#ears is pure chaotic energy

[hoshifighting]

can you how would svt moan? like their pitch or smth? 😭 (if ur comfy)

seungcheol; there’s something about seungcheol’s moans that feels like he’s trying to keep control, like he’s battling himself. it’s a low, rough sound, more of a rumble that starts deep in his chest and just sort of spills out without him meaning to. he tries to muffle it at first, maybe biting down on his lip or pressing his face into your neck, but when you get him just right, that control he’s so proud of? gone. it’s fucking raw. the sound he makes when he can’t hold back anymore is something between a groan and a growl, almost like he’s frustrated at how good it feels. and when you push him past the point of no return, that noise is so fucking needy, it’s like he’s begging without words. you can hear the desperation, the way he’s completely at your mercy, and it’s fucking addicting.

jeonghan’s moans are pure fucking tease, just like him. he doesn’t let them out easily, making you work for every single one. they’re breathy and soft at first, almost like he’s whispering them in your ear, but there’s this edge to them, a hint of something that makes your stomach flip. his moans are so sweet, it’s almost innocent. but don’t be fooled—there’s nothing innocent about the way he looks at you when he’s panting your name, voice all shaky and needy. the sound is high-pitched, almost a whine, and it fucking kills you because you know he’s doing it on purpose, playing you like he always does. but then you get him to that point where he can’t keep up the act, and his moans turn desperate, needy, and god, it’s so satisfying to know you’re the one who broke him.

joshua’s moans are like a fucking melody, almost too pretty to be real. they’re soft at first, these little sighs that make you want to lean in closer just to hear more. he’s the kind of guy who doesn’t let go easily, so when he does start to moan, it’s like he’s giving you a gift, something private and just for you. and fuck, when you finally push him over the edge, those moans get louder, more drawn out, like he’s savoring every single second of it. there’s something almost poetic about the way he sounds, like he’s singing your praises with every breath. but when he really loses himself, when he’s too far gone to care, there’s a roughness to his voice that’s so fucking hot. it’s like he’s letting you see a side of him that no one else gets to see, and it’s addictive as hell.

junhui’s moans are a fucking trip because he doesn’t try to hide anything. from the start, it’s all out there—no shame, no holding back. he’s so fucking responsive every touch, every movement pulling a new sound from him, and it’s like he’s in this constant state of pleasure. the way he moans your name, though—that’s something else. it’s so fucking clear, almost like he’s worshiping you with every sound, letting you know exactly how good you’re making him feel. when you push him to the edge, his moans turn into these broken, desperate gasps, like he can’t get enough air, can’t get enough of you.

hoshi’s moans are pure fucking energy, it matches with him. they’re loud, unapologetic, and so full of life. he’s not shy about letting you know exactly how much he’s enjoying himself, and his moans are these sharp, breathy sounds. there’s something almost playful about the way he sounds, like he’s having the time of his life and wants you to know it. but when things get serious, when you’ve got him on the edge, his moans take on this desperate, needy tone that’s so fucking hot. he’ll grab onto you, hold you close, and let out these rough, shaky moans that tell you he’s right there with you, ready to fall apart. it’s chaotic in the best way, and it makes every second with him feel like an adventure.

wonwoo’s moans are quiet at first, almost like he’s trying to keep them in, but there’s no fucking way he can hide them from you. there’s something so intimate about the way he moans, like he’s letting you in on this secret part of him that he doesn’t show anyone else. when he gets really into it, those moans get louder, more intense, breathier. it’s like he’s letting go of all that control he usually has, and it’s fucking beautiful. the way he moans your name, slow and drawn out, almost like he’s savoring it, is enough to drive you insane. and when you finally push him over the edge, those moans turn into these desperate, almost broken sounds that make you want to pull him closer, hold him tighter, and never let go.

woozi’s moans are quiet, but they’re so fucking intense that you feel them as much as you hear them. they’re these whiny, breathy sounds that he lets out through clenched teeth, and it’s like he’s fighting to keep control, even when he’s right on the edge. but when you push him just a little further, those moans turn into something raw and desperate, like he’s letting go of all that tension he’s been holding onto. there’s something so fucking real about the way he sounds, like he’s not used to being this vulnerable. when he moans your name, it’s almost like a confession, something he’s been holding back for too long. those moans turn into rough, breathy gasps that let you know he’s completely at your mercy, and that he’s right here, cumming for you.

minghao’s moans are like a fucking melody, all soft and breathy, like he’s holding back just to drive you crazy. it’s the way his lips part, barely a sound slipping out, but when you get that right angle that makes his eyes roll back, he lets out this low, drawn-out groan. it’s not loud, but it’s there. sometimes, when you’re really pushing him, you’ll get a shaky breath, almost like a whimper, like he’s about to fall apart right in your hands. he doesn’t beg, not out loud, but his body’s telling you everything you need to know—the way his fingers dig into your skin, the tension in his muscles, the way his breath catches every time you move. it’s like a challenge, to see how far you can push him until that composure of his just snaps.

mingyu’s moans are a whole fucking symphony, loud and unfiltered, like he doesn’t give a shit who hears. you get him all worked up, and he’s not holding back—every thrust, every touch pulls these deep, guttural sounds out of him that vibrate through his chest, like he’s losing control with every second. there’s this moment, right when he’s on the edge, where he goes silent for a beat, just a sharp inhale, and then he’s fucking roaring, cursing under his breath as he grips you tighter, pulling you closer like he needs to feel every inch of you, and you know he’s done for.

seokmin’s moans so pure :( almost sweet in a way that doesn’t match the filthy things you’re doing. he’s vocal, sure, but it’s the way he sounds—like he’s surprised every time you make him feel good. it’s all these soft, breathy sighs, mixed with gasps and little moans that get louder the closer he gets. there’s this innocence to it, like he can’t believe how good you’re making him feel, and that just makes it hotter. when you really get him going, his voice breaks, and he lets out these high-pitched, desperate whimpers that make you want to ruin him completely. it’s not just the sound, though—it’s the way he says your name, like it’s the only word he remembers, drawing it out between moans like he’s clinging to it. and when he finally comes, it’s this soft cry, his whole body shaking as he gasps for breath, looking at you with wide eyes like you just blew his fucking mind.

seungkwan’s moans are theatrical as hell, i think? but that’s what makes them so damn hot. he’s loud, and dramatic in the way he reacts to every touch. he’s not just moaning—he’s practically narrating what you’re doing to him, gasping out words like “fuck” and “shit” mixed with broken praises that tumble out of his mouth without a filter. “oh my god, yes, just like that,” he’s half-shouting, voice cracking with every grind, and it’s like he’s putting on a show just for you, letting you hear every single thing he’s feeling. but then, when youroll your hips on the right way, his voice drops an octave, and he’s moaning your name like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. he neds to show how much he fucking loves it, how much he loves you, and he’s letting you know, loud and clear.

vernon’s moans are calm and whiny—a bit shy, almost like he’s trying to keep them in, but that just makes them hotter. just these low, breathy sighs that slip out every time you touch him right. it’s like he’s embarrassed to let go, but when you push him, when you really get him going, you can hear the way his breath catches, a soft moan slipping out before he bites his lip to hold back more. but when he’s close, when he’s really feeling it, he stops trying to hold back, and you get these low, desperate groans that makes his voice crack “fuck, that feels so good,” and when he finally lets go, when he stops holding back, it’s like a floodgate opening—deep, throaty moans that make your toes curl.

chan’s moans are youthful, eager, like he’s experiencing everything for the first time all over again. he’s not shy about it, either—he’s vocal, letting out these enthusiastic, almost breathless moans every time you make him feel good. the moans sync up with your movements, getting louder and more desperate the closer he gets. there’s this energy to it, like he’s throwing his whole body into it, and when he’s really lost in it, you’ll hear this mix of whimpers and low, breathy groans that drive you insane. “fuck, yes, yes, yes, just like that,” he’s always gasping, his voice shaking with every word, and it’s like he’s cheering you on, urging you to keep going, to make him feel even better. and when he finally hits that peak, his moans turn into this raw, uncontrolled cry, his body tensing up as he lets out everything he’s been holding back.

[memorycycle]

can we make dog ears so big and flopping that theey create sound destruction wave motion cannon pulsar lasar quasar bolts of insinirating fire and lightning nd pure energy and heat and melting everything together and chaotic multiplying and new things and more and more complex like impossible to ever understand

[senawashere]

You're still the one..

A/n: This song is so Jake Seresin. And also i realised i messed the time's and date's so be aware of it🫣 This is for @ohtobeleah 's Galentines day!!

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy and giving birth and mostly fluff (minors please still dont interact)

Word count:3,8 K

February 17 2024. 01.34 am

Jake Seresin never thought he would settle.

Jake Seresin never thought he would come home to freshly baked dinner almost every night.

Jake Seresin never thought he would come home from deployment with pure joy.

Jake Seresin never thought he would be a dad.

Jake Seresin also never thought he would be a husband. A great one.

But here he was being the best of him for his family.

One night, with his wife peacefully laying beside him and their two beautiful babies sleeping soundly in their shared room,Jake Seresin couldn't help but reflect on how the story of their love had begun.

As he lay there, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains illuminated the room, casting a gentle aura over the scene. The hushed sounds of nighttime surrounded them, creating a tranquil atmosphere that contrasted with the high-octane tales of Jake’s daring adventures.

His mind drifted back to the Hard Deck, where the neon lights and pulsating beats had set the stage for their first meeting. Jake couldn't shake the memory of that night – the electric connection, the shared laughter, and the undeniable chemistry that had sparked between them. Little did he know that the chance encounter in the bar would evolve into a love story that now filled their shared space with warmth and joy.

August 18 2018:

The Hard Deck pulsed with the kind of energy that seemed to defy gravity, much like the Jake Seresin himself. Bright lights painted the room in vivid hues, casting an electric but also soft glow over the animated crowd. You, just another face in the buzzing sea of people, found solace in the dimly lit corner of the bar.

And then, he swaggered in, a living legend in khaki uniform and aviator sunglasses Jake Seresin, the talk of the town. His sandy blond,sleek hair and the unmistakable cocky grin made your heart flutter unexpectedly. As if guided by some unseen force, he ended up at the bar right beside you.

The air crackled with unspoken tension, a silent dialogue of glances exchanged beneath the pulsating beats. Penny must have noticed the incident because she leaned over to your ear and whispered encouragingly for you to break the ice.

"Fly any cool jets lately?" you asked, your attempt at nonchalance betrayed by the slight quiver in your voice,it wasn't expected.

He shot you a smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and the conversation took off like a supersonic jet. Jake's tales of high-flying adventures and near misses filled the air, weaving a spell that drew you into his orbit. The chaotic sounds of the bar faded away as you found yourself captivated by his world.

“Do you think they are having fun?” Phoenix asked Rooster while sipping her beer.

“Nah,i guess not”

But your and his laughter became the soundtrack of the night, shared stories creating a bridge between two strangers who felt strangely connected.

The Hard Deck, with its bright ambiance and heady atmosphere, became the backdrop to a love story written in stolen glances and genuine smiles.

In the heartbeat of that night, you realized that Jake Seresin was not just a daring pilot but a soul with whom you shared an undeniable connection. The clinking of glasses and the distant hum of conversations faded into the background, leaving only the vibrant chemistry that sparked between you and the real-life Hangman, as the Hard Deck transformed into the unexpected stage for the beginning of something extraordinary.

And both of you were grateful for Hard Deck and Penny that night.

October 10 2019:

Life with Jake was fun.

Life with Jake was an exhilarating journey, an adventure marked by laughter, spontaneity, and a touch of unpredictability. From the moment he entered your world, it was as if a burst of vibrant energy had been injected into the everyday routine, transforming the mundane into a thrilling escapade.

His infectious zest for life was like a magnetic force, pulling you into a whirlwind of excitement. Every day was an opportunity for new experiences, whether it was exploring uncharted places or simply finding joy in the ordinary. Jake's playful spirit infused even the simplest moments with a sense of fun and wonder.

Together, you navigated the ups and downs with a shared sense of humor that made challenges feel more like temporary detours than roadblocks. Life with Jake was a rollercoaster of laughter, a soundtrack of inside jokes and spontaneous adventures that left a trail of fond memories.

What made it even more special was Jake's ability to find joy in the little things. Whether it was a spontaneous road trip, a homemade dinner, or just a quiet evening at home, he had a knack for turning the ordinary into something extraordinary.

It was in those everyday moments that you discovered the true meaning of happiness – the joy of simply being with someone who knew how to make every moment count.

Life with Jake wasn't just fun; it was a celebration of love, friendship, and shared experiences. He taught you that life's journey is not just about reaching a destination but about savoring the joy of the ride. With Jake by your side, every day was an opportunity to embrace the thrill of the unknown, and you wouldn't have had it any other way.

Especially after little over a year, Jake knelt on one knee one morning as both of you were preparing breakfast. As you turned around in your seat to grab the toast, you saw him on just one knee, holding a blue velvet box, delicately opening it to reveal a slim, gold ring with a dainty not so big diamond in the center – a thoughtful choice you knew he had made, understanding how he moved in minimalist jewelry.

"I had a speech, and - aside from the fact that I have a lot of things to say about you but, I don't remember anything else now and more than that but look I'm madly in love with you. And ı can't think of a day where ı open my eyes and not see you or going to bed without you being the last person ı talk to and I just - Screw it, Y/N, I can't imagine a life without you in it, and just - marry me, please?"

His eyes were already shining before taking a deep breath, his lips trembling as he bitten his lower lip, his lips already pink, and there he was proposing in his black fitted shirt and in his red gingham pajama bottom.

You screamed, placing your hands over your heart, shaking your head as you cried, "Yes! Yes, oh my God, yes, hundred times yes!" Before you could even stand up, you found yourself throwing yourself to the floor, where he hugged you tightly.

Also, you remember that celebrating only with close friends and family in your home was very humble.

You didn't know too many people and you two didn't want a huge ceremony. So the backyard was the cutest place to get married.

As your bridesmaids Phoenix, Halo, and Penny took responsibility for decorating the backyard of your shared home with all the decors, illuminating the trees and walls.

The moment Jake saw you in the simple white wedding dress, it became a moment etched forever in everyone's mind who was present.

He was crouched, pulling you inside for a hug before closing his open mouth in disbelief; you were also laughing shyly as you pulled him to yourself.

He wore a white suit, with pink embroidered flowers on the sides resembling the headpiece you wore.

Polaroids were taken, all the photos were captured on film, making everything about the night,everyone was having the time of their lives.

Whole dagger squad was there and they were the life and the soul of the party.

Jake’s sisters,his family and your siblings and family were there.

Even admiral Beau came. Maverick brought him; he also brought Ice.

The night was more fun, more enchanting and more emotional than anyone expected.

“They said, "I bet they'll never make it"

But just look at us holding on

We're still together, still going strong..”

January 30 2020:

Three years ago, on January 30, you remember telling Jake that you were pregnant. Technically, you screamed it out.

Both of you decided to attend Shania Twain’s show at Madison Square Garden, given your shared admiration for her.

He just came from a 4 week deployment and you knew he needed a break, especially during tense times.

So you planned a trip to New York because he loved there but honestly who doesn't love New York?

But something happened almost before 5 days before the trip.

You got sick. It all started with a lack of appetite, and then suddenly, you felt like eating everything and anything. You blamed hormones until morning sickness kicked in.

If there was one thing you absolutely hated, it was nausea. You remember waking up shaking and retching, your body still feeling the need to rush to the toilet despite not having eaten anything that morning.

For the first three days of these incidents, you were alone. Jake was about to return from the deployment.

Not wanting to disturb him and worry him, you didn't tell him anything.

Whenever he asked why you looked unwell, you simply told him it was just nausea and nothing serious.

One day after Jake went out with Bradley, you remember calling your best friend,Phoenix, asking her to bring you a pregnancy test, choosing to avoid any tabloid talk.

Your heart was pounding, legs bouncing,palms sweaty, and nausea had already begun when you followed the instructions, waiting anxiously.

And then it happened; a scream of disbelief, one hand covering your mouth while the other tightly held the test - you were pregnant.

You remember Jake loving many things, many people, and many abstract ideas like love. You knew he loved babies and kids, often talking about them with you, mentioning seeing you both building a family.

So, after visiting the obstetrician and learning you were five weeks pregnant, you were dazed and excited to tell Jake but decided to do it in a different setting.

Four days after your visit, you and Jake were at Madison Square Garden singing along with Shania Twain.

You stood in front of Jake, leaning your back against him, his arms wrapped around your waist, your hands holding onto his arms, both of you swaying to “You’re still the one’ " while his chin rested on your shoulder.

When you moved slightly to look at him, Jake gazed back at you while singing.

“You're still the one I run to

The one that I belong to

You're still the one I want for life

You're still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You're still the one I kiss goodnight..”

He kissed your lips and lightly tapped your forehead. Slowly pulling back, he smiled at you.

And then you said it.

"I'm pregnant."

His eyebrows shot up, leaning closer, "I can't hear you!"

You grinned, turning in his arms, "I'm pregnant! Five weeks pregnant!"

His world stopped, mouth forming an 'O' shape as his eyes widened,

"Y/N, are you kidding?!"

With a surprised smile, he asked, lips stretching into a grin, "My love, are you for real?" he asked.

Nodding with joy, you brought his hand from his cheek to your stomach, saying, "You're going to be a dad!"

His breakdown, tears streaming down, biting his lip as he threw his head back, red-nosed,his adam apple bobbing and crying with veins visible on his forehead, hugging you before crying into your shoulder – the only thing he needed to cry into before crying to your shoulder.

His eyes were teary as he held you, feeling him pulling back to rest his forehead against yours, moving his hands to the sides of your neck, "I love you. I love you so much," pulling you back into a hug, one hand moving towards the back of your head, the other on your back, and bringing you closer.

The 9 month pregnancy was smooth and emotional.

The 9 months of your pregnancy were painful, but there wasn't much else to feel aside from your love for Jake's incredible support and assistance and your admiration for your daughter, Emma Seresin.

Since the moment Emma came into the world, you knew she had wrapped her tiny finger around Jake's.

Your daughter was a bond between both of you, but you took pride in her character and personality at such a young age.

When Emma turned 3, you felt proud of how you and Jake could chat with her, even if it was about Jake’s job or hard topics like that and you loved every moment of him talking about how much Emma loved strawberry chapstick or how her nail color was important for her.

On a day when a familiar nausea and change in appetite reminded you of a late period, one question lingered in your mind.

So, over a meal, you brought it up to your husband, who was struggling to eat with your daughter in his lap.

Long story short, you were pregnant – again.

June 26 2023:

You, your husband, and your daughter were sitting in your backyard, allowing Emma to get some vitamin D. While you were writing in your journal, both of you were on the swings, and Emma was playing with her toys and running around, Jake was reading a book beside you.

‘’Mommy?’’

"Yes, sweetheart?"

She ran towards you, putting both of her hands on her knees before looking at your eight-month-pregnant belly and grinning, "What's in there?"

Jake chuckled, putting his book aside to pay closer attention.

"Your baby sibling is in there," you smiled at her.

"But how? Can I sit in there too?"

You and Jake chuckled at her question. "You used to sit in there, darling. But then, you were born three years ago."

Emma frowned, looking at you. "I want to go back in."

You looked at Jake, silently asking for his help.

Before lifting her into your lap, he leaned forward, hands wrapping around her underarms. "But your sibling won't have enough space then."

"I don't care," she whined, crossing her arms and looking down while talking, her lips quivering.

"Your sibling needs all the space to grow up and play with you. Don't you want that?" You asked gently, one hand on your knee.

"But he'll take my toys."

"You can share all your toys with him, sweetheart. He'll share his toys with you too." You chuckled, fearing she wouldn't like her sibling. It was something neither you nor Jake was ready for.

"But, but, you and dad will buy more toys for him.I don't want him." She said with a whimper, arms crossed and looking down, her lips trembling.

You and Jake shared a look before turning back to your three-year-old.

"Emma," Jake gently called her name, looking at her without lowering his gaze, "Sweetie, look at me, please." Emma slowly looked at Jake, allowing both of you to see her teary eyes. "You know Mommy and Daddy love you, and we'll always love you, right?"

You reassured her, saying, 'We love you very much, baby, and nothing will change that,'" you said, placing one hand on your knee, "We're excited for your sibling to meet you. He loves you too."

"Didn't you get excited the other day to show him your room?" Jake asked, rubbing her back gently.

"Yes," she murmured.

"You have so much to show and teach him. You can be his first best friend. Isn't that nice?"

As if understanding what was said, Emma slowly nodded her head.

"We love you, sweetheart. Forever," Jake said, leaning to give her a kiss on the forehead.

Emma turned to her father, crossing her arms and raising two fingers, one for you and one for Jake, "Promise?"

As if your hearts melted right there, you would cry as you locked your pinky finger with hers, watching Jake do the same.

"We promise."

But nobody warned you about the hell you'd go through when your daughter started to envy Calvin.

The day Emma entered the hospital room, holding hands with Javy, and looked at you lying in the hospital bed next to Calvin, making baby sounds as he moved his arms and legs,his eyes wide open, you knew it was somehow going good.

She seemed very welcoming.

Jake sat on the other side of his son, playing with your hair as a non-verbal way to thank you and comfort you after the pain you went through. His lips were fixed in a smile; his heart was pounding with happiness at the addition of the new healthy family members.

Emma looked at her parents, unable to see the middle sibling. She was overwhelmed because she knew she would meet her brother.

"Hello, sweetheart!" Jake grinned at her, bending slightly and opening his arms. Before kissing her cheek, he hugged her tightly as he carried her to sit on his hip, watching her eyes immediately shift to the newborn baby.

"Meet Calvin, buddy." Tired but with a smile on your face, you spoke, hoping she would take the change lightly.

Well, at least you hoped so.

But as Emma threw herself onto Jake, burying her head on his shoulder, crying, it was expected.

Javy and his wife didn't know how to help. Just like Bradley and Natasha.

"Hey, hey, what's the problem?" Jake asked, rubbing her back as she cried.

"I don't like him," Emma said, dragging him, her arms wrapped around Jake's neck.

You both know she wasn't a kid like this and it surprised you both.

Your heart broke, and Jake's smile faded as if triggered by the screams of your daughter, Calvin started crying too. You sat down, gently picking him up into your arms, placing him against your chest, soothing him, and supporting the back of his head as you pleaded for almost everything to be done by him.

Until Jake locked onto Emma after realizing she was causing the crying. He got out of the small room and stopped in the corridor, holding her, bouncing softly to calm her down.

"Come on, baby, please calm down," he said with a sigh, "Why don't you like Calvin?" he muttered, rubbing her back.

Emma sniffled, pulled back, but while keeping her father's head down, she moved her hand to touch Jake's necklace - the one you and Emma gave him on Father's Day, "Because-because-because he's little and needs more attention, and you won’t love me anymore.."

Jake sat in a chair, still holding his daughter in the same way. "What makes you think that?"

"He will have more love because he's little and needs more attention."

Jake took a deep breath and let the words drown him. While it was true that the little one needed necessary and more attention, he didn't know how to explain to the older one that it wasn't the case.

"When you were a little baby," he started, looking at her, "Mommy and Daddy were everywhere with you. You wanted your parents,us, with you all the time. You cried when we were asleep, spit up too much on us," Jake chuckled to himself, remembering those moments and realizing how everything felt like just yesterday, "You always wanted your mommy and daddy with you. And we never left you," he finished, "So, what makes you think we'd leave you now, sweetheart?"

Emma didn't respond.

"Your brother can't talk yet. He can't say when he's hurt, he doesn't even know the taste of your favorite blueberry pancakes. And we have to make sure he does all these things just like you. But the thing is," Jake leaned to whisper in her ear as if sharing a secret, "Mommy and Daddy can't do it alone. We can't do it without you."

Emma slowly looked at Jake, her face with furrowed eyebrows.

"We promised, sweetheart. We promised to love you forever. Have we ever broken a promise?" He watched her nod, "And we won't. So what do you say? Can you give your brother a chance? Actually, he's quite funny." Jake smiled at her.

"Is he funnier than you?" She asked.

Jake laughed, "Much funnier! You just have to look closely."

Emma giggled quietly.

"Mommy is so excited for you to meet Calvin, do you know that? She was telling me about all the numbers you can teach him, all the pictures you two will take. And what he'll get you for Christmas."

"Can he get me a book about stars? With pictures?" She asked excitedly.

Jake grinned, filled her face with kisses, and heard her giggle, knowing it was one of his favorite sounds, "Tell him."

When Jake stopped, Emma sighed, lowering her shoulder, "Okay, Daddy. I'll say to him.."

"Thank you." He smiled gratefully, "Shall we go back?"

When your husband hugged your daughter and walked in with her in his arms, you couldn't know what to expect until you saw your them

Shy and embarrassed Emma, after sharing a glance with Javy,and hugged Jake after returning to her place.

Calvin had also returned to his place, and silence had returned.

Emma looked at him again, finally noticing how small his hands were, and got curious. Reluctantly, she leaned down a bit with the intention of poking his hand.

But the moment she touched him, it was the moment Calvin wrapped his fingers around hers, making her smile.

"He's holding my finger!" She squealed with delight, "You were right, Daddy. He is funny."

"Yes, you just need to get to know him a bit more," Jake said, bending down and kissing Calvin’s hand before looking at you and whispering an ‘’ı love you so much’’

He was happy that you were still the one to love.

02.05 am February 17:

There was a tired smile formed on his face after he thought about memories.

Beside him, his wife, you stirred in your sleep, a serene expression on your face.

That made him realize how late it was.

Jake turned to face your sleeping form. Moved some stray of your hair and kissed your soft cheek. and while he was looking at you he noticed something.. Jake's heart swelled with gratitude for the life you both had built together.

Your shared room became a sanctuary, adorned with the echoes of laughter,after some rough night; soft pantings and ‘’ı love you’s’’, sometimes a place where you comforted each other and the soft breathing of your sleeping kids, and the quiet acknowledgment of a love that had deepened with time.

In the stillness of the night, surrounded by the tangible evidence of your shared journey – the woman he loved, you, and the two precious souls you both had brought into the world together– Jake couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected beauty of how their story had unfolded. The Hard Deck, with its bright yellow lights and adrenaline-fueled beginnings, now seemed like a distant, yet cherished, memory in the symphony of their family life.

And he was grateful that you were still the one who he kissed for goodnight.

I loved writing this 🥹

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @floydsglasses @lyn-js @seresinsbrat @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaddie @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces @topguncortez @hangmanapologist

[pandapetals]

Slim Pickens

logan howlett x afab!reader- angsty, reader lowkey hates logan, inspired by sabrina carpenter's song slim pickens

read on Ao3

Without a doubt, you knew you were going to end up alone. The thought crept in after every disappointing date, every one-night stand that left you cold, every late-night text that led nowhere. All the guys you met were the same—douchebags with oversized egos and nothing real to offer. It was a pattern you couldn't break, a cycle that seemed destined to repeat. Why was it so hard to find a decent guy?

You didn’t even need perfect. You weren’t looking for some fairy-tale romance or a knight in shining armor. You just wanted someone who didn’t make you feel like you were settling for less than you deserved.

Then there was Logan.

You’d sized him up the moment you met him—jacked, rough around the edges, with a perpetual scowl and a short temper to match. He walked like he owned the room, his shoulders tense, his eyes dark, and he had the kind of attitude that practically screamed “trouble.” You’d rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, dismissing him in an instant. He wasn’t your type. You knew his kind. And after a few clipped conversations, you were more than certain Logan was exactly the kind of guy you couldn’t stand.

“Douchebag,” you’d muttered after he’d walked off from another pointless exchange.

And you didn’t hold back either. You bitched and complained about him to anyone who’d listen—Charles, Scott, Storm, anyone within earshot of your growing frustration.

“He’s impossible,” you’d said one night over beers with Storm, your voice rising with indignation. “He’s not a team player, doesn’t listen to anyone, and doesn’t even get me started on his attitude. You know what he said to me earlier?”

Storm had given you a knowing look but let you rant anyway. Everyone had opinions about Logan, after all. He was easy to dislike, a ball of raw energy, constantly on the edge of something dark and dangerous.

“He’s just... ugh,” you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t get why anyone puts up with him.”

But deep down, beneath all the complaining, something gnawed at you. Something you didn’t want to admit.

You hadn’t seen it right away—not until one mission changed everything.

It had been chaotic, a nightmare situation where nothing went as planned. The team had been dispatched to rescue a group of mutant kids who had been captured by some underground militia. The operation had gone sideways almost immediately. You’d been cornered, pinned down by enemy fire, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as panic crept in. And then—Logan.

You saw him, right in the thick of it, moving with a kind of brutal precision that took your breath away. He tore through the enemy lines like it was nothing, claws flashing, his eyes wild and fierce. But what caught you wasn’t the violence—it was the way he threw himself into the rescue without a second thought. No hesitation, no fear, just pure instinct as he fought his way to those kids.

The moment you saw him lift one of the terrified children into his arms, shielding them from harm with his own body, something inside you shifted. He wasn’t careful, wasn’t gentle, but there was a raw protectiveness in his actions that hit you like a punch to the gut.

You watched him take down another wave of attackers, blood streaking his face, his body moving like a machine—powerful, unrelenting. And then, as he brought the last of the kids to safety, something unexpected flared in your chest.

Respect.

He was more than your first impression.

You didn’t want to admit it, but Logan wasn’t just the hot-tempered, arrogant jerk you’d made him out to be. There was something deeper there, something you’d been too quick to write off. The way he fought, the way he protected those kids, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever asking for help—it unsettled you. Because it meant you’d been wrong about him.

Being wrong about Logan was a lot more dangerous than you wanted to acknowledge.

Days passed after that mission, but you couldn’t shake the image of him—the way he’d looked standing there, bloodied but unbroken, with a kid clinging to him like he was some kind of savior. The frustration you felt toward him softened, and changed. You found yourself noticing things about him you hadn’t before. The way his gruffness wasn’t just aggression, but a shield. The way he stayed on the fringes of the group, never quite fitting in, but always there when it mattered.

You didn’t complain about him as much after that. You didn’t have much to say when Scott made some offhand comment about Logan’s attitude or when Storm chuckled about his lone-wolf tendencies. Instead, you found yourself defending him in small, subtle ways, even if it was just a quiet “He gets the job done.”

It was a shift you didn’t want to admit, but one that was impossible to ignore. The more you tried to fight it, the more you felt the pull.

And Logan—he noticed.

You’d catch him watching you now, his dark eyes lingering longer than before, his smirk a little less cocky, a little more curious. He never said much, never one for words, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your pulse quicken.

One night, after a particularly long and exhausting mission, you found yourself alone with him in the briefing room. Everyone else had already left, and you were sorting through some files when Logan approached, his boots heavy on the floor. You didn’t look up, but your body tensed, already attuned to his presence.

“You were good out there,” he said gruffly, voice low and gravelly.

You glanced up, surprised by the unexpected compliment. “Thanks,” you muttered, unsure how to respond. Compliments weren’t his style, and it threw you off balance.

Logan leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable expression of his. “You’re not as annoying as I thought,” he added, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched with a reluctant smile. “High praise coming from you.”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air thick with something that felt different now. Less hostile, more... charged. You didn’t know what to do with it, and this new dynamic was between you. It wasn’t the same as before, but you weren’t sure what it was either.

Logan pushed off the table and started to walk away, but then paused, looking back at you over his shoulder. “See you around, kid.”

You scoffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “I’m not a kid, Logan.”

His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with something almost playful. “Yeah. I know.”

Just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding harder than it should have been, your mind racing with thoughts you weren’t ready to unpack.

Logan wasn’t perfect. Hell, he was far from it. Maybe there was more to him than you’d given him credit for.

That scared you more than anything.

[void-wolfie]

Insomnia

summary: jenna helps you with your insomnia.

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: none, pure fluff (not unless you include my terrible writing lol)

words: 360

a/n: not my best work but i felt bad for not updating in a little while... life's been chaotic so i haven't had the time/energy to write much lol... don't worry y'all, new content coming...eventually?

You rolled over on your side again, trying to get more comfortable, hoping that maybe if you were in just the position you might be able to fall asleep.

What was most likely only thirty seconds felt more like thirty years. You tossed again, rolling back around, trying to be gentle so you wouldn’t wake up your girlfriend sleeping next to you.

More minutes passed and still nothing. Your mind just wouldn't shut off. Sometimes it was random thoughts, other times you were starting at the back of your eyelids, hoping you'd eventually fall asleep.

Still nothing...

You leaned over, checking the time on your phone; 3:15 am. So much for a good night's sleep...

You put your phone back on the nightstand, wiggling back under the covers to get comfortable again.

"Mmmm, baby..." An arm was draped over your waist and your girlfriend's groggy voice broke the silence of the room, "why are you awake?"

You felt bad for waking her up with all your tossing and turning. But you couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry, love. I just can't fall asleep,"

Jenna snuggled closer to you, wrapping her arms around you, and burying her face in your chest.

"Did you take your meds?"

"no..."

"Babe…" even in her half-asleep state she still found the energy to scold you.

"I know, I know," you sighed, "I just don't like taking them, they make me feel sleepy the next day,"

She sighed, it was way too late to take them now, not unless you wanted to be comatose for the rest of the day. But it gave her another idea to try.

"Come here," she pulled you closer to her, practically draping you across her small frame.

You settled in between her legs, your ear pressed right against her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, putting on some soft music before setting it back down. She raked her hands through your hair, absentmindedly fiddling with the strands.

"Comfy?"

You nodded, ever so slightly starting to drift off to sleep, "perfect..."

It wasn't even five minutes before Jenna peeked down to see you fast asleep, arms wrapped tightly around her.

[head-empty-just-ace]

Yes, I know the Ace, Sanji, and Zoro fics have their own NSFW scenarios...but for the life of me— I cannot do that to Luffy. I have tried but no. Just no. Also, the first chunk of it is how the crew would react to him. I think it'd be a cute addition.

Monkey D. Luffy x GN!Reader

CW: Hinted sensory overload. Mainly just fluff.

Word Count: 500+

Fluff w/ Strawhats

Just. Pure. Chaotic. Energy.

Usually, Luffy's already pretty hyperactive. Messing around with the others and just a fun goofy guy. But now it's even worse because of his canine-tendencies.

Sanji has the fridge just chained down and placed multiple locks because Luffy kept eating all the food inside of it. Sometimes, he has to stand guard at night just to make sure they'll still have food for breakfast.

Usopp and Chopper are just messing around with Luffy. They're throwing him balls and frisbees to help him burn off all that energy. Even taught him tricks.

Robin uses her devil fruit to just tickle and indulge Luffy every now and then when the mood strikes. He adores it. It makes him laugh so hard.

Nami would play along for a bit when Luffy wants to mess around. But if she doesn't, she'll lie that Usopp is hiding a delicious portion of meat in his workshop.

Brook does notice whenever Luffy gets overwhelmed a bit by the noise, scent, and sceneries. So, he'll distract Luffy by playing a tune. It works so effectively on the captain.

Zoro's the one to reign him in. If Luffy's about to go overboard because he was chasing after some bird or a ball Chopper and Usopp threw? He's the one to either grab him the shirt or dive into the sea to save the guy.

Jimbei and his blessed patience always puts up with Luffy whenever he starts getting chatty— if Chopper and Usopp aren't around to play with him. He and Luffy would just share stories with each other excitedly.

Franky would just be very chill with Luffy. Telling him all sorts of inventions. Maybe even tricking Luffy into think they're playing a game but its just Franky getting Luffy to fetch tools for him while he works.

Fluff w/ you

You would either join in on the fun or be the one to scold him whenever he made a mess on the deck. At some point, you didn't know whether to laugh or lecture Usopp and Chopper for teaching him tricks as if he really were a dog.

Whenever it was mealtime, he'd rest his chin against the table while gazing up at you with the best pair of puppy eyes he could muster. He already cleaned out his plate and Sanji wouldn't give him any more food.

He's be even more clingy than usual. Using his devil fruit to wrap his arms around you like some snake to keep you close.

He'll even ask you to pet and scratch his head. Ofc, you indulge the guy. He'd sulk and pout otherwise.

If Brook isn't around and he gets overwhelmed, he'll come up to you and complain that its too noisy. You'll hug him against your chest and place your hands gently over his ears and hum a song— he usually falls asleep in your arms.

Similar to Ace, he doesn't like it when his hat bothers his ears. It just doesn't sit comfortably. So, he'll give you his precious hat bc he knows you'll take care of it for him.

He does get protective over you. If you're talking with anyone on the ship and you start laughing, he'll walk up to you and just hug you from behind. There's a small sulk on his face.

If you do lean back into his touch and scratch his ear— he'll melt back into a smile and join in with your conversation with the others. Still hugging you tho.

In the case that you guys get in a fight, his ears are flat on his head. His tail dull and slack behind him. A pout visible on his face.

Woke everyone up by howling at the moon loudly (it unfortunately happened multiple times and it doesn't help that he does it even when he's asleep).

~~~~~

If you liked this and wanna read more, here's my masterlist!

[cyborg-franky]

One Night Stand - Ace

[Older work from libary of ohara that I am posting here]

N-S-F-W / GN Reader

Depending on how much he’d drank and how much false confidence and courage flowed through his veins would dictate who would make the first move between you and Ace.

Clumsy flirting, overuse use of eyebrow wiggles.

He’s not all desperate, hopeless, and clumsy. When he’s got that streak in him, when he’s in a very certain mood he will lean against you, his hot breath against your ear and whisper pure utter filth in your ear.

You go bright red, brighter than the accessories Ace wore around his neck and wrist.

He would prefer to take you back to his, he liked the familiarity of it.

Your very surprised his room isn’t a mess, you expected him to live in a disaster area to match his somewhat chaotic energy.

His hands, you can’t keep track of them. Was that his hand on your ass and your chest? Whose pulling his shorts down? You? Him? And how did he remove your top without you noticing?

Did he grow extra limbs just so he could undress you both in what had to be the Grandlines record time because you swear you have fabric burns from how he ripped down your pants.

Eager, eager like a wildfire described Ace perfectly. Hot hands on your hips, hotter lips sucking the skin of your neck.

You grab at wavy black locks, trying to assert some dominance over him.

Ace is somewhere between a horn dog and inexperienced.

He can fuck like a jackrabbit in heat, but his fingers often forget all the extra things they could be doing.

That’s okay, foreplay is there, somewhat and he is a fast learner, going on your moans and breathy pleads for what you want.

He always listens.

The bed bangs hard against the wall, you think someone yells at Ace to ‘knock that shit off’ but neither of you cares when the commander is fucking into your wanting hole, bruising grip on your hips as he pulls you back to meet his thrusts.

Dirty talk isn’t perhaps his forte but he tries, he might accidentally insult you. Not that you care when he’s so deep inside you, hitting all the right places and knocking you around like a dingy on a rough sea.

Ace is just like his power and his temper, a brilliant hot flash that burns up in seconds. He won’t last too long. That’s fine, your three sheets to the wind and just as easy to please.

The next day you would find yourself nestled in strong arms, drool against your bruised, love bite littered neck.

Feeling sore, in the most pleasant and delightful of ways.

Ace will say he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean to ‘take advantage of you’ he feels embarrassed, sheepish yet can’t take his arms from around you.

Because he has feelings, which tumble from his stammering lips.

You chuckle and tell him you wanted it just as much as he did and ask for maybe a round two before breakfast.

[positivelyholland]

swift-styles daughter being brought on stage by harry and they just dance and run around stage together a cute little chaotic duo

pairing: harry styles x daughter!reader (brief mention of taylor x daughter too)

genre: fluff

summary: a moment with a father, his daughter, a massive stage, and a crowd full of thousands

warnings: performing on stage???

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The anticipation in the air was electric as the stadium lights dimmed, casting a warm golden glow on the massive stage. The crowd erupted into deafening cheers, their excitement vibrating through your entire being.

You clung to your father's hand tightly, your heart pounding in sync with the bass thumping from the speakers.

Harry Styles, the man who stole millions of hearts with his soulful voice and charming smile, stood center stage. His eyes twinkled with a mix of nerves and excitement.

He glanced down at you, his precious daughter, and grinned. "Ready, love?"

You nodded enthusiastically, unable to contain the bubbling joy within you. This was a moment you had dreamt of for as long as you could remember—to share the stage with your talented father.

As the first notes of a lively, infectious tune filled the air, the spotlight found its way to the two of you, and the crowd's applause grew even louder.

With a twinkle in his eye, Harry gently tugged your hand, and you both took your first steps onto the grand stage. The atmosphere was exhilarating, a dreamlike energy coursing through your veins.

As if by instinct, you began to move in sync with the music, your feet carrying you effortlessly across the vast expanse of the stage.

Your father matched your steps effortlessly. He twirled and spun, his voice filling the stadium with its warmth, while you mimicked his every move.

The crowd was enchanted, captivated by the pure joy radiating from the stage. Their cheers fueled your spirit, pushing you to dance with even more energy.

As the song reached its peak, Harry scooped you up into his arms, spinning you around in a dizzying display of love and excitement... which was impressive, considering you aren't a little kid anymore.

The audience roared with approval, and you felt like the luckiest person in the world, cradled in your father's embrace.

With a small grin, Harry set you down gently, and the two of you began to weave through the stage.

The lights flashed and colors swirled around you, creating a kaleidoscope effect that mirrored the excitement bubbling inside you.

The crowd cheered and clapped along, caught up in the magical moment of a father and his daughter sharing their love of music.

As the music began to fade, your father knelt down in front of you, his eyes filled with adoration.

"You were amazing, y/n," he whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

Your heart swelled with pride and affection. "Learned it from the best," you laughed, your voice filled with awe.

The crowd erupted into applause once more, their admiration filling the air. Your father stood up, grabbing your hand one final time, and you waved to the crowd, your smiles reflecting the happiness that radiated from within.

This moment would forever be etched in your memory—a precious bond between a father and his daughter, celebrated on a stage that held the dreams of millions.

As the lights faded and the cheers subsided, you clung to your father, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.

He only had a very quick break to carry you off before he has to go back on-stage, but you decided to share one thought that's been going through your mind this whole time...

"After this Mom's gonna be bringing me on stage all the time from now on," you commented with a giggle.

"That she will be," he laughed along with you.

And as you disappeared into the wings and your dad returned to the stage, the world knew that the legendary Harry Styles had found his greatest joy—his daughter, the star that lit up his life.

[lamamasjamas]

Pixie Dust

Summary: Early morning greetings and first meetings. Miguel finds his very own little guide after encountering problems with a warlock.

A/n: I changed a few thangs from my original concepts because I wanted Miguel to be sexier. I’m feeling rather horny and size kink is godly. Could be considered fetishy, idk. 🗣️

Based on these two posts: 1 2

Warnings: Hunter!/Cursed Monster!Miguel, Fairy!Reader, dub-con (sex pollen) smut (Giantism? Don't know what's it's called but Reader is the size of his palm and he fucks her with his tongue), there’s a rabid squirrel tryna eat her in the beginning, some angst and tw for the use of a hunting rifle…

It was disagreeable to the eyes. The sounds it made were akin to those of a brawling cat. He was clearly not friendly, at least not anymore.

The sickness had spread, coming from the nearby kingdoms, mostly because of the dogs and various other rodents that plagued the cities and towns around it.

Poor Gerald, his eyes were usually soft, his chitters inviting and playful. But now he chases you, mouth gaping and teeth gnashing with yellowish tinted foam, trying to get a bite of your flesh.

It was a pleasant morning, you were lazing by the stream, waiting for the clothing you had made with the scraps found in the outer villages of the kingdom nearby to dry.

Then you heard them, at first you had mistaken it for playing but then you heard a sharp cry emanating from the bushel behind you. A deep and hurting cry.

You saw the squirrel, Gerald, before he saw you. You stood frozen in a mix of fear, anxiety, and sadness. How did the disease get this far into the woods? There must have been others…

Because of the initial shock, your bodies refusal to move and run away as Gerald bit into a companion's neck in repetition, he found a new target.

Just weeks before, you had gotten stuck in branches of a pine, it’s bristles so rough and thick that your left wing had bent and twisted.

Everyone, including yourself had wept that day.

They were wrapped in layered leaves, covered in ointment which was pasted onto the damaged delicate chitin in order to help it heal.

You could barely flutter and once you had been cornered by the base of a tree, hardly fitting into a small crevice so that Gerald couldn’t claw or snap at you, you shook in fear.

The bark around you was starting to chip, the only barrier between you both starting to dwindle along with your hope that he would leave you alone.

…

Miguel heard you before he saw you. His senses had been heightened, to an alarming and annoying degree.

It had made him lock himself inside his small isolated cottage for a week because of it. It was overwhelming. Your screams and cries for help were overwhelming too.

It was hard to spot you, hidden in a small nook against the tree trunk, pressing yourself as far in as possible to avoid the screeching squirrel in front of you.

It had almost made him chuckle, he thought you might have just been a rider, unable to tame your pet. But then he saw it. The pure black eyes, dilated to expand over the whiteness.

It was feral, its fur matted with its own blood and the mud from the soil of the nearby stream. He aimed right behind its shoulder, directly at its chest.

The shot startled you, it created a harsh wind to breeze by you, your ears ringing from its chaotic energy.

You were cowered into the trunk, hands over your pointed twitching ears and eyes tightly shut.

You were about the height of a robin, no larger than his ring finger, a couple of your heads longer than his thumb.

You weren’t supposed to be here, he realized, your wing had dried herbs and leaves, stiff enough to keep your wing upright, but making it utterly useless because of the added weight.

He lowered to his knees, you peaked from behind the bark and your eyes sharpened harshly. He watches as realization washes over you, eyes widening and brows furrowing in confusion.

"What are you...?" you whisper softly, eyes trailing over his piercing red eyes, the fangs peaking over his bottom lip.

He doesn't quite know himself, but he does know he's not entirely human either and judging by the way your nose twitches and your nostrils flare, you could tell as well.

Still, you keep your displeasure at seeing a type of human well known. You don't even say thank you as you make your way to the body of Gerald, reaching out to at least pat one of his ears.

He takes a moment to look closely at your wing, the patterns similar to a Monarch Butterfly. You were supposed to migrate south for the fall, along with the rest of your group, your family.

It was well known that your kind traveled yearly, your instincts similar to those of your ancestral cousins, the milkweeds. You might freeze to death from the cold this winter. His palm blocked you before you could reach the creature who attacked you minutes before.

The pity he felt for you was wavered at your glare and scowl.

"It's sick. If you want to start foaming at the mouth, go ahead, fairy."

Your scowl turned to a pout, then a reluctant sigh escaped between your lips. You sit, staring at the ground beside Gerald, only able to see some of the tufts of his hair from your peripheral.

You imagine his chest rising and falling, as if he were just sleeping.

Miguel didn't know if it was the pity of the loss of a creature you clearly had some connection to, or your injury. It might have been because he knew you were alone and that you might not survive the winter.

He sat nearby on a log by the stream, making a fire to start cooking some rabbit. He skins it and briefly thinks of keeping the fur so that Lyla, a sprite who usually helps him in his hunts, could make a coat.

His slight chuckle to himself makes you turn your head, you eye the fur he places in the cold water of the stream to clean off, along with the meat.

A few minutes later it smells like cooked meat, the sun was starting to set, and your clothes were dry. You could have left; he could have left too but you both stayed.

You shiver, body going rigged with cold. You got closer to the fire, he watches as you flutter your wings, keeping them from spreading with tingles of the deadened nerves.

It's like they dance with the fire, making shapes with the shadows on the ground next to you.

He might have also stayed close because you smell so sweet. Like the candy they would sell at the markets. Pure sugar, warm and sweet enough to numb his tongue.

You were intrigued on what he was. He smelled too much like human to be considered much else, but you knew humans didn't have the aroma of the wild in their scent.

He smelled dangerous, strong, protective. You felt as if you owed him something, which wasn't something you wanted to feel, not to anyone, much less a human. It was instinctive, it was a form of... courting to your people.

A strong partner that is able to protect and provide was encouraged and the acts of services were held sacred. You scowl when he nudged a piece of meat towards you, holding it towards you with the tip of his knife.

Your face heated seconds after, realizing he wasn’t going to leave you alone until you took the offering.

You took it too quickly. The rest of the village took most of the stored food in order to consume it for their travels south. You were left with nothing.

You remember the face of your mother, attempting to leave as much as possible, stating she didn't need as much for the journey this year. You knew she was lying, you returned most of what she left back into her pouch the night before their leaving; without her knowledge.

You shiver, chewing slowly despite wanting to stuff your face and lick your fingers clean from the heartiest meal you've had in two weeks. You remined him of Lyla in size, he glances at the fur, he imagines asking her to make you a coat, similar to ones she wears. There was enough for at least two.

He can't help but want to take care of you. You were a beautiful little thing, headstrong and strong-willed judging by the way you reapplied ointment and cut gauze from fabric for your still healing wing.

You weren't afraid of him as you sit near the fire, now sat up on a makeshift bed made of petals and grass.

It reminded you of a mutualistic relationship. Like a crocodile and its little bird pecking at its teeth. An apex predator and a meek prey, living communally.

Therefore, you wonder what he wanted from you…

"Where's the sinkhole?"

His voice did startle you, from its roughness and boom amidst the chirping of crickets and the churning of the water in the stream, despite your glowing confidence

But you could laugh. There it was, the self centeredness, the reason he didn’t let you get mauled by an animal.

The sinkhole is where the wishes from the upper layer have sunken down into. The myth was that wishes had become so heavy, so much so that they created a giant gaping hole into the ground.

This resulted in the creation of the cave lakes, its pools and its magical properties. Along with the upper layer destruction came the destruction of one’s otherworldly abilities to fulfill one’s dreams, aspirations and ambitions.

The only way to have a wish granted is to get deep into the sinkhole. No human has been able to get past the forest. The thick of it at least.

You look up at him and glance at his body. A human attempting to traverse the forest where creatures larger and more dangerous than himself habituated?

You giggle. His head tilts and his eyes narrow, his eyes were consumed in red. You stare back, hiding your teasing and spiteful grin behind your hand, your eyes squinted from the smile in your cheeks.

You spit your words slowly, mockingly.

"What will you wish for, human?"

...

He promised you protection, shelter and a free trip south, where the weather was warmer; where your wings wouldn't freeze and snap off. Coincidentally, the sinkhole was further south, which seemed like a perfect opportunity for both of you.

He’d be given passage and guidance through lands no human was allowed solely because you were with him as an escort, and you’d get to live another year.

You slept peacefully that night, dreaming of seeing your family soon.

He was awake before you, you stretched as you sat up. His body, hunched over feet away, next to Gerald, now covered in flowers and leaves, turns at the sound of your yawn.

His eyes were the color of drying blood, almost brown but in the light burning a deep maroon. His fangs were longer than the night before, or maybe you didn't notice how sharp and long they were in the dark.

He looked like a demon. He turned his head at your stare, standing to his feet, allowing you to then see the flowers surrounding Gerald. You smiled.

...

You sat atop his head. He feared he would accidentally crush you in his hands or cut you with his claws. He felt as if his pocket could suffocate you. You'd slip off his shoulders and since of you couldn't flitter down softly, you'd splat on the ground floor.

So, you sat on his head, playing with the long tufts of his soft hair and slapping his forehead lightly when wanting his attention.

He'd grit his teeth with every question, answering despite knowing you just wanted to annoy him.

"So... you wronged a warlock you used to work for, and you're slowly turning into a spider monster?"

"..."

His cheeks turn a deep shade of red and he glances up at you as your head peaks down at him in genuine curiosity.

"I... I did this. He poisoned me and I attempted to find a cure, by myself..."

You burst out laughing.

"So you cursed yourself?"

He stays silent and rolls his eyes as you continue to giggle, even falling to your side and ruffling his hair in the process. Once you calm you sigh and sit up. You pat his forehead in a sweet and pitiful gesture, making him scowl slightly.

His heart flutters as you lean down to his ear.

"You humans are so silly."

To fight through his embarrassment he swats at you, effectively. You yelp as you fall, sliding down the side of head, fingers barely skimming the strap of his bag on his shoulder as you descend on bunches of wildflowers.

He's momentarily stunned, before he kneels down and searches for you amidst the bush, unknowingly opening up flower buds and shaking their stalks.

"Wait- stop!"

It was too late, you cover your head as pollen falls over you, sprinkling you in golden dust. You cough and gag at the sweetness of it, the taste burning your tongue and making your skin tingle. You collapse on the grass, attempting to clean your hands on the blades covered in the morning's precipitation.

He watches in concern, picking you up gently and making you groan in frustration.

"Put me down!"

He doesn't, instead he attempts to wipe the dust off of your body, but as a result he just spreads it deeper into your clothes and skin. You whine at his ignorance, your fists pounding against his pointer finger as if it were a person standing in front of you.

Miguel watches as you resign yourself, spewing curses at him in a language he did not understand. He continues to 'flick' off the pollen from your body, until you let out a moan and your hands clutched his finger still.

Now you had no way of cleaning yourself and you felt your body heating up quickly, too quickly than what is considered normal. The flowers would be collected by many types of fairies in the region, for recreational purposes and to enhance the 'breeding' experience.

Every touch, every sound and every vibration felt around you was amplified, all sensations directing themselves to your pussy. You pushed yourself up against his fingertip, breasts plush against the pad.

Your nipples pebbled and you closed your eyes at the intense feeling of them being rubbed against the ridges of his fingerprint.

Usually, the village would collect around three flowers a year, enough to harvest pollen for those who needed it. You think Miguel had indirectly shaken three flowers on top of you, a whole year's supply of the aphrodisiac.

He shakes you off his finger delicately, confused at your sudden affectionate behavior and making you fall onto his palm, unable to sit back up.

The amount of pollen that had fallen over you was overtaking your body; your eyes start to roll back as your hips twitched. He holds you gently, lifting your trembling body to his face to inspect you.

He blows on you, holding his breath as some of the remaining uningested and uninhaled dust flies away from you.

Your mouth opens to let out a throaty moan as your body convulses at the feeling. He feels wetness pool on his palm, and he inhales sharply, in turn taking in the hint of the heavy arousal in the air.

“What’s happening to you?”

You writhe at his voice as it sends pleasant vibrations over your body. Your attempts to stand were unsuccessful as your thighs squeezed together to tighten your core.

You suddenly press your face into his skin, kissing as if you were with a lover. The tiny pecks leave him speechless, his heart racing as you lathe your tongue over the lines of his palm.

“Miguel…” you moan, voice higher than usual, breathy and seductive.

“I need to release. Or else I’ll die…”

Miguel can clearly tell your mind was clouded, you lifted your skirt up, pressing your face down and lifting your ass up as if he could penetrate you.

You wanted cock, deep down you wanted Miguel’s cock. But it was physically impossible. For some reason, in your hazed brain, you imagined him thrusting into you, breeding you till you screamed.

The words startled him, but he could feel his dick rise with every wiggle of your hips and the way your hand spread your ass cheeks and presented your slick hole.

“You’ll die?”

“Yes. I will,” you whine.

You wouldn’t. It just felt like you would. He moves his face closer as if he were going to inspect you. His nose twitches and his mouth salivates. His lips seemed to part on their own.

His tongue slithers up your thigh and spreads them as it explores. You feel his tastebuds, the warm wetness of the muscle twitch against your skin. Your wings flutter like lashes in time with your heartbeat, you turn your head to the side and desperate tears glide down your cheeks.

"Please..."

The tip of his tongue meets your cunt, encompassing over your clit and slit, spreading your lips apart and splaying them flat. He tastes you, sweet and tangy, and he hums.

For a moment he pulls back, watching as you cover your heated face with one hand and grip his thumb with the other. You were shaking, your pussy pulsing and your clit peaking between your folds, aching to be licked and grinded on.

He glances to the stalk of the flower, briefly imagining breaking it in half and pushing it into your hole, fucking you while allowing you to move your hips against his tongue.

He wants to hear the squelch of your tiny tight pussy, stuff you full until you couldn't breathe. But he needed to help you release now.

Your squeals and moans echo in the forest, the tip of his tongue was stretching you, barely skimming inside your hole and hitting your g-spot consistently.

Miguel flexes his tongue, attempting to angle it downward. His bottom lip presses against your clit and mound, the lower half of his face spreading your legs.

Your arousal and his saliva was dripping onto his palm, as if he were sucking on a candy with little to no restraint. You were so impossibly sweet, especially with each orgasm he brings you.

Miguel had heard rumors before, of changling faes who would transform into human women for a night for fun. How they could seduce easily and their cunts would taste like sugar cane.

He believes it now, especially when you gasp out a heady moan and squirt on his tongue; the eight orgasm so far.

He groans into you, your hand tightens over his thumb and index finger tightly as you ride out your orgasm. Your arms give out from under you and his tongue pops out of your cunt with a squelch as you buckle forward.

He licks you clean the second you collapse, your wings folding protectively as you weakly turn on your back in short breathed pants.

He presses a kiss, aiming for your swollen cunt. His lips rub over your lower half and suction for a second. Enough to pull out a groan from your lips and shudder a sigh as you close your eyes.

He sets up camp for the night, fixing you a bed from a spare shirt he had and petals, not from the wildflowers of course.

He was gentle to clean you up with a rag with the tip of his finger, ensuring that the pollen was off of your skin for good. He delicately pried the ointment for your wings out of your small pouch, later wrapping said wing gently like you did every couple of hours.

You were out cold, but breathing and healthy by the way your skin was still warm and your chest still lifted and fell with your breaths.

He checks the backs of your thighs and calves, he sighs in relief at not seeing any pricks from his now growing in fangs.

He sleeps nearby, sat up with his arms crossed, ready to defend from any hostile creatures nearby.

A/n: Bim Bam! I’m taking requests again, officially! For this ‘series’ or anything else… 😈 Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated and help authors/artists create more so please 🙏

[fun-k-board]

AHHH YOU DO LACKADAISY REQUESTS??? May I request reader awkwardly confessing to Rocky and thinking it it was a mistake until he gets all happy and does the Beam™

YES YES YES

Pronouns used : None

Note(s) : I can't write romance or Rocky well ahhhhh please help me

I fumbled with the seams and ends of my clothes, whether a shirt, skirt or jacket whatever I wore was pulled on and scratched at. By the end, Mordecai would've shot me dead for the lack of symmetry after I played with the fabrics for so long. The loud cars outside were muffled by the cafe walls, the aching smell of emmisions clawed it's way in which done nothing to calm my scattered thoughts.

Smoke reminded me of him, the chaotic and almost evil laughter while everything burned behind him caused my cheeks to burn with shyness. I could never tell if he noticed my affectionate and obsessive stares, but curiosity kills the cat, and maybe I would be let back with the promise of love if he returned my feelings.

"You got me pancakes!??" A paw and a violin slammed onto the table, my fur stood on end and I let out a hiss, ears snapped back and tail bushy with shock. The man in question arrived, his lucky R tie on with his signature grin accompanied, tail swishing back and forth with pure joy. Coughing, I patted down my fluffed out fur, his unwavering energy bouncing back at me.

"See? This is why you're the best person I know." His eyes drifted upwards, meeting mine while I felt my cheeks burn yet again. Subconsciously, my ears pinned back with embarrassment and I struggled to get the next words out. Looking down as if my legs were the most interesting thing I'd ever witnessed.

"Oh! Uhm, yeah." I paused, unsure of how to go on as Rocky sat down opposite me in record speed, setting down his violin on the seat next to him. He looked up at me to continue for a moment, after seeing I didn't object to him eating he began wolfing down his meal with eyes closed in contempt, syrup messily spreading all over him. Looking down at my own food, I felt like I'd get more sick if I ate, wanting to get everything over and done with quickly. "You can have mine if you want, there was a discount so I got two." Rocky momentarily stopped, eyes wide and brimming with tears of happiness at the food before him.

"I asked you here about. Well. What I mean to say is-" Realising he didn't hear me from how quiet I was, I breathed in and out, preparing myself. "I really like you. Not in the friend way, like how Ivy and Freckle are, uhm, not that I'm saying we're exactly like that yknow? I just..." I suddenly felt nervous, my ears standing at attention for his reply, but he just swallowed his food and stared intently at me, pancakes forgotten with no expression that I could understand.

"I'm so, so sorry this was dumb I should leave." His unwavering eyes felt like bullets tearing into my flesh, I ached to leave and just as I tried to releave myself of that pain by snapping my arm back to my side, attempting to shakily stand stand up when a familiar paw gripped onto my own. My face may not have visibly gone red, but that didn't change how my entire body was on fire, paws sweaty and shaky as I managed to look up, wide and loving eyes stared back at me. I almost choked at his next words.

Syrup dripped down onto his lucky tie and I instinctively reached over to wipe it off, looking back up at him for a moment I noticed what I was doing, his unblinking eyes so close my breath practically transferring to his. Suddenly self conscious over everything I was doing, my eyes began to dart around nervously, breath quickening as the air shifted to feel like I was suffocating in deep water.

EXTRA -

"You do?" Rocky's face turned to a softer version of his regular smile, my feelings were maxed out as I stumbled over my words, nerves over the roof and unsure if this was an acceptance. Instead nodding sharply. Almost as fast as a bullet, he reached over to hug me and laughed like a maniac. My arms shyly reached over and hugged him back, I could feel him move up and down going from the toes of his feet to them being flat, voice vibrating on my chest and making me snuggle into his collarbone.

I heard a sharp cough and practically had to force the man's strong grip off me, while his laughter died down, he remained uncaring of the guest at our table. When I finally managed to pull his noodle arms off me, I turned to the newcomer and didn't see his demeanor die down for a moment.

"Please don't be disruptive. We have other patrons to serve." One of the waitress' stood by the table, dissaproving gaze in full display as her sharp tone made me suddenly hyper aware of the noise level Rocky was previously laughing at. Speaking of, he didn't reply, and the second my eyes turned to him he simply toothily grinned at me with eyes wide and nothing but happiness in them.

"Oh! I'm sorry, we'll leave." My head shot down in embarrassment, she scoffed and her feet stomped away in annoyance, I looked up at Rocky to see he didn't even look at her as she walked away. No attempt to move or grab his violin.

That's when it happened, he began vibrating. The bright light became searing and I had to look away in fear of blindness, I could hear screams as I felt a hot burn begin on my body. That's when my vision went and a ringing was all I could hear. Bodies littereted the remains of the cafe, fire spreading rapidly as he began burning his way through the earth, creating a crator of pure light. He beamed™ and there were no survivors.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Mission Imp-Possible

[Although we're still three hours shy of the poll's conclusion, I couldn't resist writing this any longer, so, here it is. Swiss babysits some of the imps for an afternoon, it goes about as well as can be expected.] Below the cut.

Swiss would like to know whose idea this was so he can personally thank them, with his fists perhaps, for the headache of a task he's about to waste his day away with.

He has to watch the imps.

Not all of them, just the smaller ones; Cirrus, Dew, Rain, and Sunshine.

But that was still half the pack of the chaotic little runts, and Swiss can already feel the tension building behind his eyes the moment he opens his door and sees the pet carrier sitting there waiting for him.

Crouching down to look inside, Swiss locks eyes with the smallest of the lot; Dew.

Yes, Dew had named his imp after himself, the others had, too, to be fair, but Dew's imp had a special nickname to differentiate him from the ghoul himself.

Dewdles.

Fucking.

Dewdles.

In appearance, he's sort of like a cross between a hairless cat and a rabbit, with little mismatched horns and glowing spots where his magic emanates from his body.

Much like his master, Dewdles is a hybrid, though it was hard to say what his secondary element is, because it's certainly not fire.

He's water and... something else.

Quintessence, maybe, but no one is really sure.

He's a bit like a male calico in that sense.

Rare.

Dewdles is the least of Swiss' concern out of the lot though.

Unlike Dewdrop himself, Dewdles is well behaved, but he needs a lot of attention or he'll become all wet eyed and lethargic...

It's a little heartbreaking to see, and Swiss would rather not, so Dewdles is probably going to spend most of his visit on his lap or close by.

Out of the four of them, he's most concerned with Rain's imp.

Drizzle.

Somehow that name is worse than Dewdles, but Swiss can't quite parse why.

Drizzle is... in a word?

Slippery.

He's pure water, meaning his body has the consistency of one of those water tube toys; All flop and wiggle, and, if Swiss didn't no better, no bones whatsoever.

Drizzle is wrapped around Dewdles protectively, although if you ask Swiss, it looks more like he's about to suffocate the little guy and eat him as a snake might.

"He would never." Rain had assured him one evening when he'd seen Drizzle pick Dewdles up off the couch with his mouth and carried him off to snuggle in an overturned cardboard box in the corner, "...At least I hope not."

Rain was quick to clarify that he was joking, but it had taken a great deal of self restraint to keep himself from getting up rescuing the little imp.

A confused chirp from inside the carrier draws Swiss' attention to Sunflower, Sunshine's imp, who was just as small as Dewdles, if not a bit smaller -her large batlike wings and ears gave her a bit more mass- but it was hard to tell unless they were side by side.

Sunflower is a menace, too, largely because she can fly.

Yeah, apparently some imps can do that, though Sunflower seems more inclined to cling and climb, preferring to make others carry her than having to exert energy flying from place to place.

Still, he's a bit worried about her getting on top of or behind something and getting stuck should she decide to do so.

She probably won't.

He hopes.

And lastly, the small wisp of cloud in the very back of the carrier, glaring at him like an angry little lamb, is... Cirrus Jr.

Swiss can mock the others' naming skills all he wants, but, really?

Cirrus Jr.?

He knows better than to laugh about it to Cirrus' face though.

Cirrus Jr. is, quite possibly, the angriest little imp Swiss has yet to encounter.

She's a bit like one of those puffy lap dogs.

Pomeranians.

She bites like one at least.

Swiss assesses the little collective in front of him and then, sighing, takes the carrier inside his room, carefully shutting the door and latching it... because, yeah, the little assholes can work doorknobs.

There's not much imps can't do if they put their walnut sized brains to it, but, much like cats, they don't really have the ability to think things through beyond having the thought, "I've done the thing, now what?"

If they did, Swiss thinks the church would be sending them on the first bus back to Hell, but they don't, and, frankly, that much is apparent based on the little outfit Dewdles has on when he pulls him from the carrier.

Swiss has to pause looking at the pink, rhinestone embroidered shirt and attached tulle skirt, turning Dewdles' entire body in his hand to read the writing on the back.

"Grandpa's Princess." Swiss reads aloud, flipping Dewdles around to meet his gaze.

"Copia bought this for you, didn't he?"

Dewdles croaks at him, giving him a wide-eyed stare, his little two toed paws swimming uselessly in the air.

It's cute.

Swiss sets him down on the ground, watching him waddle along, unsteady on land in spite of being amphibious.

Drizzle lets himself out of the carrier once he sees Dewdles roaming around freely, sidling up beside the smaller imp, bumping against him gently.

Around his long, long neck is a little bow that matches the tulle on Dewdles' skirt.

Swiss hums and shrugs at the pair and turns back to see Sunflower crawling along the floor, looking around warily before slinking over to climb his knee.

"What are you doing?" he asks, feeling her little claws dig into his jeans as she pulls herself up onto his thigh.

She squeaks at him.

Carefully, Swiss extends his hand to her, letting her climb on before resting her on his shoulder.

Probably the only high place he trusts her to be while under his supervision.

Unlike Dewdles and Drizzle, she doesn't have any sort of accessories, probably because they would impede her ability to fly in one way or another, but as far as Swiss is concerned, she's adorable enough without them.

Truthfully, Swiss finds all of the imps impossibly cute... he just.

He just has trouble being around them.

He's not sure why really.

He's not allergic, and he's not afraid of the per se.

He just...

There's some mental hang up that makes it hard for him to understand them.

Even though they can make little noises and communicate quite well, they're very difficult creatures to read, especially for Swiss, and he isn't sure why.

He's been around other animals, other people, but imps?

Imps are weird.

Or maybe he's weird?

It doesn't really matter, it just means Swiss has to pour more energy into figuring out what they want, and sometimes he doesn't have it.

Today, though, he's fine.

He thinks so at least.

Although as he stares down Cirrus Jr., who has yet to leave the carrier, he can't help but feel a little out of his element, and as a multi-ghoul that's certainly an accomplishment in and of itself.

But he decides that, if he has to, or rather, because he wants to, that he's going to get the fluffy ball of rage to like him, even just a little bit.

Glancing over at Dewdles and Drizzle wobbling and sniffing around his room in tandem, and checking on Sunflower where she rests on his shoulder -receiving a mirthful squeak when he pokes the top of her head- Swiss offers his free hand to Cirrus Jr.

She sniffs once.

Twice.

And promptly trots over to the door.

Ouch.

He'd kind of expected that outcome, he's just glad her decision didn't involve sinking her teeth into his hand.

Again.

For the millionth time.

Swiss sighs and shifts to a proper sitting position on the floor, sliding the carrier over to retrieve a bag from the back.

It's a little baggy of treats and other things the imps might want, like toys or...

"Is that another dress?" Swiss pulls out another little costume from the bag; An imp version of their current uniform, complete with little booties.

It's too big to be for Dewdles though, and Swiss has never seen Drizzle wear anything apart from the occasional collar, so whose...

Cirrus Jr.

Swiss looks between the imp and the aloof cloud sat staring at his door.

There's even a little cape.

Yeah, no, this is going on that imp right now.

"Little demon~" Swiss singsongs, tapping his nails on the ground to draw Cirrus Jr.'s attention.

She glares at him.

"Wanna play dress up? Huh?"

There's a flicker of... something... in the imp's eyes.

Swiss thinks for a moment.

"Wanna look like your mama? Huh? Do ya?"

Cirrus Jr. tilts her head and whines.

Her little tail moving ever so slightly.

"Who wants to look like a badass~?"

Tiny hooves click on the ground enthusiastically and come to paw at his shins.

"...Holy shit."

The ordeal of getting a tiny, tiny wisp of cloud into a full on costume takes Swiss a full ten minutes, if only because the outfit is, like anything commissioned by the church these days... incredibly layered and detailed.

"They sprung for real buckles and zippers and not just velcro, huh?" Swiss muses once he finishes tying the laces on Cirrus Jr.'s boots.

"I take anything I ever said about Dewdles being spoiled. You. You are spoiled." he says, scratching behind Cirrus Jr.'s ears, making her wiggle about and roll, "Yes you are, yes you are..."

"Mrrp."

Swiss shivers when he feels a wet, slimy mitt touch his pant leg.

Drizzle has, apparently, grown bored of following Dewdles around and has decided a nap is in order.

The only problem is, Swiss doesn't want a soggy, mucus covered imp in his lap right now.

"No."

If they were outside or in the pool, maybe, but the idea of his lounge pants getting crusted in snot in the process?

Not ideal.

"Noo..."

He doesn't get much of a choice in the matter when Drizzle opens his mouth, yawning widely to expose his practically toothless maw, and all but slides onto him.

"...Okay."

Swiss looks to see where Dewdles has gone without his buddy, and finds him...

Scaling the side of his bookshelf?!

"Dewdles, please-"

"Whrrr..."

"Please, bud."

"Mrrp, mrrr..."

Swiss tries to rise up from his place on the floor, but when he does...

"Mrrp!" Drizzle digs his claws into Swiss's thighs, hanging off of him and hissing irritably as his bed is taken away from him.

"Drizzle!"

"SQUEEEEE-"

All movement in the room stops as Sunflower cries.

Shrill and loud.

Directly into Swiss' ear.

Okay.

Okay, okay, okay.

Yeah, this is too much for Swiss to handle.

Why did the others think he could handle this??

He can't handle it.

He really can't.

He needs help.

Help.

"Stop."

Out from under the bed, shaking off a disturbing cloud of dust, comes Swiss' own imp.

Seldom seen or heard by anyone, even Swiss.

It doesn't have a name, Swiss hadn't wanted to name it to begin with, because it's...

"Behave."

It's weirdly intelligent, alright?

Swiss knows imps are good at mimicking sounds they hear.

But his imp is... it's weird.

It's like Mountain's imp.

Cursed in some way.

But different from the rest.

Even Mounty's imp has the excuse of belonging to, well, Mounty, to explain its odd behavior.

But his imp?

That thing scares him.

And the fact that it was sleeping under his bed this whole time?

It's no wonder he has so much trouble sleeping alone in his room at night.

His imp is shaped like a dog, but wrong.

Like someone tried to draw the animal from memory and made it flesh, with horns atop its narrow head and spines along its tail...

"Behave." it repeats, not to the imps but to...

Him?

Swiss points at himself and the imp just nods before slipping backwards under the bed, black eyes never leaving him.

"Sleeping."

Right.

Gathering up the imps back into the carrier, Swiss slowly flees the room, apologizing for waking the... the whatever the fuck is living under his bed, and heads down the hallway.

He sets up in the common room instead.

"...Right, so that was fucking terrifying." he says after letting the imps back out again, holding Dewdles and Cirrus' Jr. on his chest like a lifeline for his sanity.

Drizzle has curled up on the chair across from the couch, the one Rain likes, and is asleep.

And Sunflower is...

Hanging from the ceiling fan upsidedown.

Fantastic.

It's not on at least.

"Why are you torturing me?" Swiss whines, getting a mix of squeaks and chirps in response.

"You're all stressing me out."

"Mrrp."

"Squeak."

"Chirp."

"Snore."

Swiss lifts his head.

"Drizzle did you just say 'snore' instead of actually snoring?"

Drizzle chuffs at him lightly, sticking out his long, blue, froglike tongue at him.

"...If I didn't know Rain would be mad at me for losing you, I would throw you in the lake so fast-"

Drizzle raises his ears at that.

"I'm NOT throwing you in the lake."

Ears down.

"Mrrp."

Dewdles frees himself from Swiss' grip and drops down onto the floor, trotting over to the chair.

"Meep?"

Drizzle snakes his head down and grabs Dewdles off the floor, nestling him beside him.

They stare at Swiss disapprovingly together.

Swiss could be mad.

But then again, they are still dressed up like little matching nerds, so he just sticks his tongue out at Drizzle and turns his attention to Cirrus Jr., who has taken to sleepily purring at full volume against him.

Swiss yawns.

"The others better get back soon."

It doesn't take long for Swiss to drift off, feeling Cirrus Jr. go deadweight on top of him provides just the right amount of pressure for his body to relax, and the even breathing of Dewdles and Drizzle sleeping provides a nice bit of ambient white noise...

Sunflower chatters at him lightly from her perch, wrapping her wings around herself, taking the others cue and closing her eyes as well...

"Swiss?"

A hand jostles him awake.

He's not sure how long it's been, but when he goes to open his eyes he...

He can't see shit.

He brings a hand to his face and startles when he feels something soft and squishy resting there.

"Meep."

Ah.

Dewdles.

The imp flops off of his face when he rises, rubbing his eyes.

Rain is standing over him, Drizzle already having wrapped himself around his shoulders, "The imps wear you out?"

Swiss shakes his hand, stretching and yawning.

"Not at all, man..."

He looks around.

Cirrus Jr. is still asleep between his feet, and Sunflower is...

He feels something move on top of his head, in his hair.

"Can you...?"

He gestures to where Sunflower has tangled her feet into his curls.

"Mn." Rain carefully untangles the imp from Swiss' hair, letting her dangle from his index finger, "Were they all good? Five imps is a lot to take care of at one time..."

"Yeah, yeah, five is-" Swiss pauses, "I was only watching four imps."

"Oh, uh..."

"What?"

"Your imp...?" Rain gestures over the back of the couch.

Swiss peeks over the edge.

Laying firmly against the back of the couch, in an awkward sploot is his imp.

His imp followed him out to the common room.

Seriosuly?

"Fuck."

"Swiss Miss doesn't usually leave your room, I'm surprised."

Swiss looks at Rain.

"Swiss... Swiss Miss?"

"Oh, we also call him Marshmallow sometimes, or Chunky Butt, because he begs for food like crazy in the morning..." Rain hums, "You didn't know that?"

"I didn't know it even had a name."

Rain blinks at him.

"Don't judge me, I don't like imps!"

Rain gestures at the pile of imps surrounding him.

"They like me, not the other way around!"

Dewdles pats his face with his tiny paw.

Placating.

"...You don't count. You're practically a rat."

"Mrrp."

"Rats are cool."

"Mrr, mrr..."

Rain snorts, "Says the man talking to one like that."

Swiss flushes, embarrassed.

"Shut."

[stranger-rants]

Another part of the birthday gift series 💜

March 29, 1990.

Billy turns 23.

It’s a Thursday, but Billy doesn’t get his birthday gift on Thursday, March 29, 1990 because by that time it would be too late.

No, Steve surprises Billy two weeks before with his present. Billy’s eyes light up like a child’s when Steve presents him with tickets to see Mötley Crüe in Fort Wayne, Indiana on March 21st. He hasn’t seen Billy that excited for something in a long time if ever.

They get a hotel room closer to the venue. Billy spends a lot of time choosing an outfit for the show, not just for himself but for Steve, too. Steve can’t be seen at a metal concert in a polo. It just isn’t right, so Billy let’s him borrow his leather jacket, skin tight jeans, and a band t-shirt so he can be “presentable” enough when they go.

The concert is high energy and chaotic and fun and Steve loves it about just as much as Billy does because he gets to see a side of Billy he hasn’t really seen before. Billy is carefree, grinning from ear to ear. Singing along to every verse. Joking around with the strangers next to him. It makes him fall in love with Billy all over again.

“Fuck, I love this song!” Billy shouts when they begin to play Looks That Kill. Steve is fairly certain Billy loves every song since he keeps saying it over and over, but the pure joy and excitement radiating off of Billy is infectious. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t typically Steve’s type of music because he’s decided he loves every song that makes Billy this happy.

After the concert, Billy’s gone to take a piss and Steve’s hanging around the venue waiting for him. A familiar looking guy bumps into him by accident with an “Oh, shit. Sorry, dude!” as his drink soaks Steve’s, well, Billy’s band t-shirt. The guy offers to make it up to him. Grabs him a new shirt and some official merch that he signs.

The guy is long gone when Billy returns. Billy notices the new shirt, and Steve explains the whole incident leaving out the part that the guy he ran into was one of the band members. He doesn’t need to know he just missed one of his heroes. Billy shrugs as they head out to the parking lot. “Least we got a free official tour shirt out of it, those things are fucking expensive.”

“We? Who says I’m giving this shirt up,” Steve teases.

“Well, it was my shirt that got ruined,” Billy teases right back, “so give it here, bitch!”

“No, no. I’m keeping this!”

They chase each other around the parking lot for a bit, laughing until they’re out of breath. Billy finds more creative ways to get the shirt off of him when they get back to their hotel room.

On March 29, 1990, Billy opens the glove compartment of his fixed up Camaro to find a Shout At The Devil cassette tape that’s been autographed by Nikki Sixx.

[aniyaaaaayyya]

On the edge to oblivion

Prologue

mahito x f!reader, near death experience, angst, hurt, blood mentioned, yandere?, GORE, obsessive behavior, mahito and reader are in an (unofficial) relationship, reader is human with cursed energy

You are on a peaceful daytrip with Mahito enjoying the date when a curse suddenly charges towards you and starts attacking you. You get caught up in the frenzy and fatally injured. The world closes in on you and when you suddenly jolt awake, something is off. Prologue to “On the edge of oblivion“

story masterlist | next

The day had started off normal- well, as normal as it could be when your life was intertwined with a cursed spirit like Mahito.

He was walking beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, occasionally glancing your way with a childish grin. His presence had become familiar, almost comforting, in a twisted, chaotic sort of way. It was the same unpredictable Mahito who could manipulate a soul with a mere touch, disfiguring people left and right, but, for some reason, he never did that to yours.

You were used to the dangers of being around him—used to the shadows, the fear that crept into your mind whenever you reminded yourself that you were only human, mortal, fragile. But you’d gotten reckless. Too comfortable. Mahito’s world was starting to feel like your own, and in a moment of blissful ignorance, you let yourself forget the fine line between life and death.

That’s when the attack came.

It happened so fast—a blur of movement, a flash of teeth and claws as the curse came crashing down on you. The streets were empty, abandoned. You hadn’t even felt its presence until it was too late. The curse was massive, grotesque, its body a mess of twisted limbs and decaying flesh, dripping with blood and bile. It‘s flesh seemed to be rotting off its bones and you could smell dirt and puss. Its grotesque smile stretched impossibly wide, as though it knew what was coming.

Your brain screamed at you to move away, hide behind Mahito, to do something as Mahito jumped in front of you, twisting his form into an inhuman wall of meat to block the creature’s blows. His body constantly changed and you could see the bones slithering around underneath his skin like maggots on a cadaver- something that shouldn’t have been possible. He was so fast, so brutal in the way he fought, turning the curse’s own body against it, molding its flesh into something grotesque and broken.

But it wasn’t enough.

A miscalculation. A split-second too slow. Your body had refused to move having forgotten that you couldn’t take a hit and bounce back, that you couldn’t regenerate your body with your cursed energy like Mahito. When the curse lashed out, its claws dug into you, tearing through flesh and bone with sickening ease. Your skin ripped and you could feel and hear the sound of bones shattering, vessels and flesh bursting open. Was that your intestines spilling out??

The pain hit you like a wave, hot and sharp, spreading through your body like wildfire. You didn’t even have time to scream. The world tilted, and you were already on the ground, your vision blurring as blood pooled beneath you. The smell of iron filled your nose, and your mind spun, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

You were dying.

Your breaths came in short, ragged, bloodied gasps, each one more painful than the last. You could feel your body giving up, the edges of your consciousness fraying as the coldness set in. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You weren’t supposed to die.

You blinked feeling nauseous, but the blur wouldn’t go away. And then Mahito was already above you, his face twisted in a way you’d never seen before—pure panic, raw terror, and something else. Desperation.

His hands were on you in an instant, trembling, and you could hear him speaking, though his words sounded like they were coming from far away, muffled by the ringing in your ears, by the erratic beating of your heart. His cursed energy surged around you, flooding your senses, making the world twist and distort as he tried to keep you alive. But you could see it in his eyes. He knew he was losing you.

It wasn’t until you felt your very soul being pulled at—stretched—that you realized what he was doing. You tried to stop him, to tell him it was okay, that he didn’t need to go this far. But your mouth wouldn’t move. Your body wouldn’t respond. You could only lie there and let him do what he intended to do.

Mahito’s hands dug into your chest, his cursed energy sinking into your skin, past the bone, reaching for your very soul. You felt it. The unnatural sensation of your soul being manipulated, torn apart and stitched back together in ways that should’ve been impossible.

It hurt.

God, it hurt in ways you didn’t know were possible. Your body screamed in agony, even as it tried to shut down, every nerve on fire, every inch of your skin crawling with the sensation of being pulled apart. The pain seemed to coat your every vein. You wanted to beg him to stop, but all you could do was choke on your own blood.

You were on the edge of oblivion—dangling between life and death, between human and something else. And Mahito was the one holding you here, refusing to let you stray off.

But the darkness was calling to you, pulling you under with promises of peace, of release from the unbearable pain. Your vision blurred, and the world around you started to fade.

Mahito’s voice was the last thing you heard, filled with a kind of raw, unhinged emotion you’d never thought him capable of.

“Don’t leave me here.”

Then, everything went black.

When you awoke again with a harsh rut catapulting you back into the alley, something felt off. Something was off. Your very soul felt… different. Every movement was foreign now…

Just what had he done?

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Authors note: okay so the doesn’t 100% fit with chapter 1 (some details are off like the muffled voice) because I wrote the prologue after chapter 1 (really stupid…) and I wanted to go more into detail here but now some things overlap oddly. Anyways, I tried to edit chapter 1 so it fits better but please simply ignore if anything feels off!!

Taglist:

please let me know if you‘d like to be added!

[aromaticpetals]

I was gonna send this without being an anon but then i thought about it and realized there is absolutely no way im letting anybody see my depravity when i dont even have a side account lmao

How are you doing on this fine day? I hope you are well. I saw the request thing and decided to submit a little something.

If you do afab!reader×male character, may I reuqest a size difference+wedding night/breeding kink hc with itto, ayato and thoma (seperately)? I tried to write it myself before but it ended horribly 💅

- 💫 anon

AHHHHHH TYSM FOR BEING MY 1ST REQUEST 💫 ANON!!!!

To answer your question, I'm doing okay! My cat has been a bit chaotic tho..

I'll be honest, I've never considered doing reader x male char. cause Idk what I'm doing half the time if it has nothing to do with women😭 But I can at least try! (I did get the headers done so I might as well at this point and Idek if it can be considered a hc..) Btw, I was laughing my ass off while making this cause it don't rlly make sense

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎! Size diff and breeding 𝗸𝗶����𝗸𝘀.. 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 too! IT'S JS 𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒😭 (Possibly not suitable for those under the legal age!)

𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙊 was proud to have caught such a beaut' like you, let alone marry ya! Of course, Shinobu gave you an entire book on how to care for Itto, she called it the "Boss's baby rules" since, well.. He did act like a man-child from time to time... But let's put that fact aside! The whole gang was happy that their boss got married to someone like you! (Without you by Itto's side, he probably would have gotten into 𝘸𝘢𝘺 more trouble with Kujou Sara..)

It was the night of y'all getting married and you couldn't lie, you were as happy as the Archons would let you be, although Itto had been acting a little.. Off? Fortunately, your now husband had managed to snap you out of your thoughts by bringing you his signature dish and announcing it with his loud vocals. "𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙖 𝙜𝙤, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙚! 𝘼𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞 𝙉𝙪𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙤 𝙐𝙣𝙤 𝙄𝙩𝙩𝙤'𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙝, 𝙒𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜!" he proudly stated, handing you the plate before taking a seat next to you on your shared futon. You immediately pushed all second thoughts away as the savory scent of the dish filled your nostrils, trying to decide whether you should've scarfed it down or not. As he watched you eat, you could've sworn you saw a certain glint in his eyes! Unfortunately for you, you should've known that on the night of getting married to him, he'd want to do some rather.. Energy draining activities!

Just a few moments later: you laid there on the futon, stripped of both your dignity and clothing, he stared down at your small form with a.. lustful glint in his eyes. Before you knew it, you were seated in his naked lap, feeling his hardened member press against your rear as he whispered sweet words into your ear, his large hands almost touching when he wrapped them around your waist! You couldn't help the feeling that darted downwards to the area between your legs as he continued with his sweet words and light touches, making it seem as though he was afraid you'd break if he were to tighten his grip.. You could feel yourself getting wetter bit by bit, his words making you feel as though you were going to turn into a flustered and worked-up mess! Just as you were about to shift to get comfy, he quietly growled in your ear, saying "Don't move, babe, let me do all the work..". Of course, you hadn't expected him to lift you up and hover you over his member after he had said that, making you realize that it had spikes on it.. (You had completely forgotten that you were dating an Oni, not some douchebag that paid you to sleep with him-) Now, of course, in public he was the coolest dude you had ever dated! But behind closed doors, he was actually such a pure sweetheart.. As you got stuck in your thoughts, you were unaware that he forced you onto the tip of his member, the stretch tossing your thoughts into the gutter once more as you let out a small squeak, shifting in his lap to try and adjust. Your welcoming walls and small size didn't help, encouraging him to push you down until you took in half of his girth, all while staring at you with a predatorial look in his eyes. Said look reminded you of something, he was capable of feeling like he had to breed his lovers- Of course, you didn't mind having a child or two with him despite the fact that they would've been influenced by his pranks. You heard him growl again, this time a bit louder as he pushed you down until your walls reached their stretching limit, the soft spikes on his member giving friction with each little move you made! It made you think of how you somehow took the entire thing on several occasions without bursting into tears at the painful stretch.. He immediately flipped you onto your back and started slowly moving his hips back and fourth once he felt that you had adjusted enough for him to move, the spikes on his member dragging along your walls with each agonizingly slow thrust. "Itto, go faster.." you managed to speak out with a quiet tone. "Just a moment, babe, gotta make sure you're well prepared for the night of a lifetime I'm about to give ya.." he replied, quietly grunting as your walls clamped down on his member over and over again, causing him to speed up a bit. As he dug his freshly manicured nails into your waist (YES I GAVE HIM BLACK MANICURED NAILS SHHH) while thrusting into you at a steady pace, you whined and moved yours hips to meet his halfway, tired of him not getting rough like he would on any other occasion. As if he read your mind, he went a whole lot faster, making your brain spin and soft moans spill out of your mouth with each thrust. You couldn't help that it felt so good you kept clamping down on him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge as his grunts and growls got louder and louder, prompting you to stare at him with wide eyes and a lip wedged between your teeth. (You had no clue he could get that loud and not be ashamed of it, y'all were lucky that y'all didn't live near other people otherwise they would've had to suffer through the noise-) When you noticed the twitching within you and the small "gonna cum.."s that slipped from his lips, he moved your limbs so he could have you in a mating press before he came in you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. After, he slowly pulled out, flopping onto the futon next to you and immediately falling asleep. You were happy, but Archons did you not know that this would happen every night from that point on. (I HAVE TO FINISH THE REST OF IT IN A DIFF POST, IM SO SRRY 💫 ANON 😭)

[allari-ammayi]

Butta Bomma

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

#1

The Interesting Perspective

Synopsis: In the heart of Hyderabad, Y/n tends to her grandmother's antique store, a time capsule hiding stories of the past. Her routine is disrupted when she joins friends to watch the movie "Baahubali," a decision that is set to have an unremovable stain on her life.

1.7k Words

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In the vibrant and bustling streets of Hyderabad, India, nestled amidst the chaos of modernity, there existed a quaint and almost forgotten treasure trove of history. It was a little antique store with an intriguing story of its own, now entrusted to the care of a young woman named Y/n. 

Each morning, the sun cast its gentle rays upon the old wooden door of the shop, signalling the beginning of another day. 

Y/n, with an air of quiet determination, unlocked the weathered door and stepped into a world frozen in time. The antique store, a relic itself, carried the weight of decades, its wooden beams groaning softly with age.

As the door swung open, a cloud of dust danced through the air, catching the soft glow of the morning light. Y/n took a moment to inhale the musty scent of history and nostalgia before she proceeded with her daily ritual.

Y/n's routine was as predictable as the sunrise. She gingerly dusted off the display cabinets, each one containing a piece of history that had been carefully preserved for generations.

Once the store was tidied up, Y/n took her place at the ornate wooden register. It was a perch from which she watched the world go by, albeit one that rarely saw any visitors. 

The store, hidden away in plain sight amidst the chaotic streets of Hyderabad, seemed to exist in its own tranquil bubble. Despite the city's ceaseless movement and vibrant energy, it was as if the shop was invisible to the outside world.

With the day's quietude embracing her, Y/n reached for a vintage novel, a companion she had grown fond of. The pages rustled softly as she lost herself in tales of bygone eras, immersing herself in the words on the pages. 

The store was once her grandmother's, and before that, her great-grandmother's, and before that her great-geart-grandmother's. No-one knew exactly how old it was, but it was a family relic that was passed down to Y/n.

Y/n had always been more inclined toward the pages of modern literature than the silver screen. In a world captivated by the magic of movies, she found her sanctuary in the written word. 

But as fate would have it, a new cinematic sensation swept across India, leaving a trail of fervour in its wake, bearing the name 'Bahubali.' 

It was as if a fever had taken hold of the nation, and fans had gone berserk over this cinematic marvel. People had lost their minds, raving about the epic storytelling and jaw-dropping visuals that this movie promised.

Y/n, ever the outlier in her circle, hadn't quite fathomed the craze.

Her friends, captivated by the Baahubali frenzy, hadn't understood how she remained immune to its charm.

They had pestered her relentlessly, urging her to give it a chance. Perhaps, they had thought, Y/n might just find a new love in the world of cinema.

“Come on, Y/n!!” 

“It’s really good!! We’ve already been to the movies three times this month purely because it was so good!”

“And we’ve had two movie nights where we watched the first and second movies together!”

Y/n grimaced, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t know, guys…”

“Ohh, please, Y/n!” They continued to persist, wearing down the girl.

“If it’s not as good as we promise, I swear on my life I’ll start reading that one book you told me to!” Y/n’s ears perked up at this comment as the others quickly joined in.

“In fact -  we all will!” The three girls looked at each other and began nodding in unison and urging Y/n. 

“Mmm…” Y/n’s face remained in deep thought.

“Y/n, if you come to watch the two movies with us, we all promise to immediately start reading the books.” One of the girls spoke up, finally, desperate to get her friend in front of the silver screen. Y/n craned her head to look past her friends at the deserted and empty shop. 

Y/n’s features softened and she looked at their eager faces. She let out a low sigh and looked at her friends, a smile starting to form on her lips.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to leave the store unattended for one night,”

Finally, Y/n had relented, agreeing to accompany her friends to the movie theatre. She had been willing to set aside her literary pursuits for an evening if only to unravel the mystery of what had driven the entire nation into a state of euphoria.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the lights had dimmed and the colossal screen had flickered to life, Y/n's curiosity had mingled with a hint of scepticism. The opening scene had unfolded, and the grandeur of Bahubali had begun to unfurl before her eyes. 

She had watched in awe as the story had unfurled, the characters had come to life, and the visual spectacle had swept her into its embrace.

As the credits rolled and the applause of the audience resonated around her, Y/n understood why the nation had succumbed to Baahubali‘s enchantment.

Leaving the theatre, Y/n wore a smile that mirrored the newfound appreciation for the magic of movies. She might have been a devotee of modern literature, but in that moment, she had experienced the transformative enchantment of cinema. 

Y/n held a unique perspective on the characters.

Y/n possessed a deep respect for Bahubali, his qualities of honour, bravery, and selflessness impressed her. Bahubali had been a shining example of the qualities Y/n had admired most in people.

Even when it came to the character of Bhallaladeva, who had been universally despised by viewers, Y/n had found herself harbouring a different sentiment. Instead of hatred, she hadn't been able to help but pity him. 

Beneath the layers of villainy and treachery, she had glimpsed a tragic figure, consumed by ambition and insecurity, his actions driven by a thirst for approval.

While the general populace had harboured hatred and disgust for Bhallaladeva, she possessed a unique and empathetic viewpoint. Y/n had peered beneath the layers of cruelty and ambition, recognizing the tragic figure that Bhallaladeva had truly been.

In her eyes, Bhallaladeva hadn't been just a villain; he had been a product of his environment, a victim of his father's ruthless influence.

Y/n believed that if he had grown up in a different setting, devoid of the poisonous presence of his father, he could have evolved into a different, more compassionate person. 

“I can’t believe you feel sorry for Bhallaladeva, Y/n! He’s the ultimate villain!” Gowri, Y/n’s closest friend, argued as she sat across Y/n in the little coffee shop, as Y/n took a sip of her drink and continued looking down at the newspaper.

“Gowri, I know it’s hard to see, but there’s more to his character than just being a villain,” Y/n said, taking another sip, and making Gowri groan, her hazel locks swaying with her dramatic disdain.

“More to him? He’s a murderer, Y/n! He killed his own brother and lusted for his brother's wife, how can you pity someone like him!?” Gowri's grey eyes were full with a sense of determination to prove Bhallaladeva to be a vilian.

“Everyone’s a murderer in this movie, Gowri. Besides, I’m not condoning his actions, but just think about it. He grew up in a toxic environment with a father like Bijjaladeva. The constant pressure, the endless manipulation, the unhealthy influence…” Y/n shuddered, just thinking about what Bhalla likely grew up with.

“That’s no excuse for his treachery. He betrayed his family and his kingdom, he’s disgusting!” Gowri spat. Y/n sighed, finally placing her mug down on the table and laying her paper flat, looking up at Gowri.

"I get that, but I can't help but wonder if, under different circumstances... He might have turned out differently," Y/n said, softly, in a comforting voice. Gowri gaped at her, her mouth open and eyes wide.

"Are you serious? He's power-hungry and ruthless. He deserved the fate that came to him."

"It's just that the complexity of his character intrigues me. What if he felt trapped, burdened by the expectations placed upon him?" Y/n said thoughtfully, “What if he was feeling betrayed by his own mother? That everything that belonged to him was being shared with his cousin? Even that thought wouldn’t be his fault, it would be his father’s.”

"Y/n, he had a choice! He chose evil, plain and simple." Gowri said with a huff, crossing her arms.

"I'm not saying he didn't make terrible choices. It's just that I can't help but feel a sense of pity for someone who may have been a victim of his own circumstances." Y/n’s tone remained gentle.

"I can't believe you're defending him, Y/n," Gowri said in disbelief, shaking her head.

"I'm not defending him, Gowri. I'm just trying to understand. Stories like Baahubali make us question the complexities of human nature and the choices people make." Y/n said, calmly.

“Well, I still think he’s the worst.” Gowri childishly puffed out her cheeks and looked out of the window as Y/n lightly chuckled, shaking her head.

"And that's the beauty of storytelling. It sparks conversations and lets us see things from different angles." Y/n said with a clever smile, eyeing Gowri as she took another short sip of her drink.

Rather than hating Bhallaladeva, Bijjaladeva, the conniving and power-hungry uncle, had been the object of her disdain. Y/n had loathed him for his nefarious influence over his son, Bhallaladeva. 

The sick thoughts and twisted desires he had sown in Bhallaladeva’s mind for his own greed had been inexcusable.

Y/n's fascination didn't stop at the cinema. She had felt compelled to dive deeper into their psyche, to unravel the intricacies of Bhallaladeva and Bahubali’s dynamic, lives, and the forces that had shaped them.

This curiosity led Y/n to embark on a literary journey of her own. She had poured her thoughts, insights, and emotions into a twenty-thousand-word analytical essay, meticulously dissecting the characters and their intertwining destinies. 

Her essay had become a labour of love.

'If I were ever magically given the chance to change the fate of Bhallaladeva and assist him to tread a path of light and goodness, I would value the opportunity and do my best to secure him a good future.'

Little had she known that her writings would soon become more than just words on a page, as destiny had had a mysterious plan in store.

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Taglist: @vellipo-mellaga, @mellaga-karagani, @vayari-bhama, @bitchy-bi-trash (To join the taglist, let me know in the comments, and you will be added to future ones!)

[misslavenderlady]

Could you do more Marko X Reader fics? You can make it as filthy as possible. I live reading your work <3

Teacher's Pet 📏

Marko/GN!Reader

Summary: Marko has a new, fun game in mind for you. One that will test your vampire knowledge and your tolerance for pain. You show him all the hard things you can take~

Thank you @american-idiot-jpg for the request! I appreciate your patience and I hope you enjoy this! Also big thank you to @ghoulgeousimmaculate for helping pull me out of my writing funk and put this together!!

WARNINGS: Nsfw/Smut/18+ Readers Only, Professor/Student Roleplay, Costumes, Teasing, Flirting, Dom/Sub, Spanking, Fingering, Punishment/Reward, Sex on a desk, Bent over, Rough Sex, Praise, Affection, Blood Drinking, No specific genitalia/pronouns used

Marko was a sneaky little thing. Though he had a very chaotic energy to him, he was actually quite methodical. Whenever he was in the mood to play one of his devious little games, he was sure to set up everything exactly how he wanted it. 

So when you found a particularly lewd costume laid across your bed, you knew he was ready to play with you. 

It wasn't much material to wear. A small, white crop top that tied in the front, a red, plaid-patterned tie, some matching shorts, and a pair of black knee-high socks to go with some plain loafers. Before you even put it on you knew that the outfit wasn't going to leave much to the imagination. 

You knew better than to complain though. Marko always got what he wanted, and if he desired to see you dressed like his own personal plaything, then so be it. With your body barely covered, you wandered through the cave taverns to find the play area Marko loved so much. You only hoped none of the other vampires would see you and make vulgar comments on your appearance. 

Marko's special room was blocked off by a thick, red, velvet curtain. This time around there was a unique addition. A small sign pinned to one of the sides.

Professor Marko

Subtle as a flying mallet, that one. At least you had all the clues you needed to play along with his game. As you pushed the curtain aside, you only hoped he'd play nice with you. 

"Come in."

Marko's voice was surprisingly serious in tone. You thought about how unlike him it was until you got a look at what he was wearing. 

His usual leather chaps and elaborate jacket had been traded for a button-down shirt and khakis. His hair was tied back and on the bridge of his nose sat a pair of reading glasses. While he leaned up against an antique writing desk he glanced down at a book in his hand. It was almost like looking at a version of Marko from an alternate universe. One where he was a strict, studious guy and not a vampire hoodlum. 

Still, even with his getup, a familiar, wild look was burning in his eyes when he caught sight of you. 

“Have a seat, dear,” Marko ordered. “We don’t have time to dawdle. Your exam is in a week, and we don’t want to fail, do we?”

You gulped audibly as he pulled up a plain, wooden chair for you to sit in. He really did have the stage set for this little performance you two were going to put on. It made your heart race with fear and anticipation. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you nodded and made your way over to him, sitting down immediately. 

Now you felt even more vulnerable. Your shorts were riding up a bit, showing off the length of your legs and thighs. Sitting down allowed Marko to drink in more of you, gazing with pure authority and power in his eyes. He truly was in control.

Marko enjoyed watching you squirm. The rapid thrum of your heart sounded so lovely in his ears. He kept his gaze trained on you as he strolled over to the antique black chalkboard and picked up the dusty white stalk. 

“Our subject matter is lore,” he informed as he began scrawling on the panel, “in relation to vampirism…so tell me, how does one become a vampire?” He asked with his hands clasped behind his back. He stared at you, patiently awaiting your answer.

You had to admit, you were impressed. He really did think of everything. Probably went by the local thrift shop for his props. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. You knew everything about vampires considering you had been the mate of one for so long now. With your posture straightening up a bit, you confidently answered his question.

“There are two different ways to become a vampire, Sir,” you explained. “The first is by drinking a vampire's blood and completing a first feed and kill of a human. The second is by getting a direct bite and having your bloodstream corrupted.”

Marko jotted your answer on the board, smirking at the inflection of confidence that appeared in your voice. He could tell you thought you had this in the bag, being his mate for years now, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve. He wanted you to get cocky so that he could cut you down at just the right time. 

“Very good! I’m pleased you remember that core piece of information, but tell me, what’s the relevance of religious objects to a vampire?”

“Religious objects are dangerous to vampires. Holy water burns the skin in small doses and melts it in large ones. The sign of the cross does nothing, but an actual cross will hurt a vampire. If you’re invited in somewhere, then they do no damage, but otherwise, they’re deadly.”

You wondered what other questions Marko had in store. Maybe this whole teacher scenario was a way to praise you and make you feel extra good. Perhaps the sadistic vampire was feeling a little generous this time around. Of course, that was an incredibly naive thought to have. You had no idea what deviant thoughts were circling around in that head of his. 

Marko stifled a chuckle, jotting down the answer to your second question. He turned to face you, leaning against his desk once more as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Excellent work!” He praised. “You appear to be an expert. Perhaps you can answer this question for me—true or false, according to the Ancient Greeks, vampires can cross salt water.”

In a mere moment, your confidence was drained. Your smile fell and your eyes widened as panic overtook your brain. Marko and the boys hadn’t ever mentioned anything about salt water. This had to be a trick question. 

All five of you lived by the ocean, meaning they were around salt water all the time. Surely they wouldn’t live in a seaside city if they were at risk of not getting around properly. The power of flight wouldn’t be stopped by a mere body of water….right?

“Um….it’s….true?”

Marko smirked, his Cheshire grin widening as his stern expression cracked. 

“It’s false.” Marko tutted as he strolled towards you. “Water is an interesting topic in vampire lore. The Ancient Greeks believed vampires couldn’t cross running water. In a legend, all vampires were banished to an island, to be trapped for eternity. The Romani believed vampires couldn’t pass over water in general. In Transylvania, a common funeral practice was to walk the deceased through a river or stream to prevent the soul from following living so reanimation could not occur.”

You had no idea Marko was so versatile in different vampire lore from all over the world. From the moment you stepped into the ‘classroom’ you assumed it would all be a test on actual vampire facts. There was so much you didn’t know about cultural beliefs on the monsters you had gotten to know personally. 

“I didn’t know. I….I’m sorry…” you said, feeling somewhat dumb now. What would your mate do since you got the answer wrong? You were already trembling in your skimpy little uniform.

“Let’s play a game, dear,” Marko proposed. “Studies say that learning through play is a highly effective strategy. I will continue to quiz you on your knowledge of vampirism and lore, and for every question that’s correct, you’ll receive a reward. But—” He paused for dramatic effect. “For every question that’s incorrect, you’ll receive a spanking. So if you’ll please, assume the position,” he ordered, gesturing to his desk. 

If your heart wasn’t racing before, it certainly was now. Marko was acting like the sneaky little thing you knew and loved. You squeezed your thighs together, rubbing them as you felt the beginning hints of arousal rush through your body. The idea of being bent over and punished by his hand was as exciting as it was scary. 

You would play along with this game, and do your best with each question. Whatever he wanted to do with your body depended on how well you did. With a needy, innocent look in your eyes, you nodded in acceptance. 

“Y-Yes…Sir…”

Marko hummed as he watched you cross the room and lean over his desk, his eyes on your ass and thighs. The pants he had worn for his costume were already feeling quite tight in the front.

“That’s it, little one,” he cooed. “I’ll make a model student out of you, yet…bend over and spread ‘em wide…” He glided to his desk, grabbing a 36-inch long wooden yardstick along the way. He stood behind you, slapping the yardstick over his palm to get a reaction. He chuckled heartily when he saw you flinch. 

“Now, next question,” Marko purred as he ran the wooden tool up the inside of your leg, enjoying the sight of you shivering in fear. “True or False, decapitation is an effective way of slaying a vampire.”

It was incredibly difficult to think straight when the massive stick was running along your bare skin. Corporal punishment was most certainly not in schools anymore, but Marko didn’t seem to care. If he had the opportunity to mix pain and pleasure with you, he would take the chance without a second thought. 

You took a shaky breath as you tried your best to focus. This was a more of something you knew. The boys told stories about vampires they knew that had met an unfortunate demise. If there was no head, that meant the body was no longer any danger. Surely this question was straightforward with the answer.

“T-True!”

Marko chuckled, leaning forward to whisper into your ear. “Neither.” 

“What?” 

“It is neither true nor false. In fiction, decapitation is a suitable method for dispatching a vampire. In life, a few of our friends had died in the very same way, but in folklore, decapitation is merely a part of the process. An additional precaution after staking or other methods of dispatch. Take Lucy Westerna in Dracula, for example. The poor maiden was killed after being staked in the heart, but Van Helsing removed her head to be safe.” 

“Another example,” Marko continued, “is a shoemaker in sixteen century Poland, formerly known as Breslau. The man committed suicide, but after burial, the townspeople were plagued by his presence. He appeared to them at night, assaulting them in their beds. When his body was exhumed, they saw that after having been buried for over seven months, his body had not decayed. They reburied him, thinking that would resolve the issue, but he still appeared to them at night. He stopped haunting his hometown only after his head and limbs were removed.” 

“So…that means you’re wrong, little one.” Marko giggled, jutting his arm back to strike you on your bottom. He lingered in the air a few moments to watch your squirm before bringing the wood down with a thwack!

Your body jolted when the stick hit your skin. The flimsy pair of shorts were not protecting you from any pain at all, meaning you felt the full force of the impact. The flesh of your ass jiggled from the hit, giving Marko a very pleasant sight while you were dealing with the pain. It was so sharp and rough. If this was awaited you with every wrong question, you were going to have to step up your game. 

“I-I’m sorry, Sir!” you whimpered. “I’ll do better, I promise!” 

Sadistic chuckling greeted your ears. Even with the pain, you felt yourself rubbing your thighs together again. Marko really knew how to put your body through intense sensations. 

“I forgive you,” Marko crooned as he rubbed your bottom with his palm. “But if you want to pass this exam, you must focus.” 

You nodded, quietly muttering your agreement. Marko stepped back, perching himself in your chair. He crossed his legs, taking in the glorious view of your ass hiked in the air over his desk. He would love to fuck you over the antique cherrywood. But he’d save that for later.

“Next question,” Marko cooed as he tapped the yardstick against the leg of his chair. “True or False, vampires must sleep in coffins.”

Relief washed over you with that question. You watched the boys sleep every day. You KNEW this one, and you weren’t going to let Marko punish you again for something so obvious. 

“False! They can hang from the ceiling much like bats,” you answered, trying your best to sound confident. “So long as it’s somewhere dark where the sunlight won’t harm them during the day.”

Your body was trembling terribly as Marko taunted you with the tapping of his stick. Even if you knew the answer was correct, you still mentally prepared for the slap against your ass again if this was another trick question.

The tapping ceased and you froze, keening your head to the side to listen for his movements. But you heard nothing, the vampire moving with a speed and grace left you terrified and confused. You didn’t know where he was or whether you were right or wrong until you felt his hands on your body. 

You yelped, nearly jumping out of your skin when you felt his hands on legs. He gave your ass a slap, but it was playful not punitive. You jiggled and Marko snickered. His titter was light hearted and free from sadism. You had a feeling that you were in the clear, but with Marko’s unpredictability, you weren’t sure. 

“Good job, little one,” Marko praised as his fingers grabbed the hem of your shorts. “You are correct…looks like you earned a treat.” 

He pulled your pants down, exposing your bottom to the crisp air of the cave’s alcove. Prodding at your cheeks, Marko explored your body until he found your orifice. His fingers were slick with something warm and wet, no doubt his favorite brand of lube being used. That warmth teased you more as he began to slip a finger inside of you. 

"O-Oh!" you gasped. Marko softly chuckled at your reaction. He knew your body better than anybody in the world, and he proved it as such when he crooked his finger to massage your insides. Your muscles relaxed and your voice let out a sigh as he touched you. He practically had you purring like a kitten.

“There’s my good baby~” he praised you. “My devoted little pupil. If you keep it up with the next question, I’ll be more than happy to give you more of this good touch.”

This time you didn’t answer him with your voice. You simply nodded, ready for more of what he had to offer. Whether the test would be hard or easy, you didn’t care in the slightest. You were just going to give it your all and chase that sweet high of pleasure some more.

Marko smiled as you cooed and sighed from his ministrations. He enjoyed toying with your body, feeling you pulse around him. The only thing that delighted him more was tearing into a throbbing vein or artery. 

“Next question,” Marko continued with your quiz. “True or False, vampires are compelled to count millet when spilled?”

Another easy one. You thought such an idea was laughable. Getting vampires to start counting as a way to stop an attack. But you bit back your giggle in favor of another moan. The power of his fingers was just too strong.

"Mmmn…false, Sir~" 

You arched your back as you pressed your hips closer to your 'professor'. If he kept this up you were going to be a happy little teacher's pet. 

“Very good, my dear,” Marko praised. “You’re on your way to an A plus. Now, let’s see if you can answer this one,” he questioned as he pumped his fingers. “Is Count Von Count from Sesame Street based on the the piece of folklore we just discussed?”

You paused, thinking deeply about the question. You weren’t too sure about this one, but if you used context clues in relation to the name and the concept, it seemed obvious that is was. 

“Y-yes?” You replied hesitantly. 

Marko tutted, ceasing his movements and removing his hand. You whined audibly. Your insides feeling empty and neglect from his retreat. 

“Sadly, the answer is ‘No,’” Marko replied with a sigh before stuffing his fingers in his mouth. He lapped away the edible lube, savoring the strawberry taste mixed with your signature flavor before carelessly wiping his hand on his khakis. Leaning forward, he retrieved the yardstick from his desk and raised it into the air. 

“The Count is based on Bela Lugosi’s design and performance, but it’s never been explicitly said on screen that he was a vampire. The Count’s compulsion with counting and numbers is also purely coincidence.” 

Your body tensed in preparation for impact. Of course Marko would pull the rug under you with that obvious trap or a question. You would hit yourself in frustration if your mate wasn't about to do it for you. 

"And speaking of counting," Marko remarked, still holding the stick to keep your anticipation high. "If you count these next spanks out for me like a good little student, I'll skip ahead to the bonus question."

Knowing Marko, that could mean DOZENS of spanks. You were shaking terribly on top of the desk, wanting nothing more than to get this torture over with. 

"B-Bonus question?"

"Yes, darling. It determines how I'm gonna fuck you. Sweet and giving or…"

Smack!

The yardstick hit your ass with a mighty strike. A yipe fell from your mouth from the fright of both the sound and sensation. 

"Hard and rough," Marko finished his sentence, voice dripping with wickedness. "So get to counting, my little pupil~"

“Y-yes, Sir!” You muttered into the wood, eager and prepared to please despite your fear. 

Marko raised the yardstick again and swiftly brought the thick piece of wood down with a hefty Smack! 

“Aah! One!” You replied immediately, grunting your answer through the stinging pain. 

He raised his arm one more and delivered another blow, forcing another moan from your lips. “Ugh! Two!”

Marko worked you over, punishing you with a twinkle of sadistic glee in his eyes. You counted, crying out in pain in between each delivery. But like a good student, you completed your task, the experience ending with you panting into the wood. Your bottom was tender and flushed, with thick welts forming on the surface. 

You were in great pain, but as you rubbed your thighs together, you felt pleasure. A lust for him to take you. You couldn’t go on like this. Whether he fucked you or made love to you, you needed him inside you. 

“Final question. Where did the idea that vampires did not hold a reflection first come from?

It was hard enough catching your breath after crying out for Marko with each spank. Now you had to get your brain to cooperate with you so that this final question could be answered. You forced yourself to relax. Focus. Really think about this. 

Reflections. The boys didn’t have reflections in places they weren’t invited. When they were invited and they could blend in as humans, then the reflections appeared. That was a fact, but Marko wanted to test you on the lore of it. God, you wished you had done more reading in your freetime. 

Thinking back to when you and the boys watched the iconic Bela Lugosi film for movie night, you thought about Dracula’s powers and weaknesses. In one scene, he slapped a box out of Van Helsing’s hand because it contained a mirror that showed no reflection. If that happened in the book it was based on, then that meant Bram Stoker originally created the idea. 

It was a total shot in the dark. You had no idea if other writers or cultures had proposed such an idea earlier in history. Better give it the old college try. 

“B-Bram Stoker…” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tight and waiting for Marko to tell you whether you passed or failed.

Marko pursed his lips as he eyed your trembling form. He was a little salty that you were holding your own. He was hoping you’d bomb miserably so he could have his way with you. He wasn’t in the mood for tenderness even though that was one of your options. So he decided to exploit a little loophole… 

“Mirrors are an interesting thing in vampire lore,” Marko mused. “The first documented instance of vampires not casting a reflection does in fact appear in Dracula. But there are some folk tales that predate Bram Stoker that relate vampires to mirrors.” 

“Mirrors don’t just reflect our physical visage, little one,” Marko continued. “Many cultures relate the mirror to superstition and the human soul—which is why it is common for the mirror to be covered after a loved one passes. In Romani culture, it’s believed that a corpse could turn into a vampire if a mirror is present. But nothing is explicitly said about the reflection. So, the mirror appears in lore before Dracula was published, but Draculal solidified it as a rule.” 

“You’re both correct and incorrect.” 

“What does that even mean?!” You gasped in confusion. 

“That means we both get what we want~”

Before you even had a moment to process his answer, Marko had his hands on you. His fingers grabbed at your hips, pulling you backward so you were pressed up against his body. Long, thick claws sliced into your shorts, tearing away the fabric so that you were completely exposed to him. 

Marko was positively insatiable. His long tongue licked across his lips in hunger while his eyes drank in your delicious-looking ass. He couldn’t stop himself from kneading the flesh. You whimpered softly when you felt his erection rub up against your body. 

“You seem to do well with praise, my little one. But you need discipline to become the star pupil I know you can be~” 

The vampire unzipped his pants with one hand while squeezing at your ass with the other. A lustful moan fell from his lips as his hard, aching cock was freed. He had been aching to take you all night, and now he was going to get what he desired most. Though he was gentle slipping himself inside your lubed hole, that was the extent to the tenderness of his physical actions.

“If you can take this, then I know you can take on anything~” he purred before slamming his hips into you. You let out a yipe, not prepared to go so fast so soon. Without thinking, you grabbed hold onto the sides of the desk, and gripped as hard as you could.

Marko ruthlessly pistoned his hips into you, demonic growls of pleasure falling from his fanged lips. If you could see his face, you would tremble. The vampire’s visage was nightmarish. Marko’s mouth was contorted into a wicked smile while his eyes blazed brighter than any jack-o-lantern. 

He wasn’t Marko, your boyfriend, or even Marko the sadist. He was Marko, the monster and you were his plaything for the evening. 

But despite channeling his inner beast, he cooed the sweetest words as he ravaged you. Things romantics would whisper to their lovers in the throes of passion. It wasn’t completely odd to you though. Marko found beauty and passion in things that people would label barbaric.

“That’s it, love,” Marko crooned. “You look so beautiful like this…my perfect human~”

“Oh!! Ooooh!!” you cried out for him. 

Marko was a tough lover in every way imaginable. You would never fully get used to all the toys, roleplay and domination he loved to use on you. He was a viscious creature with decades of experience. It would take quite some time before you were caught up to even half his level.

And even so, you took it all eagerly. You let him do to your body as he wished. Whatever games he wanted to play would be taken on. He could control you from the inside out and always crave more. As long as you had his heart in return, you accepted him for who he was.

“My darling little one….fuck…my precious love…soooo perfect~” he purred. 

His sweet nothings didn’t match his movements though. Certainly not when he grabbed a fistfull of your hair and pulled it hard. You cried out as he forced you upward more, wanting you nice and close as he fucked your brains out.  

”I adore every little thought in that head, amore mio~”

Another yank to your hair was given, tugging sideways so your bare neck was exposed for the vampire. An eerie chuckle greeted your ears as he ran his inhuman tongue over your flesh, teasing the veins underneath. 

“Let me cherish you. WORSHIP you. I’d perish without you~”

Marko sank fangs into your throat. His pearly white sharpened canines punctured your tender flesh, freeing thick rivulets of crimson that ran down your shoulder. You mewled in pain, but your whine quickly shifted into a sultry moan as Marko snapped his hips. He massaged a tender spot deep inside you. One engorged ridge that made you see stars. 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your mouth hung slack. Marko fed from you, pulling your life’s nectar from your body. You swayed on your feet as a high hit you. The sense that you were floating set in. That sensation coupled with the ministrations of Marko’s brutal pace nudged you closer to the edge. That peak where you’d tip over into the abyss. 

“F-FUCK! Master…~” You whined as you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, holding the pouty flesh hostage in between your teeth. 

Feeling your body get closer and closer to the release was enough to push Marko towards his own. He unlatched himself from your neck and lapped at the last drops of blood as he kept railing you into the desk. 

"Gonna cum for me, little one? Cum for your teacher and show me what devoted student you are?" he cooed. You nodded feverishly, causing him to smile so wickedly. 

"I knew you were a good pupil. Come on, little love. Cum with me! Do it!!" 

His command hit you like a goddamn truck. Your back arched against his chest and your head fell backwards. All of your limbs tensed up and your stomach contracted as the rush of orgasm consumed you. Pathetic cries mixed with his low moans. It was a truly beautiful sight. 

"M-Marko!! Ooh my god~!!" you whimpered. The sweetness of your orgasm was already making quite the mess on the desk below you. It only turned Marko on more. 

“If I could stay inside you for eternity, I would,” Marko cooed as he eyed the mess. “I love the masterpieces you make….” 

Marko bucked into you one last time. He exploded inside you, his release bathing your insides with a flood of warmth in your lower belly. You whined as he twitched inside you, the writhing of both of your bodies making beautiful art together. 

When the high of your pleasure finally subsided, you slumped over the desk again. You were completely spent, both from blood loss and Marko’s perfect cock. Either way, he was more than satisfied with how you looked underneath him. He was careful slipping out of you, knowing you had enough roughness for one day. 

“There’s a good mate~” he cooed as he helped turn you over onto your back. You smiled sheepishly from how he stared at you with such intensitiy. “God, I’m a fuckin’ genius for getting you this costume.”

“You look pretty sexy yourself in that getup~”

Marko raised an eyebrow, amused by that statement. He slipping off the glasses with one hand and toyed with the buttons on his shirt with the other. 

“What about what’s underneath this?”

Your shy smile morphed into a sly smirk at that question. The two of you kept the sultry gaze going while you wrapped your legs around his hips and tugged him closer again. 

“Why don’t you show me, Sir?”

Marko liked that answer quite a bit. After all, as your teacher, he still had plenty of fun lessons to go over with you. He would be incredibly diligent with such an eager learner~

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