#replace fear with wonder and curiosity

[funsimplethings]

[beloveds-embrace]

I dunno if I've harassed you yet buuuut,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1247 words

series masterlist ; main masterlist

“Oh,” James pauses, his thumb hovering over his screen as he glances at the phone, his expression shifting to one of mild frustration. “It’s work,” he mutters under his breath, his brow furrowing slightly. “I need to take this.”

“That’s alright,” you smile gently. “I’ll take Henry in, and you can meet us in there when you’re done.”

“Are you sure?” James asks, his gaze flicking between you and Henry, who is gripping both straps of his backpack, his glasses slightly askew as he squints curiously at the classroom ahead.

“Yes,” you encourage, taking a sip of the coffee James made for you this morning savoring the warmth. “If you’re quick enough, I don’t think he’ll even notice.” You nod towards Henry, who is intently watching the family ahead of you greet his teacher, his curiosity piqued.

James presses a quick, hurried kiss to your forehead before stepping out of the line and heading off to take the call. Henry’s teacher greets him with warmth, complimenting his glasses and excitedly telling him about the art projects planned for the day. The exchange is brief but effective, and you can see Henry’s nerves begin to ease. He’s been uncertain about school all morning, but you and James have done your best to ease his worries, sharing stories of your own favorite memories from school to get him excited.

You barely finish telling Henry that you’ll meet the other parents before he’s darting forward, his little legs carrying him with surprising speed toward the corner of the room where the toys are. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you watch him seamlessly slip into a group of kids, his small hands eagerly grabbing a toy train. All his earlier fears seem to vanish in an instant, replaced by the gleam of excitement in his eyes. 

At the back of the classroom, a table is set up with an assortment of pastries, a small sign propped up beside them: We know this may be a tough transition, so enjoy a lemon croissant to brighten your day! You smile softly at the gesture, reaching for one of the croissants just as someone else does, your fingers brushing against each other.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, glancing up at a man who looks equally as surprised as you. The pastry is now long forgotten.

“No, no, I’m the one who should be sorry,” the man rushes to say, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment as he offers you a sheepish smile. “I got a bit too excited to finally grab some breakfast and didn’t even notice you there.”

“I get it,” You laugh, holding up your coffee cup. “This is all I had time for this morning.”

“The struggles of being a parent,” he jokes, offering you his hand with a wry smile. “Aaron. My kid’s the one who looks like she’s two seconds away from crying. It’s clearly a big day for her.”

You offer your name, smiling sympathetically at the sight of his daughter, who is taking in the classroom with big, wide eyes. “Mine’s the one with glasses, who is very impatiently waiting for a turn at the train table.”

You spend the next few minutes chatting with Aaron, commiserating over the bittersweet challenge of watching your child start school. You both agree that the teacher seems wonderful—kind, approachable, and genuinely invested in the kids. 

“Daddy,” A sweet, soft voice says. “Nobody wants to be my friend.” You watch with a squeeze in your heart how nervous the little girl, Ella, you learned, looks. Aaron sighs, leaning down to talk to his daughter, and your eyes shift to Henry, who is chatting to anyone willing to listen.

You call his name, and when he glances up, you gesture for him to come over.

“Yeah, mumma?” Henry comes to meet you where you’re bent down, slotting himself into your side as he watches Ella sniffle into her dad’s shoulder.

It doesn’t take long after the introductions for Ella’s tears to dry, replaced by infectious giggles as she and Henry build towering block structures, only to gleefully knock them down again.

“Thank you,” Aaron murmurs, his gaze fixed on Ella, sitting on the floor in front of you both with Henry, before he glances at you. “I wasn’t sure how I’d manage to leave for work knowing she was so upset.”

“It was no problem,” you shrug, your voice soft. “I know today’s been tough.”

You’re so absorbed in watching Henry and Ella that you don’t notice Aaron’s gaze lingering on you, appreciatively taking you in, or how his eyes flick to your left hand, searching for any sign of a ring. But James notices. He’s just barely made it in the door after his call, and the moment his eyes land on you and Aaron, a flicker of something dark passes over his face. His jaw tightens, his posture stiffening as he stands in the doorway, feeling the jealousy pool in his stomach.

Aaron leans in, his proximity crossing into uncomfortable territory—you don’t seem to notice, though—as he points to something across the classroom. James, already tense, steps forward, irritation clear in his movements—he’s had enough of watching someone else make an attempt to flirt with you, and it’s barely been thirty seconds.

“I’m sorry, darling. The call took longer than I expected.” He murmurs, his arm slipping around your waist. The warmth in his voice makes your face brighten, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“That’s alright.” You murmur, that lovestruck look settling on your face as you gaze at him. For a brief moment, you forget that you were in the middle of a conversation, so distracted by the feeling of James’ touch.

“Oh! This is Aaron—his daughter Ella is playing with Henry.” You gesture toward Ella before flashing Aaron a smile. “And this is James—”

“—Her husband.” James interjects, his tone sharp as he extends his hand. Your jaw drops in surprise as you turn to him, shock written across your face.

Aaron hesitates for a moment, then takes James’ hand, his expression unreadable. “Nice to meet you, mate,” he says, his voice steady, though there’s an uncomfortable edge to it.

A few minutes of brief conversation pass, and it’s clear Aaron isn’t nearly as warm with James present as he was when it was just you. Sensing the tension, you feel a wave of relief when the teacher announces it’s time for parents to say their goodbyes and head out. You and James shower Henry with kisses and smother him in hugs, reluctant to let him go, before finally saying your goodbyes.

James hopes you’ve forgotten his jealous remark, but as soon as you get in the car, you turn to him, shaking your head with an amused smile.

“My husband? How will you explain that when he finds out you lied?” You snort, glancing expectantly at James.

“Listen, love,” he starts, his tone defensive, “you should’ve seen the way he was looking at you. He checked if you were wearing a ring!”

“I don’t care,” you reply, buckling yourself in with a soft, sincere smile. “The only man I care about is you.” You hum playfully, adding, “Even if he did kind of look like you.”

James scoffs, his eyes flicking to you. “He absolutely did not,” he mutters, his tone defensive. “I’m way better looking.”When you don’t respond, he glances at you again, a hint of panic creeping in. “Right?”

please please please consider reblogging and/or commenting. it keeps me motivated to continue writing and reblogging spreads my work 🤍

[sweetestsong]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[vampirequsa]

''When The King Whispers''

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

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

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

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

And at the center of it all is the throne.

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

His eyes are already on you.

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

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

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

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

But he doesn’t.

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

“You’re not screaming.”

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

He chuckles. “Most do.”

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

“What is this place?” you ask softly.

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

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

That gets a reaction.

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

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

Silence stretches between you.

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

Right there, on the lowest step of his throne.

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

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

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

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

Eventually, you ask, “Why am I here?”

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

You feel your breath catch.

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

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

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

“I don’t fear you,” you whisper.

“You should.”

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

You don’t.

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

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

Your skin tingles where he touched you.

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

You blink.

And then you wake.

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

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

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

“Next time, stay longer.”

[dyns33]

Chosen

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

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

The marriage proposal had surprised absolutely everyone.

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

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

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

It would take time to find a suitable replacement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Some say you like it. The pain."

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the Na Baron had eyes only for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That seems unlikely."

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

"Witches ?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No. Out of the question."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Feyd… I want to go to our room."

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

"No."

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

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

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

[visionsofmagic]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💛

[andy-15-07]

The Midnight Covenant

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1259

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[muletia]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 — [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑] ⊹₊⟡⋆

[tfp] yandere!soundwave x human!reader

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

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

word count: 960

[part 2]

Today, there’s something more human about him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[moonlight-joy]

Hearts of Fire

Fandom: House of Dragon

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

Pairing: Reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[vieoeil-riae]

how good it feels

steb/gn!reader

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

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

read on ao3 | ao3 profile | ao3 collection | masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bloogers-boogers]

—Swap au— part 1?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucifer’s creativity stunned the entirety of heaven.

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

Lucifer was the epitome of perfection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucifer had fallen in love without realizing it.

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

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

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

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

But that meant breaking rules and going against heaven.

[imababblekat]

Bayverse TmnT X Thankful Reader; HC’s

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

~xXx~

Michelangelo:

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

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

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

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

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

Donatello:

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

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

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

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

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

Raphael:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leonardo:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~xXx~

[ghostszn]

For Kitty (@stygianoir), Happy birthday girl!!

1.4k words of smut! // 18+ only // manhandling // size kink // corruption // squirting // monster fucking? // scratching //

The soft glow of the moon filtered through the blinds, painting silver stripes across the cozy living room. You sat cross-legged on the couch, a chilled cup of tea cradled in your hands, the warm scent of chamomile lingering faintly. Across from you, Uta sat in a low chair, his posture deceptively casual. His long fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against his knee, but his mismatched eyes avoided yours, a rare and telling thing.

“Uta?” you asked softly, tilting your head to catch his gaze. “Is something wrong?”

The tapping stopped, his hand pausing mid-air as he finally looked at you. His expression was hard to read, the usual playful mystery in his eyes replaced by something more serious, almost pained.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” he said at last, his voice low and steady, as though he were forcing each word out.

Your heart squeezed at the vulnerability in his tone. “Keeping something from me?” you repeated, your chest tightening. “What do you mean?”

“I…” He hesitated, tilting his head to the side in that familiar way of his, as though weighing his next words. “I haven’t been completely honest about myself. I’ve always wondered how you’d react if you knew the truth. And now that we’re married, I think it’s time I showed you. You deserve to see… all of me.”

His words were cryptic, his tone heavy, and yet you didn’t feel fear. Instead, curiosity and concern bloomed in equal measure. You leaned forward, placing your hand over his. “Whatever it is, Uta, it won’t change how I feel about you.”

He stilled under your touch, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. His lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I hope you mean that,” he murmured.

Slowly, he rose from the chair, his movement unhurried but purposeful. The air in the room seemed to shift with him, thickening with an almost electric charge. His silhouette sharpened in the dim light as he took a step back.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with something almost… fragile.

Before your eyes, his form began to change. His eyes glowed a vivid crimson, the usual quiet mischief replaced by a predatory gleam. Veins darkened and spread beneath his alabaster skin, and his features sharpened into something otherworldly, beautiful in its raw intensity. Black and grotesque, his kakuja unfurled, armor-like and jagged, exuding a terrifying aura of power. Six additional arms extended out like a nightmarish deity, their clawed tips glinting in the moonlight.

The tea cup slipped from your hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud, but you didn’t care. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared, torn between awe and disbelief.

“Uta…” His name fell from your lips in a whisper, your voice trembling as your gaze swept over him.

He stepped closer, his movements fluid and deliberate, his towering form casting shadows across the room. “This is my true form,” he said, his voice rougher, darker, almost unrecognizable. “As a ghoul.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest, but fear wasn’t what you felt. He was a predator, yes, and undeniably dangerous, but he was still Uta- your Uta. And in this moment, standing before you in all his monstrous glory, he was breathtaking.

“You thought I wouldn’t like this?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, as though searching for any sign of deceit. “Most humans wouldn’t,” he said bluntly.

“Well, I’m not most humans,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

For a moment, he simply stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a feral grin spread across his face, sharp and predatory. Relief flickered in his eyes, and with it, a glimmer of something darker.

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice low and reverent.

One of his clawed hands reached out to cup your cheek, the cool, sharp edges grazing your skin without breaking it. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear, but from the heat pooling low in your belly.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his tone deep and heavy with emotion. “But now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”

The raw intensity of his words made your breath hitch. His gaze burned into yours, unrelenting, and when his claws traced down your neck, it left a trail of fire in their wake.

“You’re trembling,” he said, a teasing edge to his voice as his thumb brushed over your jawline. “Are you afraid of me?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No,” you whispered.

“Good,” he purred, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. “Because I don’t think I could stop myself now, even if you were.”

In a blur of motion, he scooped you into his arms, lifting you as though you weighed nothing. The sheer strength in his hold sent a thrill through you, and you clung to him as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you on the bed with surprising force, the intensity in his crimson gaze never wavered. The size difference between you was obvious, extremely pronounced now, and it made you shiver under the weight of his predatory stare.

“You’re so small,” he murmured, his claws trailing down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “So delicate.”

Your cheeks flushed as you squirmed beneath him. “Uta…”

He chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Don’t be shy. I want to see all of you.”

With practiced ease, he ripped away your clothes, leaving you bare writhing beneath him. His gaze roamed over your exposed skin, dark with hunger and appreciation.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his voice low and filled with raw desire. “And you’re mine.”

His lips descended on yours, and the kiss was unlike any you’d shared before. It was possessive, almost overwhelming, his sharp teeth grazing your lower lip. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and dip, sending sparks of pleasure racing through you.

When his fingers found your core, you gasped, your hips bucking instinctively. He chuckled against your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“So sensitive,” he murmured, his fingers teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes. “I wonder how much you can take.”

You whimpered, the tension in your body building with every touch. “Uta, please…”

“Please what, little one?” he asked, his tone darkly amused as he pinned your squirming form beneath him. “Use your words.”

“Please… I need you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation.

His smirk widened, and he positioned himself between your legs. The sight of him, fully aroused and impossibly large and a deep dark red, it made your breath catch.

“You’re so small,” he said again, his tone laced with dark amusement. “I’ll have to be careful not to break you.”

The stretch as he entered you was indescribable, a mix of sore overwhelming fullness and blissful pressure. He moved slowly at first, letting you adjust to his size, his sharp claws gripping your hips to keep you in place, his arms caging you- devouring you.

“You feel so good,” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “So tight. So perfect.”

As your cries of pleasure grew louder, he began to move faster, his thrusts deep and relentless. His strength was staggering, and he used it to manhandle your smaller frame effortlessly, lifting you, shifting you, pinning you as he pleased.

When you came, it was like nothing you’d ever experienced. Your body tensed, and a gush of wetness coated him, soaking the sheets beneath you.

He stilled, his eyes widening in surprise before a wicked grin spread across his face. “You squirted,” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “How delicious.”

Before you could recover, he started moving again, his pace incessant and rough, he lifted you- holding you on top of him as he thrust inside of your throbbing cunt. chasing his own release. When he finally came inside you, it was with a deep, guttural growl, his claws digging into your hips. Leaving small red lines claiming your body as his.

As you lay trembling in his arms afterward, his features softened, the traces of his ghoul form fading slightly. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his mismatched eyes filled with a quiet adoration.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured. “I didn’t think it was possible to love you more, but you keep proving me wrong.”

You smiled, exhaustion tugging at your eyelids. “I love you, Uta. All of you.”

And as you drifted off in his arms, you knew there was nothing you wouldn’t face to stay by his side.

A/N: Happy birthday! Uta (even in his full form) will treat you right! lol

Please don’t steal my works my only accounts are Luverine and ghostszn~

[anyca786]

The Bite That Bound Us

Soulmate!Mikealson brothers x reader (poly)

Summary: One wrong turn into a dark valley and you find yourself turned into a vampire, but wait there's more...

I was barely five feet tall with my fiery red hair that never behaved, a whirlwind of sunshine and curiosity in a world far too big for me, was lost again. A shortcut, you'd called it. One wrong turn down a dark alley which was reeked of damp garbage and worse.

Now, a pair of glowing amber eyes locked onto mine. Panic clawed at my throat, but before I could even scream, a blur of elegant violence filled the air and then darkness, cold, an agonizing thirst that gnawed at my very core.

I awoke to a gasp of a different nature. A handsome man with chiseled features and an air of nobility stared at me, his expression a mix of shock and something deeper, something I couldn't decipher.

"What...happened?" My voice was a mere rasp.

"Forgive me," the man said, his voice a smooth baritone. "I lost control. You're..." He trailed off, examining my small frame with a frown.

Panic surged through me. "Am I dead?"

He hesitated. "Not exactly." His eyes met mine again, the amber depths swirling with guilt. "I turned you."

I stared, processing. Vampire. I was a vampire. A sob escaped through my lips before I could stop it. Then, his eyes pierced the void, followed by a face both beautiful and terrifying.

"I'm Elijah Mikaelson, the original vampire", he knelt beside me, a flicker of regret in his ancient gaze. "Forgive me, little one," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress.

Suddenly I felt the thirst again that I didn't understand, just felt the warmth returning, an unnatural hunger replacing the cold. I lunged, fangs ripping through his pristine white sleeve. He didn't flinch, only closed his eyes as I fed from him, a small, desperate creature clinging to his arm.

When I pulled back, sated and confused, his expression was unreadable. "You're different," he stated, his voice tinged with wonder. He took me to the sprawling compound, a haven shrouded in mystery. I was greeted by three pairs of eyes, each holding a universe of emotions. There was Klaus, the hybrid, Kol, the mischievous brother and Finn, the stoic one.

"Elijah," Klaus snarled, a dangerous glint in his eyes, "what is this?" Elijah ignored him, his gaze fixed on me. "She's a… anomaly. A human turned, yet… different."

Suddenly, Finn stepped forward, his voice trembling. He reached out, a single finger brushing my cheek. A gasp escaped his lips. "The prophecy," he whispered, eyes wide.

Kol scoffed. "Finn, don't be ridiculous."

But Finn shook his head, his gaze locked on me. "The soulmate. The one spoken of in mother's grimoire. The one who can break the curse."

A bewildered silence descended. Then, Elijah spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Tell me, little one, what is your name?". I blinked, my newfound senses overwhelming. "(Y/N)," I managed, voice barely a whisper.

Klaus snorted. "Soulmate? Don't be absurd. She's just a runt of a human he sired."

But Elijah knelt before me, his eyes searching mine. "Are you truly our soulmate, (Y/N)?"

I tilted my head, unsure. "Soulmate? What's that?"

Kol, the mischievous one, stepped forward. "Don't you remember, love? The whole of New Orleans knows. The prophecy? The Originals destined to find their mate, a petite firecracker they called her."

My eyes widened. I vaguely remembered my grandmother's stories, whispered tales of an ancient prophecy about a human who would complete the Original vampires. Could it be true?

A flicker of a smile touched Elijah's lips as he knelt before me, his eyes searching mine again. "This wasn't supposed to happen like this," he admitted. "I never meant to hurt you."

Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze. The fear was still there, but a spark of something else flickered within me too. "What happens now?"

A tense silence hung in the air as Elijah and his brothers exchanged looks. The prophecy. The guilt. And a flicker of a new beginning, all tied to the fate of a tiny human turned vampire.

Few months later....

The morning sun filtered through the thick drapes, casting a warm glow across the antique four-poster bed. I stirred, snuggling into the embrace behind me. Blinking bright sunshine away, I snuggled deeper into the warmth beside me. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

"Morning, love," rumbled a sleepy voice right by my ear. It was Klaus, still half-asleep, his hair a mess against the white silk sheets.

I smiled, turning in his arms to face his handsome face. “Morning, Nik.” My nickname for him was a constant battle between affection and pushing boundaries. He hated it, but it always made him smirk. Living with the Mikaelsons was an exercise in perpetual chaos – a chaos I wouldn't trade for anything.

Most mornings started like this – either tangled in Klaus's possessive embrace or waking up tucked against Elijah's comforting chest. Today, however, the familiar warmth was missing. I sat up, stretching my arms, and a wave of loneliness washed over me.

"Elijah?" I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the vast bedroom. A chuckle drifted in from the balcony. "Always so perceptive, love. Come join me."

I slipped on a silk robe and pushed open the French doors, a cool breeze ruffling my hair. Elijah stood leaning against the railing, a steaming cup of tea in his hand. He smiled as I approached.

"Lost sleep?" I asked, taking a sip of his proffered cup.

"Just thinking," he said vaguely, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "About yesterday."

Yesterday was a typical Mikaelson night. A masquerade ball Kol had dragged us all to, filled with pretentious socialites and enough bloodlust in the air to rival a slaughterhouse. It wasn't exactly my cup of tea, but with Kol by my side, whispering witty remarks and occasionally stealing kisses in dark corners, even masquerades could be fun.

"Was it Marcel again?" I sighed, setting the cup down.

Elijah didn't answer. Marcel Gerard, a vampire they'd turned centuries ago, had become a thorn in our side. He was building power, challenging dominion over New Orleans.

"Don't worry, love," he said, finally looking at me. "We'll handle him." He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was always so gentle, a stark contrast to the fierceness he displayed when protecting his family.

Before we could discuss Marcel further, footsteps approached. Kol sauntered in, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah, Elijah, here you are. And my darling! Ready for breakfast?"

Our mornings usually included a leisurely breakfast with Kol, filled with gossip about the latest society scandals (courtesy of Kol's impeccable ear for eavesdropping), lighthearted teasing, and plenty of laughter.

We’d sit at the grand dining table, me perched on a booster seat (thanks to my perpetually human height), devouring pancakes while he regaled me with stories of his mischievous exploits throughout the centuries. Sometimes, Elijah would join us, his stoic demeanor masking the fondness in his eyes as he listened to Kol’s ramblings.

After breakfast, I spent the day indulging in my favorite pastime – reading. Finn, the quietest among the brothers, shared my love for literature. We curled up on the plush couches in the library, lost in different worlds, surrounded by towering shelves of leather-bound books. He’d read aloud in his soothing voice, his passion for history igniting a similar spark within me. Occasionally, Elijah would join us, his commentary adding another layer to the stories. Their perspectives, spanning centuries, were a treasure trove of knowledge.

Klaus, possessive and protective (sometimes to a suffocating degree), would spend nights dragging me to dimly lit clubs or lavish parties. He’d scowl at anyone who dared glance my way for too long, his hand possessively wrapped around my waist. It was annoying at times, this need to control everything around me, but there was a tenderness in his possessiveness that I couldn't ignore. Sometimes, he’d surprise me with a stolen moment in the garden, capturing my likeness on canvas with surprising skill.

Despite their differences, they all had one thing in common: their fierce protectiveness of me.

Whenever a dark cloud hung over me, Elijah, with his calming presence, would scoop me into his lap, whispering reassurances and pressing gentle kisses to my forehead. He understood my anxieties as a human turned supernatural, my loneliness in a world they’d inhabited for so long.

One afternoon, while browsing a quaint bookstore with Rebecca, I felt a prickling on the back of my neck – a feeling I’d come to associate with danger. Looking back, I saw Marcel, a former protégé turned enemy of the Mikaelsons, flanked by his vampires, his eyes glinting with malice. My blood ran cold. He was here, inside the French Quarter, the supposed haven.

Fear momentarily forgotten, I lunged towards him, a primal urge to protect my family surging through me. Of course, my vampire powers were a mere blip compared to Marcel’s ancient strength. He caught me effortlessly, his grip tightening around my throat. Panic rose, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

“Leaving the Mikaelsons pet unattended?” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom.

Before I could respond, a blur of white and blue swept past me. Elijah’s hand clamped around Marcel’s wrist, his face a mask of fury. “Leave her be, Marcel,” he growled.

“Now, Elijah,” Marcel mocked, his hold on me tightening. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown attached to the little rabbit.”

I struggled, kicking my legs and lashing out with my hands, a pathetic display against his superior strength. A surge of pride washed over me when I saw Kol and Finn materialize at Elijah’s side, their faces reflecting a similar fury.

A tense silence stretched between them. Just as Marcel opened his mouth to speak again, Klaus materialized behind him, his eyes blazing with an unholy fire. “You dare touch what’s mine?”

Marcel seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, a flicker of fear crossing his face. It was enough. With a coordinated attack, the Mikaelsons overpowered Marcel and his goons. It was a brutal ballet of fangs, claws, and super speed. I watched it all unfold from the safe.

You'll can send requests and suggestions-

[moonselune]

So just a silly little scenario that keeps reeling through my head but: astarion reveals/confirms that he is a vampire and tav is just staring blankly at him for a hot minute so he's fearing the worst but then tav just asks "so like... Do you just use your fangs to puncture the skin and then just slurp up what comes out or are your fangs like. .. sharp straws?"

Okay so when I was younger there was a show called young Dracula and I deadasss thought that was how vampires drank blood as because it was a kids show they couldn't show the blood so I just assumed it went straight up the fangs lmao

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x reader | Questions

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the campsite. You and Astarion sat a little apart from the others, the crackling campfire providing a warm contrast to the cool night air. Astarion had been acting strangely all evening, and you could tell something was weighing heavily on his mind.

Finally, he took a deep breath and turned to you, his usually confident demeanor replaced with a rare look of vulnerability. "There’s something I need to tell you," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something about myself that I’ve been hiding."

You leaned in, your curiosity piqued. "What is it, Astarion?"

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a rush, as if afraid he might lose his nerve. "I’m a vampire. Or rather, a vampire spawn."

The words hung in the air between you, and for a long moment, you could only stare at him blankly, your mind struggling to process the revelation. Astarion’s eyes searched your face anxiously, his fear evident as the seconds ticked by.

Just as he was about to speak again, perhaps to explain or to plead for understanding, you finally found your voice. "So, like… Do you just use your fangs to puncture the skin and then just slurp up what comes out or are your fangs like… sharp straws?"

Astarion blinked, clearly taken aback by your unexpected question. "I… what?" he stammered, momentarily at a loss for words.

You tilted your head, genuinely curious now. "Well, I’ve always wondered how it works. Do you bite and then suck, or do your fangs actually draw the blood directly like straws?"

Relief flooded Astarion’s features, followed quickly by a chuckle. "Of all the questions I expected, that wasn’t one of them," he admitted, shaking his head with a bemused smile. "To answer your question, I bite and then… slurp, as you so eloquently put it."

You grinned, your curiosity now fully engaged. "That’s kind of fascinating, in a morbid way. Does it hurt the person you’re biting?"

He seemed to relax further, clearly relieved that you weren’t recoiling in horror. "It can, but it doesn’t have to. There are ways to make it… pleasurable, even. If done right, the bite itself can release endorphins."

You nodded thoughtfully, still processing everything. "And do you have to bite people often? Is it hard to control?"

Astarion sighed, the weight of his existence as a vampire evident in his expression. "I do need to feed regularly, yes. And it can be difficult to control, especially if I’m starved or in the heat of battle."

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you for telling me, Astarion. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to carry that secret. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you."

His eyes softened, a mix of gratitude and surprise in his gaze. "You… you’re not afraid? Or disgusted?"

You shook your head firmly. "No, I’m not. I’m glad you trusted me enough to share this with me. We all have our burdens to bear. Yours just happens to be a bit more… unique."

Astarion let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Thank you. Truly."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of closeness with him that you hadn’t before, "We’re in this together, Astarion. Vampire spawn or not. But I have one more question."

"Go for it," Astarion chuckled, shaking his head, his white curls framing his face.

"If you could turn your fangs into straws, would you?"

".... quite probably."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed it, just a short fun one for y'all x - Seluney xox