nordicevent

[poke-me-with-a-stick]

Can I ask for more Penguin Danny?

Your wish is my command.

Honestly, I've had this one snippet stuck in my head for a while, so thank you for the excuse to write it ✨

--

Danny sat huddled with a few of the smaller penguins, relaxing into their warm feathers as much as he could as he took in the situation developing before him.

About two months ago, a group of scientists geared up for the harsh cold had arrived in the Arctic. They had taken up residence in the frigid metal building Danny had spent some time in when he first got here, bringing life and warmth to their base that hadn't been there when the teen needed it.

At first, they kept to themselves. Taking water samples from the snow and ice pools that covered the territory. But it was only a week later that they moved on to examining the colony that had taken Danny in. They would pull a penguin or two away from the group, giving them fish and krill while they measured the small creatures and attached a monitor to the animal's sleek feathers, releasing them back to the group to loudly squawk their tales to the rest of the birds.

Eventually, they made their way inwards, away from the penguin hunting hunting grounds and towards their nests. It was then that they saw Danny for the first time.

It had been funny, at first. The coat clad researchers had frozen, before chatting frantically. With how long Danny had spent hiding out in the cold, he wasn't surprised that it took a while to understand what they were saying. It did filter in, though, the longer they hung around. Words that he knew, but didn't make a lot of sense in the limited context he had. Stuff like "baby" and "different" were obvious, especially when they gestured at him as they spoke. But other words, like, "unusually large", and "dangerous" confused him.

Was he a bit bigger than the birds around him? Yes, yes he was. But he didn't think he was unusually large for the species he was supposed to be. Then again, it's not like he had ever actually seen a baby emperor penguin before, so he had no real life reference. But they were big birds! Surely that meant they had big babies? And even if he was bigger than he was supposed to be, how was anything about this situation was 'dangerous'?

It didn't help his opinion of the researchers when they tried to move him away from the flock. Trails of treats were fine and dandy at first, and easily ignored by the teen seeing as he didn't need the same amount of food as an actual baby penguin of his size (perks of being able to feed on ambient ectoplasm). When he didn't seem inclined to follow the trail like some of the others, who had all come back squawking about the researchers manhandling them again, they tried a more straightforward approach.

The teen would never forget the day those puffy coats pushed gently through the throng of black and white bodies until they boxed him in on all sides. His panicked squeaky screeches had immediately attracted the attention of the birds, and those pesky puffy coats had some nice tears in them for the troubles they caused. After that, the researchers found themselves being chased by the entire colony if they came to close, angry screeches drowning out their own panicked yells and occasional yells of pain when a beak managed to find purchase.

As much as he appreciated the colonies fierce protection, the teen should have known that it would draw attention. Those researchers were out here for a reason, probably some sort of documentary on the wildlife that thrived in colder environments. Maybe something about endangered species or global warming. Whatever it was, it had them hanging around, taking pictures and writing in journals.

It should have been more obvious to him that something was bound to happen. Pictures, even when he looked normal to the mortal eye, could easily reveal a different truth. It didn't take long for pristine white coats to appear, scouting the area with ecto-trackers in hand a blasters holstered at their sides.

The confrontation a full month after the researchers arrived was a bit surprising, and it took everything in Danny's new fuzzy body to stop from launching himself at the men in black rip offs when they leveled their blasters at the colorful puff coats.

The puff coats were sturdier people than he thought, though. Instead of backing off, like anyone else would do, they argued. Blocking the easier paths to the nesting grounds, tampering with their equipment while they were distracted with whatever ecto readings they were getting, even resorting to throwing things when the came too close to trampling one penguin Danny had affectionately dubbed 'Steve'.

And now here Danny was. Cozied up with a decent group of mother penguins and their babies while the fathers took their turn to hunt. Watching as the guys in white ran around screaming. The cause of their screams? The child with a sword that was chasing them.

At this point in his (after)life, Danny shouldn't be surprised by anything. And yet, surprising things continued to occur. Maybe he should ask someone if he was cursed or something.

The penguins around him shifted, letting out warbles and startled peeps as they resettled. Danny shook himself, pulling his attention away from the potential murder occuring in front of him to look at the source of his new friend's unrest. And was once again reminded to not be surprised by the surprising things that occured around him.

The half Kryptonian child that sat next to him gave the teen a smile and a gentle pat before turning his attention to where his friend continued to swing his katana, catching one of the scanners and a bit of an agents hand with the wickedly sharp blade. The kid next to Danny winced and cupped his hands over his mouth. "Robin! Remember what Nightwing told you before we left!"

The sword wielding child tisked loudly, the sound muffled slightly by the snow that was beginning to fall, but resumed his fighting with a little more effort in not hitting the agents with his blade. The handle of his sword, however, was used just as effectively. The Kryptonian kid sighed, but didn't call out again, instead reaching out to pet some of Danny's fuzzy brown down feathers.

This was fine, Danny decided. It wouldn't be fine forever, but for now it was. And whatever came after this, he could always try throwing vicious penguins at it. It worked well enough the first time.

[twinknote]

help has anyone had to clean their car when it’s gotten to the point of being Actually filthy. like i’m not talking a bunch of trash and random shit. i’m talking like. it stinks. i cannot bear to go into details in this actual post bc i am Embarrassed but. i need some community support on this one folks

[our-sin]

Stiles is a wildlife biologist and one day stumbles upon a wolf pack during a hike through the national forest he works for. They weren’t gray wolves so at first he figures another species has finally made its was back to california but after an hour or so of studying them from a far he realizes they aren’t typical wolves and appear to follow many of the theorized versions of dire wolves.

Thinking he might have discovered a new species and a possible descendant of dire wolves he stays for the rest of the day and studies them further. He only leaves when the sun starts to set and keeps coming back to study them. He grows rather attached to the pack, especially when a particularly curious wolf comes up and introduces itself and eventually drags him by his sleeve over to meet the rest of the pack. He talks to them, tells them about how important they are and how lucky he is to be the one to have found them.

He keeps trying to publish his findings but no one else seems to be able to find them and whenever he brings a photographer out they’re always hiding. One day he brings his own camera, thinking the wolves are used to him and just scared of everyone else and he finds one of the pack dead. He doesn’t take a picture of course, feels it would be disrespectful to the creatures that so readily welcomed him. Instead he goes back to his jeep grabs a shovel and a knife before coming back to dig the poor thing a proper grave and putting down a marker with a big rock and doing his best to add an engraving. While placing the wolf in its grave he notices bullet wounds and cuts on the body and figures out someone had killed one of HIS wolves.

The next week he spends looking for a tracker that can help him find who hurt his pack -figures if they went after one they might have been going after the others too and are still possibly camped out somewhere. That leads him to Derek who agrees oddly quick considering Stiles can’t offer him much in the way of payment.

Day one Stiles leads Derek to the grave and where he found the wolf. The man does his tracker thing and starts leading them even deeper into the forest. It takes a couple of days before they find the hunter’s now deserted camp that has some bullets and gear left behind, even a gun. Derek seems even angrier than Stiles that they had only missed them by a day or so given the remains of a campfire. They stay there for the night before moving on first thing in the morning. Takes another few days before they find an active campsite with several hunters.

They try to lay low but at some point Derek loses his cool and gets them caught and subsequently captured (he had heard them talking about the pack mate they killed, not that Stiles knows that). The hunters tie them up and do their typical hunter thing which is how Stiles not only finds out about werewolves but that the dire wolf descendants he thought he discovered were really the pack fully shifted.

Anyway turns out the pack had been following their entire journey from a far and the night after Stiles and Derek are captured they attack the hunters camp. Both Stiles and Derek are seriously injured but Stiles being human is the more pressing issue. Stiles wakes up like days later in a super fancy house next to a wall of heat. The wolf that had introduced him to the pack initially which is, of course, Derek. The man had refused to leave his side since they left the camp. And once everyone is sure Stiles is alive and mostly well the pack introduce themselves as humans.

Then happily ever after and all that jazz.

[cys-fic-library]

Nighttime Affairs (The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Reader)

You and the Ghoul, Cooper Howard, have a complicated relationship with each other. One which involves him paying you some nightly visits when he passes on by that little home of yours out in the lonesome wasteland.

Warnings: 18+, smut, vaginal sex, fingering, bit of orgasm denial, bit of dirty talking, creampie, biting (its cooper i dunno what you expect, he's going to bite you), oral - reader receiving, complicated relationship, bit of yearning/pinning, fluff, cuddling, kissing, splash of angst, not beta read

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x gn!afab!Reader (reader's gender is never mentioned but they do have a vagina)

Wordcount: 4256

a/n: made the smut a bit angsty at the end there by mistake. whoopsie daisies. Anyway, like it says above readers gender is never mentioned. But they do have a vagina (because I have a vagina, and I want to fuck the ghoul). Nothing about reader's chest is ever mentioned either. Also I usually write fluff/non smut fics, and only tend to post that. I have written smut before, but this is just my first time actually sharing some of it. So like ;-; Okie dokie? okie dokie.

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics (much love j ❤️)

Nights in the wasteland were always a deadly affair. All sort of creatures made themselves known—both human and non-human alike—never having the friendliest of tendencies. It was why you always made sure that your windows remained boarded up. Double checking the door of your home to be firmly locked, before finally making your way to bed.

You always kept a gun hidden beneath your pillow as you slept. Easy to grab in case of a break in. Acting like a sort of safety blanket. Hoping that such a comfort would help you sleep soundly, though most nights you still found it difficult. Restlessness haunted you. Plagued your mind. Never truly able to rest easily—not with danger lurking around ever dark corner. 

 Sometimes that unease proved helpful. Such as tonight, while on the brink of sweet slumber, there had been a shift in the room. The sound of worn floorboards creaking jolting you awake. It wouldn’t be the first time some wanderer had tried to get the jump on you in the middle of the night. 

Hand quick to grab your gun, you point it at the new body in the room. Adrenaline pumping in your veins. Heart on edge. Ready to fire at a moment's notice. 

“Easy there sweetheart.” 

Your tired eyes blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to clear away your sleep clouded vision enough to properly comprehend the familiar figure currently standing in the center of your tiny room. 

“Cooper?” 

The Ghoul grinned at you in the darkness. Hazel eyes almost seeming to shine from the moonlight that managed to filter in. His head had tilted to motion to the gun in your hand. An amused hum leaving him. “Bit of a rude way to greet your guests.” 

“Wouldn’t call you much of a guest.” You lowered the gun and rubbed at your face with a sigh. “More of a nuisance if anything.” 

“Aw, your words wound me darlin’.” His words drawn out and mocking, as he feigned being hurt, before he had turned from you to continue removing his gear. Setting it all wherever he liked in your room. Acting almost as if he owned the place. Not a care in the world that he was currently invading your home uninvited. Again. 

You could only seem to roll your eyes as you watched him. “What are you doing here so late?” 

“Oh just passin’ through.” The Ghoul said with a casual hum. Pulling out his own gun, its barrel glinting just as his gaze had earlier, before he set it on your nightstand. The tossing of his hat onto your bedpost quickly following. “Needed a place to stay.” 

It hadn’t been a question. He wasn’t asking. Never really did when he chose to invite himself into your home. It used to scare you way back when you first met the Ghoul. You never knew if the next time he came would be the one where you met with a bullet. 

But you learned quickly that Cooper only ever did what he felt he needed to. Wouldn’t take the life of someone he found to be useful. He didn’t kill pointlessly like that. Everything had a reason with him. Even if you couldn’t quite see it at first. 

“Well why don’t just make yourself at home then.” You grumbled. Annoyed. A bit more bite to your words then usual. Though it hadn’t seemed to phase him in the slightest. 

“Already on it sweetheart.” 

You glared at him, but he continued to barely pay any mind to it. As you went to put your own gun back beneath the pillow, you had laid down again. Rolling to face the wall, and letting out a tired breath, as you tried to settle. Let the exhaustion claw at your mind and allow your eyes to flutter close. Trying to ignore him just as he did to you. “Just don’t make a mess.” 

The Ghoul hadn’t replied. Which had been a surprise. He always seemed to have something to say. But there was none of that. Instead there was only the sound of more shuffling in the room before the bed finally shifted with his added weight. Pulling you back from the brink of sleep just enough, as he joined you among the tattered sheets.

 Your bed was cramped. Meant for only a single soul, and yet that never seemed to bother him as he fit himself in how he liked. It didn’t take very long for you to feel the press of his cool body against yours. An arm finding itself around your waist, as lips sought out your neck and trailed over your skin. 

“Sleeping.” You said. Quiet. But still you shifted. Legs parting ever so slightly. An invitation you knew he wouldn’t refuse. 

You allowed him to take what he wanted—his true reason for being here—and he did so greedily. Without any ounce of hesitation, bare fingers smoothing down and slipping past the waistband of your pants into their front. Immediately finding the prize he wanted. Your breath hitching as they ghosted over your clit. Teasing. 

“Then sleep.” Lips caressed your ear. His breath hot on your skin. Rough hands had molded you into his liking. Feeling yourself growing wet beneath his fingers all too quickly, as two of them slipped into your heat at first chance. “Don’t bother me, none.” 

Desire bloomed inside you. Arousal coiling tight. He left marks where he could. Harsh kisses that had teeth grazing your skin. Fingers moving inside of you to pull any sound from your lips that he could. Touching you in ways that had you burning, as if you would be engulfed in flames at any second. Toying with your body and purposely bringing you so close to the edge without ever actually bothering to send you over. 

“Stop teasing.” You had shifted again. Trying to provide more space for his devilish hands.  Moving yourself against him to seek the feeling you so desired—that last bit of pleasure that he denied you so easily, and would continue to do so. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” His words had a teasing tone to their depths, as he nipped at your skin. Pressing himself closer. Grinding. His own arousal hard against your hip. Just as worked up as you were it seemed. But somehow still not nearly as desperate. 

“Was trying to.” You sighed out a moan. Leaning impossibly close into him. Hand gripping at his wrist tight as he worked you. Letting his touch consume your very being. “Hard to sleep with someone messing around in my pants.” 

The Ghoul chuckled. “Well let’s fix that then.” 

And suddenly his hands were slipping away. 

You felt your eyes open at the loss of him. Hadn’t even realized they were still closed until that moment. You had gone to protest. Reaching out in the darkness to try and stop him from leaving. But he hadn’t gone far. He had moved you to lay fully onto your back before you could really react. Your pants and underwear removed by him in an instant. Lost to the dark depth of your room's floor. Not to be seen again until morning light. 

The Ghoul loomed over you. Eyes amused, and hands gripping your thighs. He spreads your legs out for himself wide. Exposing your arosural bare before his gaze into the open room. Fitting himself comfortably in between. Almost like there was nowhere else he belonged in the world. Ready to devour you whole. 

And what was worse is that you’d gladly let him do so too. 

“Fucking filthy thing you are.” He had whistled as he looked down at the debauched display he had made of you already. Fingers moving below to run along your dripping lips. Sending another shiver of pleasure up your spine. “You’re soaking and yet I’ve barely done a thing.” 

You couldn’t help but squirm a bit beneath him. He hadn’t bothered to remove any of his own clothes, save for the jacket and gloves he must have tossed somewhere in your room. He never really did remove his clothes when fucked you. Couldn’t remember anytime you had even seen him without a shirt. 

At first you thought he had been shy over his predicament. He wouldn’t have been the first ghoul you met to have struggled with the change after all. But that had been a foolish thought, because Cooper Howard wasn’t ever shy. It was just another thing he couldn’t be bothered with. 

It wasn’t worth it to him to remove, simply put. Probably even still had his boots on at the moment. Trucking sand and only god knows what into your bed. You’d usually lecture him for it. But like with many things tonight, he wouldn’t give you the chance. 

Before you knew it he had leaned down to put his mouth on you. Sucking at your clit. Lips and tongue working you in all the right places. Fingers gripping your thighs to keep you open for him. Devouring you whole, almost like he had been starved for days. 

It didn’t take much of this for you to be brought to that edge. It had been so long since you last saw him—last had him—and his skillful tongue had your orgasm approaching rapidly. Your one hand fisting the sheets below while the other reached for his scarred head. Pulling him in impossibly close. Trying to keep him there. But true to his nature just as you felt those sparks begin to fly he stopped. Lips leaving you and letting your pleasure fall. Hot breath only fanning over your soaked folds. 

He did this often. Riled you up to the point of breaking. Allowing your pleasure to grow high before sending it crashing down again suddenly. Denying that bliss you always found yourself so desperate for when with him. 

Most nights you were brought to tears by it. Begging him to let you have that sweet release. Frustration with his teasing at its peak. Tonight you did not beg or plead though, not yet at least, instead you sat up to lean onto your elbows. Insult for him at the tip of your tongue, ready to lecture him for all he was worth, but any complaint you had quickly died in your throat.

 The Ghoul had bit your thigh. Hard. Whether to silence you, or just because he wanted to, you didn’t know. You just gasped. Trying to pull away, though his hands remained firm. Fingers digging into your skin almost too harshly and holding you in place. Only finally pulling back just enough to swipe his tongue over the mark he left. 

You had winced from the pain, the mark aching, but despite it your arousal only seemed to course through you still. Stronger even. “That was just mean.”

“You like when I’m mean.” He smirked as he sat up again to overlook you. Your blood still staining his lips. “Besides, you’re supposed to be sleeping. Remember?” 

“Yeah and who’s fault is it that I’m not?” 

“No idea what you mean sweetheart.” The Ghoul had let go of your legs then. Leaning back onto his knees to free himself. Belt unbuckling to pull out his aching cock. Squeezing himself briefly before guiding it to your drenched hole. Teasing at your folds.  “Just here enjoying what was given to me after all.” 

It was quick the way he entered. No ceremony or grace. No time to say another single word between you two. Barely gave time for you to gasp again. Sending a shock through your system. He didn’t wait. Thrusts downright filthy as he took you all for himself. Both of your moans and heated breaths filling the room. The air suddenly feeling suffocating and hot. 

Your hands had gripped at his forearms, hoping to ground yourself and failing miserably, all while his own fingers dug into your hips. You tried to meet his own cruel thrusts, but the rhythm he had set  was unrelenting. Pleasure all too consuming. He was right. You liked when he was mean. Liked how rough he was—enjoying how he just took and took from you. He filled you in ways that you knew ruined you for anyone else. And yet still you loved it all so very much. 

You were getting close again. Could feel your peak just at the horizon. Waiting to burst. You moved your hand. Fingers desperate to finally bring yourself that last bit of pleasure to send you over the edge that you’ve desired all night. The one he’s been denying you all evening. But of course he notices immediately. Knocking your hand away before you get any chance. 

“Not yet.” 

You all but whine at his words. Almost pathetically so. Tears finally prickling at the corner of your eyes from being denied by him once again. “Cooper.” 

“You know the rules.” He thrusts a little more roughly as if to punish you. A warning. “You take what I give you.” 

“Please.” 

“Look at you, the mess you are.” He groans out at your begging. Eyes burning hot with desire. Thrusts still unwavering.  “You’d let me do whatever I want to you if it meant I fucked you, wouldn’t you?” 

He had chuckled as you could only seem to nod. Clinging to him. Any kind of words from your lips caught between gasps and moans. You were so overwhelmed. The air was too hot. Everything felt too much but too little at the same time. And it was all because of him. The Ghoul who seemed all too good at taking you apart piece by piece. The mess you were was his fault, and he knew it—reveled in it.

 You could never seem to get enough of him, and he knew it too. He could give you everything or nothing, and you’d still thank him for each little bit of it. He was the same. Even if he would never admit it. He always needed more of you. Both of you were addicted to the other. Needed to feel him just like he needed to feel you. Like a chem neither of you could shake. Didn’t want to shake. 

Cooper’s thrusts had begun to grow sloppy now. His breathing more ragged. Hands squeezing your hips so tightly you were sure to bruise by morning. Your head was swimming. Drowning in the pleasure and losing it in the feeling of him. Mind too far gone to think of anything else. A mere mess of moans and gasps, as tears streamed down your cheeks. So close to unraveling at the seams for him. All just for him. 

When he reached his end he didn’t give you any kind of warning save for a low moaned fuck. Making sure to thrust into you deeply. As far as he could go. His cum filling you to the brim as he did. It was only then when his fingers found your clit again. Rubbing the nub in harsh brutal circles that finally sent you crashing over as well. Ripping your orgasm from your body like he was owed nothing less. 

“There you are, take all of me.” He groaned out as you squeezed and clenched around him. Breathless. Eyes watching how you came undone. Making sure to take in every bit of you that he could as you lost it beneath him. “Come for me darlin’.” 

Your nerves felt on edge as the pleasure wrecked through your system. Body shaking while you could only seem to cling to him tighter. Hands fisted into his shirt and your legs squeezing around his hips, trapping his form to yours all while riding out your orgasm. 

It wouldn’t be until the high began to dwindle where your mind would begin to clear again. A gentle throb at your core. Your body relaxed in his arms, limbs growing heavy, and breath beginning to return. The night's air starting to feel cool against your heated skin. 

He hadn’t pulled out yet. Just stayed inside with the mess he made, as you both came down from your pleasure. Your oversensitive walls still clinging to his softening cock despite how completely wrecked you felt. Eventually you had almost felt sticky laying there—covered in your own sweat and grim. You tried to move away. Trying to free yourself from his grasp, but the hand he still had on your hip stopped you. Squeezing gently. 

“Cooper-” You had begun to question him, eyes fluttering open and looking to Ghoul who still hovered above, but found yourself unable to finish when you finally met his gaze. Breath and words caught in your throat all over again. 

Intense. Soft. There was a strange feeling that swarmed there in his eyes. Something you weren’t quite used to seeing from him. Something you just couldn’t place. It surprised you when he leaned in. Made your heart flutter—stomach flip—as his lips found yours. 

The Ghoul rarely kissed you, and when he did it was rough. All teeth and bite, just like everything else about him, but this kiss wasn’t anything like that. There was an odd softness to it. So gentle, and unlike anything you had ever shared with him before, but it was good all the same. Left your heart feeling like it was going to fall out of your chest right then and there.  

 It had all been fleeting though. That fluttering feeling. That sweet kiss. Lips pressed to yours only for a moment before they were gone again. Like it had never happened in the first place. Just another piece of memories from him to add to your imagination. Never to be addressed. 

There wasn’t a word spoken between you as he finally pulled out from your sensitive walls. The touch of his body—his hands—leaving you, as he moved to settle at your side again. He didn’t look your way, but you couldn’t help lull your head over to gaze at him. Still stuck in that dreamlike feeling. Watching. Quiet as he leaned over the bedside to rummage around in his bag. Pulling out the vials you had seen him take so many times by now. 

You still hadn’t a clue to what they were really. Knew it kept him from going feral, but beyond that you knew nothing. Which is how he liked things typically. He never told you too much. That’s just what it was always like between you two. You hadn’t even known his name till quite recently. 

It was during one of the last few times he had visited, if you recalled. Between moans and bated breaths. Pleasure so close to reaching its peak when he first told it. Cooper. You still remember how desperate he sounded. Caught off guard by the unfamiliar tone from the Ghoul you were beginning to know so well.  Name’s Cooper darlin’. And you’d never forget the way he practically crumbled to pieces as you said the name back. Soul exposed to you in ways you never thought possible with him. 

Honestly, you didn’t even think he had a soul until that moment. 

The Ghoul hadn’t been back for months after that night. For reasons you could only guess at. There was a point where you didn’t think he’d ever be back to seek you out again. But of course he was always full of surprises. Almost half a year passed until you saw him again at your doorstep. Acting as if nothing had happened since last, like he hadn’t been gone far longer then he ever had before. Familiar bite and taunting words greeting you fondly. All back to his normal self—or what was normal of him to you at least. 

“Cooper?” 

He inhales the chem. Doesn’t pay you any mind in the slightest. Which is fine. Doesn’t stop yourself from shifting closer to him. Allowing for one of your hands to trail up his chest. You feel him pausing briefly at your touch, and your eyes meet his as he glances your way. He’s unreadable as he gazes at you, hazel eyes holding yours for a mere second, before they’re focusing back to his life saving vials. 

He doesn’t go to stop you though, so you take the chance to tuck yourself into his side. Head resting on his chest. Your eyes feeling heavy once more as you do. But still you don’t sleep yet. Not when you know how little time you have left with the Ghoul. So instead your fingers draw shapes over him, and play with the button of his shirt he still never bothered to remove. 

“Thought I told you to fuckin’ sleep.” His voice brings you away from your thoughts, as he finishes up with his chem. Sounding almost annoyed, probably was, he’s not one for showing much bouts of affection after all. Doesn’t even really like when you’re clingy either. But somehow that still doesn’t stop his free arm winding itself around your waist. Holding you close.  

“Cooper…” 

“Sleep.” The Ghoul’s voice had been quiet but firm. He had pulled his hat from the bedpost to wear again, tugging it to rest over his closing eyes. “Some of us got shit to do in the morning.” 

You didn’t bother to point out how he had been the one disturbing you up till this moment. There was no point in arguing with him though. He wouldn’t listen—a stubborn bastard through and through. 

Not that you could find a good reason to do so anyway. Especially not with how your eyes kept trying to flutter shut, or how comforting it felt laying there in his arms. Listening to his breathing. His very subtle heartbeat somehow loud to your ears. 

When sleep finally took you it would be peaceful for once. Something about knowing the Ghoul was there made you feel calm. Even though you knew that it should have been the opposite. He was deadly. Could kill you in a second. But somehow that hadn’t bothered you in the slightest. Not anymore, at least. Instead it made you feel at ease.

 Safe.

The sun would be barely rising as you woke to the early light. Gentle rays illuminating your small room in a warm orange glow. You had stretched, yawning, before naturally going to feel for the Ghoul that had invaded your home last night. His spot had been empty, of course, long grown cold now that he didn’t occupy its space. 

He never stayed for long. Any night he spent with you he was always gone before you ever had the chance of waking. It’s just how he was. How things were meant to be between you two. You had understood since the very beginning, all those years ago when first taking him into your bed. 

And yet still your fingers ran over the spot. An ache settling in your heart. You knew there was no reason to be sentimental. There was no reason to miss something that wasn’t truly yours. But there was a part of you that did. A piece of you that wanted more than this—wanted what you couldn’t truly have for yourself. 

The Ghoul, Cooper Howrad. You wanted him. More than just for sex. His heart, his soul. You wanted it all. Every piece of him. Craved it even. More than you ever desired something in your entire life. That thought of being his, and him being yours rattling around in that silly little heart of yours. 

He’d never allow it. 

Sighing, you pulled your hand away from his spot and sat up. Wincing. You had almost forgotten about it. The bite mark he left on your thigh still painful. Carefully you looked it over. He hadn’t taken a chunk out of you. Thankfully. Just left you looking like some sort of chew toy like he usually did. 

It wasn’t worth a stimpak. Not like you’d ever consider using one anyway for such a minor injury. It would be a waste otherwise, and being wasteful out here meant death even on a good day. 

Sometimes you wondered if that was why he marked you up so much. As if he knew you wouldn’t bother to heal them so quickly. You wondered if he enjoyed knowing that your body carried signs of him for days. Bites and bruises like some sort of possessive claim. Every mark from him a reminder of just who exactly had left them there in the first place. 

You doubted it all the same though, he probably just thought it was fun to bite and mark you up. Probably did it to everyone he spent the night with. You were sure there were others. Even if he’s never said so, you weren’t dumb enough to think otherwise, as sad as it made you to think about sometimes. 

Leaving bed, your morning would end up being the same as any other. You’d get yourself ready, tidy up the room, and eat what little food you had. After you’d work the day away. Maybe even head into town for a little bit before heading back home. The simple mundane routine so natural to you now that it went about like clockwork. Doing what you needed to survive before the sun would fall again. The moon taking its place easily in a sky painted by shining stars. 

And as you’d lay in bed once more. You’d look out to the wasteland through those cracks in the boarded window. Wondering if he’d show, eyes searching for any kind of sign of him. Waiting—hoping—for the Ghoul to arrive again. 

But of course, he wouldn’t.

[felassan]

Just some info I noted down from today's video in text form, under a cut due to what some peeps may consider spoilers, and length.

This video took place well into the game, meaning the beats in it are later in the storyline.

At least part of Davrin’s personal arc involves rescuing the griffons. In an earlier part of his arc you are introduced to his nemesis, the Gloom Howler, a creature that has been hunting and stalking Wardens for quite some time. It has kidnapped a bunch of non-Assan griffons and Davrin has been trying to track it down. In the quest shown in the video, he has found a lead and wants to go and track it down and get the griffons back from the Cauldron (a secret Grey Warden redoubt that was attacked). Davrin wonders what the Wardens were hiding inside the Cauldron, as he has no idea. When the party reaches the Cauldron, they find that something large tore down the gate. The party needs to find a way inside and help Davrin investigate.

Davrin prefers a Direct approach in dialogue. Tough dialogue choices can gain approval from him

The bond between a griffon and a Warden moving as one and having unity between them is called “turlum”. Davrin and Assan don’t yet have this

Grey Wardens: Lancit, Remi, Landon, Quincy, Miriel, Fisher, Greta, Beckett, Flynn (an apprentice physician, whose mentor is called Oskar). I think Flynn’s pronouns are they/them. We will do quests with Flynn including A Cabin in the Blight. They were treating patients and became low on medical supplies. Their mentor Oskar has some and lives in a cabin outside the village. Flynn asks Rook to tell Oskar they could use his help if Rook sees him when they are out there. Flynn is local to Lavendel and saw the Blight surge through their home.

A Grey Warden merchant / quartermaster is called Holden. The little girl seen with Davrin in the release date trailer is called Mila.

If you do content in an area it helps you discover more shortcuts, giving you more flexibility in how you navigate between different remaining missions and quests

Each exploration space has its own story to tell. The quests and sidequests there are narratively relevant and also contribute to a meta story/meta narrative about that space. In Hossberg / Lavendel the aim is to get to the center of the Blighty stuff that has been going on there

Another Warden sidequest called Lives Spared seems to involve some missing Wardens who haven’t checked in in a while

Rook inherits the Lighthouse willingly or unwillingly from Solas. It’s located in the Fade and is where Solas was able to start planning his rebellion against the elven gods millennia ago

The Lighthouse shapes itself around your personality. Companions’ rooms there shape themselves around the companions as they live there and go through their arcs. A glowing light above the entrance to a companion’s room indicates that they are ready to talk to us

Hossberg is a later game area. Hossberg Wetlands are dark swamps and the area has almost completely been consumed by the Blight, making it a lot more dangerous than before. As a zone it’s quite contiguous and has lots of branching paths and different areas to explore. The Grey Wardens set up shop in an outpost/fortress (this is only one of their bases) there called Grey Hold in the small town of Lavendel, which used to be a beautiful place full of life and flowers. The Blight has had a serious effect on Lavendel, but the residents are still there and trying to make the most of it. There are plenty of opportunities to help the residents.

The Wardens have noticed that something strange is going on; the Blight is not behaving as it should or as they would expect, or like it has done historically. A codex entry pops up called “An Improved Blight”. (basically we are getting Blight dialled up to eleven) Rook is there to work with the Wardens, help them out, and help them find the answer to their question about the Blight. In their outpost the Wardens have built up a small fighting force to hold off the darkspawn. They understand the stakes of the gods being released and want to help you but they have other priorities, so increasing their power allows them to contribute more meaningfully to your fight against the elven gods. The Blight has changed. It’s become a lot more organic, a lot more alive. Once a slow-moving wall, it now has almost-sentience and almost-thought behind it. This has something to do with the released Blighted elven gods.

Something bad happened to a place called D’Meta’s Crossing, it’s no longer standing.

It sounds like Weisshaupt has fallen.

Merchant shops can be upgraded, doing so unlocks new items.

The Crossroads is a location in the Fade that contains a number of eluvians, allowing you to travel across Thedas in a matter of minutes. At the point the video takes place, the Crossroads are under assault by the elven gods. It’s now a dangerous place.

The big eluvian in the Lighthouse is called the Vir Revas. (that could translate as Way/Path of Freedom). It’s the central focus point of the Lighthouse and it takes you to Solas’ pocket area of the Crossroads, which looks different to what we’ve seen in Trespasser. “A path has emerged from the mists of the Fade that leads to a gathering point where all eluvians meet – the Crossroads”. We will spend a lot of time travelling through the Crossroads as we go from area to area. At one point, it was also a space that served as Solas’ main base of operations and training ground for his rebellion against the elven gods. As we go through it we will find fragments of the past, things that Solas did previously that will give us insight into him as a character, and also into the elven gods and their motivations. If you go exploring in the Crossroads there are opportunities to relive some of the memories Solas had during his rebellion. We will actually get to take part in this ancient rebellion.

The Crossroads as a realm reflects the waking world. It’s a mix/ amalgamation of all the real world spaces that are tied to it, in this case for example Hossberg and other mountainous regions that exist in the game. The architecture around the eluvians here very clearly reflects where they lead. The first time you go to any of the new regions in the world you traverse the Crossroads to get there. After that you can fast travel if you want. But exploring the Crossroads is recommended because some of the deepest secrets lie within

There is a mysterious spirit in the Crossroads called The Caretaker who was there before Solas was. They started to help Solas with his rebellion and also to turn the area into a safe haven for spirits, as Solas loves spirits. In the video we see them piloting a boat through the air to transport Rook somewhere. Because the gods are assaulting the Crossroads, it’s no longer the safe haven it once was. Rook works with the Caretaker through a lot of ancillary content to rebuild it into a safe home for spirits.

There is an area in the Crossroads called Beacon Island

The darkspawns’ different looks is very intentional. Their new look is in part because Ghilan’nain, described here as "the god of monsters", has always been focused on using the Blight essentially as a crafting material, a way to alter life itself. she’s been enhancing and changing the darkspawn as part of her army. She uses Blight like a medium to sculpt and warp the darkspawn to do her bidding and suit her purposes. The idea is that the Blight and the darkspawn are an organic weapon. Instead of making swords and armor, the darkspawn use the Blight to augment themselves, effectively defeat you and give the gods the world that they desire. The darkspawn aren’t just coming out of nowhere. They emerge from Blight pools, like the Blight is spawning them. Part of Ghil’s attempts to turn this into an army for the gods is to use them for overwhelming force. Hurlock Blighters have disgusting growths on their backs that they throw, making them function like grenadiers as they rip off these pieces of themselves and throw them at you - these then explode as Blight – this kind of enemy design for the darkspawn is supposed to lean into the idea that the Blight is organic and disgusting. In places there are Blight boils throughout the area, and if Rook doesn’t destroy them during combat ghouls will continue to emerge from them.

It sounds like in terms of ‘factions of enemies’ and their designs, we have the darkspawn which use overwhelming force tactics, the Venatori which focus on magical power, and the Antaam which focus on physical strength

Zipline traversal is in

Each mage’s (Neve, Bellara, Emmrich) healing ability is thematically appropriate to them

I think Davrin’s special exploration ability, or one of them, is called Blight Hunter. (one of the ones Rook can channel through the dagger when that companion isn’t there). This summons Assan from above to destroy Blight Abscesses. He seems to have another as well that Rook can also use via the dagger called Griffon Strike. In the video Rook uses this one to destroy a mechanism that was keeping a load of wood suspended in the air from a beam.

We see Rook also using the dagger to "charge beam" and destroy what looked like a thick tendril of organic Blight across the ground, and to destroy a ‘wall’ of blight abscesses that was blocking the way. At one point in the video Rook comments that the dagger is vibrating, "like a song in a wine glass"

When companions go ahead to meet you at quests they’re invested in, they won’t complete them without you, but they do get things ready. If you start doing those quests and don’t have them in your party, they will move ahead of you and wait for you at the next point.

[okay-babe]

On my knees begging for you to give us an Alastor x Reader fic featuring cursed Alastor cat 🙏

Some Small Part (return to you)

note: how could I ever say no? tags: alastor x reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, pet! catalastor, mild angst, reader's gender is unspecified, fluff

Outside, thunder rumbled ominously, causing you to pull your robe flush against your torso without even realizing. It was a habit of sorts now, developed after years upon years of unanticipated solitude that seemed to have no foreseeable end.

One had to cope somehow, after all, and you'd never been a very big fan of storms even back when the clouds above had spat water instead of acid.

Your fear required comfort to remedy, and those whose needs were not met made due with the little things, like wrapping themselves up in their softest robe before standing thoughtlessly to search for the only other presence that could be found within the thick and familiar walls of their house.

And of course, that is exactly what you did.

"Minou!"

You called, voice drowned out by the much louder growls of the clouds above as you made your way slowly to the creature's favorite spot within your home.

There was no doubt that he was back from whatever hunt he'd been on by now. After all, he really wasn't one to enjoy getting his fur wet.

"Minou!"

You called again, voice slightly louder this time as you peeked into the laundry room curiously, only to frown when you noted that your "pet" wasn't on the lowly thrumming dryer where he tended to reside whenever the weather grew chill.

You sighed.

He was just as hard to find, it seemed, as the man whose image he so eerily and inexplicably took after.

A burst of lightning crashed noisily against the ground, and in spite of yourself and your apparent annoyance, you jumped, gasping in surprise before groaning, placing your hand against your chest as if needing to feel your racing heart to know you hadn't died all over again.

To say you merely disliked storms after how you'd passed was an understatement, and you found yourself cursing the man who had dared to adorn your finger with his ring all those years ago.

Who did he think he was, leaving you alone to endure a hundred nights just like this one in his absence?

You weren't entirely sure he'd walk away unscathed if he ever dared step through your shared front door again.

But that was enough thought of him.

Sighing, you turned around, already eager to continue the search for your ominous little companion.

Except, much to your surprise, it seemed there would be no search necessary, because standing in the doorway behind you was the very being you had been looking for.

"There you are."

You sighed again, half out of relief and half out of exasperation for the silence with which your darling "pet" always seemed to move.

Habitually, you looked the creature over as he sat still upon the floor, taking in his dark red fur, yellowed teeth, and absurdly small antlers.

He was so familiar to you now that it almost made you falter if you thought about it for too long.

When exactly had you gotten so used to the little guy?

Honestly, if someone were to ask you when the thing had shown up, you weren't entirely sure if you'd be able to recall anymore.

It had been quite some time ago, after all, on a stormy night like this one, that he'd shown up at your door.

The date had long since left your memory, but the fear had stuck around in that wretched way it always did.

You had been terrified.

That storm had exceeded the worst of any other you'd experienced in hell prior, and as you'd cowered in the living room, the radio playing nothing but static paired with the brief interruptions of neighboring channels, you couldn't help but feel like you were being watched.

It was a gnawing sensation, the certainty of eyes staring into your soul, but even still, something had compelled you to approach the window anyhow.

Whatever was out there, you hadn't felt afraid of it, not even when your eyes found those piercing red ones in the darkness.

You had let the creature come inside that night, telling yourself it was just because you felt bad for it having had to sit out there for so very long in the rain.

You'd refused to admit back then how eerie a resemblance it shared with your husband.

You'd refused to acknowledge that such a ridiculous fact had any bearing on your decision.

Because in truth, it was completely absurd.

Except, clearly there had been something about the little guy that you enjoyed having around, because after that night, he'd never truly left.

Sure, he would vanish on occasion through the cat door you'd affixed to the wall a few years ago, but he had yet to stay gone for longer than a few hours at a time.

He knew where home was, it seemed.

Perhaps that was the difference between him and the man you'd married.

You tried not to think too hard about that.

Frowning slightly at another bout of thunder, you snapped yourself out of your reverie and returned your attention to the creature still sitting in front of you.

"Where were you hiding?"

You chided halfheartedly as you bent down to pick the cat-like being up, smiling softly at his purr of contentment. For such an impersonal creature, he certainly did like being on the receiving end of your affections...

Perhaps that was something he shared with the man you'd married.

You were still doing your best not to think about that, though.

Carrying your odd little companion over to the couch, you couldn't help but sigh as you placed him upon your lap, watching as he curled up happily in that same manner he always did.

He was quite the consistent creature, each behavior as strict and unbending as a habit.

All he ever really did was hunt, stare, stand, sit, lay, and stare some more.

His typical day consisted of following you around the house, watching as you performed your daily chores and activities, leaving for a few hours if he felt up to it, and then returning to watch again.

Honestly, now that you thought about it, you weren't even really sure if you'd ever seen the little guy sleep in the four years he'd been occupying your home.

A creature of habit, indeed.

But then, if that was so true, why was it that he was suddenly standing upon your lap with no warning, his fur straight on end and his hackles raised as a hiss as low and ominous as the thunder from above rumbled within his chest.

Your eyes widened at the sight, raising your hands as if in surrender, certain you must've done something to anger your oddly particular "pet".

But then, before you could even consider what that something may have been, you heard a sound that made your heart skip a beat.

It was metal on metal, a familiar, subtle clicking, and then an obvious shift in pressure as cool air flooded your living room.

A key slid easily out of the lock.

Except there was only one other key...

And you hadn't seen it since-

Your head whipped around so fast you feared for a moment that you may have given yourself whiplash, though quickly any thoughts of injury ceased the moment your eyes met his.

"Alastor."

You breathed, his name falling past your lips like a prayer you'd been forced to stop uttering.

Even just saying it felt like an act of heresy.

Your husband's grin remained plastered upon his face even as he caught sight of you, expression unphased, though you couldn't help but notice the way that his eyes roved about your face and body, softening slightly as if he'd only just realized after so very long that he could relax them if he so chose.

"Chère."

He replied simply, his voice smooth and relaxed even in spite of how very long it had been since either of you had seen each other,

"I didn't expect you to be awake."

At that, you swallowed thickly, gently petting at the still growling creature that was standing upon your lap,

"There's a storm."

You replied softly, shaking your head,

"I can't ever sleep during storms anymore."

At that Alastor seemed to stop for a few moments, as if considering your words more thoroughly before he finally nodded.

"Of course, how could I forget?"

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, though he halted rather suddenly when he noticed the source of the angry sound that was reverberating throughout the room.

"What is that?"

He asked, gesturing slightly toward the creature who still stood protectively upon your lap, ears pointed straight up toward the ceiling and eyes fixed meanly upon your husband as if it wished to tear the man to shreds.

"Honestly, I'm not quite sure."

You continued to pet your small companion soothingly, trying to reassure it that things were okay without the use of words.

"He showed up a few years ago during a fearsome storm not too unlike this one. I let him inside so he wouldn't get hurt and he's been here ever since."

Alastor regarded the being with caution and a mild sense of confusion as he continued his slow approach. When he stopped a few feet short of you though, you found that you doubted that your "pet" was making much of a difference when it came to that. Your husband never did stand very close to you when he knew that he'd messed up recently.

A quick getaway, you supposed, probably a smart move.

But as angry as you'd been even just thinking of your love earlier in the evening, you couldn't bring yourself to feel the same way in that moment

It was exhausting, missing someone as much as you'd missed the man standing before you, and it almost felt like none of that truly set in until the very moment he was just outside of your reach once more, standing in the home you'd shared as if he'd never even left in the first place.

Oh how badly you wished that were the case.

You swallowed thickly, fighting back tears that you didn't dare try to understand for fear of making them flow faster.

"It was terribly quiet here without you, you know."

You whispered, watching as your husband's lips twitched downward ever so slightly.

He hummed,

"I wasn't aware that I made much noise at all, my dear."

You scoffed at that, in spite of the tears that were still welling up in your eyes.

"I don't think I was either until you left,"

You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a lot more like a sob, and in response, the creature in your lap quieted slightly, as if having sensed your distress and realized it's attention was better suited elsewhere.

You gasped slightly as you felt it's rough tongue against your cheek, lapping up the tears that had fallen in spite of your best efforts to keep them from doing so.

And then, unable to control yourself, you let out a burst of laughter.

"You're such a weirdo."

You chuckled as you held the small being beneath it's armpits, outstretching your arms to hold it out further so you could see it properly.

It simply stared back, tail wagging ever so slightly with one of it's ears bent toward you in the way you'd grown accustomed to throughout the years.

It was rare that both of it's ears were up unless it was upset.

You quite liked the look of them when they were uneven anyhow, it wasn't much unlike-

Before you could finish that no doubt destructive thought, you stopped yourself and turned your attention back toward the man who was now sitting comfortably in the chair placed opposite to you.

He hummed softly as your eyes met his once more.

You sighed.

"Al, this is Minou."

You introduced gently, turning the creature so he could see it better.

If it reacted, you certainly didn't notice.

Your husband raised a brow in response.

"It's name is... cat?"

He asked hesitantly, wondering for a moment if you had perhaps grown rusty with your french after so many years with no practice.

But before he could get much further with that theory, you nodded.

"Yeah, I thought it was fitting enough. He could pass for a cat, right?"

You turned the creature around once more to get a better look at him, and smiled when it's persistently ominous expression came into view.

He was pretty cute, in his own weird way.

Another manner in which he wasn't too unlike your husband, you supposed.

Alastor chuckled under his breath at your question, watching intently and with a look of keen interest as he took in the sight of you after so very long.

"I suppose so, if one were to squint."

You scoffed at that, but the grin on your face made it obvious that you weren't nearly as upset as you were making yourself out to be.

You pulled your "pet" in closer after a few more seconds of further inspection, smiling softly at the returning sound of his purr upon your lap.

You sighed, looking back to your husband once more.

"You know, when I found him, I almost thought that he was you for a little while, or maybe some extension of you I'd never met before. There's just something about him that feels so awfully familiar in that same way you do."

Alastor hummed and approached slowly, dropping a kiss to the top of your head as he finally began to shed his coat.

"Hmm, how interesting."

He replied, semi-lost in thought as he spoke.

It would make sense, after all, that if some part of him were to somehow split off from the rest and gain a consciousness of it's own...

It would return to you.

[peoplesgraves]

Imagine being a Royal who can’t escape obsession

Yandere Knight who’s been trained for the honor of protecting the royals their entire life. Who’s had any semblance of self beaten out of them instead being filled with nothing but reverence for their favorite. At first their obsession is devoid of romance, solely based on their divine duty to protect you. They’re happy just to stay by your side and content with forgoing their own life in favor of yours. That would all change the moment they actually get hurt protecting you. They expect to be broken just like when they were a kid, destroyed and remade stronger, better for you. Instead you are gentle and kind, you help nurse their wounds and their obsession transitions from one of duty to one of love. No longer content to die for you, now they must live for you, their beloved royal. No matter how many people they have to cut down your knight will never forsake their love.

Yandere Advisor a few years older than you but much much younger than your other advisors. They were a prodigy, groomed from a simple stable hand to the person they were today. Their incredible intelligence, tactical mind and people skills make them invaluable to the kingdom but they find themself laying awake night after night. Not worrying for the people but for you instead. They care not for the opinion of other royals or their peers but only of yours. They view everyone as below them, sure their friendly and compassionate on the surface but below the skin lies a bubbling darkness. Every meeting with you that’s interrupted by some silly problem or royal ball they’re forced to miss due to work, they find their facade cracking. They contemplate abandoning the wretched kingdom you loved, whisking you far far away so they can finally have what they love. For now though they’ll wear their cracked mask and guide you as gently as they can, both in your role as a royal and towards your devoted advisor.

Your families resident Yandere Wizard is a strange creature. Equally out of their mind as they are terrifyingly cunning. They slip between the two states so easily that it’s not quite clear which is their true self, maybe they’re both just hiding what truly lurks below their calculating eyes and outrageous outfits. Despite being perfectly capable of turning whatever enemy crossed their path into nothing more than a pile of dust, the prefers to use his magic in more…joyful ways. Turning your dress into whatever color you fancied at the moment or making flowers appears out of thin air whenever you seemed down. Some may call it a waste of their gift but they knew the truth, knew that nothing was a waste if it was done for love. They turn their tower into an inviting place for you and makes sure you know you’re always welcome, that they’ll always have time for their royal. They contemplate keeping you up in their tower forever and using their magic to bring you bliss until the end of days. They would give you whatever you wanted because all they wanted was you.

A Yandere Witch who’d started as a simple forest witch. Content to live in her small cabin among the trees and animals, only ever going into the royal city when they needed supplies or to sell off potions at the marketplace. Sometimes people would come to them for help with their maladies or to try and observe their strange skills for themselves and usually they’d abide before sending them on their way and going back to their solitude. Lately though their solitude wasn’t the great comfort it had once been. Something was missing or rather someone. They found herself going into the royal city more and more, not just flitting in and out of the market place but becoming a frequent fixture. So frequent in fact that under cover of night and a cloak you’d come to seek them, hearing of their skills on one of your visits to greet the subjects. They indulged you, allowing you to watch their work until the sun starts to peak through the horizon and to their joy you keep coming back whenever you can. They becomes so fond of your company that they consider getting rid of that pesky wizard of yours and offering themself for the royal court instead.

A Yandere Maid and your closest confidant, a fact she very much likes to rub in to anyone who will listen. She’d been raised for this since birth, the knight was raised to protect you sure but she was raised to serve. To handle every tedious, boring or undesirable aspect of your life so you’d never be anything less than content. It was a job they took very seriously, keeping detailed lists of what you liked and didn’t like, paying the shadiest people to vet any new people you came into contact with before you ever met them and of course helping in more normal ways too. Because you trust them so implicitly it’s startlingly easy to get rid of any favors of affection from anyone else, after all you didn’t need anyone else. Only they could take care of you the way you needed, it was their purpose, you were their purpose.

The Yandere Jester is perhaps the least assuming of yanderes. Always joking and smiling and laughing and prodding oh so subtly. Telling you stories of when they were sent to the gallows and their escape even fantastical tales of robbed royals, mysterious murders and other various crimes and misfortunes. Ultimately these were assumed to be humorous fibs from a misguided jester but still some nobles would whisper theories while looking at the jester fearfully, saying they were an escaped madman or perhaps a demon in human form. Truthfully no one but you seemed to like them much, always acting as if they were a rabid bloodthirsty beast and they were, to anyone else at least. To you they were a lapdog, hungry only for your laughter and joy. Eventually their stories get to be less about the past and more about the future, talks of how funny it’d be to steal away their beloved and leave all these silly nobles heads spinning. They don’t sound quite as funny telling that one, but still you smile politely and they love you even more for it.

Yandere Suitors sent from other kingdoms, mostly weaker ones seeking to form an alliance but also a few from stronger kingdoms, even empires who simply had a spare and figured it couldn’t hurt or needed agreements on something specific from your kingdom such as a rare resource. Eventually as more and more suitors came and then refused to return home even after rejection, they ended up as more of an unwanted harem situation. Constantly making and breaking alliances with each other to try and gain favor, flitting around the palace ordering servants around to make sure everything perfect all the time for you. Each trying to be seen as the best spouse for you, dreaming of the day you pick them and send the rest home, in pieces if required. Always whispering gossip in your ear, offering to warm your bed or accompany you out of the palace. Theyd do anything to be your favorite, just one step closer.

Throngs of adoring, Yandere Royal Subjects, even people from the far away villages and outer edge territories make their way to the royal city when you make a grand appearance in town. Cheering and waving colorful flags made from scrap, some huddled in groups giving blessings for your safety and health hoping they’d be extra effective with you so close. Parents hold up their kids as high up as they can hoping you’d bless them through the carriage window as they’d seen you do before. People insist on giving gifts and offering, although not to you directly once the royal entourage passes many march to the castles gates and leave them there, in place for your return. While many have negative views on other royals or monarchy in general, none ever seem to extend to you, their beloved royal. Any citizen led attacks or rebellions to the crown always seem to happen when you’re away and never touch your preferred parts of the castle or castle grounds, the very worst that’d ever happened to you was when a small outlier group raided your room and stole a few things. Those same outliers were later found bled out in the middle of town,in the middle of the day, with absolutely no witnesses. Everyone in town knows what happened of course, justice was served.

Yandere Assassin who was the best, never once caught or suspected for the hundred deaths they’d directly caused, so disconnected from themself and from the world that every new identity and culture they found themself ingratiated in felt just as much like home as anywhere else, nothing felt real or right so what did it matter who they were or who they killed. Not until they were assigned to your kingdom, to your family, did they finally start to understand what it meant to be alive and just how precious life was. Years of blood on their hands hadn’t taught them to live but a week with you and their heart was beating for the first time. They mostly watched from the sidelines, acting as just another servant. They watched how the other royals misuse their power to mistreat the people, each other and most egregiously, you. They watch as the others ignore and placate you, watches as they lie and cheat and subjugate the masses and they’re disgusted. It’s amazingly easy to poison their wine, everyone who could possibly be a threat to your ascension. They know you’ll be upset for a while at the loss of your ‘family’ but they promise to be there for you and now that they’ve taken a permanent position in the castle they’ll have all the time in the world to look out for you.

A local Yandere Dragon who kidnaps you every few weeks or so. Of course the first time you’d been terrified, a huge thundering monster snatches you from your visit to the courtyard and just flies off, with you in its talons. Though once back at their surprisingly not horrible cave, you come to understand them a bit. At least more than any other human had ever bothered to. Some knights from your kingdom had stolen from their horde and they wanted whatever it was back, sure being kidnapped wasn’t great but at least they were negotiating instead of just destroying the place in revenge. They are gruff and unpracticed but ultimately harmless to you and after a guarantee of their stolen treasures return you too are returned home. Though every few weeks the dragon seems to have some new grievance that requires the beloved royal as collateral and in that time they grow to be more and more comfortable around you, their little human. Should your kingdom ever wise up to their trick and try to fight against the dragon for you it wouldn’t be pretty. Last time someone stole from their horde they negotiated, that time, they’d burn the kingdom to the ground and take what was theirs, permanently.

[khristie16]

A Game On Red

about: two ferrari boys are madly obsessed with you, they do whatever it takes to keep their pr manager just for themselves. warnings: daddy kink, size kink, guys are toxic, reader is innocent, jealousy, kidnapping, primal play, cnc, smut. tag list: @buendiabebeta words count: 2K Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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“Run cariño”

The cold environment around was not helping your situation at all. The wind was spreading around your skin like a plague and you felt goosebumps rising up your skin. You looked at both of them guys in disbelief. It was hunger and determination in their eyes. You knew you are their prey, but most importantly you started to feel like one. And although you knew what was waiting for you in the forest and who to await, somehow you couldn't bring yourself to commit to it.

“We give you a head start cherie, then there will be no help anymore. Choose wisely, your time is ticking”

Your eyes darted from side to side, your step back resulting in a crunch of something under your heel and you started to get scared. A sound that could become your nightmare echoed around you, causing anxiety, a desire to escape. Carlos groaned so inhumanly that you were starting to fear for your life. You hoped that they wouldn't ever hurt you, …right?

You knew there was no going back now. You expected what awaits you. You delayed your decision because you didn't want to admit what this theoretically meant for your future. And so you hesitantly turned around and started running. You didn't know that you weren't running away from them as much as you were running away from yourself, you were afraid of the answer to the question of why you let this get so far.

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You feel weakness in your legs. You left your heels behind long time ago, you don't know how and you don't even know how long you've been running, and the only thing that keeps you company are the sounds of your breath and hooting owls. You heard nothing more. And you were glad for it. Until you heard the first distant steps behind you.

Your heart races in sync with each pounding footstep on the leaf-covered ground. The moon's feeble light barely penetrates the dense canopy, casting shadows that seem to reach out for you. That is when you're like a lighthouse, your dress lights up in the moonlight, it's like you're a siren calling your lover to you. But you weren't the one who had dominion over them. They have one over you and they're coming for you. You are their beautiful bait and they look forward to seeing what they can get out of you. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, mixing with the rustling leaves and the distant calls of dangerous creatures.

Your senses are on high alert, and you strain to hear any hint of your pursuer's approach. Your path is uncertain, guided only by instinct, and you pray that you don't stumble into a hidden trap or lose your way entirely. Each second feels like an eternity as you navigate this dark, twisted labyrinth, desperately seeking refuge and safety from the relentless pursuit that shadows your every move.

As you were getting lost in yourself, you found yourself in captivity. Like a hare caught in a trap. The hare was going to be dinner and that's exactly how you felt right now because you were hanging upside down and your legs were tightly tied together. Before you could recover, the world around you seemed a blur, and you couldn't find a single stable point of reference to focus on and pick up your spinning mind. It took some time for you to swing to a relatively stable motion in the suspension and you began to search for them with your eyes. You were scared and not sure if this was part of the game. What if you accidentally wandered into someone else's territory? After all you don’t know where you are and what type of people live around here. So you waited for a moment with a huge tension in your muscles, desperately trying to catch the tiniest bit of sound that would indicate that you were not alone. That desperate you were, to see your hunters. And some wishes come true.

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“Look at the beauty. She is even bare for us.”

You knew it was Carlos talking. You saw a pair of legs walking right towards you. And you couldn't help but feel relieved that they had found you. What is going on with you? You could feel Charles as well, the rush of heat behind your back was quite noticeable. Your boys found you…

“So beautiful. Her wetness shines the same as her dress.”

Only now did you realize what he was talking about. Your clothes were revealing. You had them halfway down and the only thing stopping the fabric from going all the way down over your face were your breasts. You were like a sacrifice for both the two, in honor of their presence. You didn't know what to do with yourself, you started shaking if it was even more possible and you wanted to hide, you had never experienced such shame in your entire life.

Someone's fingers started to touch you very sensually at your bound ankles. They slowly moved from side to side and he gradually took it down to your thigh. You held your breath at the fact that this was the first time one of the boys had touched you like this. You felt your bottom flush with blood and you swallowed loudly in response. Charles chuckled at that. Before you could feel even more shame, someone's hands grabbed your thighs tightly and violently and you were suspended to a greater height. Your face was now at Carlos's crotch level and you couldn't help but smell his scent, which you've known so intimately for a few months now. You never realized how used to that smell you are… Carlos continued his act and opened you wide. Your knees were bucked to the sides and Charles pressed into you from behind with such vigor that it was impossible for you to fall down again. You had Carlos in the front and Charles in the back. In their captivity between their bodies that warmed you so.

“We thank god each day for you being so tiny. We can do whatever we please with you.”

“Oh and look Carlos how beautifully she is glistening for us. You waiting for us to devour you right cherie?”

You lost your words at his words. You’ve never experienced such thing, guys only ate you out in bed in a completely normal position, not hang up with your ankles tied together. Carlos growled immediately with your lack of response. You whined so hard because you didn't like the position you were in. You felt the blood rush to your brain and you expected it to get worse and worse.

“Cherie, it will only get worse, you will make us eat you like hungry wolves if you give us even less time.”

Your desperation showed in another wail and you forced yourself to answer them with your cries.

“Y-yes, I w-want you t-to”

“Want to what cariño”

“To e-eat m-me..”

You just had a little bit of time to let out a painful whine before they both started on you. One part of your cunt was handled by Carlos while Charles tore his tongue inside of you, neither of them making sure it was gentle. It was so intense that one whine turned into a loud moan and you no longer recognized who was who. Their tongues melded together as you experienced one intense bliss. They ate you like they hadn't eaten in a month and the more you wiggled and sighed, the more bites they added and you couldn't even bend your back because of how tightly they held you between them.

And so you got carried away. You had already given up on resisting them as your head hurt more and more and it was getting harder and harder to resist them, so you let yourself get carried away by the satisfaction they brought you. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer and the slightest movement from their mouth would cause you pain that you could never have imagined. On the contrary, if it was possible, you tried to immerse yourself in them more and more, because you were afraid that they might break away from you. Their tongues were like at home with your cunt. You let out everything you could, the guys digging their nails into you so deep you were sure they left scars on you as your orgasm accompanied you. The orgasm flew through your whole body to your head, where it was already ringing and you stopped being conscious. You slowly and intensely fell into unconsciousness surrounded by your possessed admirers. Was it the worst or the best thing that could have happened to you?

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“She's such a strong woman you see?”

“Yeah, she did sooo well Carlos. You need to be more nice to her.”

“She doesn't need nice. She needs us.”

You slowly started to wake up and blink your eyelids quickly to relieve yourself from the darkness and look around to see where you are now. You vaguely remembered what happened in the forest and now you were confused as to where you went. You couldn't come up with an answer, but you knew one thing for sure. Your shoulders are stiff and tense. When you took a little time, you found out that your hands were forcibly tied behind your back, someone was holding them. That is, you found yourself in the lap of Carlos, who held your wrists behind your back so much that your chest sticked out. And you knew by the smell that you must be in the car. When your eyes finally started to cooperate with your consciousness as well, you recognised that Charles was sitting in front of you, on the ground where the car seat had been positioned before.

“Hello cherie”

“Charles…”

You looked into his eyes, they were so gentle and carried so much comfort and warmth that you couldn't believe that this Charles was the same Charles from the forest, that animal from the forest that was harassing your pussy, it's a wonder you didn't lose all your humanity.

“I noticed that you have a weird obsession with my rings. You like them a lot don't you baby?”

You looked at him again and just stared blankly at him. Were you that noticeable? Charles has divine hands, and palms, and fingers, and you always wondered why you didn't faint when you saw those rings on his fingers, which you often imagined on your body.

“Y-yes…”

“I thought I could give you some of my rings. Sharing is caring, no?”

Now you had no idea what he meant. What would you do with his rings? You like those rings in the first place because he's wearing them. Before you could think twice, Charles pulled a box out of his pocket. Opening it, he pointed it towards you so you could see what was inside. There were two small circles, black circles. These were definitely not for the fingers. Your confusion was evident from your facial expression. Charles chuckled and continued on.

“I understand your obsession cherie. That's why I'm doing this to you. I give you my rings and you're gonna wear them proudly on your tits.”

That made you squirm a little. And only now did you notice that you were sitting there completely naked. Fear began to flow through your veins again and you waited to see what would happen next. You were excited about it.

“Look at her, she's so excited about it.”

Carlos remembered his presence and you flinched at his sudden reaction. You looked back at Charles who was already taking two small rings with his fingers and pinning them to your nipples. It was a pain that could make you sweat your soul out.

“I want you to wear them to the ceremony. I will buy you better ones later.”

The pain clouded your brain and the only sound you made was a whimper. After which Carlos put more pressure to your wrists. He obviously didn't like any sign of weakness. After a little bit of time you took for yourself to calm down and try to forget about the pain you’ve felt, you tried to remember what was Charles talking about not so long ago.

“About what ceremony are you talking about?”

Charles was creeping inside your cunt and one of his fingers was slowly disappearing inside you. You were watching it from the very first moment and you could come undone just from that.

“For claiming you as ours and keeping you”

Your brain went into overdrive and you slowly went back to thinking that this was all a bad idea and bad for your career. But Carlos, as if reading your mind, started kissing the side of your neck and earlobe. You closed your eyes and Charles added a second finger that sent you back into your dumb fucked state and you let yourself be swept away by the flow of satisfaction again.

“We need to make sure you're ready to take us. You're so tiny and tight baby girl.”

You started to move against him because the only thing you had become was a selfish thing chasing your own satisfaction and forgetting everything else in your joy. You would do anything to bring yourself to the peak. Carlos started biting you and you tilted your head back even more so he could destroy you even more. And you felt the growing thing in his pants that was trying to invade your space with this. You wanted it so bad. And you were so hoping to have them all night just for yourself.

“You want to come on my rings cherie?”

“Y-yes.”

Charles added a third finger and sped up. But you were far from done with your wish.

“And I want you to come on my rings too.”

Charles hissed at that and Carlos bit into your neck like never before. You were closer and closer and you were coming out with the words of Charles's name and his words in the air filling your ears.

“Come for me then cherie.”

[justporo]

Hello! Very sorry if your post was rhetorical, but you asked for Astarion fluff and I had an idea. Since he's a canonical cay person, I like to think that a druid Tav would enjoy wildshifting into a cat and lounging in his lap, either acting as a heat source or letting him run his fingers through their fur when he's nervous or upset.

Anon, thank you so much. I immediately had a scene in my head and this was a true delight to write.

So now that I'm already crying from replying to that other Anon message (not their fault ofc), let's return to our regularly scheduled fluff, eh?

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You, Druid this time) Wordcount: 1,8k

Cats with Benefits

Sometimes it got all too much. Those were usually the moments you used your wild-shape abilities to shift into a cat and strolled off into the forest to have some moments of peace and quiet.

Today had been an especially exhausting day – the party had been fighting and bickering trying to figure out how to get through the Mountain Pass. The way was always steep and only loosely fixed, so you only made very slow progress and all of you were already completely exhausted came noon. So, you had decided that you’d take an additional rest midday when the sun was high and hot, adding to your already physically demanding hike.

You had put down your pack, went a few yards into the nearby patch of trees you had stopped at today to use their generous shade, and shifted into your usual form of a fluffy black cat and started to stroll around the small patch of forest. For some time you just wandered over fallen trees or through the underbrush, enjoying how differently it was to experience nature from the perspective of a feline creature. You loved it – it was almost like meditation for you.

The others didn’t know you wandered off like this sometimes. Or at least they hadn’t mentioned it. They wouldn’t leave without you and so far, you’d always gotten back to them in time. And as of late tension was high enough that everyone was pretty much occupied with just themselves, so they didn’t miss you.

After some time, you found a nice big rock in the sun on a clearing in the woods. Perfect for a cat to lounge on and take a nap. You jumped up, allowed yourself a long full body stretch and a big yawn and then rolled up into a ball of fur to enjoy the sun and some time alone.

As you laid there, your thoughts started to wander. You thought about your companions. You liked them, each and every one of them. Naturally, some more than others but you respected them all. But the path through the Mountain Pass had been a strain on all of you. And it really hadn’t helped that today everyone had just seemed on edge from the very first step on out.

Specifically, Astarion had been incredibly annoying today. Not being able to stop complaining about everything. Always replying with a sarcastic remark. To be honest, your relationship with him was probably the hardest and most formal of all thus far.

You had already realised that his flirty and sassy behaviour obviously were his coping mechanism for something deeply troubling, but by the Gods, it seemed he could never shut up. He was hand full at the best of times. Your furry ears started to twitch and the tip of your tail zig-zagged just thinking about it.

You tried to clear your mind then after your thoughts kept spiraling, hoping to relax enough that you could actually sleep a little.

But only shortly after your peace was broken.

“Well hello, who are you my beauty? A descendant of a mighty mountain lion? Rawr.”

No, it couldn’t be… The damned vampire had found you.

Of course he didn’t know it was you, but…

You opened one eye lazily and saw Astarion lean down to you, reaching out one hand to stroke you. Your jaws opened and you could already feel the hiss inside you rising to the top, but oh.

His touch was so gentle. His fingers softly stroked from the top of your head down your feline neck and back and you couldn’t resist leaning into his hand when he started again from the top.

“Someone likes that, hmm?”, Astarion said softly while petting what he received only as a wild but friendly cat.

Shifting into an animal also meant adapting some of their unique abilities and habits, so you couldn’t help when your feline body responded to the gentle touches by purring.

The vampire was positively intrigued when he heard that. As you opened your other eye you could see his big smile – a genuine one. You had never seen him smile like that. “Seems like someone’s just as touch-starved and desperate for some comfort as me”, he whispered while continuing his pets. That made your ears perk up and you immediately felt for the pale elf. Questions filled your mind about his unknowing revelation.

But you had barely any time to ponder them because suddenly the vampire scooped you up into his arms and sat down in front of the boulder you had laid down on. You yelped – or rather meowed at the sudden change of position.

Astarion moved carefully with your cat self in his arms until he was laying in the grass, legs angled, and you snuggled up against his chest. Since he had donned his armour and was only in his camp clothes you could feel his body, beneath your own.

This was incredibly weird and would probably end up with an awkward revelation but – you couldn’t deny that it was also very delightful.

“We can be cuddle buddies, my beauty, at least for an afternoon. So we can both get some much needed affection, hm?”, Astarion whispered to you. His red eyes looked so sad saying that. Whatever you had started to think about to get out of this situation evaporated. Suddenly, you only wanted to keep him company – it seemed he desperately needed it.

And the way he unknowingly had started opening up to you: it was a good albeit saddening look on him. You wanted to provide some comfort it that was what he seeked.

Also, it felt incredibly good to lay there on your new vampiric stone, soaking up the sun together while Astarion carefully continued petting you: scratching behind your ears, stroking down your back with both hands, even when he tickled one of your paws with a single finger. And you couldn’t stop purring. That bastard knew exactly what to do to keep the purrs coming.

Then after a while he just laid there with you, hands on your soft and shiny fur. He sighed: “I wish I could take you with me. You seem to like me. At least more than my other companions.”

Your ears perked up again, you looked at him but he had his eyes closed, head lolled back to enjoy the warming sunlight.

“Especially, Tav”, Astarion continued with another sigh “I wish I knew a way how to change that.”

That was it. You couldn’t in good faith continue to lay there with him as he offered up his innermost feelings. You got up and jumped off the vampire’s chest who got up on his elbows looking sad by your departure. You sat there and shortly pondered if you should just leave, keeping your secret. But you couldn’t, you needed him to know – and also have some words with him.

You changed back into your humanoid form, making Astarion scurry back from you, eyes wide with shock.

“Hi Astarion”, you whispered as you knelt beside him.

“You – what? How? Oh, I knew your eyes looked familiar!” His voice rose several octaves and you kept silent as his mood changed from shock to anger – but he stayed where he was.

“What the fuck was that about? Trying to spy on me?”, he hissed at you. Excuse him? He invaded your privacy. “I was here first, you bastard!”, you spat back and crossed your arms over your chest.

“And you didn’t think to reveal yourself before I proceeded to make you fucking purr?” “How when you didn’t leave me anytime in between petting me and lifting me up? I only wanted to be alone!”, you screamed back.

That made Astarion’s shoulders slump a little, some of his softer side returned. “I’m sorry”, he said quietly.

“No, I’m sorry”, you replied and looked down at your knees while pressing the balls of your head against your forehead “I should have said something way earlier.”

You looked up at him: “But then you sounded so sad and I… didn’t want you to be sad so I let it happen and it was kinda nice... I’m sorry, I invaded your privacy like this, Astarion. I’ll just leave and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

You saw the surprise on the vampire’s face who remained silent. So, you moved to get up, but Astarion quickly grabbed your wrist. “No, please. Stay… It was nice”, he confessed and looked into your eyes. The look he gave you was almost pleading.

The urge to move in and hug him overcame you, so you acted upon it – you had already laid on his chest, hadn’t you? How much worse could this make it?

You moved in and wrapped your arms around him – surprising the yelping vampire so much that he fell onto his back again. You were scared that you had crossed yet another line but to your own surprise you felt his arms wrap around you in return slowly.

And so you hugged him long and tightly. He was tense at first, but you felt him relax after some time. He even started to stroke your back again. You squeezed him and held onto him trying to offer him as much comfort and affection you could muster.

“For the record, I do like you, Astarion. You’re just annoying sometimes. But so can the others be, and I too”, you spoke into his chest, squeezing him yet harder. “And if… if you need someone to maybe talk to or hug you or just, you know, lounge in the sun… I can also change back into a cat, if you want me to. I could be your cat with benefits so to speak”, you brabbled into his shirt before you got too shy to make the offer. Your words were muffled but you hoped he heard you.

He did and the vampire chuckled softly. “That sounds… nice. Thank you. I may take you up on that if you promise you will keep this our little secret”, he answered hesitantly. You lifted your head from his shirt but not letting him go. “Would you like me to change back into a cat?”, you asked him and blushed as you realised what kind of weird deal you had just made with the vampire.

“No, Tav, not this time. This… this is very nice too”, Astarion replied and gave you another – the second this afternoon! – genuine smile. And this time it felt even better, knowing it was actually meant for you. You smiled back and placed your head on his chest again. Astarion’s hands kept softly wandering over your back as you kept holding him.

This is where you comfortably remained until it was time to get back to camp. But you were both sure it wouldn’t be the last opportunity to enjoy a nice cuddle in the afternoon sun.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Cryptid's Keeper | Yandere Obanai Iguro

When you were called to bring aid to an isolated village you were prepared to execute a minor cryptid that was probably picking at crops occasionally. It would make sense for a small town to consider that an emergency: it’s there supply. What you weren’t expecting was the threat to have been ravenously feasting on the residents of the town itself. The town was far too afraid to meet you at the border of their land without all of them linked to one another by each other’s hands. Elders and children, women and men, teens, and young adults alike tightly grasping at each other while they bowed in greeting.

They told of a mighty beast wrapped in pearl white scales with eyes red as the blood of it’s victims. Swallowing hordes of men armed with pitchforks and torches in one single night. The tales they told of this cryptid varied in all matter of atrocities–from swallowing the living to strangulating children to crushing those lucky enough to flee. But the stand-alone trait of ever story told to you was of the ghost eyed witch that’d walk the streets of the town. Without fail this witch would wear a thin veil that had the pattern similar to that of a zebra. They suspected their ghost eyes which they must have plucked from the peach trees themselves and an stone of jade from some treasure hidden deep in the forest. It would appear that any who crossed paths with the witch would be dead before morning on account of the beast, sometimes it’d be their whole family as well. 

The townspeople were willing to pay a hefty sum for your services, practically begging you to save them. Naturally you agreed. This was your job to hunt and trap troublesome cryptids in a world that knew nothing better. The aspect of the witch intrigued you the most. In your many travels you found that witch was just a word to label humans more in tune with their mystical side. Heck your sure if you hadn’t made a career of it you’d be labeled one yourself.

It was easy to track the beast, the clear mark of scales and muscle slithering on the ground led into the forest on an unmarked but used path. It made you wonder if they attempted to investigate at all. Trudging onward you prepared for the hassle it’d be to subdue a creature with track marks so much bigger than yourself.

It led to a cave near a river; a peaceful place for the horror that supposedly lived there. You head in, stepping over a wall of bones sticking up like spikes. Eyeing a few human skulls creating a path deeper inside. This place clearly has a human’s touch, while the decoration was dismal and dark there was clearly a sense of pride present. Navigating with the skulls it eventually led to a large opening where you found the cryptid culprits. 

Wrapped around itself was a giant white snake which reflected the minimal light given by one lone torch on the wall; giving it an orange glow. In the middle of it was a man, with long black hair a scar across his mouth and a single loin cloth draped between his legs. Feeling the heat on your cheeks, you knocked your staff on the rocky floor to alert them. You felt as though you were intruding on something private. Sure enough they startled awake both on the defense at your unexpected arrival. 

“Hello there! I’ve heard you two have been giving the town quite a few problems!”

You smile while dodging the giant snake’s strike, somersaulting over the expanse of their tail. It set you up to parry the primitive spear jutting at you from the wild man. He only responded in grunts and shouts that helped the snake coordinate attacks at you. But none of it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle; ultimately analyzing their teamwork.

“You two seem close,” you made an aerial over the snakes striking maw delivering a kick to the wild man who was charging a new weapon, “Makes me wonder why you’d bother the people in the village in the first place.”

An orange and green pair of eyes widened at that, standing a ways away while the snake hissed at you before attempting to strangle you again. This was getting more and more interesting. “So you can understand me? Then tell me why?”

The snake was getting tired and the man was getting irritated. This–by your prediction–would be ending very soon.

Once again taking the man head on you blocked with your staff as you egged him on. Despite not having the technique you did he had strength and a swiftness that rivaled the snake’s.

“All…deserved to be punished.” 

The voice that came was hoarse, like it wasn’t used often. The voice was so sudden it caught you off-guard, leaving you barely enough time to block and kick him back. The look on your face must’ve said enough.

“All of them deserve death!”

“Why? What did they do?”

He paused his attack, his pupils shaking with the answer to that question–looking down to compose himself. Sensing his distress the snake slithered from you curling around the man to comfort him. You also lowered your defenses your heart preparing for the pain he would hopefully share.

“They made me this way,” he sounded like he was fighting tears as he tightened his fists, “by trying to sacrifice me…for this they all must pay…Including You!”

He launched at you on the head of his snake, using the speed of snake and his own jumping to aim at your head. Like before you dodged this time shoving your staff into the ground. Without your staff occupying your hands you weaved underneath the snake and through it’s coils to strike at the reptile’s pressure points. The cave shook as the snake slammed limply on the ground. Rolling off to safety the wild man shouted running to cradle the snake’s snout, “Kabamaru!?” 

Hearing the light sound of sniffles you cursed yourself for going too far. Sitting down on the ground you leaned along the rocky wall opposite to the two. Pulling out a bottle of sake and two cups you brought with you, setting them down. 

“He’s not dead. Just sleeping.” he turned to look at you his eyes softening from a glare. You continued,”I figured without him egging you on you can tell me a bit more about yourself.” 

Offering a cup to him you took a sip of yours, letting out a happy sigh as the liquid tingled down your throat. Showing him that it was safe you let him down his zebra skin and come in closer to you. 

There you were able to piece lesser rumors with his own testimony. Apparently the town used to be ran by a tribe of women who idolized a giant snake in the forest. Organizing gatherings and practices to honor said snake. This tribe of women for generations had daughters to uphold it’s legacy of a matriarch loyal to this snake. Alas when they birthed a boy those in town deemed him a curse making the women decide that his death at the hands of the snake would be their blessing and atonement for his existence. Part of the ceremony included slicing his mouth wider and tying him with the carcass of the exotic creature—the zebra—in the forest to be eaten by their deity: the White Snake. Come to find that the snake was a peaceful creature that was truly infuriated at finding the poor boy in the state he was. Sheltering him, feeding him, protecting him, and one day attacking the people he identified as revenge for him. 

“I see now, why you attack them so viciously. What you went through was awful.”

You took another swig from the bottle looking at the man who was leaning on a sluggish Kaburamaru. He was watching you intently probably gauging your reactions to his story, it made you wonder when was the last time he spoke with any one properly.

It is then you yawned, standing up and stretching. Disregarding both their suspicious looks you walked to your staff, resting it on your shoulders casually as the both got into a defensive stance. You walked up that rocky path, waving over your shoulder with a smile.

“Tomorrow Iguro. I’ll bring you something sweet from the town. Until then.”

Just like that you returned to the townspeople all eager to know if you’ve slain the beast. Only for you to yawn in their faces and say your still investigating, retreating to the inn you were gifted for your stay here.

As expected violent cryptids were never just that in a world that knows no better. 

And as such it was your job to help.

Whether that was teaching the world or the cryptid themself.

In this case the cryptid and his keeper.

_____________________________________________________________

Obanai Iguro didn’t kill for no reason. 

When he walked through the town he was being gracious. An olive branch extended to an unforgiving people. All he was asking was that he be able to walk into town without injury or insult. Without fail though someone in town would either yell obscenities or attempt to attack him. 

He vowed the day he could freely walk in town would be the day no one would suffer his wrath. 

That day had never come. 

But the day someone looked in his eyes with no fear for him had come. A missionary with dyed hair and smile brighter than the sun was the first. She happened to catch him by his lonesome, asking for directions to the town. 

He cursed himself for letting his naivete consume him. 

Doing as she asked he hoped foolishly that the townspeople could learn. Take the missionary’s optimism and kindness as a symbol for peace. That when they saw the absolute vision of beauty hand in hand with a freak him they’d have a change of heart or at least touch the hearts of a few.

He was wrong.

So so wrong.

The collective gasps were a precursor to the violent screaming that followed. Rocks, fruit, eventually knives were thrown at both of them. He remembered taking the brunt of it turning the nun away from the spiteful horde. Looking down at her, even in the face of their berating she was smiling up at him. It warmed his heart. It made him willing to forgive. Until she caught sight of her convent, fellow missionaries standing silently aside, running to them with renewed vigor. She happily proclaimed that she’d found her mission aiming to help bridge the gap between the misunderstood and the collective. She recited different teachings looking pridefully as she waited for their response. Dropping her smile when they finally spoke.

“You’ve transgressed for the last time, Mitsuri. We had such high hopes.”

They pulled at her hair, they stripped her of her robes before encouraging the town to bring all their aggressions to her. Claiming it was a just punishment for the young and unruly nun who continued to fail with every task they gave her. 

He doubted he could’ve waited for Kaburamaru if he tried. Using his bare fists to pummel anyone who’s hand was raised to attack Mitsuri. Fighting them as best as he could but he was only one man. 

Strong but not strong enough.

By the time Kaburamaru arrived and had begun to swallow majority of the fleeing mob, it was already too late. Poor Mitsuri. The sun in Iguro’s night had set, giving him one last smile and an indirect kiss on the scar across his face. 

It broke his heart further. 

Shuffling his already broken heart, he took it’s shards and made a wall. A thorny wall that took his graciousness and shrivelled it to nothing. Now transgressions he would have chosen mercy for invoked his wrath all the same. Calling on Kaburamaru to help quell his fury. 

Once again returning to his precious solitude with Kaburamaru by his side. 

But fate would refuse this again sending a monster catcher to disrupt his peace. Agile, sly, and a powerful fighter the monster catcher was like no one he’d met before. Iguro did have a few encounters with unexplainable creatures and violent entities but none were like them. Never had he and Kaburamaru been brought to their knees (coils?) by  a single person, all who casually invites him to chat over a drink. 

“Come come its a creation of my own. This game is going to get us drunk so fast!”

Mitsuri was casual too but the interaction was surface. It was their first and last time meeting after all. The monster hunter spoke much more often, returning with another alcoholic beverage and cups to share while talking about nothing in paticular. Once again that estranged normalcy was creeping up again and Iguro refused to fall for it again.

“Oh wow that came out of nowhere, Iguro. Now let’s get back to drinking shall we?”

Holding the tip of his spear between two fingers the monster hunter continued to smile at him. Thwarting his attempts to chase them away or at least save himself the pain he was bound to feel. Even Kaburamaru wasn’t attempting to fight anymore, only watching when Iguro attempted to attack. 

He hated how little it offended them. And how much it hurt him. Already he was feeling the same warmth he felt back then. When he wasn’t trying to attack, the smile they shared was like the moon. Reflecting the light given to him so long ago. But he feared he’d lose it again. Like Mitsuri they were far too kind when regarding the people in town.

“At least the kids don’t know any better. Leave them out of it, okay Iguro?”

The night-terrors would start again picturing his hunter bloodied and defeated at the feet of an angry crowd. Hand-in-hand with Mitsuri as they both smiled up at him with incomplete smiles.

“You’ll forgive them, right?”

“For us you’ll be kind, right?”

He was tired of seeing that image again. The one where the only lights in his world were doused by the same people that bred hatred with every generation. It didn’t matter that the hunter was strong, that the hunter planned to leave. Iguro needed to keep them by his side, away from the darkness that had always engulfed his life. 

“I refuse to let them have you.”

To block out the new sun he needed the warmth of. It didn’t matter that the sun may burn or their anger would be his–they’d be safe. That was all that mattered at this point.

“The rest don’t deserve to feel your warmth.”

__________________________________________________________

You didn’t expect such an adverse reaction. Your plan to finally leave the duo with a warning and spend your time changing the town was going to be shot. You wanted to spin whatever narrative you needed to, to fix the town for good. Give them a healthier outlook and some mock defense against other cryptids would do the trick. But iguro didn’t seem to like that. More seriously neither did Kaburamru, hissing at you as he curled into himself.

“Look Iguro if you’d prefer you can come with me! Leave this town behind and find a place worthy of you both!”

“Not before I end it. They’d never let me have you if they can help it!”

He instructed Kaburamaru to slam his tail near you making you dodge further away from the exit. Already sensing where he was going with this, you stood your ground.

“Iguro. Stop this.”

Kaburamaru was curling around itself blocking the entirety of the single exit, with Iguro standing on his head. He was wielding his spear pointing it at you with a twisted smile. 

“I know we’re no match for you on our own. But you’re so eager to protect those rotten meatbags even you’d have trouble fending me off.”

“Iguro!”

He seemed to laugh to himself as he ducked down low, sliding on the snake’s back as the reptile slid through the exit en route to the town.

“By the time you arrive (Y/n) you’ll find we’ll be on the same level or they’ll all be dead. Either way I can’t wait to see how brightly you’ll burn!”

You immediately followed their trail falling behind; you were amazed at the speed they made darting through the forest. He planned to defeat you, by taking advantage of your divided attention. Running with nothing but the forest around you, you had to applaud him. 

“I’ve got to give it to him he’s greedier than any cryptids I’ve met. The world’s definitely going to learn about him if they survive him first.”

[shibaraki]

PUT MY LIPS TO SOMETHING ┊  MIYA OSAMU 

synopsis: after a string of terrible dates taking a break sounded ideal. then Miya Osamu happens, and you find yourself back at square one. foolish, hoping, and hungry.

tags: GN reader, post timeskip, (blind) first date, reader is a foodie (and has a big appetite), implied bad past experiences (ppl mean about said apetite), insecurities (not about weight), strangers to lovers, sharing food + feeding each other, flirting, romantic + sexual tension, first kisses, *slaps roof of kitchen* you can fit so much Love into this thing!!!!!!!

wc: 5K

The evening laid bare in strokes of colour. The air is tepid. People part around your inert figure as you stand to the side and watch, shifting awkwardly between each foot. You were ten minutes early. And it seemed so was your date.

You exhale, palm laid over your rapidly beating heart. You’re not sure what your expectations were after agreeing to let Saeko set you up on this blind date but Miya Osamu exceeded. A beautiful stranger. Tall, broad shouldered with dark hair and hooded eyes. The dress shirt he’s wearing is close to a second skin, drawn tight around his back and clinging just slightly to his soft middle, shirtsleeves rolled to the crook of his arms.

On a whole you trusted her judgment. Apparently he owned the small restaurant she and her colleagues frequent for their lunch hour. She promised that he was handsome, which was plain to see, and effused repeatedly that the two of you would work well together. Nevertheless you can’t help feeling cautious.

Dating has been… tricky at best. A game to some, a way to keep score. The search for validation. A means to an end. A fleeting cure to boredom. You don’t think you’re particularly bad at meeting new people, but it can’t be ignored that you don’t have much to show for it thus far.

You’re aware enough to discern the root cause. You loved food—that’s the long and short of it. You savoured meals to the very last crumb, seeking out the various flavours on your tongue to really get to the heart of the dish. Because that’s what food did: it loved back.

Dates often treated you like a different creature entirely upon witnessing your appetite. Poorly veiled embarrassment, or concern, or disdain as you sat across from one another and ate. Different in a lesser way, in a distasteful way, as though they were sampling fine wine for the flavour and you were just drinking for the sake of getting drunk, when it was quite the reverse.

Anyone would think you behaved like an animal. Your table manners were fine. You treated the staff with respect. You made conversation and asked questions, even when they made no effort themselves, and tried to make the best of the evening.

With every failed attempt at making a connection you were beginning to grow lonely. The presence of your loved ones and their families, their partners and their children, never truly filled that cavernous ache in your chest. Poured in like morning sun with hopes to warm you from the inside out, perhaps, only all that ever did was make the hole more obvious to you.

Taking a break from the scene sounded ideal. Then Miya Osamu happened to see a photo of you over Saeko’s shoulder, expressed his interest, and you found yourself back at square one. Foolish, hoping, and hungry.

There’s phantom heat around your fingers. The gentle squeeze of Saeko’s hands as she sent you off. “This one will be different,” she told you. With her words echoing in your thoughts, you pat down either side of your hips, ironing out the creases, and start toward him.

Osamu is leaning against the outer wall now, scrolling on his phone. A warm musk fills your senses as the distance shortens. Smooth notes of oakmoss and vanilla. He must notice your approach in his periphery, because he straightens up and steps forward, turning to face you with an apprehensive smile. The attraction between you becomes tangible before either of you speak a word.

"Hi," you smile back, oddly at ease to see that he is equally nervous. "Miya, right? I think I'm here to meet you".

The tension slips from his posture and from yours in turn. His smile grows and deepens the crinkles by his eyes as his gaze sweeps over you. Dawn casts the street in a peachy tint and it dapples across his cheeks in a  faux blush. "Sure hope so," he says. "Call me Osamu. Ya look beautiful, by the way".

Something rouses in your chest. You're warm now. His accent is unfairly charming, like the rest of him. "Thank you," you reply, lingering on the delicate silver chain around his wrist, and how the folded fabric of his sleeve strains around his forearm. "So do you".

"Beautiful?" Osamu echoes, brow arched with the teasing lilt in his voice.

You hum, drawn to the natural heat emitting from his body. "S'what I said, isn't it?"

"So you did," he murmurs, the low timbre settling over you like silk. When your eyes meet he rocks back on his heels, clearing his throat and gesturing to the restaurant he picked for tonight. "I made a reservation for us. Wanna head in?"

"I'd love to".

As if entering another world, the noise lowers into a pleasant din. You step through the tall latticed doors into what appears to be a bistro-style restaurant. All autumn pigments and harmony. Family owned, from what you recall after searching it up last night. The main dining area has a romantic ambience to it, balmy toned lanterns centred on each table and an open kitchen where the chef is lovingly making a yakisoba dish.

"Tanaka mentioned yer a bit of a foodie," you blink from your appreciative stupor and glance at Osamu. "Apparently they serve really good European food here so," he rubs at the back of his neck, a little pink and unsure, his shoulder jerking in a loose shrug. "Thought'cha might like it".

Your heartbeat floods your ears. "I really like it," you say, hushed, flustered at his thoughtfulness. Before he's able to respond a host has approached, young and dressed in a well pressed black vest, not a thread out of place. He bends into a perfect bow.

“It is a pleasure to welcome you this evening. Will it be a table for two?”

Osamu sidles closer. There's presence at your lower back, his hand lingering, and you decide to lean into it. “There should be a reservation for two under the name Miya,” he nods. The host brightens.

“Of course! Right this way".

The host takes off toward the rear dining area, hidden from view. Osamu encourages you forward and as you walk together he leans to whisper in your ear, "We haven't seen the best part yet".

You immediately understand what he's referring to as you're led through a pair of golden drapes and into a conservatory space that looks out on a lustrous bamboo grove and a small koi pond. Your table is right by the stretch of windows, offering a lovely view. It steals the breath straight from your lungs, “Osamu…”

Once seated the host returns to offer you a pair of damp towels on a tray. Osamu orders a drink while he wipes his hands, and then you do the same. You sink into the cushioned back of your chair. A shoe brushes your ankle and retreats to settle alongside it, just a couple of inches. The centrepiece gently breathes to life, illuminating the table.

Anticipation trickles back in as Osamu voices his gratitude and you realise you’ll need to order in front of him. His focus turns to you as the host departs, discerning your expression. “D’ya wanna order a starter first?” he asks, sliding a menu to you.

The menu is thick and glossy. You make a commiserate sound, thumb plucking at the corner of the card. “Everything sounds really good. I’ve never had carottes ra—âpées,” you murmur, skimming excitedly over the dishes and listing off the things that catch your eye.

A low chuckle interrupts your train of thought. Rather than underlying irritation, you’re met with amusement and curiosity. “Really do like yer food, huh?”

Heat floods your body, and you resist the urge to grimace. “Sorry, I can get carried away. Is there anything you want to try?”

“Thinking of getting grilled octopus and canola to start and the sea bream for main,” he recites, studying you in the low light. Muffled are the far off sounds of meat popping on the hot stove-top and you can smell a sweet, coconut-like aroma. “Don’t need to be embarrassed y’know. I’m a food lover too”.

You perk up noticeably in your seat and Osamu’s expression near melts into sheepishness. “You run a restaurant, right? Saeko mentioned”.

“Ah, yeah. Onigiri Miya. Nothin’ as grand as this,” he gestures to the surroundings offhandedly. Your eyes linger on the flex of his throat as he swallows, pride bleeding into his voice. “Won a Food Made Good award though, just last month”.

“No kidding. Congrats Osamu, that’s amazing,” you grin, instinctively leaning into his magnetism and resting your hands on the table surface. Osamu seems to mirror your movement without meaning to. “Have you always wanted to run a restaurant?”

“Never really thought about it. Up to the end of my second year I assumed I’d fall into somethin’,” he admits. “I sorta hit the ground running after graduating. My brother too—”

“Excuse the interruption. I have your drinks,” interjects a new timid voice. The server shuffles forward to set the glasses between you on the table and then fumbles for her notepad, clicking the cap down. “Are you both ready to order?”

Osamu recovers and recites his choice for starter and main, and you do so afterwards without second thought. It’s nice, being at ease. Sitting opposite Osamu feels natural. The glass is cold against your palm, ice cubes clinking softly as you bring it up your lips and drink. You nudged the conversation forward before it could wilt. “You were saying, about your brother?”

“Atsumu. He’s my twin brother,” Osamu begins with a small smile, poorly hidden behind the rim of his glass. He sets it down, watching the amber liquid ripple. “Played volleyball since we were kids, but he always loved it a little more than I did. So while I racked up every business permit and licence I could get and he dove first into division one”.

“You both sound pretty brave, in your own right”.

“Thanks,” Osamu grinned and you got the impression that you very much said the right thing. “Brave is a new one. We’re used to bein’ called reckless idiots”.

“Tomayto tomahto,” you tease, lifting an arm and crossing your fingers together. After another sip, “Gotta be a little bit of both, right?”

“You’re right about that,” he conceded. Mouth thinning as if to rein in his smile, he reached up to needlessly fix his hair. “How about yerself, what do you do?”

Attraction hung over the table, an incorporeal anticipant thing that swells as the evening unfolds. Darkness enveloped the bamboo grove and activated the small aureate floor lights placed between the culms. You fall into natural conversation over your starter dishes. You share laughter. Tender and succulent; you share food, too, leaning forward to pluck a sample from his plate, offering your own. Not a single grimace.

Every other first date pales in comparison.

Osamu watches you with a hooded gaze warmed by his second pint of beer. There’s a certain satisfaction to him, contentment. The tip of his tongue peeks out to catch an errant drop. He nudges his ankle to your calf again when the server returns to clear away your starter plates, and you don't move away.

“Can I ask why you’re single, and what you’re looking for?”

“Finally, the hard hittin’ questions”.

You laugh, “We’ve got to get over the boring first date spiel at some point tonight”.

Osamu rumbles his assent, rests his chin in his palm, casting an idle glance to the garden as he thinks. “Think my answer’s kinda standard. At first I never had the time ‘cause of the restaurant, didn’t think it’d be fair,” he  begins, and his mouth twists into a little self-effacing smirk. “When I thought I was ready I tried some’a those dating apps but nothin’ ever clicked for me”.

“I get it. Gauging chemistry is harder online,” you affirm softly, readjusting your seat as the server steps up to set down your main dishes, inclining her head in greeting but with enough grace not to interrupt. Osamu voices his gratitude, sliding his plate closer. The grilled tai is a beautiful fleshy pink colour, garnished with sprouts and hosta leaves.

“Ma says I’m a romantic,” he continues sheepishly, plucking up his chopsticks. “I’d prefer to meet someone naturally, face to face. To really feel it when ya click with each other”.

“Yeah?” there’s an ache blooming in your cheeks as you glanced down at your food. The plate is still hot to touch. You pinch your chopsticks and inhale the rich scent of saffron, garlic and onion, and beneath it all sharp notes from an open flame. “I think we’re doing pretty good on that front”.

“Better than I hoped,” he murmurs, supple and full of promise. The hair on your arms prickles. When was the last time anyone looked at you like that, you wonder. “Soon as Tanaka caught on that I saw your picture on her phone she was determined to appeal ya to me. Thought it might be too good to be true”.

You hum around your first mouthful, feeling much the same way. Saeko had worked hard to strong arm you into meeting him. The food falls apart gently on your tongue and suddenly your agreeable noise becomes a pleased crescendo, taken by the rich smoky flavours.

After swallowing you grow self-conscious; the weight of Osamu’s focused attention is heavy. Rather than embarrassment, the flush tinting his cheeks seems to be something else entirely. He has a chunk of grilled tai between his chopsticks, halted halfway to his lips. “Is it that good?” he teases, strained.

There’s no true malice or ill intent behind it. It’s lighthearted—you could even delude yourself into thinking he sounded fond. You kick your lips, inhibitions worn a fraction after a glass of liquor. “I’d say that’s obvious,” you smiled. “It tastes amazing. Thank you, for picking this place”.

“S’been my pleasure believe me,” he says, finally taking a bite of his own. Like him, you observe how his expression flickers as the flavour fills his senses. A flare in soft surprise, rippling as he chews and discerns the texture. His eyelids flutter closed, lashes fanning out over the high point of his cheeks, and open in the next breath to catch you staring.

“Is it that good?” you echo coyly. Osamu smirks, a glimmer in his eye. He picks up a small piece of the tai sandwiched with a hosta leaf and cups his hand beneath it while offering you a try.

“See for yaself,” he says. Energy simmers under your skin, all buzzing heat and jitters. You quickly sip your drink, rinsing your palate before shuffling closer to the table's edge and lean forward, lips eagerly parting to take the morsel into your mouth. A hitched breath. Osamu holds your gaze while you parse the hints of dashi broth and ginger.

“God. You weren’t wrong. The texture is perfect…” you stop yourself from rambling further and swipe your bottom lip as you recline in your chair, chopsticks poised like pincers. Pulse quickening behind your ribs you copy his actions, taking a sample of your dish for him to try. “Try mine too?” you offer, abashed.

Osamu struggles to temper his grin. Words aren’t necessary. He props himself onto his elbows and stretches forward, pink mouth wrapping around the end of your chopsticks. Closer now you notice the soft cupid’s bow on his top lip. He draws back with a soft groan as he chews—the sound ripples down your spine.

“Never tasted anything like that. Almost has a tangy bite to it,” he praised.

“Right? It’s amazing how they managed to marry earthy and briny together. I think it’s a Spanish dish, maybe,” you wonder aloud, eyes sweeping over the table. “How have I never been here before?”

“It’s my first time too, a friend recommended it. Heard they’ve only been open a year and some,” he tells you. Eventually the conversation slows as eating takes precedence. The server flits in and out to take your empty glasses, bringing refills. Sitting there, now with an empty plate and your third drink half full, a different spirit entirely sifts inside you.

Osamu admires you over the rim of his beer. “I never got to ask earlier,” he mused. “Are ya looking for a serious relationship or…?”

You scarcely hear him, preoccupied with staring at his other loosely curled hand beside the centrepiece. If he notices he doesn’t mention it. “I am. I’ve been trying. Any more than this I might actually fit the definition of a serial dater,” you admit, in an attempt to reciprocate some of his prior vulnerability. “But all I want is to settle down. Find someone”.

About to take another sip, Osamu's fingers slip slightly on the condensation around his pint. “Yer serious?” he baulks. His accent is thicker, rough. You wince at his tone. “Sorry, sorry. I just have a hard time believin’ nobody snatched you up yet”.

Feeling a little like a damn has broken in your chest, you nod. “Maybe I tried too hard. Somehow showing genuine interest only ever puts them off more,” a brittle bout of laughter breaks the delicate quiet, and you begin tearing at a napkin to distract yourself. “And most of them didn’t really… like my appetite. I embarrassed them sometimes, I think”.

Agitation on your behalf flickers in his expression; brows drawn taut, jaw clenched, it flies over his face and smooths out just as quickly. “That’s bullshit,” he said, sounding far calmer than he had looked. Warmth encompasses your hands and your fingers pause their repetitive motions. Osamu runs his thumb over your knuckles. “‘Scuse my manners. But ya not embarrassing in the slightest. There’s nothin’ more satisfying than watching someone eat well”.

A slow smile pulls at your lips. The napkin is in pieces. You sense his caution in crossing any boundaries, pressure alleviating as though to pull away, so you overturn your wrist and thread your fingers together. “I think so too,” you reply. “Not much better than good food and good company”.

“Guess we’ve covered all the bases,” he murmurs, squeezing until your palms kiss. “Feel like sharing some desserts with me?”

The hunger in your heart rears its head. Mentally you send a good word to Saeko, knowing you owe her more than a drink or two for this. “Can’t say no to that,” you return, voice a little thick. Whatever will prolong the night.

Dessert ends up being a beautiful burnt honey cake. It comes with a creamer of liqueur laced chocolate sauce that strays as you pour it. Osamu watches you clean a wayward thread of melted chocolate from wrist to heel with your tongue, grey eyes overcast with something heady. You feel a pulse of magnetised desire where there’d been none before as wet fingers popped free of your mouth.

It’s delicious, you're sure. You can hardly remember anything beyond the face he makes as he tries it.

The end of the date looms with dreadful finality. Osamu pays the bill in full despite your countless protests. You walk through the front dining area, busier than it had been, and in passing you bow your head toward the chef working behind the bar and the host at the entrance.

“Thank you very much,” he acknowledges politely. “Please come again”.

It’s jarring to step back out from the restaurant’s welcome embrace into the street. “Guess this is it,” you inhale deeply and move to Osamu’s side to sap him of his warmth, wrapping yourself around his arm. He pulls you closer and you yield like putty, partly the need to shield from the crisp, late night air and partly the desire to prolong your time together.

“Did you walk here?” he asks, rubbing your hip. Your hand is splayed over his chest, heat seeping through the fabric, heart tapping against your palm.

“I got dropped off,” you reply. “I’ll have a car pick me up”. Osamu dithers for a moment, visibly searching for the right words. He rubs at his neck—a nervous habit you’ve noticed.

Whatever you were expecting it wasn’t, “Are ya still hungry?”

Your mouth opens and closes. True, there’s no real physical ache of hunger but you would hardly describe yourself as full, or sated. “…I could eat,” you confess. Osamu grins at that, dark hair haloed by the streetlight. “Why?”

“My restaurant isn’t far from here. If yer comfortable with it, the cab can pick you up from there and I’ll make a treat for the ride home,” he says. He must take your brief silence to mean discomfort, because he continues on. “Ya can say no,” he murmurs, thumb stroking back and forth at your waist. “Just didn’t want the night to end yet”.

The offer strikes a chord within you, and you feel like you could burst. You want. Guided by fleeting impulse you press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. He startles and then moves as if to chase it. Your breath catches as you come together in a soft, chaste press of lips.

“I’d like that,” you rasp, patting at his chest and unwilling to part. There’s relaxed, padded muscle underneath. “What’s the address?”

After receiving the address you input it into your phone, scheduling the taxi to pick you up in around thirty minutes—at Osamu’s suggestion. As promised the restaurant is no more than a five minute walk, tucked away alongside a few other establishments. You notice the Onigiri Miya sign fixed above the door displaying his logo, but the shutters are down.

“Gotta head in through the side,” he explains quietly. You nod, clasping both hands around his forearm and letting him lead. The clink of his keys fills the silence, followed by a series of clicks. The door opens and he flicks the switch on. You squint at the intrusive light that floods the space, blinking to adjust, and make a low inquisitive noise as you meander through.

The interior errs on traditional, and it works well. Hanging along the accent wall is a banner of the shop name written in calligraphy, and other various artworks are littered throughout showcasing appreciation for the local agriculture.

Osamu disappears into the back amidst your exploring. You duck beneath the curtain draped across the doorway to find him. The kitchen is small, an obvious compromise to make room for more dining space. Food preparation is dedicated to the heart of the kitchen on an island-like setup, while dishwashing and such are pushed to the perimeter. Osamu embodies it comfortably and confidently.

Hands wrung against your stomach, you lean to get a closer look at what he’s doing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Osamu stops, still poised to reach for the water bowl next to his workstation. There are multiple others set out, each seemingly with a different ingredient. His mouth pulls into a boyish grin. “Don’t worry about that,” he says, inclining his head to the stool opposite. “Just sit there looking pretty and I’ll feed ya something good”.

You bite the inside of your cheek and wonder if it’s possible for butterflies to hatch in your chest. A fuzzy giddiness that spreads to the tips of your fingers, and you want to kiss him again. “Promise?”

“Promise”.

Lowering onto the stool, you watch raptly as he wets his fingers and takes a pinch of salt to rub into his  hands. Skin glistens under the pale florescence. Osamu's visage wanes, and you're struck by how at home he looks.

“So,” you speak, if only to fill the silence—and to hear his voice again. “What made you fall in love with food?”

Osamu scoops the cooked rice from a nearby bowl into his palm and starts to shape it. He doesn’t pause in his motions, even with the contemplative tilt of his head. “Lots’a reasons, really,” he says. “Earliest one I can remember is when I made breakfast for my gran for the first time. Ma helped out, ‘cause I was only five or six, but I was real proud of myself”.

“That’s cute,” you murmur, a nascent fondness stirring inside your body at the imagined young Osamu that flashes through your mind. “Did it turn out any good?”

Deft fingers knead a shallow dip into the centre of the rice ball. “Course it didn’t, I used way too much salt. But she still ate it, and it made her feel better”.

“Because she loves you”.

Osamu meets your eyes. Outside, droplets stutter out a drowsy staccato against the windows, cohesive with the beat of your heart. The moment feels pheromonic, like when you know something is just right the second you find it. “Yeah,” he murmurs. His mouth curls up and he tucks some of the nearby ingredients into the rice. “See, yer getting it”.

That's what it is. Osamu likes to take care of people. Your focus falls to deft fingers, gently folding the rice over, as though tucking it in. He gives it a triangular shape, adorned with a slice of nori, and sets it into a small cardboard tray. Without preamble, he reaches to start another.

"Y'know, first time I ever confessed to someone it was with onigiri," Osamu tells you, unheeding of the wellspring he opened in your chest. "Made 'em that same morning, had a speech and everything. Never told anyone I was gonna do it".

You hum and scoot closer, folding your arms atop the island. It's cold ot the touch. Osamu appears to blossom further under your avid attention. He repeats the steps, pressing new filling carefully into the heart of the rice and admits, "Got rejected, though".

Your face falls. "I'm sorry, Osamu".

"It's fine. In the end I gave one of 'em to 'Tsumu, and I ate the other," he shrugs, looking rather happy for someone talking about their botched first confession. "Know what he told me?"

"What?"

"Looks me dead in the eyes and goes 'What the hell, 'Samu. Are ya holdin' out on me? These taste better than usual'," Osamu pitches his voice as he recites the memory, presumably mocking his brother. You laugh, and he ducks his chin to hide his grin. "I remember missin' three serves that day. He told me since I suck so bad at volleyball I should be a chef instead. Idiot doesn't even remember he said it, but..."

While he had meant his words to be light you heard the significance beneath it. You rise from your seat. Osamu tucks the third and final onigiri into the tray and lets his focus stray toward you. Featherlight strokes up his forearm, you rest your cheek against his shoulder. You peer through your lashes and look at Osamu's face, at a tentative beginning.

"And now you're here," you say, reaching to cup his warm cheek. He leans into it, lids fluttering as your thumb traces an arc beneath his eye. His ears are warm against the tips of your fingers. "You did it".

"Yeah," Osamu releases a shaky breath. "Is it—can I kiss ya again?"

Your answer comes with the tilt of your head. Osamu kisses you, solemnly sweet. You can faintly taste the beer he drank. He's warm, firm under your hands. You feel him smile against your mouth and smile back, nipping at his plush lower lip. The intensity grows as a strong arm coils around your waist, his wet, rice soiled hand held away from your clothes. Your fingers slip into his hair as his tongue dips into the seam, slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, drinking the whine right from your mouth.

"Osamu," you sigh, pushing harder, needing to be closer, and yet he is pulling further away. "Noo, come back".

"Greedy thing" he rasps. His voice is infused with warm laughter. You hum as he kisses you again, similar to the first. It's quick and chaste, and with too much finality for your taste. "I know. But I'm pretty sure that's yer ride waiting outside".

You sniff haughtily, following his line of sight to the car headlights filtering in through the windows. "Wait. Let me walk ya out," he mumbles, turning away to find a towel to wipe his hands on. Meanwhile you gingerly pick up the takeout tray of onigiri and cradle it to your front, as though something precious.

"Ready?"

The night is colder than you remember, and you'd only been out of it for a short time. Sparse raindrops pitter patter on the pavements, leaving dark little dots on the concrete. Osamu walks ahead to check with the driver and then waves you over, opening the door himself.

"What a charmer," you tease, turning into him once more and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Osamu. I had a really great night".

"Good enough to see me again?"

The crinkles by his eyes are knowing, aware that he needn't ask at all. And the thought that you could be another person for Osamu to take care of—it satiates the ache.

"Maybe I can cook for you next time," you say as you climb into the backseat. Osamu bends, peering into the car.

"Promise?"

Loneliness is just another form of hunger. You realise that now.

"I promise".

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Fried Eggs Worm (Archipheretima middletoni)

Debut: Real Life

What the! Whuzzah! That's a! WOW! This is how I felt upon learning about Fried Eggs Worm for the first time, and I hope you feel the same way, because MY GOODNESS! In this world, there exists an earthworm, which is a deep blue, and has spots that look just like sunny-side-up eggs. Sometimes it looks like the yolk was punctured and spilled out! Better hope a Toast Worm is nearby to sop that up!

I could not BELIEVE I had not learned about this creature until just a few months ago, and I could not let it be obscure any longer. This is one of the most incredible creatures, and now you know about it, too!

Perhaps the reason for its obscurity is that it was only "formally" discovered and named rather recently, in 2009. Of course, the people who had been living in its native range in the Philippines had known about it long before that! How could they miss it, really? I will remind you: this worm has Egg Imagery all over its body.

Some local folklore suggested that these silly little wigglies might be the juvenile form of an eel species from a nearby river, and if you're familiar with eel development, something that strange doesn't seem all that out of character for an eel. The truth is, the Fried Eggs Worm is quite out of character for an earthworm! It is more of a leaflitterworm, because instead of burrowing in the soil, it burrows in the leaf litter. It is thought that the funny spots might help it camouflage in there by resembling light pouring through the leaves, kind of like a baby deer's or tapir's spots!

The Fried Eggs Worm does not spend ALL of its time in the leaf litter. Oh, no. It isn't even born in there. It's born in a doggone TREE. Their babies have been found in the leaf axils of the pandanus tree, meaning their parents CLIMB TREES in order to reproduce. Arboreal annelids! These limbless tubes are better at climbing trees than we are, and we're apes! And more ridiculous still, so far only one baby worm has been found per tree. These babies might each get an entire tree all to themselves with no competition. Is that really necessary? I think Fried Eggs Worm may be showing off, but it has every right to do that. I hope it continues!

Fried Eggs Worm should be the new Easter mascot. Nothing against rabbits, but they're one of the most popular animals. They have enough, I think. And they're not Egg at all! They don't lay eggs, and they don't have any visual egg motif. Fried Eggs Worm, however, lays eggs, and is covered in egg iconography! Second only to Fried Egg Jellyfish.

In conclusion, this eggcellent creature worms my heart, and I hope you feel the same way, especially if you did not know of them before! It feels representative of the fact that we will never know every creature of this world, and there will always be more to learn!

If you're a REALLY devoted Fried Eggs Worm Superfan and want to show it to the world, use this simple guide to steal their look!

-blue

-egg

[sitp-recs]

Hi hello how are you!! I feel like I’d seen a competence kink list you did some time ago, but I can’t seem to find it on your masterlists :( I’m wondering if maybe it’s lost or I’m imagining things lol?

And if not, I would be sooo grateful if you or your followers had any recs for me :) Thank you so much, love your blog!

Hi anon! I did this list with talented Harry (beyond his job) but here are some classic competence kink recs:

Competent Draco:

The Slytherin Urn by @icmezzo (E, 4k)

Nothing turns Harry on quite like redemption.

The Study of Change by p1013 (M, 4k)

Harry's going to hell. He's going to hell immediately. Even with all of the good he's done in his life, he's never going to overcome the impure thoughts racing through his head at the sight of Draco Malfoy looking like an academic wet dream in a room full of barely legal adults.

A Song, Incomplete by RurouniHime (E, 11k)

Draco’s photograph took up the entire top half of the Prophet’s front page. Below the photo: DRACO MALFOY DEFENDS SON OF FORMER LOVER. As if that were breaking news.

Countdown by dysonrules (M, 14k)

When the Wizarding world is plagued by random outbreaks of Dark Magic, the Ministry assigns Curse-Breakers to assist Auror teams on their missions. Harry shouldn't be surprised when Draco Malfoy is assigned to his team, but is Malfoy a Curse-Breaker, or a curse-bringer?

A Year in Training by Omi_Ohmy (M, 25k)

Harry is finally living his dream and training as an Auror, but nothing seems to be going right: he’s just so angry all the time. And Draco Malfoy’s presence on the programme really isn’t helping with that, either.

measures of our days and nights by @flimsi (E, 40k)

Draco returns to London to help the Ministry decipher a spell, but things aren’t quite as simple as they seem.

Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 47k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.” “What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

The Vanishing Department by @dictacontrion (E, 47k)

The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, even if that involves a lot more form-filling, bickering, covert glancing, miscommunication, and flying furniture than we might expect.

Take the Air by dysonrules (M, 51k)

Someone or something is attacking Muggles and leaving them for dead. Auror Harry Potter is assigned to the case, but with his usual partner unavailable, he is stuck with the most annoying Auror ever to walk the halls of the Ministry.

The Darkness Before the Dawn by Ren (E, 55k)

A mysterious creature is loose in London, stalking and killing people. Auror Harry Potter requests the help of a liaison from the Beast Division and gets saddled with Draco Malfoy. Will they be able to stop the creature before it claims more lives?

Kept in Cages by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 77k)

Deep in the heart of the Ministry lies the Beast Division: a hidden room where ancient beasts roam, and winged creatures soar, and grumpy giant ferrets eat all your biscuits unless you keep them well hidden. Draco Malfoy would know – he’s been working there for five years now, after all.

Reparations by Saras_Girl (E, 87k) - both

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

Balance, Imperfect by bixgirl1 (E, 91k) - both

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (E, 149k) - both

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Competent Harry:

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Better To Burn Than To Fade Away by Ren (E, 23k)

Harry Potter is a legend in the world of broomstick racing. He's won almost every cup, trophy, and bowl – except for the historical London-Nome which has been on hiatus for the past several years. Now the London-Nome is starting again, and Harry will do anything to pull off one last big win.

Safe As Houses by @xanthippe74 (T, 24k)

After five years abroad, Harry’s thrilled to be home and working at the most prestigious ward-building firm in Britain. But everything gets turned upside down when he's assigned to work for Draco Malfoy—who somehow grew up to be just the sort of sexy bastard Harry goes for.

The Unplottable Time Conundrum by @writcraft (E, 45k)

When the past starts bleeding into the present at Grimmauld Place, an old academic article pulls Draco Malfoy out of his life of luxury. Haunted by the memory of a fleeting post-war kiss and thrust into the ghostly spaces inhabited by Unspeakable Harry Potter, Draco’s easy life is about to get a whole lot more complicated.

REVOLVEVLOVER by firethesound, zeitgeistic (E, 46k)

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Timecode by Rasborealis (M, 73k)

Harry Potter has been dead for two years, and Draco would laugh in the face of anyone claiming differently. Well, anyone but Hermione Granger.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

Every day, Draco Malfoy tries. With every fiber of his being he tries. But he doesn’t much think about what he’s trying for. In his final term of Healer training, Draco is unfortunate enough to find himself on a plane, the only means of traveling to a small, magical town in rural Alaska.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 88k)

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (E, 100k) - both

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

[syneilesis]

[fic] Pampertime

Pampertime

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | Explicit | 6.7k words | ao3 link

Butler Rule No. 1: From the moment you accept the role, be prepared to obey your lady’s every command. The bunny butler outfit makes a grand return. In bed.

Content tags: Established Relationship, PWP, Roleplay, Bunny Butler Xavier, Dom/sub elements, Sub!Xavier, Strip Tease, Hand Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Cowgirl Position, Riding, PIV sex, Creampie

A/N: My contribution to the bunny butler Xavier train. Only gave a cursory edit once, so any mistakes still my fault. I'm just glad I'm done, whatever. Divider by @/saradika

One bright and sunny afternoon, Xavier texts you: Emergency can U come up here to help me?

You're in the middle of cleaning your living room, after weeks of neglecting your household responsibilities due to the sudden influx of Wanderers in the neighboring city. The Hunters Association had been scrambling to send out their hunters due to the sudden invasion of Wanderers that resembled bafflingly like corgis—which was both a blessing and a curse, if one were to be asked. Blessing because, well, they were a breed that incited cute aggression and fluffiness, and civilian evacuation had resulted in minimal problems, if one ignores the influx of people into doglike Wanderers. A curse, because—well, they did look like corgis—fluffy like a bread with a cute butt, the kind that you would expect to see in the plushie line sold at Twinkle Toys Store. They're irresistible to drag your hand across their soft coat. A not-inconsiderable number of hunters realized the error of their ways in overlooking the fact that these floof of creatures were still Wanderers, and as a consequence, Linkon hospitals suddenly found themselves busier for a week or two.

Regardless, the corgi Wanderers were easy to take care of, once you saw past their clever ruse. The difficulty lay in the numbers. Like a relentless tsunami flooding the city, they undulate in droves, shaking their butts and bouncing around and generally making an oxymoronically cute menace of themselves.

As one of the hunters dispatched to the area, you valiantly resisted the siren cute-call and eliminated as many as you could. It took you and your team more than a week, and it would have been shorter than that, had Xavier been in the fray. But he had been sent in another region the week before, and was unable to join you in your fluff-filled resistance.

But now it seems that he's back and is in need of your assistance. Flashback to that time when his oven exploded due to his attempt at baking tarts, and you drop everything you're doing and fly outside, towards the elevator, fueled by fear and sheer panic.

When you burst into his apartment, using the spare key he left you, you cry out, “Xavier! Sitrep!”

A cursory survey of the area indicate neither fire nor flood, and his apartment seems undamaged. Fear subsiding, you finally take stock of the situation.

Perhaps it's not a kitchen emergency after all? There’s no smell of something burning, thank heavens for that. You do not want to apologize to his neighbors in his place again.

You call once more, “Xavier?”

“In here.”

His voice is coming from the bedroom, and that makes you waver. Why is he still in his bedroom? Maybe he's stuck in bed? Did he sleep for three days and wake up in an unusual position and in need of assistance to set back his limbs again? Weirder and weirder thoughts spiral in your head, and your lack of response prompts him to speak once more.

“You can go in, if that's what stops you.”

“Why can't you just go out?”

“I ... can't.”

The hesitation captures your attention. Xavier is probably entangled in the bed. You may as well help him.

“All right, I'm coming in then.”

When you open the door, you're expecting some sort of layers and layers of blankets, a sea of them, not just on the bed but also on the floor and other furniture. Xavier might be underneath in any of those blankets, and it's your duty to locate him and fish him out. You're ready to swim against these blankets, fight your way into it. Do your utmost duty as a combat partner.

Except.

Except it's not a sea of blankets that welcome you once you enter the room. It's—different.

So different.

So utterly different that you drop your phone. It clatters muffled against the carpeted floor, where it slightly nudges a gift-wrapped box. And that gift-wrapped box sits next to another gift-wrapped box, and another. And another. Until you lift your widening gaze to see that Xavier's bedroom is littered with a lot of them. And Xavier—

He's on the bed, all right. But he's—

He grins lightly, leaning back from his sprawled position. The pillows behind him sink under his weight.

“Kjalfjdsj?” you say, eloquently.

“I'm glad you came ...” A pregnant pause, before he drops the bomb. “My lady.”

Your brain short-circuits.

Xavier is sprawled on the bed, bunny ears on his head, waistcoat and tie, and—you just know, you can feel it in your bones—bunny tail on behind. It's exactly what he wore when you had your couple's photos back then. The fact that he's wearing it and, judging by the sudden change of interior design of his room, that he's replicated the decoration of the studio—actually, you don't know what you can glean from those points, because you're too busy picking up the remains of your brain matter to form a coherent thought.

He drops another bomb: “Why are you just standing there, my lady?” he says, and going by the quirk of his lips he knows the effect he has on you. Compared with the first time it happened, the shy reluctance is no longer present. “This bunny butler is ready to serve, just say the word.”

Your brain melts.

“Wha—I mean—um, guh—” You studiously reacquaint yourself with the concept of words. “I just—what is going on?”

Xavier blinks, and the bunny ears on top of his head twitch as if they are truly connected to his head. Your fingers twitch themselves in response, that urge to touch and feel them again.

“I just thought,” he begins, slowly at first as if testing the waters, “that you need to relax and get pampered after that difficult mission you've just had.”

The words percolate in your mind and you scrabble for an appropriate reply to that. To be fair to the man, Xavier is sweet thinking of your well-being like that. Or maybe he's guilty that he wasn't there to help during that corgipocalypse of a week. Regardless of his intent, you have to ask:

“You thought I need to relax and your solution is to dress up as a bunny butler?”

He has the gall to think about it at length. “Yes, my lady.”

You don't miss the way he spreads his legs a little wider at that.

And really—you're only human, with wants and needs and desires. It just so happens that the common denominator of those three aspects point to the ridiculous man before you, in that ridiculous bunny butler getup that you secretly love and hope to see again. Which—yeah, it's definitely the perfect solution.

Stomping your hesitation and pride, you stride towards the bed, and Xavier, watching your every step, reclines further, giving you space for you to place your knee on the soft mattress, between his legs.

The bedfoam dips, and he shifts to avoid sinking down the indent your knee makes. Your other knee follows, and you move towards him until the heat of his inner thighs touch the outer sides of yours.

At the proximity between the two of you, Xavier tips forward, and in spite of your positions he doesn't need to tilt his head much upward to meet your deliberating gaze. An anticipatory sharpness falls on his expression and, oh, you realize, he must've wanted this too.

Which is all that you need to fall into this completely.

And it's a transformation: a reshifting of limbs and the straightening of spine, something like a lock unlatching.

“Mr. Bunny Butler,” you begin, low and relishing and shy of being predatory, “bow your head.”

Xavier's nostrils flare at that. After a couple of seconds he complies, and seeing the sliver of his exposed nape opens something within you.

Against your shoulder the bunny ears snag, their length not allowing to fall along Xavier's pose. You bring one hand up to trace an invisible line across an ear, the fur short and soft. Xavier's quiet beneath you, but you can feel him stiffening at your every move. Braced a little behind his sides, his hands clench tightly.

“Can you feel it?” you ask, pinching the colored tip of the ear, pushing it back to observe its make. It's well-made, and you wonder if this one costs more than you'd expect.

Xavier shakes his head. You want to hear him, however, so you tap the back of his head in warning. He exhales loudly; breathes out, “No ...” and then tacking on: “Master.”

Your eyes narrow in pleasure, the flesh of your cheeks bunching from how wide your smile is. “That's my good bunny,” you praise him, caressing the curve of his head. He shivers—whether from the praise or the touch or both, you don't know.

To see him like this—a formidable hunter with centuries of experience, the force of stars pulsing underneath his skin, ready to rupture at his command—head bent low before you, hands closed in restrained fists, the lines of his body intersecting into a show of surrender. Yielding. It heats the core of your belly and your blood, and you can't help but bite your lip as you savor the image.

Leaning back and sitting on your calves, you catch Xavier's downcast stare. His brows furrowed as if concentrating, and when he notices you trained on him, his eyes do something that reminds you of the existence of the concept of puppy dog eyes.

Every time he does that, you think, you want to gobble him up.

Closing in on his face, you raise your left hand and cradle his jaw, tipping it up, gazes never leaving each other. Then you draw nearer, and nearer, until your lips almost brush against his. The sharp sound of his inhale is deafening in this lack of distance. Your eyes never leave his, but his drop down, nearly crossing, as he's distracted by your lips. His breaths are hot on your skin, and finally you aim at the corner of his mouth, and open your own to say:

“Don't move.”

And then you descend, trailing butterfly kisses along the edge of his lips, his cheek, his temple. Xavier goes spine-rigid at the first contact, forgetting to breathe for a second, before slowly exhaling, as if trying to hold himself together. His brows knit again and his eyes flutter closed, the line of his lips sloping downward.

He's controlling himself. And that delights you so much that you shift to kiss his earlobe and tug it once, then whispering directly to his ear, “That's my obedient bunny. Keep this up and I'll reward you.”

You stop to wait, and when nothing happens, you tug his jaw and take a bite at the shell of his ear—he gasps—and continue:

“What do you say?”

Xavier's shoulders lurch. He breathes once, twice, before answering.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Good boy.”

The first reward: a kiss on the lips. A quick, initial press before you pry him open with tongue, and he welcomes you eagerly from the way he surges to meet you. The hand on his face holds him back, but his own hands fly to your hips and plant themselves there.

You slap them away, he resists. You break the kiss, and he makes a disappointed sound, chasing you, and then realizes what he's done.

“I'm sorry—my lady,” he stumbles, putting his hands back in their previous position. He looks so properly chastised, you love it.

Outwardly, you sigh in disappointment, and he whips his head up, stricken. “After I said that you're obedient, you do this. What shall we do, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

“What—” He swallows. “What do you want me to do, my lady?”

In all the times you've tried to fluster him, Xavier doesn't really redden. At best his skin produces a soft sheen of pink across his cheeks that linger over his ears. Never tomato-red though.

But now, his face glows bright pink that gradiates to a noticeable crimson, ending at the tips of his ears. This is good development, you decide, something that you want more of. So you push further.

“Are you truly sorry, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

He nods meekly.

“Then”—a finger pokes at the center of his forehead and pushes, his head docilely tilting back, exposing his slender, beautiful neck—“don't move this time.”

You slip two fingers under his tie and pull it loose. The unobstructed slide of the silken fabric echoes around the room, punctuated by the hitch of his breath. The bunny ears jerk. To his credit, he's still as a statue, and the giddiness that you've been feeling for a while now mounts to a dull yet insistent ache that pools between your legs.

Then you unbutton his collar, which reveals more of that pretty neck. An alarmed sound forms in his throat, and you call his name in warning. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows whatever he's about to say.

And that Adam's apple becomes your next target: your mouth molds around it, sucking, and Xavier gives a full-body shudder. A groan bursts out of him. He's trembling, his hands—leather-gloved and creaking at the strain of his fists—his thighs, his shoulders. You can see how he wants to turn his head, to retreat from your hot mouth, but thinks himself the better of it.

You place your left hand under his head and kiss him under the angle of his left jaw.

“Ah—”

With your free hand, you trace down the outline of his neck to shoulder. His breath catches, he jolts away, his eyes shoot you a betrayed look.

“My lady—”

You plant another kiss in the dip of his collarbone. “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?” you ask against his moist skin.

He releases a shuttered exhale. Behind you, his legs move in a way that comes across as avoidant, as if he's hiding something from you. You glance down and realize the reason for his discomfort.

Saliva pools in your mouth.

But you swallow the surging desire ignited by the image of his arousal. It isn't time yet; you want to draw this out as long as you can.

Head still tipped back, Xavier doesn't see your discovery of his want, his eyes half-mast and his focus directed on reining himself in. If you remove yourself from the scene and study him from head to toe, you'd find Xavier the perfect picture of temptation, restrained, controlled on the surface but a collapsing star underneath, gravity pulling you to him and there's no way to escape.

Not that you'd like to escape in the first place.

You repeat your question, this time against his Adam's apple: “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?”

“My la—” He chokes. Tries again. “Whatever my lady wants.”

Ah. Such a good bunny.

Your hands drift down to the next closed button. His tie is loosened enough that you can remove it in one hard tug. And isn't that a nice thought: one strong pull and he's dragged along by the force, his lips inevitably landing on your lips, a welcome collision.

But you don't follow that path; instead, your hands drop lower, to the last button of his waistcoat. The sides of your hands brush against the seam of his pants, dangerously close to his already obvious bulge, and it dawns on Xavier that you're already aware of his worldly response, if the widening of his eyes is an indication. He whips his head to shoot you a meaningful look, as if begging you to ignore his lapse of control—as if that is an unwelcome development.

Sometimes, you think, Xavier wants to show you a side of him that only exudes assurance, a sharp blade and sturdy shield that envelop you in sidereal protection. Be it from outside forces and his own—and even yours. Physical dangers, most especially, but curiously enough: information. Knowledge. The matters of the past. The matters of the heart. The both of you may have confessed that day, the words of your promises embedded in your heart like an oath under the stars, but there are times when a shadow passes through Xavier's expression, and he seems so far away. Light-years away.

But right now, that thought isn't at the forefront of your mind: it is the way the redness climbs up his neck, his face, his cheeks, painting him a beautiful hue that reminds you of a recently blossomed rose. He truly is gorgeous this way.

One of his hands encloses around yours, stopping your ministrations. Minute tremors hum under his callused palm.

“I'm—” A quick breath. “I'm supposed to serve you, my lady.”

Ah. Truly such a good bunny.

You capitulate, hands retreating from the button of his pants, but not before caressing his trembling hand and squeezing it once. An indulgent smile unfurls in the line of your lips, and you make a snap decision.

The second reward: freedom. Xavier has expressed his desire to serve, to please, and you'll give him the freedom to choose how to enact it—

Under a specific instruction, of course.

“Yes, of course,” you say, tapping his warm cheek fondly with your index finger. “Serve me, then, Mr. Bunny Butler. Strip for me. Slowly.”

He catches that finger quickly with his mouth, bites it lightly, like it's a warning—or a promise. You let him nibble and lick your finger for a couple of seconds, the wetness sending electricity down your spine, and you can't stop the shiver that echoes throughout your body. Xavier narrows his eyes in satisfaction at your response, hints of a smirk around his lips, and that's insubordination if you saw one. So you snatch your finger away from him, and punish him by dragging your wet finger along the column of his neck.

He jumps at the sensation.

“Strip, Xavier,” you repeat firmly. “Make sure it's a good show.”

It just proves how dedicated he is at this roleplay: by this point he should have already ended this little act and would have taken over, but he's holding your critical gaze as his hands settle over the topmost button of his vest.

“I'll try, my lady.” His voice drops to a low, husky murmur, one that summons pinpricks down your nape and the back of your shoulders, crawling in a slow, deliberate tease.

He does try, indeed. He moves back, affording you space to see his torso without having to change your position. One hand to brace his weight, the other deftly maneuvering each button at a comfortable pace. For every button opened, he takes a deep breath, gives you a confident smile, albeit awkward at the edges. But the rhythm of it lulls you, and you find yourself playing with his bunny ears again—a right decision, because he makes a surprised sound, which morphs into a moan.

The returned proximity grants you the ghostly brushes of his knuckles against your clothed stomach when he opens another button. Because of this, the way your stomach contracts every time he brushes you becomes known to him, and Xavier huffs a laugh, and proceeds to be more purposeful with it.

You tug at his bunny ear, hard. “Mr. Bunny Butler,” you warn.

His shrugs his vest off as his reply.

Now, only left with shirt and tie, Xavier stares down at them, thinking about what to do next. You help him by pushing yourself flush against him, making sure that your thigh grazes his cock. He judders, shoving his face on the crook of your neck and groaning. Idly, you continue playing with the furred ears.

“My lady, my lady,” he mutters, and you feel him sighing, “don't tease me.”

You hum. “Then put more effort in your show.”

He peeks up at you under those pretty yet underhanded lashes of his, and you spy hints of a smirk in that mouth.

But before you can question him about it, a hand grabs yours and guides it to his tie, wraps it around the silk fabric, and pulls. Slowly, carefully. From this angle more skin is revealed under your wandering gaze—the tease of a nipple, flashing beneath that white shirt—and you gulp at the flutter in your belly.

Once the necktie is completely off him, he takes it from your hand and, indeed like a show, re-ties it around his neck, a ribboned gift. At this point you're ready to combust—and he's not even naked.

“Do you like it, my lady?”

“Yes,” you rasp, suddenly off-kilter, “very much.”

“Then ...” He resumes undressing, the buttons of his shirt easily extricated, his movements economical, and bit by bit his bare torso opens before your anticipatory eyes.

He stops at the tucked-in part of the shirt. Glances at you, bites his lip, and goes back to pull the front off so the shirt opens just below his shoulders, presenting you such a gorgeous view.

Xavier sinks into the propped-up pillows—and you unconsciously follow—and smiles. “All yours, Master.”

He knows—that little shit—the allure of incomplete nakedness. The gap, the gape, the patches of exposed skin surrounded by fabric. Xavier's using it to his utmost advantage.

By now you could have clawed his clothes away from his body, but somehow, this tastes more delicious, the promise of a tease, the prolonged heat-pulse that thrums in your core, and you're pretty sure, if Xavier's shallow breaths are an indication, that he's into this too.

Well. May as well take advantage of this luxurious present.

One hand descends on the side of his neck, and you see him tamp down the surprised jolt. This hand, light in its touch, ghostly, virtual, traces the edges of the necktie. You can hear Xavier's bated breath, waiting for your next step.

Then down, down, down to his collarbone, the dip of it, your index finger making laps twice, end to end.

Then further: his chest. And this time, it's not only your hand that wants to participate. You brace yourself on his shoulder and bend down to kiss the center of his chest. Xavier lets out a sound, and inhales sharply.

Next: his left nipple, with an additional teasing nip. His hips buck from the sensation.

You stay where you are, lifting your gaze to ascertain his expression. His head is turned away, hiding his face, a hand covering half of it. But it's useless for him to hide, because his ear is in your direct line of vision, and it's a glaring red.

This propels you to indulge more: the hand on his shoulder slides down to pay his other nipple attention. His legs shift, restless. The sounds of his gasps and moans occupy the room. You feast on him, laying your tongue flat on him and dragging it wetly until you hear him stutter your name.

“M-My lady—I—”

You surge forward, and the force topples the stack of pillows behind him. In the midst of this, you reposition your legs so that you're finally straddling Xavier, your skirt bunching up just below your waist, and—teasingly—grind against his straining cock.

He jerks, grabbing at your hips, attempting at more friction, but you remind him who's in charge, and he eventually relents, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“Sorry about that, my lady. I'm—I'm good now.”

“That's my good bunny.” Then you continue exploring his body with your tongue.

He tastes faintly of sweat but also the scent-taste of his body wash. He's showered just before calling you up. And for some reason, that does you: you rise to kiss him again, and your free hand sneaks itself under him—and grabs his bunny tail.

Xavier yelps, scarlet, shocked at the action, gaping at you and your smug face.

You squeeze the fluffy ball of a tail in response.

“M-My lady...!” he blurts.

“Shame that I didn't get to play with this last time,” you muse, feeling up the soft thing. It twitches under your curious touch. Delighted, you shift around Xavier's torso to lift his hips and study and poke at the tail repeatedly, entranced at the bounce and fuzziness of it. “A wasted opportunity, don't you think so?”

When you check Xavier's reaction, you have to hold back your laugh. He's clearly uncomfortable, but the discomfort is brought upon by embarrassment, as evidenced by his squirming and the persistence of his blush.

Words have left him, so he just averts your leery gaze, bury his face into the nearest pillow, and groans.

Taking pity on him, you release his tail—but not without giving it one last flick; he jolts—and slide your hands around the waistband of his pants. You're fumbling for the button and then the zipper when two gloved hands hinder your actions.

Xavier's face is rearranged into an indulgent yet mischievous smile. “My lady can enjoy me as long as you like. There's no need to hurry.”

But that's the thing, isn't it? You have already enjoyed him so much and enough that at one point things are bound to snap. He as your focal point of your want, the desire that thrums alongside your veins, almost like blood.

“But Mr. Bunny Butler,” you start, adopting a light, airy voice and tilting your head up at him, “there are a lot of things to enjoy from you. I'm not sure if one evening would do.”

Before Xavier can even get a word edgewise, you tear his pants open and yank his boxers down, freeing his cock.

“My la—”

His cock is a firm, solid weight on your hand, and Xavier bucks at the first contact, a halfway gasp ripping out of him. You watch his reactions as you stroke him slowly—painfully slowly, tantalizingly slowly—as your other hand crawl up his waist, flat palm spanning his side.

You know, intellectually and objectively, that Xavier is pretty. Gunmetal-grey hair that shimmers under the starry night sky. His smooth, unlined skin that you're harboring unholy envy for, soft under your curious fingers, almost pristine, untouched all his life. The column of his neck, strong bones underneath the layer of skin and muscle, the prominence of his Adam's apple. The outline of his body—even and proportioned, balanced like a finely crafted sword. And most of all: his eyes, the most expressive part of all of him. The color of an unperturbed sky, always clear and never lost. A steady glister in the darkness.

Right now, though, he's different altogether. Almost otherworldly in the way he's unraveling under your clever fingers. A shift of pressure and he's biting down the meat of his hand in a poor attempt to muffle his groans. A fleeting trail across the slit of his cock and his eyes flutter shut, his hips jumping off the mattress. He thrashes in chase of the pressure and pleasure you're providing him in crumbs, your need to see him lose that frustrating control of his. You keep stroking him and watching him blossom before you, petal by petal, limb by limb, nerve by nerve.

“My lady—” He's panting, running out of breath, his voice gaining that frenzied quality. It's music to your ears. “Master—Master, haa—”

He's coming, you can feel it. You can see it through his quickening breaths, the flush of his skin all over his body, the white-knuckled fist of his hands, the throb of his cock.

“My lady, I'm co—”

You release him, and the slow transformation of his face is such a fascinating phenomenon. From the crunch of pleasure, then crumpling into confusion. He raises his head to see you leaning back, hands away from him, his hazy eyes taking in what's happening—or its lack of. Then they widen, his mouth dropping open to release a sound of distress, round and full and cracking.

“Why did you ...”

You tug at the ends of the ribbon-necktie. He clicks his mouth shut.

“You said I can enjoy you as long as I like. There's no need to hurry.”

His gaze finally clears, and he gulps, nodding. Near your hips, Xavier's cock leaks.

“Then ...” You lay on top of him, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, your belly pressing against his pulsing cock (he freezes at this, and then continues to freeze), and place your arms on the sides of his head so your hands can reach the bunny ears. They still react delightfully under your roaming touch. “I'm going to enjoy these a little more. Don't move too much, okay?”

The room becomes pinched with quiet, and while you're intent on the furry ears atop Xavier's head, you can sense in your periphery his eyes on you. He's careful not to jostle you, the air he breathes catching on your skin, and you feel his arms snaking around your waist, settling on the small of your back.

“You really like the costume that much, huh.”

You hum in acknowledgment, rubbing the area where accessory meets scalp. You scratch it with your light fingernails, and Xavier sighs at the feeling.

When you leave the ears, you turn your attention to Xavier's expression next. He's still observing you, his flush now pale but enduringly distinct across his cheeks, and that entices you to meet his lips in a slow, patient kiss.

“It's nice, seeing you go through such effort to make me happy,” you answer him after you separate, punctuating the statement with a pleased, narrow-eyed smile.

A thought takes over Xavier, with the way his brows knit. Moments pass, you regard him, until he finally opens his mouth to articulate whatever has occupied him.

“My lady,” he begins, hesitant at first, but each word gains confidence, “there's something I want to do for you.”

“Speak.”

“I want you to”—and here his stare morphs into that puppy dog eyes again—“sit on my face. Please.”

You're stunned. The room continues to be quiet, and you're stunned. Xavier doesn't add anything after that; just waiting for your response. He's probably not sensing how you've finally shut down. You, felled by nine words, the last one an imperative period that brooked no refusal.

When he calls you, his face and his voice are tinted with uncertainty.

“Stars, Xavier.” You scramble up to reposition yourselves in accordance to his request. During this transitory moment, Xavier removes his gloves with his teeth. Now bare, both his hands come up to hold your thighs from behind, adjusting their spread and angle. You want to whine self-consciously, but glimpsing Xavier's eager expression as you move towards his head, you stamp that part in your mind. “Okay down there?”

He doesn't reply—instead he just goes for it.

Your hands shoot for the headboard, a surprised cry shocked out of you. Is this Xavier's way of revenge for denying his orgasm earlier? The way he confronts you is not unlike a battle, with his single-minded focus on his goal and his preciseness. He parts your folds with his tongue, pays attention to your clit first: sucks it lightly before dialing it up. You convulse, your hips digging down, and he moans, the vibration thrumming your flesh.

“Xavier,” you sob, “Xavier. Xavier.”

He laps around your clit like a thirsty man, hands kneading your thighs. He must've been thinking about this for a while now, with how methodical he's going by it, strategized to push you into becoming a complete and utter wreck. He kisses your clit then mouths it, moves his tongue in lateral glides that have you thrashing on your position. You grind against him, and he welcomes it wholeheartedly, and behind you his hips thrust helplessly in air, his stubbornly hard cock drooling with pre-come.

One hand nudges you forward and you follow, until his tongue enters inside you—you gasp and shiver at the slick intrusion—drinks you with such loudness that you wouldn't be surprised if his neighbors overhear what the two of you have been doing.

He knows how to prolong the barrage of pleasure, that heat and swell around your core, your undulating hips, sustained until you buckle and collapse from the force of it, your orgasm torrential like a storm.

When Xavier emerges between your legs, his face shines from your slick and his saliva. A fond smile slips out of you, and a finger traces the length of his lips; then your entire hand, cupping the side of his face, a tender caress. A smile of his own appears and he nuzzles your hand, kisses the center of your palm, eyes closed and sated.

“Good boy,” you praise, and he sighs happily. “So good for me. Have to reward you, don't I?”

The third reward: release. You move back to pull his pants and boxers off him completely, and Xavier just watches you with anticipation, breaths in quick bursts.

“You know the drill: don't move.” You underline this order with a tease of his cock, a line-trail from the tip to the base and then a quick squeeze of his balls.

When you align yourself above him and begin to sink down, Xavier goes rigid-stiff, daring not to breathe, careful not to move. You pause from your progress, and send him a worried look.

“Xavier?”

“I—I'm—” He bites his lip, exhales through his nose. “I'm okay, I just. I'm just trying not to react too much.”

“Why?”

He casts you a helpless gaze. “Because, my lady, I'm afraid that my control would slip, and I would have my selfish way with you.”

You falter at that. To be honest that's not such a bad idea at all, but Xavier knows that this is for you and your needs, and what you need right now—and what you want, if one were to ask—is him under you, at your mercy. Just as he is right now.

So you move lower, feeling the head of his cock open you up, slowly. And you can hear the hitching breaths unwittingly made by him, his eyes shut and his whole expression folded inward, as if he couldn't handle the pleasure descending over him.

A groan tumbles out of his lips, low at first, quick and fleeting, but as you inch lower and lower, the feel of his cock molding you inside, the wanton sounds he makes lengthens, gets louder, until he parts those glistening lips and vocalizes his satisfaction.

“My lady—you feel so—”

“Good, I hope.”

He doesn't wait until you bottom out; he bucks his hips to sheathe himself inside you completely in one smooth motion. You cry out from his action, his cock pulsing against your walls, and the feeling of him pulls you in further bliss that your eyes flutter closed and your back arches as the pleasure spreads throughout your body.

“The best, my lady.”

He gasps when you clench around him, your wetness dripping between your joined bodies.

You really think the best position Xavier has ever been is here right now: underneath you, helpless to your demands, seized by pleasure that you're giving him and taking from him. The way his face doesn't know what to do in the undulating waves of pressure as you begin to move above him, your hips lifting and then slamming back down; the film of sweat coating his skin all over, moistening the sheets beneath the two of you. The severe grip of his hands, bunching up the blankets in their deathly clutch. His rapid heartbeat under your palm as you support your weight by bracing yourself on his chest. His moans, his filthy, filthy moans—his moans that you will remember until your dying day because they are so far out of his cultivated normalcy—open-mouthed, slack-jawed moans that come from the core of his abdomen, surging upwards, frantic, crazed, melodiously and sublimely wanton.

“Look at you, Xavier,” you pant, and one of Xavier's legs kicks out. “Look at my bunny butler.”

“Master—Master—”

“What do you want, darling?” you ask, shakily tracing the side of his face. When your fingers near his mouth he turns his head to place a kiss at your fingertips, then drags his tongue out to lick at their length. Your index and middle fingers press flat at his tongue, and he groans around them. His puffs of breath beat in time with the movement of your hips.

One hand crawls towards your thigh, haltingly slides upwards, up to the junction of your hips, where it disappears under the spill of your skirt. Then it reaches behind to squeeze at the meat of your ass, and you gasp, stuttering your pace.

You take out your fingers so he can answer you, but Xavier grabs your wrist with his other hand and brings it back to his lips, trails kisses on each finger, murmurs nonsensical things against your saliva-coated skin until, louder, he tells you—

“Everything you can give me, my lovely Master.”

And, oh, isn't that a wonderful thing to hear? That readiness of his—be it in battle or in bed, he rolls with everything you throw at him, as though there's nothing that can taint you in his eyes, no betrayal to feel forsaken by. As though all that he's done, all that he's doing, is in service to you.

And it's because of this that you use the same hand to cup at his jaw and jerk it in your direction, bowing down to kiss him, bite his lower lip, thrust your tongue inside, lick the roof of his mouth, suck his own tongue—devour him fully and utterly.

He meets your intent with his own, just as intense, just as parched and hungry as you are for him. Every exhale is accompanied by a soft sigh, and you swallow his every sound—that lovely and soothing voice that lingers in your mind and haunts the edges of your dreams. His reaction just drives you to speed up your pace.

He's trembling all over, and tries to shift the angle from which you're riding him. Doing so affords his cock to hit something inside you, lighting up your body, starburst behind your eyelids, and you jolt, a whimper tearing out of your throat that Xavier drinks greedily. His hand on your ass traverses to your clit and plays with it, intensifying the blast of sensations on your lower body.

Obstructed by your mouth, Xavier tries: “My lady, I think—I'm close.”

“Me too, I'm—don't hold back—”

He doesn't. And he doubles his efforts in relentlessly stroking your clit and pounding up inside you, and the pleasure crests and crests and crests until you pulse and clench and come, sobbing at the white-hot crash flooding your nerves, collapsing on top of Xavier, mouths still connected.

And he doesn't stop. This time both his hands bracket your hips; grinds you down as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you. You're oversensitive but you don't stop him, just clinging to him and whimpering, and he begins to assail your ear, his panting tangible and hot against your skin.

“My lady, my lady,” he chants, voice shattering like glass. “My lady—Master—”

His orgasm feels like an echo of your own release, his spend filling inside you. Xavier gives a few more thrusts before slowing down and stopping. A self-satisfied sigh ripples over his relaxed body, and his hands climb to your back, guide you to pillow your head on his chest, embracing you as you melt on top of him.

Minutes pass, and his breathing evens; you expected him to fall asleep after, but when you look up his eyes are emphatically open.

“Aren't you sleeping?”

He glances down at you. Quirks a smile. “No, not yet.”

“Oh ...”

“We're not finished, my lady.”

“Huh?”

“You've had your fill, Master.” He smirks. Then flips you over, reversing your positions so he's now on top of you. He starts unbuttoning your shirt. “Now let me have mine.”

[ranaissingle]

Whispers and Melodies (Pt. 2)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: She has heard a deep melodic voice speaking to her from a faraway place for decades. Anything from snippets of a longer conversation to roars that shook the very earth she walked on.

Rating: T (For now)

Word Count:

A/N: This story is shaping up to be over 10 chapters so I am trying to queue up some chapters to post with some kind of regularity lol. I hope you enjoy this one! Also, I have created a tag list so comment below if you would like to be tagged in upcoming parts!

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Past (Sometime before Amaranths's Rule UTM)

Rhysand sat at his office in Velaris pouring over mountains of paperwork that he had allowed to pile up right before starfall. He’d spent the better part of 3 days working through the aftermath of the holiday, and he sat now at his desk, he wished he had some type of escape or distraction from the mountain of work that always seemed to follow him. 

A melodic breeze seemed to enter from the window as the trees and winds intermingled before filtering their way through the large windows. The breeze carried notes that came in quick succession and seemed to echo off of each other. The soft feminine voice almost caressed Rhysand's cheek and winded itself around him in a blanket of warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was until that very moment. His back and arms slowly untensed themselves as he relaxed further into his chaise and as soon as Rhysand felt like he could finally go to sleep, the voice seemed to fade back out the window and only left Rhysand craving more. 

Page break and POV switch (Same time period)

Y/N sat out enjoying the weather amid the hot summer. She had laid out various fruits, bread, and spreads to snack on while she read and hummed away her evening basking in the sun. The wind carried a gentle breeze and various little creatures scurried their way across the grove. All at once, it seemed like the ambient noise around her had become muffled. As if someone had placed a pillow over her ears. Slowly, a voice from the outside seemed to filter through whatever was muffling her hearing. It was laughter. Booming laughter made some deep unknown emotion bubble up inside her. Something that made her heart ache most deliciously. A small smile crept upon her face as she looked out into the distance the first to find where the sound had been emitting from. Nothing but trees and willowing branches blew in the wind, not a soul in sight. The laughter slowly fizzled out as if the sound was creeping back into the forest from whence it came. The retreat left her feeling cold as if a winter breeze had made its way to her from the winter court. 

Rhysand slowly pulled open the door to the room he had been occupying and stepped outside the threshold of the door. As the hinges creaked, the woman’s chopping ceased as she placed her knife on the cutting board before wiping her hands on her apron and turning around. Rhysand strengthened his stance even as the muscles of his thighs burned with the strain. 

“Who are you and how did I get here.” Rhysand’s voice came out firmer than he had thought himself capable of. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head to the side.  

“I found you passed out on the beach. You are quite lucky the tides did not pull you into the depths before.” 

Her lips quirked up at the idea as if she was thinking about that very outcome. Rhysand squared his shoulders and steeled himself further. He couldn't be sure that this woman did not have evil intentions. If there was anything he had learned in his 500 years of life, it was that he should never underestimate an opponent just because they were a female. 

“Why would you help me then? Is there something you want in return?” 

Rhysand was grateful enough for the help that she had provided that he was willing to give her something in return. The female rested all of her weight on one leg as she turned her eyes up to the roof and began to contemplate what she would want. She was likely going to ask for a pile of gold or a new cottage of some sort. She looked like she had run through a million possible answers to his question when all at once her eyes widened and her posture stiffened as she blurted out; 

“Waterdrake scales! Could you get me water Waterdrake scales? A lot of them?” 

POV Switch To Y/N

Why did his voice sound so familiar? She swore she’d heard it before but couldn't

Y/n’s hand tightened on the side of the counter that she had been gripping with all of the mother’s strength. What ingredient could possibly stabilize the potion she was working on? She had tried every single combination of Honey possible but it always reduced the potency by some amount. She needed it to be as potent as possible in order to ensure its effectiveness. Firedrake scales were known to increase the shelf life of a potion, but that wasn’t exactly what she needed. She needed something to make sure that the reaction between the crawfish shell and fennel root did not take place and that their effects were enacted on the patient independently of their effects on one another. Could dragon bone work? No, that would just react with the fennel root and make the whole mixture useless. But waterdrake scales? Yes, those could work; it would keep the potion cool enough to prevent reaction while also having a cooling effect on the body when administered which would help with the fevers that often accompany blood loss. Yes, this was perfect! Before she could get any sort of reign on her excitement. 

Y/n blurted out, “Water drake scales! Could you get me waterdrake scales? A lot of them?”

POV Switch to Rhysand 

This female had gone insane. Water Drake scales were the rarest type of scales. Asking for them was equivalent to asking for something more valuable than the cauldron itself. Never mind that he was sure Velaris did indeed have Warwe drake scales, what could this female possibly need water Drake scales for? Rhysand lets his lips quirk up on one side as he takes in the female. 

“What would a spritely female like you need with water drake scales and how are you so sure that I could be the one to provide them for you?” Rhysnad crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down. 

Y/n rolled her eyes while she looked him up and down. “You carry yourself in a manner that befits whatever rank you possess.” She takes a deep breath before continuing,”I have seen a great many males like you, they traipse around as if they own the land they walk on, they trample over the plants and never leave a place the same as when they found it. Your kind is the reason our world will never have any semblance of peace for more than the time it takes to heave a breath.” 

“Oh? You have come to this conclusion after knowing me for all of 10 minutes have you?” 

“Not quite I think. You seem to be less…? Just less I suppose. I can’t exactly put my finger on it but you do not suck the air out of a room the way your brethren tend to. I’ve come to conclusions about your brethren, not necessarily you, it seems.” 

Although Rhysand still did not look pleased, he had already decided to acquiesce to her demands as soon as she had spoken it. He was grateful, after all, for her help in his recovery.  But, he was not going to fetch the scales by himself. If she wanted to get her hands on those scales she would have to contribute to the journey. 

“Alright, if you want the scales you shall have them. However, I am not going on this journey for the impossible by myself. I know where to find them so we can get started whenever you are ready. 

She smiles slightly before speaking. “I think that our journey might have to be held off a couple of days at least.”

Rhysand took the bait. “What, not up for the challenge?”

“No, I’m up for the challenge. You, however, are not.” The smirk on her face was undeniable and Rhysand felt a laugh make its way up his throat. The female was right he was not up to any kind of journey where he would be forced to sleep on the cold hard earth and eat whatever gruel he could salvage. All at once he felt the exhaustion flood him as his body realized he would not be traveling anytime soon. 

She seemed to notice this and anticipated Rhysand’s legs giving out under him before he realized he was getting closer and closer to the polished wood of the floor. She skillfully wrapped her arms around his torso and slowly lowered him to the ground. 

“We need to get you to bed. I already made breakfast so I’ll bring some to you as soon as you’re tucked in. 

Rhysand chuckled, “I’m not a child, gods, you’re more demanding than my brothers.” She cocked her hips to the side before placing her hands on her hips as she stared him down. Rhysands smile never left his face as he raised his palms in defeat and raised himself to his knees before turning on his heel and entering the room he had previously come out of. As the door clicked shut behind him, Rhysand stood in the middle of the cozy room. He hadn’t smiled in 50 years. The muscles felt strangely tight from lack of use. He knew he had to get back to Velaris as soon as possible; his family was probably wondering where he was. But, despite his best efforts he couldn't bring himself to winnow home. It was quite peaceful in this little cottage by the sea. Rhysand eventually sat on the bed and leaned back on his arms as he stared out of the large window across from the bed. It seems Amaranths's reign managed to evade this section of the fae kingdoms. 

Y/N rapped on the door 3 times before opening the door and walking inside. Rhysand smelt a fragrant aroma of ripened fruits and something else warm and minty. She walked up to the small wooden table next to the bed and placed a tray on it. 

“I’ve made you a fruit salad, bread and herbs, and tea. I would make you something more hearty but, considering how malnourished you were upon your arrival, I feel it’s best to start you off on some simpler foods.” Rhysand looked up at her, “Thank you for the meal.” She tilted her head to the side slightly and smiled. “Could I check your temperature?” She raised her hand up towards his forehead but kept her hand from actually touching him. He took the time to look up at her from where he sat on the bed. He nodded his head and waited as she brought the back of her hand to his forehead and placed her hand on her forehead as well. 

“You’re temperature is slightly above what is normal..” The frown on her face deepened as the gears in her mind began formulating some combination of herbs and elixirs to lower the fever. Rhysand kept his gaze on her as she started counting on one hand and mumbling soft indescribable words. Her eyes flicked down to his and she said,“ I’ll have to give you some ginger and chamomile to help lower your fever. ” Her touch felt cool on his warm forehead when he swore he felt his temperature lower a fraction. She then slowly brought her hands down to his neck before looking at him to ask for permission once more. Again, he slowly nodded his head and she pressed one of her delicate fingers against his skin. She removed her finger quickly and kept her gaze on that section of her neck. “It appears as if you are also dehydrated.” 

Her voice trailed off as she continued moving his head slightly. Curiosity overwhelmed him so Rhysand asked, “ You could have done all these tests while I was asleep, could you not?”. She smiled slightly at him as she removed her hands from his cheek and neck and placed them back in her lap. “I don’t think you would have wanted that.” Her gaze settled on him in a way that made shivers run up his already sore spine. Rhysand answered with his own poor excuse of a smirk.

“Eat up, I will start preparing the provisions for our journey and bring you some more water”. She turned to the door and softly clicked it shut behind her. 

Y/N did not expect that being so close to the man would have made her heart beat so fast. The hair on her arms stood up as she attempted to take deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She needed to get started on the preparation as well as figure out the dilemma of how she was going to replicate the properties of water drake scales without having to put them in every single batch of her remedy.  

Rhysand relaxed back into the bed cradling him and felt the tension in his muscles trickle out and gather underneath him in a pool of warmth. They wouldn't be going on a journey, he was sure Majda had some water drake scales stocked up and he planned to winnow them into Velaris as soon as he was better. But she didn't need to know that yet. He quite liked the tranquility of the little cottage on the sea and intended to stay here as long as she would permit him to. Funnily enough, he didn't care to go back home.

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A/N: this had too many POV switches for my taste so I won't be doing that again lol I know it's been a while since I posted but I am trying to get back into the groove of things haha

TAGLIST: @nebarious

[lunallaa]

||when the cat distribution system strikes||

gotham knights!jason todd x gn!reader

{Not edited/proof read please excuse any errors♡}

Ever since the two of you started dating, your favorite view and time of day consisted of the quite moments you and Jason shared when the city was asleep and everything for once was at peace. Now, you weren't a fan of being woken up in the middle of the night, but you found it hard to remain upset when you could look over at the other side of the bed and see your boyfriend finally have the moments of peace that he deserves for all that he does for the people of Gotham. Recently though, that view of yours got an upgrade. Tonight you had been torn out of your sleep by a slightly unpleasant dream and as you turned over to adjust yourself for sleep again you were met with the sweetest sight. There of course was your boyfriend peacefully dosing away, but with the newest adition of a small little void of a kitten just as peacefully sleeping on his chest. That tiny little thing was an unexpected new member of the little family the two of you had made and you wouldn't change a thing,even if the kitten still remained unnamed after being home for about a month now. You'll probably have to change that soon.

You remember when that furry little angel entered your lives like it was yesterday. You had gone out to the Bodega around the corner from your apartment to grab a few of their home-made pastelillos* for dinner because Jason was home for the night nursing a sprained ankle and craving one of his favorite meals. You remember being in a rush that evening due to the forecast of rain that was supposed to roll in at any moment, and due to that you were meant to be in and out and home within just a handful of minutes. Instead, on your way back home you were stopped dead in your tracks by the most pathetic little meow you have ever heard. Your goal of getting home as soon as possible was abandoned as you made your way to the tattered cardboard box sitting just at the entrance of the alleyway you almost walked past. Strays and pets that simply found themselves outside were no strangers to the neighborhood, not so much abandoned animals, which seemed to be the case as you get Closer to the tattered and damp box. Once you got close enough to get a peek inside you were able to see there in the shadow of the box the smallest kitten you have ever seen in your life. You had wondered to yourself if the poor thing was runt that had been left out here due to the fact you saw no evidence of any littermates or a mom. By then it had started to lightly rain, and you wasted no time in removing the hoodie you wore then gently picking and wrapping up the damp little creature as it cried out at the sudden change of environment.

Anytime you take a little more time than usual on an errand than planned, Jason can't help himself from becoming worried. It also doesn't help his worry when you don't answer you phone when he sends a few texts trying to see what was possibly making you late when it should've only taken you around twenty minutes. After hearing your voicemail message for the fourth time he was almost ready to (hesitantly) call one of his siblings to go look for where you could've gone, not only could you be in some kind of danger but the rain was starting to worry him. He was halfway off the couch when your soaking form finally came through the door. You barely gave him time to sigh in relief, let alone welcome you home and ask what happened as you hurriedly dropped the bag of food into his lap before quickly making your way into the bathroom. That worried him. In the last few years of you dating, you never came home and did not speak to him immediately, let alone rush past him like that. He thought he was worried before, but now he is concerned and almost scared of what's happening that he doesn't know about. Jason carefully got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen to put your dinner into the microwave to keep warm before he made his way into the restroom to see what you could possibly be up to. The last thing he expected to see was you cradling a small soaking wet ball of black fur while stressfully searching the internet on your phone. While he had already began connecting the dots on what was happening, it wasn't until he had hobbled his way to your side and the furball meowing at him that he was fully aware of what was going on.

“Babe? Everything okay?”

“Oh! Jason! I was on my way back home but then I found this poor thing and I couldn't bring myself to leave it there I had to take it home. I'm so sorry.”

“Baby, no need to apologize. I'm Just glad you're home safe. Now, let me take over you need to go dry off and get warm.”

That night you and Jason had done what you could with your limited supply to bathe and care for the kitten before agreeing that you two would make the trip to the vet clinic in the morning to make sure it had a clean bill of health. You two had also immediately decided that you'd adopt the kitten due to how attached you had become and that Jason has no ability to say no to you when it comes to Stuff like this.

Life with a kitten was certainly new, it felt almost like the next big step in the commitment of your relationship. Thankfully the kitten was perfectly healthy, and your theory of it being a runt that was undesired was spot on. You had also found out that the kitten was a little girl and she fell in love with the two of you. She would constantly follow you around the apartment and was never more than a few feet from your side, if there was a moment where she wasn't with you it was because she discovered that Jason was her favorite playmate and her favorite pillow. You couldn't blame her, with his higher than normal body heat and big soft muscles he was your favorite pillow too. It had slightly worried you at first that a kitten was too big of a change and commitment for the two of you to make so suddenly, but that sweet little furball made you quickly realize that you and Jason were in the perfect spot in your relationship to handle just that.

Now as you lay in bed looking at the two loves of your life, you reflect on that rainy evening and feel so greatful for the universe putting this sweet little thing in your path. You also realize that it's almost been a month and your kitten needs a name.

"Jason. Hey.” He's awake immediatley.

"Yeah? What's wrong baby? What's happening?”

"We need to name her.” Jason relaxes now that he knows there's no danger, just his sweet girl and her late night thoughts.

"Yeah? What do you Suggest?” There's a pause as you think about your answer.

“Hmmm. What about…Midna?”A soft laugh escapes him as he recognizes the name. He wouldn't expect any less than for you to chose the name of your favorite character from one of you favorite video games.

“Hmmm nerd. Now go to sleep.”

"Okay goodnight, love you.”

“Goodnight, love you too beautiful.”

"I was talking to Midna.”

At that he softly moves and deposits the sleeping kitten onto the pillows above your heads before moving himself to softly smother you in his arms for the rest of night. Sleep comes back easily when your little family is all together in this little pocket of peace.

This blurb takes place in the same little universe as my last blurb :)

Read it here!

pastelillos*- basically Puerto Rican empanadas (I have a personal hc that Jason is mixed and half Puerto Rican♡)

Also if you recognize the name I picked for their kitten I love you♡