them with, but now he has you.

Lucifer is all for spoiling his mate. Mainly shiny things or anything that catches your eye. He likes decorating your shared bedroom with the things he finds for you.

He isn't nearly as aggressive as Alastor during his rut. However, he is very protective of you. He barely lets you do anything on your own out of the risk of you hurting yourself.

He's the type of guy to start coming up with baby names as soon as his rut starts, just in case.

Normally, Lucifer is very mindful during sex knowing every spot that makes you feel good. During his rut, he loses his control and makes sure to find those spots every single time while marking your body as his. He, of course, apologizes profusely after.

"I'm sorry, birdie. I just can't control myself when I'm around you, especially this time of year. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you later."

[roosterbruiser]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

A piercing cry slices through the dark--your eyelids are too heavy to wrench open, especially when you’re cocooned under the heavy duvet like you are right now. 

From behind you, molded against your body like he always is when you sleep, Jake’s muscles tense. Rigidly, he sighs into the warm curve of your throat and blinks through the dark. And, yes, there on the baby monitor is your six-month-old baby boy in his silly-looking sleep sack. He’s about to wail, Jake can tell. His little bottom lip’s wobbling and his eyes are shut tight and even though Jake can’t see his hands, he knows his fists are clenched.

“Your son is so dramatic,” you whisper, muffled from the pillow. 

“I thought we decided on theatrical,” Jake whispers back, his voice thin and worn. He peppers a few sloppy kisses to your throat and starts to sit up. “I’ve got ‘im.” 

“You’re my hero,” you mutter, yawning. 

He stretches and then swings his legs over the bed. 

“Kinda my thing,” he says as he stands.

“I love you so much,” you reply. Any other time, with more sleep, you would’ve scoffed at him and given him your best eye roll. But you’re too tired to feel anything but grateful for your husband right now. “Like, so much.” 

Jake laughs lightly, tiredly. 

“I know,” he says cockily, teasingly. 

You don’t respond, already drifting off to sleep again. You’re so tired that you can feel it in your bones--a deep, deep ache that is only exacerbated by frequent diaper changes and excessive feedings and tumultuous tummy times and gas and formula and binkies and board books and burp cloths and baths. 

And even though the baby is definitely about to start screaming, Jake can’t help but pause for a moment in repose as he stands in the doorway in his slouchy sweatpants. You’re sprawled across the bed already--you always say it’s to keep his spot warm but he knows that it’s because you’d sleep in star-formation if you had the choice--and breathing deeply. Your hair is a mess on the pillow and your cheek is smushed. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re exhausted from parenting a very particular, theatrical Seresin baby boy.  

He wants to cross the room again and tuck your hair back from your forehead. He wants to kiss your aching temples and your heavy eyelids. He wants to pull you in his arms, gather all those limbs, and hold you close. 

But he doesn’t want to wake you up.

So, he just smiles gently. 

“I love you so much,” he responds finally. “So, so, so stupid much.” 

And then he’s padding down the hallway, yawning again, but with a smile tugging on his lips. He can hear his son’s whimpers from outside the door and honestly, he’s shocked the screaming hasn’t started yet. 

The sound of artificial rain floods Jake’s ears when he comes into the room, the little sound machine in the corner lulling your son to sleep each day and night. He doesn’t bother turning it off or turning the light on--Jake’s fairly certain he’s adapted to the dark by now anyway. 

There in his crib, the one Jake had to finally ask Javy to help build, is a wriggling and fussy baby boy. His gummy mouth on display as he thrashes his head back and forth and his cheeks ruddy from upset. 

Jake’s heart swells as he strokes his cheek. Sometimes he still can't believe that this sweet little creature--the one with your eyes and his nose and your cheeks and his chin--is all his and all yours. You made him, every bit of him, and he is the most precious thing to ever grace this earth. Jake's sure of it.

“Hey there, cowboy,” he says softly. His son doesn’t let up yet, kicking his legs as Jake unzips the sleep sack. “S’alright, darlin’, daddy’s here.” 

All the tired floods his body and slips out under the door when Jake’s not looking. He holds his son against his bare chest, his body still so small and so soft. But then Jake is kissing the feathery hair on his head and bouncing lightly in his spot, heels digging into the rug. 

“What’s got you so upset?” Jake whispers, lips pressed against his son’s forehead. “Bad dream, baby?” 

Your son doesn’t respond. He just burrows into his fathers neck, his breaths stuttering and his mouth open and drooling. Jake pats his back a few times, kissing his cheek. He inhales his sweet, sweet scent and sighs.  

He loves the way your son smells--he just smells warm. He isn’t sure if it’s the body wash or the lotion or the sheets that does it. But he somehow just always smells good, like home, like you. 

“Let’s take a seat, huh? A little rock and roll never hurt nobody, huh?” He asks quietly as he sits in the rocking chair. 

If you were awake to hear his pun, you would’ve never let him hear the end of it. Jake makes a mental note to tell it to you over breakfast. 

Your son’s whimpers are fading fast, especially when Jake starts to softly rock him, tucking his chin on his head and patting his back softly. 

“Mama thinks you’re theatrical,” he tells your son, eyes fluttering shut. “And you definitely are. Mama also thinks you get it from me--and you absolutely do. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, cowboy. You gonna be a little actor? Or a little lawyer?” 

Your son babbles quietly, fingers tangled in Jake’s hair as a form of self-soothing. Jake kisses his face a few more times. 

“Or you could just stay here with me and mama forever,” he whispers. 

And he knows that having a son has made him soft--like crying at that one Honda commercial kind of soft--because his eyes grow wet when he thinks of your son getting any bigger than he is now. He never wants a day to come where he can’t pull his son to his chest, sit down in the rocking chair, and make the tears stop. 

"I love you," he whispers. "Me and mama love you so, so much. More love than can fit in this whole world."

When you pad down the hallway, eyes full of sand and sleep from your very few hours slumbering, you don’t even have to touch the walls anymore to orient yourself. You know where you’re going even in the pitch-black hallway. 

Jake’s sleeping when you come into the nursery, the sound machine quiet in the corner of the room. Your son is still in his arms, sleeping against his chest. And God do they look alike right now in the light of the moon--both of them sleeping with their heads resting on each other’s, their mouths open, their fists clenched. 

You came in here to bring Jake back to the bedroom. But watching him hold your son, your sweet boy, in that rocking chair that he built in this room he put together--you decide that a few more hours of comfortable sleep isn’t worth it. Tempurpedic mattress be damned. 

So, you just carefully cross the floor. The rug is soft beneath your bare feet when you lean forward and stroke your son’s head, careful to have a soft touch that will not wake him. And then you’re kissing Jake’s warm cheeks, stroking his blonde locks, too. 

Jake stirs slightly, eyes twitching. Your heart swells. 

You sink onto the floor before the rocking chair, leaning against Jake’s legs. The rain is lulling you already and you yawn as you rest your cheek on his thighs. The rug is comfortable--you’re glad you went for this one. Your son is happy and sleeping and your husband is holding him and everything is right in the world. 

And just as you’re about to fall asleep again, Jake’s thighs cushioning you, Jake’s hand falls into your hair. He strokes a few times in welcome--hi, baby. 

 “Missed you,” you mutter. 

“Missed you,” he returns. His hand glides through your hair. “All’s right in the world now, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It is.”

happy Father's Day to those who celebrate <3

[rationaliity]

cat parents | dr. ratio & aventurine

!! polyamory !!

caritas, poker, and snuggle.

anyone could tell who named what cat, and which cat cake was who's favorite.

.

caritas was veritas' favorite, the name being an old language word meaning ' love ' although he wouldn't really admit to it. he'd told you that the cat's original name - or rather, it's classification, was lambda's friend, with blue skin and black and white filling. but the cat cake had a little gold flower on the side of it's head, too, which reminded him of himself.

caritas loves to chat with the other cat cakes. its the kind of cat that makes friends with other really quickly, so it's always chatting with poker and snuggle about something throughout the day. their conversations can range from anything about how warm the bed is to the best spot in the living room to see the three of their owners dancing together in the kitchen with music while you were trying to make dinner.

ratio absolutely loved to note down their conversations whenever present. it surprised him that such a creature was so articulate, even able to properly express its desires. he'd concluded that the cat cakes had the intelligence of a young toddler with a rudimentary but understandable grasp on language. you and aventurine liked to tease him sometimes for treating the cat cakes as children sometimes, trying to teach them as a parent would, although this was something that ratio would deny wholeheartedly.

" they are an interesting new species. they are ruan mei's creations, and yet she doesn't seem to understand their full potential. i believe it's imperative that we study them and possibly teach them things they otherwise wouldn't know without our interventions, " ratio reasoned, while he was holding the little cat cake, cradling it like it was something precious to him.

.

poker was aventurine's, the name coming from one of his favorite card games to play, even though he rationalized it by saying that the cat was particularly swatty and liked to cause trouble by batting at things off of the edge of tables. " it likes to poke things until it drops off of the table, so the name poker makes sense, doesn't it ? " yeah, okay aventurine, whatever you say.

poker loved to meow in the dead of night and startle everyone out of sleep in the most inopportune times. ratio has a lecture early in the morning for the intelligentsia guild ? poker is making it's boredom everyone's problem. aventurine has a meeting with the other stonehearts ? oh boy, poker is right there sitting on his face meowing incessantly. if you've got something important to do, well, sorry to say you won't be getting very much sleep that night no matter how early you go to bed. it was bratty, sure, but it was ultimately just an average grey cat cake with nothing special about it, and seemed to have an overwhelming fear of being left alone.

no matter how annoying the cat cake was being that particular night, there was only one way to stop it from meowing. of course, ratio tried to reprimand it and teach it other ways to relieve its boredom at night, but nothing proved effective. you would just try to get it to calm down by playing with it for a little while, but that really only worked until you left it alone, and then it went right back to meowing. aventurine, however, had the magic touch. he would grab the cat cake and bring it into bed, and he would just.. talk to it. in a quiet voice, just chatting about whatever popped up into his head. he'd talk for an hour or more. sometimes it was about sigonia, sometimes it was about his job as a stoneheart. sometimes it was just different gambles and how he ended up winning them.

" so, of course, i had to prove that i was much more than he gave me credit for, " aventurine had been yapping for about an hour now, when he looked down at the cat cake in his arms and realized that it was sound asleep, purring against his chest. " ah, looks like i've done it again. you're welcome, you two. "

" thank you, 'churine, " you mumbled, half asleep as you leaned over to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek, your head falling back down to rest on his shoulder, already falling back asleep. ratio didn't say anything, and when aventurine looked over at him, he couldn't help but smile. he'd put ratio asleep while just chatting, too.

.

snuggle was your trash cake cat, and there was really no deeper meaning behind the name. it was a snuggly cat, and loved attention. loved anyone and everyone who was willing to give it attention. sometimes you would wake up with it resting on your chest, sometimes you would see ratio lazily carrying snuggle around, and other times aventurine was playing with it making it chase a feather around. snuggle was the attention whore of the trio.

snuggle loved to follow you wherever you walked, especially to the bathroom. whether you were getting ready for the day or just trying to spend a few minutes doing human business, you had a pair of eyes watching over your ever move, making sure that you were never far from its sight, almost like it was protective over you. you couldn't help but compare it to your two partners, lord knows how often they were checking up on you in their own ways. ratio wasn't afraid of shooting you a text whenever he had a free moment while you were away to make sure you were okay, and aventurine was constantly on the phone with you through his headpiece.

" snuggle, i'm just going to the bathroom ! it's okay, really- " you gently protested, earning a small mew from the cat cake as it followed behind you into the bathroom, sitting patiently at the doorway, waiting for you to get finished with your business.

" hey, darling, i'm home from work ~ guess who i dragged back home with me after his lecture. " aventurine called out for you almost immediately, followed by the quieter voice of ratio announcing his presence as well.

you rolled your eyes at your partners immediately calling for you, your heart swelling with love for them, washing your hands as you walked out of the bathroom, snuggle hot on your tracks. " welcome back, guys. all of the cat cakes have been taken care of, and i started dinner. "

" thank you, i'm sure dinner will be pleasant as always, " veritas hummed, his briefcase still in his hand as he leaned down to kiss you on your lips.

" what would we do without you ? " aventurine weaseled his way in between you two, mostly because he also wanted to get his after work love from you.

.

a chatty cat cake with more intelligence that it originally seemed, a cat cake that needed to be calmed down when everyone left it alone with its thoughts, and a protective cat cake that enjoyed attention and making sure that those around it was okay.

maybe these were the perfect cat cakes for you three.

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

WHO IS THE HOTTEST JANE AUSTEN MAN ? THE FINAL

Propaganda...

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

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GIF by molinaesque

I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.  

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

LOOK

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HOW

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HE

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YEARNS

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The yearning the yearning - JLM gives a great look but Captain Wentworth is the king of longing stares. He's trying sooo hard to hate her sooo hard to get over her - 8 years and he thinks he's ready to face her and move on but no he has to notice she's exhausted on the walk, that her nephew is being overwhelming, that she should be dancing and not just playing the piano for everyone else. And even though he's jealous later on when Mr Elliott gives her an "admiring look" in lime he's pleased for her because he knows she deserves to be admired and cherished even if he's angry that he wasn't able to be the one she let admire and cherish her. I just this man - he loves Anne so much and it's so so hot.

Propaganda for Captain Wentworth.

I've always loved Persuasion and so I was voting for him in his polls anyway, but I had never seen the 1995 adaptation. So because of this blog I decided to check it out.

Well. Now I'm obsessed. I came into this tournament fully expecting to vote Firth Darcy to victory. Ciaran Hinds suddenly showed up and sparta kicked him to curb. His every look, every gesture is laden with longing. He's so tender with Anne but then the barely restrained rage in his voice when he speaks to Lady Russell. He's rugged and manly yet tender and considerate.

I BURN, I PINE, I PERISH

If you're wondering why you should vote for Wentworth 95 in the @hotjaneaustenmenpoll, it's because he's got something hot for everyone.

Do you think it's hot when a man dresses up fancy? He looks very dapper in his uniform! Or do you find it more sexy when a man is more casual, a little mussed up, maybe even a little grimy? He does that perfectly too!

Do you find men hot when they're being tender and restrained? Or do you find men hot when they're losing control a bit, maybe getting a bit passionate with anger or jealousy?

Do you like a refined man of culture? Or a rugged outdoorsman?

A warm smile? Or something more broody?

Someone who's the life of the party, boisterous, laughing, charming? Or the strong silent type, serious, calm, mysterious?

Hinds's Wentworth does all of these sexy things brilliantly! You cannot lose with him, he's got it all!

II ranked Wentworth as the #1 Austen man in terms of fuckability, and I stand behind that when it comes to Wentworth 95 versus Knightley 09.

Is Wentworth 95 angry sometimes? Yeah. But that's hot, at least coming from Ciaran Hinds' ruggedly handsome face. Have you heard of makeup sex? Tell me Wentworth 95 and Anne don't have the most scorching hot angry makeup sex imaginable 🥵

And yet Wentworth 95 is also super tender! The slow, gentle, worshipful way he kisses Anne at the end?? So beautiful and hot. The longing way he looks at Anne in silence. The way he is so solicitous of Anne's comfort to put her on the carriage with his sister! You can just tell he's gonna take the time to worship his wife in bed.

And let's not forget that he writes the most romantic letter ever written! The depth of passion in this man, my god! 🔥💕🔥

This is not a who is the better man contest, or who is the more faithful to the book, or who would you most want to marry. This is a hotness contest, and Wentworth 95 is so fucking hot.

Mr Darcy (1995):

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

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Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

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The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

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Fencing? Hot!

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The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

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This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

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Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

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Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

Link

My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

Colin Firth dazzles and amazes in the nuanced performance that just blows all other attempts away.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

[caraphernellie]

MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE.

tiny, silly, cute blurb today because i'm thinking fluffy!!! and fluffy in particular = cats! i love cats and ik i'm always talking about cats so… in the need to quell my desperation right now, i'm going to write about it instead. because i keep looking at cat rescue pages and crying about all those precious babies.

now it's a little hard to picture ellie having a dog because, erm… but moving away from that– i think she's one of those people who prefers dogs simply because they're playful and have such wholesome faces. who wouldn't falter over a puppy's virtuous little smile, falling over feet to give them some head pats? but imagine her reaction when you tell her you want to rescue a cat. imagine the vulgarity in her response every time you'd show her pictures upon pictures of sad babies with no homes – just a snap back to reality. "yeah, babe, s'cute, but probably got ringworm or some shit."

 and yeah, sure, all of your arguments are sound, your list of pros outway the cons, but cats are so lame. lame is what she said.

and lame is what she is, because the furry creature does win her heart fairly quickly. almost as soon as you showed her the picture of this poor unnamed cat without a family, desperate tears in your eyes just waiting to shed at her denial, she folded.

on one condition.

"if we get the cat, i wanna name him."

so much for 'not wanting a cat', it was obvious from the start that your new baby had dug his way into ellie and tugged at the heartstrings. so that was how rover became yours– never trust your girl not to name something unrelated to her interests – but rover was a cute and fitting name overall, if only a tad nerdy due to her ongoing obsession with space and the long lost dream of being an astronaut. 

but there seems to be such a common phenomenon when it comes to cats. they know exactly who doesn't like them, and they make it their mission to insert themselves every which way like stubborn bastards. rover is a smart little man, and he was aware quickly of how awkward ellie got when he'd sit on you or knead on you. it progressed into him treading into the bedroom at five o'clock sharp every morning to wake his mothers up, pushing his way between you and ellie to enjoy the warmth of your cuddles.

from that point, he started getting bolder, jumping onto ellie's lap when she was always busy. he'd nuzzle up against the controller while she's gaming and she'd scoff quietly, clumsily moving to see the screen over his body. then his tail would swipe her across the nose and she'd groan, "you're a little dick."

even then– the words are coated in affection, softly spoken and accompanied by her pausing of the game to rub her hand over his sandy coloured fur.

there's also many, many times in which he appealed to her in humour. it can be utterly amusing at the least and hilarious at most when a feline is taken over by the zoomies. watching the usually collected and calm cat sprint at top speeds and leap dangerously across the room never failed in its manner to bring ellie to laughter.

so yeah, there's a growing attachment to rover bubbling under ellie's surface, and she's never really sure what to do about it. admit that she was wrong about hating cats? she admits so with her every action, making a stop at the store on her way home from work to bring a new cat toy or bag of treats she's desperate to give him. maybe it's in the way she lets him settle on her lap and feels a rush of warmth and love. maybe it's that her lock screen is now a picture of you carrying the cat over your shoulder like a newborn.

photomode creds to @/seraqhite on pinterest!!

[heartfullofleeches]

In wolf's clothing

Yan Hybrids (Rabbit, NB. Mouse, Fem. Swan, Male) + Gender Neutral Sheep (?) Hybrid Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of Murder

-

Four animals are brought into questioning following the gruesome murder and dismemberment of their neighbor- A rabbit, a mouse, a swan - and a sheep. A sin of this caliber has not been committed since the founding decades of their shared home. The culprit responsible for the heinous act is to be brought to justice through execution by hanging in front of the town as a cautionary example to any who desire the same level of senseless bloodshed. 

Shall we begin?- 

The rabbit was an upstanding figure in the community. An outsider who quickly made a place for themselves amongst their peers, garnering love and tolerance by means of pleasant conversation and baked treats. Once the rabbit was present, sadness and grief were a thing of the past for most to whom they were acquainted. Honest and true, the rabbit has never told a lie nor done anything to jeopardize their new cozy life. 

“It's such a shame what happened to Mr. Possum.” Said the rabbit. “We had plans for brunch on the day he vanished. I even whipped up a batch of the scones he loved so much.” 

“Did you kill Mr. Possum?” 

The rabbit doesn't bat an eye as they reply. “No, I did not.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

“I was making tarts for another one of our friends. I think you may know. Sheep may not be the most talkative, but they enjoy my baking as much as any other. Where is Sheep? Are they alright? All this fuss surely must be getting to them by now…I hope they enjoyed the tarts….” 

The rabbit is released from custody. 

The mouse was a timid creature. On the rare occasion she wasn't holed up in the confines of her burrow, a common place to find the mouse was wandering along the borders of town where roads ended and the treelining began. Day in and day out, the little mouse would scrounge for fallen branches. The mouse found purpose for herself weaving baskets and other trinkets for herself and the neighbors who treated her in kind. 

“Oh…This won't take long, will it? I'd rather not be out past nightfall…” 

*Did you kill Mr. Possum?” 

Pain grips the tiny mouse’s voice as she squeaks. “I could never hurt a fly! Mr. Possum was such a gentle soul too… If not a tad misguided…”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The mouse dries her tears as swiftly as they fall. “Taking a nap after being up all evening making a necklace for… Oh, stars- Sheep, they're here aren't they? Could you let them know I'll be waiting for them outside? My poor, sweet Sheep…”

The mouse is released from custody. 

The swan was nothing if not a beautiful face. Tending to the upkeep of his image, the swan had no care for the outside world nor the people who dwelled within it. A shut in, abiding his precious time in the sanctity of his study. A man of few words; letters were the only feasible way of communicating with the bird, less the matter was of utmost importance and worthy of his time. 

“This is pointless.”

“Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

The swan scoffs - pinching the wall of his cheek with his teeth to avoid expression. “What good would killing that old bastard do me? Now look what you've done? If I develop wrinkles from frowning there will be hell to pay, Mayor.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The swan brushes dirt off his fine coat. “In my study as always. That morning I was preoccupied writing notes in one of my books I intended to let that sheep borrow for a time….They are in this building, are they not? I'm sure they've asked for me by now.”

The swan is released from custody.

The sheep is a shadow upon the community. Lurking just out of sight, the sheep did everything in their power to remain unseen amongst their fellow townspeople. Their aloof nature when approach proved their odd behavior was not out of malice, but few still had their suspensions. The sheep was a sweet and gentle soul nonetheless. If only they took more care of their fur…

“Do I really have to be here? I didn't know him very well to begin with.”

“Yes… I'm afraid. Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

The sheep licks at the corner of their mouth, tongue collecting every crumb of pastry glued to their fur. How they wished they could have had just one more bite before coming. They blink, beady eyes glossing over with tears. 

“Did you…kill Mr. Possum?”

The sheep fiddles with the string of their new necklace tucked beneath their shirt as the mayor presses further- fighting every urge to gnaw at the bones dangling over their chest. “I… I didn't.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The sheep recalls a distant memory- Lines written in a book they'd read not long ago. “I…was at home. I'm sure Rabbit, Mouse, and Swan can vouch for me….”

A hand squeezes the sheep’s shoulder. The mayor, a noble and charitable elk, nods in understanding at the smaller animal. He eyes the rings of red lacing their neck as they nervously pick at the skin. 

“Understood. Make sure you stick to this story if anyone else questions you. Hurry on home, young one, and be quick.”

The elk leans in closer- Whispering, though the walls of his office are as thick as the saliva the sheep swallows as he utters those dreaded words. 

 “It's about time for you to trim your claws again.”

The sheep is free from custody. 

Scurrying on home with their tail still tucked between their legs, the sheep finds three familiar faces waiting for them there.

“Sheep!” Warmth bathes the terrified animal as they're swept into the caring arms of their long-eared companion. The rabbit dabs their wet cheeks with their apron. “Are you alright, hunny-bunny? Tell us everything that happened.”

Through teary eyes, the sheep details every portion of their integration. “I think the mayor knows I didn't do it…. I hope the same goes for you guys…” 

A collective wave of relief falls over the group.

“That's good news.” Mouse adds. “If anyone is incapable of hurting someone it's Sheep… Poor Mr. Possum….I feel terrible for what happened to him.”

Swan rolls his eyes. “I’d say his demise is poetic justice for accusing Sheep of being a… well you know what.”

Rabbit shoves Sheep's head into their chest. “We all agreed not to talk about that anymore! Especially if Sheep is present! We've all had a long day… Why don't we head inside and relax after all that kerfuffle with a nice, rejuvenating cup of tea? Sheep, could you be a dear and grab that kettle I bought for you?” 

“O..oh… Um…Alright.”

The sheep squeezes past Swan and Mouse as they step inside their home. The remainder of the group wait for the telltale sound of them scrounging around in their room for the present before any of them speaks. 

Rabbit sighs. “Okay. I know they're horrible with keeping track of everything we give them so we have a few minutes to chat about this. Mouse, did you return the ax?”

Mouse points in the general direction of another house off somewhere in the distance. “I put it back in Squrriel’s shed where I found it last night.”

“Swan, did you check every one of those cameras you have to see if anyone saw us?”

Swan rolls his eyes. “Like anything that interesting happens in this town after nightfall. We're in the clear. We’d best head instead to help them. Plus, I need to get my time with them since you'll already taken front and center with everything else.” 

The death of Mr. Possum was later ruled as a robbery gone wrong committed by traveling crooks. It took many moons, but eventually peace fell upon the cozy little town and its tight knit community once more. Sheep, unable to sleep after the tragedy, sought refuge in the homes of those there for them in their time of need. 

Their doors were always open for their kind, gentle sheep. 

[socksracoon10]

Hi love here I come with my first spontaneous idea 🩷

Reader is the Commodore's sister but sick of the ways of society. When Jack saves Elisabeth, reader is the one who persuaded James not to kill Jack and also the one he happens to threat in order to escape. She’s somehow drawn to the Captain and later gives Will the keys to the cell to set him free. Jacks thoughts circle around her, too and they reunite when she swings last minute from the Dauntless over to the Interceptor to join the pirates making way❣️

Curious of The Seas

A/N: Literally fell in love with your ask oh my god, couldn't stop thinking about it before I began writing!! Thank you so much for this request! Pairings: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader, Will Turner x F!Reader (Platonic), James Norrington x F!Reader (siblings)

"Don't slouch, stand straight," Commodore Norrington hissed at you. You glared at your brother, curving your lips downward. You hated how strict and loyal he was to the British Crown and how he enforced his rules onto you, despite being his "precious baby sister." 

Your brother didn't hate you, but he sure did a good job of making you hate him. He was pacing his quarters back and forth, rehearsing what he would say to Miss Elizabeth Swann upon meeting her. You rolled your eyes at the pathetic scene, realizing that if your brother were to marry Miss Swann you were next on the list for the most eligible bachelorette in Port Royal. Your body cringed at the thought and you wriggled your back to shake off the eerie feeling crawling down your spine and focused on trying to ease your brother at the moment.

"James, there is no point in stressing over something as simple as this. Tell her you are in love with-" You began but frowned when he interjected,

"Love? Don't be ridiculous!"

"So, you're not in love with her?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, I very much am in love with her. But it is not proper for a man such as myself to say trivial things to the daughter of the Governor!" Your brother reasoned and you sighed in an exasperated tone, shifting your gaze out the window.

Elizabeth had stared at you with a quizzical look on her face when your brother and you had first approached her. You both shared the same expression of disdain for the situation. It was very clear to see that she was indifferent to your brother and surely was the very last man that she had any interest for. You, on the other hand, dearly loved your brother and wanted to save him from any heartache that she would cause him. You chewed your lip nervously, watching them exchange a few words of greetings before walking away. The commodore glanced over his shoulder, mouthing a few warnings to reign your behavior in for the biggest moment of his life before stalking away.

Huffing in annoyance, you picked the ends of your dress up and marched past the Governor who was just about to start a conversation with you. He awkwardly shut his mouth and watched you walk away to stand on the other corner of the pillar where your brother and Elizabeth stood. He leaned backward to get a good look at you, sending you another glare before returning his full attention to the woman in front of him with a nervous smile. You sighed, gazing out to the sea. Your brother had taken you once beyond Port Royal when you were a little girl and he swore it was something he very much regretted; all you could ever do since then was talk about sailing the seas. You desired to travel across the world, collect artifacts, and live a free life. Your brother scoffed at your desires, stating that he would rather die than see his little sister galloping around like a pirate of all creatures.

As you gazed out into the horizons with a look of yearning, you heard the loudest splash from below. Peering over the edges of the wall, you frowned at the ripples that seemed to bloom near the rocks and you instantly pulled back from your position and walked around to notice your brother screaming Elizabeth's name.

"What did you do?" You exclaimed, resting a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away from your grasp, beginning to take his coat off but you grabbed hold of him,

"The rocks, James! She's lucky that she didn't hit them on her way down! Come, we can reach her at the docks!" You urged him, yanking his arm. He seemed instilled with distraught, at a loss for words, "She must've jumped by your mere presence!"

Your brother sent you a nasty scowl and the playful smirk on your lips faded away instantaneously. You knew this was no joking matter; the poor woman could've died on her way down and she was to be betrothed to him anyway. As your brother scampered off with the rest of the guards, you found your feet rooted to the ground as you stared up at the sky. Something was amiss. The clouds darkened and circled about gravely, and the sea no longer held its silky blue blanket to comfort you. Before you could try and comprehend what must've occurred, you felt an urgent tug around your arms and you sharply turned to find yourself facing the Governor.

"Come now, my dear, you mustn't dawdle around when my daughter's life is in danger!" He exclaimed and you frowned at his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him. Even if you wanted to help Elizabeth, there was surely no way you could swim into the waters with this puffy dress around you. You followed him down to the docks, pushing past the British officers to find yourself facing Elizabeth coughing up heaps of water from her lungs and then... a pirate.

With all the rifles surrounding him, you nearly thought they were aimed at your brother who stood in the way. You could only make out half his face, oblivious to the ensuing conversation that your brother was currently engaged in. You peeked around the Commodore's shoulder, carefully eyeing the strange man in your presence when his eyes flickered over to you for a sharp second before returning to your brother. Your breath hitched at the moment, taking in his disheveled and wet appearance as your brother remained as the shield between the man and you.

"He's a pirate," Your brother growled, his jaw clenching as he barked orders for his arrest. He ignored your gaping stare as he continued, "Sparrow, I assume?"

"Jack Sparrow?" You interjected, your mouth practically on the floor as you stared at him. The corner of the pirate's lips curved into a small smirk,

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, love," He smiled with a wink. You smiled back before your brother forcefully shoved you behind him once again. He made a mental note to have a discussion with you about your behavior as soon as you returned home. He took the pirate's belongings and derided him for his lack of proper weapons, but it bothered him so deeply that you were so enchanted by the man. It irked him to think that his sister would fall foolish to a PIRATE of all people. He forcefully grabbed onto Jack's arm and began dragging him off before you cut him off,

"James! James!" You cried out, and your brother halted in his tracks and sent you a menacing scowl.

"Not another word from you, (Y/N)." He hissed, and you scoffed before pulling your skirt up ever so slightly to march up to your brother,

"This man, pirate or not, has just saved your betrothed's life! I suggest you at least show some mercy upon him!"

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man's life of wickedness," Your brother corrected you as Jack was being handcuffed by a Redcoat.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack added, and you offered him a sympathetic look before turning to your brother with pleading eyes.

"Brother, please. I beg of you, consider an alternative for this man." You prodded him, as your eyes fell onto Elizabeth who smiled softly at your words.

"Please do so," Jack muttered, before dragging his bound hands around your neck. You gasped in response, tugging at the chains as your brother panicked.

"No one shoots!" The Commodore bellowed, holding his hands in the air, "Let go of my sister."

"Only if you return my belongings," Jack taunted with a haughty grin. He leaned closer to lowly utter into your ears, "You must be regretting your kindness, do you not?"

"I don't, but it seems that you'll regret it," You whispered, as you watched the guards hand in his belongings in a bundle. Jack nudged your back with his knee ever so lightly to grab hold of his things and you begrudgingly did so, before sharply turning around to face him.

"Now if you'll do me the pleasure... my, I don't think I know your name..." He said with a sly smirk. You frowned at him,

"It's Miss Norrington to you," You spat, placing his hat on. As you placed his sword, belt, and other personnel around him, you could feel his intense stare burning deep into you. If it was of lust or attraction, you did not know and at the moment did not necessarily care. Your mind was fixated on other things, and your brother was seething in rage as he watched Jack give him a look regarding your body against his that made him want to hurl. To think his sister was so close to a gruesome pirate! It was preposterous!

As you tied the last remaining string of his belt around him, you looked up at him with disgust. Not only was he a pirate, but this would be the talk of the town, and your brother's and your reputation would be spoiled. Your brother could easily regain his good fortune, but you were never as lucky. You hated the way the women would gossip and to think it was all spoiled over one man you decided to be too merciful with because your curiosity could not be controlled made you ready to commit arson.

"Is this how you repay me?" You hissed and the pirate smirked at your words,

"I saved your friend's life, and now you save me. Besides, you did after all wish for me to live. Now, suffer those consequences. When shall a beautiful lady such as yourself realize to never mess with a pirate?" He chuckled, before harshly turning you around with his gun aimed at your head. Your brother flinched at the sudden movement, making sure you were alright. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Jack Sparrow," The pirate's voice boomed from behind you and the very next second you found yourself thrust upon your brother and Elizabeth. As Jack Sparrow hurriedly began his escape, he did not fail to include a personal message from his heart, "Thank you very much, Miss Norrington. I shall not ever forget such kindness!"

And you weren't ready to forget him, either. It would be for another reason. As the night raged on with a surge of pirates infiltrating Port Royal, you felt a growing desire to do something about it. Your brother had joined the Governor for his safety and left you at home to be tended to by the maids. Upon realizing that the front door would burst open regardless of the circumstances, you quietly slipped out the window in your nightly attire and made your way to the blacksmith's quarters where you knew for a fact that your good friend Will Smith would be. Will and you had grown as siblings; he was there for you more than your brother had been. He had anticipated your arrival anyway but found himself in jeopardy when his ears gathered the news that Elizabeth Swann had been abducted by the pirates. He was pacing around when you arrived and he quickly latched onto your shoulders,

"They've taken Elizabeth! I tried my best but-" Will began but you silenced him, bringing a hand to his mouth.

"I know what you must be going through. But there is not enough time. I heard you helped imprison Jack Sparrow." You whispered and he nodded his head, eyes wide as he tried to make the best of the situation, "Come, I have the key with me, we can both interrogate him and seek his help." Your hand fell to his own and led him towards the streets.

"Wait a minute," Will stopped you, and with a glance over your shoulder you already knew what he was about to say. He was going to prevent you from going. "(Y/N), I know you've always wished to escape Port Royal, but I cannot bring harm to you once you step foot onto the waters."

"Will," You chastised him, "I am no longer a little girl. I am very capable of handling my own matters."

"You are inexperienced, that's all I can say." Will rebuked your claim and you gasped at his words, before furrowing your brows,

"So are you!"

"Ah, but I shall be bringing Sparrow with me to help find Elizabeth."

"Oh, don't be so dull! I can help Sparrow and you as well. Do not prevent me from doing so! If it is out of fear that a pirate may do something towards a woman of my status, I assure you that no such thing will occur! If he dares to even look at me, I shall see to it that his eyes are gouged out by his blade!" You reasoned and Will took a step backwards, his lips parting in shock at your words. You had the spirit of a pirate in you that was for sure, and that was exactly what he feared.

"I cannot let you join. Your brother is... already facing loss," He replied in an awkward tone, considering how much he cared about Elizabeth, "He would be devasted to find you gone as well. Just stay put for now. I'm sure there shall be something more exciting for you in Port Royal."

You muttered a few unladylike curses under your breath and reluctantly offered him the key to the jail cell, "At least tell Sparrow that I was... delighted by his presence."

Will raised a suspicious eyebrow at your remark, unsure of how to respond. He nodded his head and then left you alone, as you brought your hands over your arms as your mind wandered towards the sea once again.

To say that Jack Sparrow was surprised by Will's statement regarding you would be an understatement. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you so willingly offered him the key to his escape, considering how he had humiliated your brother and especially you in front of everyone at the docks earlier in the day. He chewed his lip, his eyes dilating at the thought of you. The way you stared at him in defiance, your temples rising and falling with the way you clenched your jaw. Of course, who could forget the sensation of your fingers pressed up against him as you fastened his belt? As much of the ladies' man that Jack was, there was something different about you. You weren't like Giselle or Scarlet, complaining about superficial things or just merely trying to get into his pants. He could tell there was this curious spirit fighting to break free when he first laid eyes on you. The way you cautiously peered over your brother's shoulder had made him... well, he certainly wouldn't say his heart skipped a beat. He wasn't a silly little boy. He was a man! A grown man, a pirate! CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, mind you. And yet here he was, trying to justify to himself that what he felt for you was nothing more than just infatuation that would surely pass on.

But it didn't. It never did. While of course, his thoughts about stealing The Interceptor were his priority, he just couldn't stand still without his mind fleeting over to the very image of you, dressed in that regal bright blue gown and your hair all curled and pinned to form the most exquisite portrait of a woman he'd ever seen in his life. He smirked to himself at the thought of you, wondering what you must be doing at Port Royal at the moment. What if your brother had you married off to someone else? What if you were to live the rest of your life as a boring wife to an equally boring officer? He shook his head, wriggling himself free from those imaginative concoctions. He was a pirate, damn it. He had better things to think about than just a woman he had seen days ago.

"You've got to be kidding me," Your brother grumbled as he pushed past you. You had boarded The Interceptor with him, not because you had wanted to - even though you took every chance out on the sea with gratefulness - but because your brother was so worried about the possibility of your abduction that he wished you were beside him at all times. Including those incredibly still moments of him gazing out into the sea. To him, he seemed to have an air of control, all the world's burdens upon his shoulder. This was his duty. When you gazed out into the sea, however, it was a plethora of possibilities. The unmarked territories you could claim, the desire for you to seek out treasure from all corners. You could be free. And no one would stop you. Save your brother, but that was something he'd always do anyway. Your attention focused on The Dauntless a couple hundred meters away as you noticed flocks of the British crew on small boats were paddling towards the ship you were in. Your brother gazed through his telescope and snarled at the sight, hesitantly passing the device for you to see as well. From afar, you saw Will Turner and... Jack Sparrow? The pirate? Both of them were flapping their arms around trying to make use of the mast. You guffawed at the sight, laughing at them. You turned to face your brother who quickly reminded you with his gaze about your behavior and you swallowed the amusement away as fast as you could.

The two ships - The Dauntless and The Interceptor - were locked horns now and your brother ordered you to come with him to board The Dauntless and put an end to Sparrow's madness. You reluctantly agreed, your eyes scanning around to see any sight of the familiar pirate you had so longed to see. 

"Search every cabin, every hull," Your brother barked, before turning back to you, "And you stay close to me. Do not go wandering about like a fool like you always do." 

You glowered at him, electing not to anger him any further as you stood on the deck. You watched him disappear among the surge of officers onto The Dauntless. You sighed, pacing back and forth when you noticed two men swing over to The Interceptor. It was Will and Jack.

Eyes widening in surprise, you tried to call attention to the situation but your cries fell on deaf ears. You stomped your foot and watched Jack cut off the rope ties, one by one. His gaze was fixed downwards until he looked up momentarily, and there you stood. He stood there for a few more seconds, completely surprised by your presence. Deep down, as much as he hated to admit it, he feared that he would never see you again.

"What are you doing? Cut the rope!" Will cried out in confusion before he followed Jack's eyes to you. Jack looked upwards at the rope still connecting the two boats before turning back to you,

"Jump, Miss Norrington!" He instructed, and you stepped forward, holding onto a long piece of rope. Upon hearing your name, your brother rushed out of the Captain's Quarters, pushing past his men.

"(Y/N)!" He yelled, his eyes daring you to make another move. Realizing that this was the only opportunity to acquire what you had spent so long yearning for; the deep blue seas, the adventure, and the whimsical treasures, you sent him one final glance before running off the deck of The Dauntless and swinging onto The Interceptor. With the final rope now gone, and the ship sailing forward at full speed your brother looked at you as if you were dead to him.

When The Dauntless was far behind and there seemed to be no danger at the present moment, you walked towards your friend Will and the pirate beside him. Will seemed elated that you were there, and he hugged you so warmly that you nearly forgot that he was not related to you by blood. Releasing you from his arms, he sheepishly stepped aside as Jack Sparrow stepped forward.

"Miss Norrington, it is a pleasure to have you on board with us. I almost feared you might not have the guts to swing over," He teased, his hand graciously wrapping around your own as he kissed your fingers with such gentleness that it surprised you. You cracked half a smile at him, narrowing your eyes, before responding,

"You may call me (Y/N), and please, I never turn down an opportunity for adventure."