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sweetiecutie · 6 months

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Hi!

I fell in love with ur underbedmonster!simon au!

And I am sure everybody else fell in love with it.

Can we get some more stories with monster simon? If it's no problem, of course :)))

Love your work btw <33

A/n: sure you can, I think that this trope is my new obsession🫣☺️

Warnings: smut, mdni, possessiveness, monsterfucking, tentacle fucking

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

Underbed monster! Simon who was slightly startled by such sudden change in your aura - once sugary sweet and syrupy turned into bitter and pungent, causing creature to sputter and hiss begrudgingly at the taste, his ears (or whatever that was that he had) straining to hear any words coming from you that could explain this drastic shift in your emotions.

Underbed monster! Simon who listened attentively as you spoke on the phone with your best friend, choking on your own tears and sobs as you told them how you broke up with your now ex boyfriend, about the ugly fight you had, how he called you numerous names, shattering your heart in million pieces just with his cruel words.

Underbed monster! Simon who felt rage simmering somewhere deep within him. How dare that pathetic scumbag treat you like that!? Yes, Ghost did torture you with horrible nightmares quite a few dozens times, but you were his human, his to scare, his to taunt, his to fuck, no one else’s. He felt possessive and angry, he wanted to soothe your poor little heart, to make all the pain go away so you could feed him more and more of that honey-like energy that your pleasure exuded.

Underbed monster! Simon who finally decided to take matters into his own hands after keeping a close eye on you when your state didn’t seem to get any better. Ghost sneaked out some of the sweets from kitchen to your bedroom so you had something to munch on, making you confused as to how those candies seemed to magically appear on your bedside. Simon tried keeping the house tidy and clean for you in hopes that it’ll make you get better soon, he even did your laundry once, causing you to freak out at the sight of your clothes, freshly washed and still damp, hanging off the rope to dry out.

Underbed monster! Simon couldn’t be more happier, watching your attention finally shift from your shithead ex to him. Simon was purposefully lurking right in the corner of your vision, making his presence in the house way more obvious. He watched with fierce amusement as you grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, inspecting every nook and cranny of the house, not finding any signs of intrusion or anything that could’ve given a clue about another person’s presence, scrunching up your pretty eyebrows in confusion.

Underbed monster! Simon who fully revealed himself for the first time in your dream, standing in his full glory in front of small scared you, your breathing quickening in your sleep as you inspected his tall dark form, two red eyes glaring down at you from above. You felt paralysed as you watched this creature raise its smokey limb that slightly resembled human arm, cold tentacle fingers brushing your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear affectionately. And all of the sudden all fear and anxiety vanished, leaving place for curiosity and amazement as you studied monster’s features closer, not feeling threatened nor endangered by him. Slowly its mouth opened - even blacker that the rest of him, his voice clear and lucid, ringing right inside of your head “Wake up”

Your eyes snapped open - you were laying in your bed still, crumpled sheets dug into your back unpleasantly but you couldn’t care less as you stared straight into those crimson orbs, cold tentacles slithering up and down your sides, wrapping tighter around your limbs, immobilising you completely. Underbed monster! Simon just purred audibly at your obedience and lack of resistance, branching a few more extremities to slip under the hem of your pyjama top and wrap around your nipples, tugging and tweaking on them softly.

Underbed monster! Simon who growled satisfactorily at the small wet patch that started forming on your panties, slowly rubbing your sweet pussy while applying more and more pressure to his touch, watching you writhe and whine underneath him, begging for more.

Underbed monster! Simon who purred as he slipped a thick tentacle past the hem of your panties, stuffing your fluttering cunny so full of himself, finally that rich taste of your pleasure simmered right through him, filling his ghastly body with strength and energy he lacked all this time you were depressed. Newfound strength just nagged him into fucking you faster and harder, twisting out your nipples and rubbing your clit rapidly, all while forcing his thick tentacles in and out of your leaking cunt, making you scream and tremble in his inescapable grasp as fourth orgasm rippled through your weakened body, pure pleasure surging through your veins, hogging up your mind and making you incapable of thinking.

Underbed monster! Simon who only let you go when first sun rays peaked in through bedroom’s window, leaving you a fucked-out yet blissful mess, pinching you on your cheek affectionately before slipping under your mattress, curling up like a huge lazy cat and falling asleep, full of your delicious pleasure.

And even hours later as you peeked under your bed you could see a huge black spot there, still and unmoving; and if you listened closely enough you could hear your underbed monster purr softly in its sleep, happy and properly nourished.

That’s quite a pet that you have now, eh?

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, don’t be shy to give writers some love! Requests are open, so send me some stuff<3

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headspace-hotel · 4 months

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Problems like climate change, where solving them requires millions of people to collectively work at hundreds of different solutions at once, are black holes for internal peacefulness because they give you a type of frustration where you alternately become bitter towards yourself or everyone around you. "If only I could work harder to fix the problem!" makes you exhausted, so you must become angry at others: "If only they cared about the problem!"

People who are already working on fixing climate change need to convince more people to work on it. And a popular thing is to share writings that describe how doomed we all are if climate change is not fixed, how terrible everything will be because of climate change, and how quickly all the treasures of our world are being lost.

There is a particular understanding of human behavior that is being accepted here without thinking about it hard enough. Popular news media shows headlines with terrible prophecies, written that way in hopes of getting the attention of otherwise disinterested people, who will then be "motivated" to fix climate change.

The trouble is that fear is no good for motivating thoughtful, patient, steady commitment to solving a problem. Fear is made to cause an organism to avoid things that might harm it. It creates a brief and explosive pulse of action where the organism's energy pours out as it instinctively, thoughtlessly reacts to escape the danger as fast as possible.

It's silly to blame people for avoiding thinking about climate change. The point of an organism responding to stressors is to avoid them. Oftentimes, the only tool people are presented with is personal choices about what products to buy, which inevitably is horribly frustrating and stressful, since a person will frequently be coerced by their situation into buying a certain product, and even if they don't they see others doing it all the time.

Relentless exposure to imminent threats that cannot be escaped causes Trauma, which severely impacts a person's ability to be resilient to stressors.

I think there is definitely a type of trauma associated with being constantly aware of the destruction of the environment and feeling helpless to do anything about it, especially since we as humans have a deep need for contact with other living things and aspects of the natural world, such as trees, water, flowers, and animals—a need that is often totally denied and treated as merely a Want or a hobby meant only for certain people who enjoy particular activities, like Hiking or Gardening.

We need to expand our minds on how this disconnection can hurt a human being. Imagine if a child's need to be loved by their caregivers, a person's need to be loved by their friends and family, was treated as a desire for indulgence or luxury, or a certain use of free time!

Yes, yes, one person has a condition that makes it hard to walk up hills, another doesn't like the bright sunshine, another is allergic to the grass or fungal components of the outdoor world, but WE ARE PART OF THE FAMILY OF ALL LIFE ON EARTH and WE EXIST IN SYMBIOSIS WITH THE ENVIRONMENT WHICH TAKES CARE OF US. Who showed you what beauty was, who taught you to feel peace and relief inside you in the form of a caressing breeze and rustle of leaves, who gave you awe and wonder at seeing the stars or the mountains? Where does every delicious food come from but the soil teeming with creatures? Isn't the most perfectly sweet berry grown from a plant, nurtured by the soil and pollinated by the bugs? Don't you feel delight at seeing a springy carpet of moss, a little mushroom, or a tiny bird? Think of all that the trees give us. Whose breath do you breathe? Whose body frames your home?

The writings of Indigenous writers such as the book by Mary Siisip Genuisz I am reading right now show me that the other life forms are our family. They take care of us and provide for us, and they would miss us if our species disappeared. Isn't that a powerful, healing fact? I think everybody is so enthusiastic about the book Braiding Sweetgrass because it is a worldview that those of us coming from the dominant colonizer culture are straight up ravenous, starving to death for.

Maybe, I think to myself, humans can experience a kind of trauma from being deprived a relationship with their Earth, just as they would experience trauma from being deprived relationships with other humans.

I really believe that it hurts us to be surrounded by concrete instead of soil, to see a majestic tree cut down on a whim without any justice possible, to see wild animals mostly in the form of mangled corpses on the roadside, to have poison sprayed everywhere to kill the insects that life depends on, to hear traffic and lawn mowers and weed whackers instead of birds and flowing water.

We KNOW that this is physically bad for our health, the stifling, polluted, and stressful environments of a civilization that doesn't know the ways of the plants, but I think it's a kind of moral injury too, right? To see a beautiful field turned into a housing development of ugly, big, expensive houses—no thought given to the butterflies and sparrows and quail of the field? To see a big old tree cut down, a pond full of frogs obliterated and turned into a drainage ditch beside a gas station? They aren't just things, they are lives, and while expansion and profit and progress are "necessary," a nice old field of wildflowers or a pond full of frogs are a different kind of necessary. I remember feeling this as a child without words for it—the sheer cruelty of a world that is totally without reverence for the other creatures.

"They own the property, they can cut down the tree" "They bought the land, they can do what they want with it" <but it can also be wrong, and many people know this on some level, even though our culture doesn't provide us with the framework.

Fear could never give people the motivation to fix climate change. Constant fear of what will happen in the future forces a person to protect themselves from the relentless stress by shutting it out entirely or developing apathy.

A fear based argument for fixing climate change either causes a worldview of nature with no bond of kinship at all, based on the physical and practical dependence on Nature as a "resource," or forces people to experience their kinship with Nature only through grief.

Fear tells us that we want to live—it does not tell us WHY to live. If a person tries to live on fear alone, they will eventually find the desire to live burdensome and painful in itself. I see this emerging on a society wide scale in the USA, feeding on influences from the Christian evangelicalism that sees the Earth as something already sullied and worthless, to be thrown away like a dirty tissue, and on the looming monolith of nuclear winter that gave our parents recurring nightmares as children.

If you go to r/collapse on Reddit (don't do that) you will see a whole community of people who cope with the threat of climate change by fantasizing about it, imagining it as a collective punishment for all humanity and a cathartic release from the present painful situation.

We cannot learn to live without seeing the reason for living. We cannot save the Earth without loving it. We cannot heal nature without caring for it. In order to collectively take action against climate change, we must be moved by something other than fear—and that something is love. Not just love of the outdoors as an activity, but love of the Earth as something that loves us.

The dominant Western culture cannot borrow Indigenous land stewardship techniques as though they are just one climate resilience strategy, without being also willing to change its dreadfully impoverished way of viewing human relationships with Nature.

What right have we to think, "Huh, maybe those guys were on to something with the multi-level polyculture systems and controlled burns" while still thinking humans are nothing but a disease on the Earth, and that Earth would be happy to be rid of us? The sustainable ways of using the land practiced traditionally by cultures who have lived in relationship with their ecosystems for many generations work because humans can exist in mutualistic symbiosis with the life forms around them. We care for them. They care for us.

I know for a fact that plants seek relationships with us, and I was taught by them to see how interconnected everything really is, and how I was made to be a caretaker of my ecosystem. I was, a few years ago, just as I describe above. Too scared and pessimistic about the future of nature to bother loving it, and because of this, I could not realize my niche in the ecosystem. It felt for many years like I could do nothing—i believed in climate change, but I felt hopeless, so I put it out of my mind. But when I began to cultivate a love and reverence for the sad, scraggly, beaten-down fragments of Nature around me, everything changed. So much became possible.

I am still learning and exploring, trying to open my mind to ideas totally different than the ones I knew growing up, paying close attention to every plant and learning its ways. And it stuns me to think—some people write about climate change without this process.

The author of the book "The Uninhabitable Earth" (a scary book about how doomed the Earth is because of climate change) says in the beginning of the book that he is not very much of a nature lover. You fool, love is our most powerful evolutionary adaptation!

#climate change #the ways of the plants #plants #nature #environment #symbiosis

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ethereal-night-fairy · 4 months

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This dark vampire poly!141 x hostage!reader idea is based off a comment I got on one of my works on Ao3 I would love to tag them if they were on Tumblr but I don't think they are.

Comment : Oh I'd love a vampire au! An idea for it if you are open to consideration: the 141 have been around for centuries, John pretty much turned all of them starting with Simon, then with Johnny, and then with Gaz being the youngest (although Gaz is still over a century old). Reader, of course, is human, moving to a new town to start over completely and ends up running into one of them. And they just know that reader is the missing piece that they had been looking for--the one that is the last to be bound to them. Because for an immortal creature it only makes sense that they would, in even just the name of species preservation, have multiple mates dictated by fate, instinct, or what have you :)

This sounds like a great premise for a vampire au. Also what if Knight price was turned in the medieval ages by a vampire lord he was tasked to kill and ended up being turned as he killed the last of the vampire kin for the English king. He fled obviously when he realised what happened letting his knights think he was killed in battle.

Time passes and he doesn't age, he watched his loved ones from a distance growing old and having children before ultimately passing away. It pains him that he lives like an animal hunting for blood in the forest unable to live a normal life.

But he still wishes to do good, to be good . So as his powers build and the sun doesn't scorch his skin anymore. He joins the army century after century to regain some sense of humanity. (That's a horrible way to regain humanity if I'm honest, though in his defence he fell for the propaganda and thought he was doing a good thing.) But the bloodlust becomes so much worse the more he kills. The more blood stains his hands the more he longs for the chaos and violence.

He gathers companions along the way. Men like him that were on the brink of death but had so much to live for. He couldn't let them die he just couldn't! By the 21st century he had his little taskforce. His boys, his lovers, his family but someting was missing. What could it be? They lived comfortably with the wealth they had accumulated. They had their buffet layed out for them on the battlefield. What more could they want?

But something was out of place. Even with his lovers, life was becoming bleak when all they saw was violence and bloodshed. That was until they found a delicate little hostage in their capture or kill mission. Scared little thing you were tucked away in the corner of a bedroom, chained to the wall. You'd do nicely as their pet. They bet your blood tastes just as sweet as your tears.

Their reply: Oh I love it! Johnny being a warrior that at the Battle of Culloden, fighting for Scottish independence from the British, happens to die while fighting an infuriating man. Said infuriating man, dying by the Scottsmans hand, just so happens to be lieutenant Simon. Price having already planned to watch over Simon (he said he wouldn't get attached) yet he can't help but to turn Johnny too. Neither are happy at first, they have their differences, but they can't deny the bond and love that forms. Then the three of them meet Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick in world war ii. So bright and full of life, passionate about fighting for his country and ending Nazi regime. The man runs right into a fight, saving dozens upon dozens of men, and the three know they can't let him remain dead when the inevitable comes. And Gaz, well, he keeps that light within him because at least now he can make sure that the war to end all wars wasn't done in vain.

I just wanted to show off their ideas too since it's what inspired my little snippet. I not sure if I'll turn this into a actual thing though.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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imfinereallyy · 9 months

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Passengers

It took Robin three years to get her license. Which all things considered, the twice apocalyptic experiences, and, ya know, being poor, wasn’t too bad in her opinion.

20 was as good as any age to get behind the wheel of a vehicle.

Okay, if she was honest with herself, really honest, maybe her calculations were off. It wasn’t three years exactly. She could have gotten her license at 16; hell, she could have gotten her permit at 15. So it quite honestly had taken four, five years max to get her license.

But the first two years didn’t count to Robin.

She didn’t even give a thought to driving until she was 17, and Steve was driving her every day without question. She hadn’t thought about it until Steve threw his keys at her, telling her to drive, that Robin realized he was driving her every day because he wanted to, not because she was a license-less loser.

It cracked Robin open when she finally had time to think about it. After all the blood, and gore, and almost losing Steve several times, it hit her that this dingus really wanted her by his side.

So, Steve was really to blame if she ever got into a car accident. Sure, he didn’t push her to get behind the metal contraption, but Robin wanted to pay him back somehow, for all the rides and love over the years.

That was how now, Robin was seething in regret as she drove the rest of the way home, in the dark, from their road trip.

See, when Robin had pictured them doing things like this, it had just been the two of them. Steve in the passenger seat, arguing over music and the best car snacks. Windows down, yelling about who fucking cares, and just laughing their way through different states.

Robin hadn’t taken into account there might be other people involved in her bestie road trip fantasies. No, instead, it wasn’t the terrible two, platonic soulmate extravaganza she pictured. Instead it now involved them, Steve’s ex-turned-best friend, whom Robin had a horrible crush on, Nancy Wheeler, and a sweet metalhead who Robin saw as a brother, and Steve had a huge soul-consuming crush on Eddie Munson.

Robin begrudgingly would admit the additional two had made the trip better, so she didn’t have too many complaints. Actually, in reality, Robin only had one big hang-up about the whole thing.

Steve was in the back seat.

Which would have been fine if Robin had been there too, but she wasn’t. It was her stupid turn to drive in the home stretch of their way home. Instead, Robin had Nancy beside her. Which should have brought her joy but instead made her nervous and clammy and not at all suited to be behind the wheel of the death contraption they called a car. Plus, Nancy was asleep.

Her snores were pretty cute though.

Robin seethed silently; it was Eddie’s fault. He positively insisted on sitting with Steve in the back. Something which Robin would normally tease the both of them for, the oblivious idiots that they were, but Robin was a possessive little creature. It was a trait of hers she tried to bury deep down. She knew people didn’t like that; they didn’t like when people clung. Didn’t like that she felt like baring her teeth, even sometimes wanted to actually bite at people who tried to pry her people away from her.

It was funny, really; the only person who understood that part of her was Steve himself, which made her possessive side come out even more. Like seeks like, and crazy seeks crazy.

God, if she was every lucky enough to get a girlfriend, she was screwed.

Robin had resisted looking in the review mirror for twenty minutes. Probably not safe, but driving angrily wasn’t either, and if she saw the two of them giggling like school girls, she was gonna flip the car.

But Robin was never good at resisting temptation. She was most definitely the child who would touch the plate after someone told her it was too hot. So Robin took a glance, shoulders tense and mouth dry, and saw—

Well, shit. Robin melted. There in the back seat with their heads leaned against each other were Steve and Eddie, sound asleep.

The edges of Robin softened; she remembered Steve pinching his nose earlier, eyes squinting on his turn to drive. She had been in the passenger seat then. She had wanted to ask but instead said nothing, knowing he would wave her off. So she claimed her turn to drive, and then Eddie had been insistent that Steve come in the back with him and—

Robin was getting it now. Although Eddie had a big fat gay crush on Steve. That wasn’t why he wanted to be with Steve in the back. He had noticed, too. The edges of sleep deprivation creeping slowly into an oncoming migraine for Steve. Eddie had seen Steve pushing himself, and somehow also knew that if Steve stayed in the front, he would feel obligated to stay awake.

Robin hadn’t realized that, Eddie didn’t just want Steve; he paid attention to him. Eddie noticed Steve the way Robin noticed him.

Robin spared another glance at the two of them, wrapped around each other like vines snaking up an old oak tree. The last of her anger seemed to fade away. Even after all this time, none of them got a lot of sleep. Steve, most of all, seemed to run on fumes. Robin knew he couldn’t sleep soundly alone, but also couldn’t fall asleep around just anyone. For a long time, Robin had been his only cure for his insomnia. Steve never dared to fall asleep in front of strangers, afraid he’d scare them with his screams.

But here Steve was, in the arms of the man that he loves, not a single worry line on his face as he slept the rest of the trip away.

Robin knew, with certainty, Steve felt safe.

And because of that, Robin thought wistfully to herself, if Eddie Munson ever wants a turn at being a passenger, she wouldn’t mind taking the wheel for him, too.

***

a short lil thing to get me back in my writing grove. Is inspired by a friend of mine who is in her 20s and doesn’t drive. It’s totally okay and everyone moves at their own pace! And also I’m definitely a person who likes to drive others around as a sign of love (I am Steve coded I am beginning to realize)

Sorry if this isn’t any good, or seems rushed. Writers block is a bitch.

#steddie #stranger things #robin buckley #Robin is a feral gremlin just like the kids you can’t change my mind #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates #platonic soulmates stobin #POV Robin Buckley #outsider pov #background ronance #nancy wheeler #my writing #ficlet #steve x eddie

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bookishdreamer28 · 5 months

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"Could you play with my hair?" - Gojo Satoru

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You heard the front door opening and a groan filling the silence of the house. You placed the book you were reading on the small table next to the couch and stood up to go greet your boyfriend.

Satoru was hanging his coat and when he turned to look at you, his hard and troubled expression softened. His arms opened, inviting you for a sweet, full of love hug.

"Hi baby" he kissed the top of your head and rested his cheek there.

"Hey" you pulled away a little and kissed his soft lips. He hummed and pulled you closer by your waist, his warm fingers lifting the hem of your shirt to touch your skin. When you pulled away he rested his forehead on your shoulder.

"Toru are you feeling ok? Did something happened?" Your worried tone made him look at you.

"No no baby everything's okay" he reassured you. "I-it's just this horrible and exhausting thing with the curses. Every time I fight these stupid creatures, myind lingers on you. What of someday something happens and I'm not there? What if they find out about you? I just don't want to lose you" he voice almost broke and you noticed his eyes becoming glassy. You instantly hugged him tight.

"I'm here. I'll always be here and I'm not planning on going anywhere. And if these nasty things ever dare touch you or me, I'll handle them just fine. Besides I have the best teacher for teaching me a thing or two" you smirked. He laughed and scooped you up in his arms.

When you saw that he was heading to your room, your furrowed your brows.

"Toru I made dinner I don't want you to starve yourself you know" you said as you slowly rubbed the back of his neck.

"I appreciate it princess, but what I want right now is you. Like I always do" he left a small peck on your nose and a slight giggle escapes your lips.

When you got inside your room he gently laid you down on the bed and joined you. He nestled his head on your chest and his arms hugged your waist. He closed his eyes and let the comfort and warmth engulf him. You smiled at how precious he looked and your fingers softly traced his features. He sighed enjoyably and opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes sparkled. They sparkled like it was thwe first time seeing all over again. And you felt the same way.

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you play with my hair?"

"Course love" you murmured. Your other hand made it's way to the top of his head, running through his hair. He closed his eyes again and got lost to the feeling of your fingers playing with his soft hair. A smile made it's way up to your lips as Satoru snuggled up to you. You planted a kiss to his head and continued gently brushing through his hair with your fingers. You and Satoru always thought moments like this with each other were...calming.

You looked down and saw Satoru was sleepy. You tried to move so you can get both you more comfortable but you felt Satoru's grip on your waist became a little tighter. Satoru looked up at you and pursed his lips.

"Where's my goodnight kissie?" You started laughing and gently smacked his shoulder.

"You're unbelievable" you happily leaned in and kissed him. He then laid back down, satisfied from the kiss he got. After a few minutes you both fell asleep, with Satoru still holding onto you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thank you for reading luvs 💞

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anonymous-dentist · 3 months

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Or: In a world where everybody has a superpower, Roier doesn't seem to have one

For day five of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week- Superheroes/Blood

Cellbit's dreams are always dark. They start with him in his childhood bedroom, and then they move him down to the kitchen his parents died in, and then they end with him under the bridge. The sounds are muffled, but he can still understand what's being said, and it's always: "It's your fault."

Because it is.

He's had the same dreams since the night his parents died.

Every.

Goddamn.

Night.

But, well. He deserves it. The darkness surrounding the edges of his dream blurs out the unimportant details, like the face of the little girl who was sitting at the kitchen table when Cellbit's parents died, or the view outside of his bedroom window.

But the darkness hides something else- and this is a recent development, and he really doesn't understand it. Because, just out of view, is a figure in all black with eyes that glow white and claws that tear through Cellbit's dreams like they're paper.

He doesn't know who, or what, this thing is, but he does know a few things about it:

The creature destroys Cellbit's nightmares, sending his subconscious tumbling into a much happier dream- one that he can never remember when he wakes up

The creature tries to talk to him every time, but the fangs in its mouth are so large that it just can't

The creature seems to grow taller and stronger with every nightmare it destroys.

The creature is scared of Cellbit's husband

Now, yeah, sure, the creature can't talk, but Cellbit doesn't need to hear someone speak to know what they're afraid of. That's his superpower: fear. He can look at someone and hear what they're scared of, and he can make them scared, and it's horrible and he's a monster and he deserves to-

Cellbit gasps his way into full consciousness. He stares at the ceiling, chest heaving, brain loud and annoying and and and and-

"Gatinho?" Roier murmurs, curled up by Cellbit's side with his head pillowed on Cellbit's chest. He wraps an arm around Cellbit's middle and squirms closer, somehow, he's so clingy.

"Está bem," Cellbit breaths. "Just... just thinking."

"Well, don't," Roier grumbles. "Your brain is loud. Sleep, pendejo."

As if on command, Cellbit's eyelids droop. Roier always has this effect on him; he's just so comforting. He's a living, breathing weighted blanket, and Cellbit loves him so fucking much.

Soon enough, he's asleep again, and he's face-to-face with the creature again.

The creature tries to speak, but no noise comes out.

It flexes its claws as Dream Cellbit starts the walk downstairs to the kitchen.

The dream is shredded, and Cellbit finds himself face-to-face with-

Roier and Cellbit have been married for almost one whole entire wonderful year. He's known Roier for one and a half years, and he's been out of prison for two years.

Roier knows about the creature in Cellbit's dreams, even if Cellbit hasn't told him what his dreams actually are. Roier's been trying to come up with a name for it for months now, but Cellbit doesn't really know what to think of that considering the creature is literally invading his brain every night.

"It's kind of sweet, though, right?" Roier asks.

Cellbit wrinkles his nose and jabs his chopsticks down into his rice.

Dinner tonight is Chinese takeout because Roier's tired from work and Cellbit is tired from existing. It's good, but kind of bland. Since they changed ownership and ended up under the Federation of Heroes' official branding, the food has gone downhill. Yet another thing that Cucurucho has ruined, ugh.

"I mean, maybe?" Cellbit replies. "It's kind of freaky."

"I don't know, it kind of sounds cute."

Cellbit gives Roier a flat look; Roier just grins and steals some chicken from his plate.

"It's destroying my dreams," Cellbit says. "That doesn't sound 'cute' to me."

"Yeah, but doesn't it give you different dreams?" Roier asks. "I think it's trying to help."

"Yeah, or it's trying to kill me."

Roier's shoulders tighten. "Do you think so?"

It's always hard to pick up Roier's fears, but Cellbit can often just guess them even without using his powers. Like, he knows that Roier is just scared enough of bears to refuse to go camping anywhere without a cabin for him to stay him. He and Cellbit are both terrified of losing each other, and they're even more scared of losing their kids.

God, Cellbit is so stupid. He doesn't need to be worrying Roier with this, he already freaks out enough when Cellbit ends up caught in the middle of one of the Federation's hero fights due to his abysmally terrible luck.

His face falls. He places his chopsticks down and reaches across the table and takes Roier's hand in his.

"It'll be fine," he tells Roier. "If it tries to kill me, I'll just... wake up."

"If it tries to kill you, I'll kick its ass," Roier swears.

He squeezes Cellbit's hand once and offers a lackluster smile.

Cellbit's heart twists in his chest. Oh, Roier...

The night's dream starts as usual:

Cellbit opens his eyes to find himself in his childhood bedroom in his childhood body. There aren't any bloodstains on his clothes yet, though that'll change soon enough.

He tries looking out the window, but that isn't what he did that night, so anything beyond the window is covered by the darkness.

There's a growl, and then the creature forms in the shadows near Cellbit's bed. (There are always two beds in his room, but why?)

"What do you want?" Cellbit tries to ask, but that isn't what he did that night.

Instead, and in a squeaky childish voice, he groans and shouts, "This sucks! I can't figure it out!"

He's at his desk. In front of him are multiplication tables he's supposed to be doing for homework, and they're easy enough that Adult Cellbit could do them now, but that isn't what happened that night. So the problems look like random lines and squiggles, and Cellbit's chest hurts, and he can't breathe, and-

"I can't do this!" he shouts, jumping off of his chair and pulling his homework with him. "Mãe!"

He reaches his door, has his hand on the handle, and then... there's the creature by his side shredding the door into pieces with its claws.

Cellbit blinks, and he's an adult again, and he's in a different dream, and he turns to the side and he's face-to-face with-

Roier is one of the few people Cellbit has ever heard of that doesn't have a superpower. He seems happy enough without one, but... but Cellbit thinks that he's lying. He isn't angry that Roier is lying, though. No, he understands, because he himself lied about not having powers until they'd been dating for six months.

In the back of his mind, Cellbit has a few ideas of what Roier's secret superpower could be. The only one he says out loud is, "I know what your power is. You're super handsome!"

But, in order, it goes:

Extreme endurance (evidence: goes for long runs every morning and ends up back in bed sweating and tired by the time Cellbit wakes up)

Can always cook the perfect meal (evidence: he's just really good at cooking)

Comfort aura (evidence: Cellbit always feels happy and cozy and safe when Roier is around)

Super strength (evidence: he's really strong)

But, well. None of those quite work, mostly because the majority of them are just early excuses for thinking Roier was attractive back before they started dating.

Tonight as Cellbit brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed, he thinks up a new idea:

Vocal projection (evidence: he's loud as fuck when he's singing in the shower)

Because, yes, Roier is, indeed, in the shower, and he's singing very loudly. But, really, Cellbit wouldn't have him any other way. He's perfect.

"Hey, guapito," Cellbit says after rinsing his mouth out. "I need your help with something?"

Roier cuts his song off with an irritated groan. "Now? I was almost to the chorus!"

"Desculpe. But you're better at naming things than I am, and I need help coming up with something to call the creature in my dream diary."

"You have a dream diary?"

"I'm starting it tonight. I'm going to figure this thing out."

"That's cute!"

Cellbit can see Roier's silhouette shaking with silent laughter through the shower curtain. Wordlessly, he opens the curtain so he can take the shower head down and spray Roier with it.

"It's serious," Cellbit says, ignoring Roier's screeching protests. "I think it's messing with my head."

"Put that down- vete a la verga, fuck!"

Roier bats at Cellbit's hands until Cellbit lowers the shower head.

And then Roier yanks the shower head away from him and sprays him with it.

"Pendejo!" Cellbit shouts. (Not the best swear word, but it's all he could come up with on such short notice.)

He skitters away from the shower and looks, horrified, down at his soaking wet pajamas.

"Whoops," Roier plainly says. "Guess you'll just have to sleep naked tonight."

He grins, and Cellbit hates him. He wants to kiss him soooo badly!

So he does, and it's nice.

A few minutes later as they crawl into bed, Roier says, "Hey. I have a name for your monster."

Cellbit looks at him. "Yeah?"

"Call it Venom. It's, like, dissolving your dreams, right? Like poison?"

Brain poison, hmm.

Cellbit grabs his brand new dream journal off of his bedside table and opens it. Right on the first page is a long, detailed description of his dream. Right below it is a description of the creature as well as a really messy drawing.

'Venom', he writes.

...What a specific descriptoin. "Dissolving your dreams", not quite how Cellbit has been describing it.

He glances at Roier out of the corner of his eye.

Hm.

The first part of the dream goes normally.

And then Cellbit is downstairs at the kitchen table with his parents. There's also a girl there, but Cellbit hadn't looked at her face that night, so she doesn't have one now.

"I can't do it," Cellbit whines. He balls his hands into fists and fights the urge to smash his own face into the table.

"You can," his father insists. "You're a smart kid! Why don't we take a break."

He gets up from the table and goes to cut some watermelon.

Cellbit knows what's about to happen next. But he can't close his eyes, because his eyes were open that night.

"Let's try one more time, okay?" his mother asks.

He sniffles and nods.

He looks down at the problems. He can't understand him, he's so stupid. He's so stupid! Why can't he be like [her]?! She's good at math. She's even finished her homework.

His vision starts to blur. He can't see. He can't- he can't breathe oh fuck he can't breathe why can't he breathe what why can't he

A scream.

He looks up and watches his father finish plunging his watermelon-cutting knife into his own stomach.

"Pai!?" the girl screeches.

"I can't do it," Cellbit's mother whispers. "I'm a failure. I can't do it."

She wrestles Cellbit's pencil from his hand and raises it to her eye and-

Cellbit gasps as a clawed hand rips the table into pieces in front of him.

As the dream shifts and as his body turns back into his own, he's pulled by the creature- by Venom- into a loose hug. Its claws dig into his back, but they don't hurt.

He looks up, and he finds himself face-to-face with-

Roier was the first person that Cellbit let himself get attached to after he was released from prison.

He'd met Roier by pure chance, and it was love at first sight. He was just so... and he's still so...

"Does this dress make my ass look big?" Roier asks, posing in front of Cellbit in a way that most people would probably call sexy.

...perfect.

They'd met at their mutual friend, Maxo's, club. Roier wasn't on the pole that night, he was instead working the bar, and he and Cellbit hit it off immediately.

The next time Cellbit had been gone, Roier wasn't there, but his 'cousin' was. Melissa, according to Roier, owns half of the club.

And then, seven months later while rummaging through Roier's closet looking for a hoodie to steal, Cellbit had seen one of Melissa's dresses, and, well. Cellbit isn't stupid, okay? But he hadn't said anything because he didn't want to break Roier's trust, and he lives by that idea even now almost two years after their marriage.

If Roier wants to tell him something, he will. It isn't Cellbit's place to push.

Cellbit checks out Roier's ass appreciatively.

"Everything you wear makes your butt look big," he replies.

Roier nods and smiles, more than content with that answer, and he goes to the other side of his dressing room to start putting his makeup on.

Cellbit tries to make it to every one of "Melissa's" shows. He's a good husband, he wants to support Roier in everything he does.

...And he can't sleep anymore unless he has Roier by his side. Does that make him clingy?

He yawns, anyway, and he leans back and slumps in his chair. He might move to the dressing room's sofa, he's exhausted. (He might not be able to sleep without Roier, but he can rest his eyes, at least.)

"Is it okay if I stay back here?" he asks. "I need to lay down."

Roier glances at him through his mirror, concern lining his face. "Are you okay?"

Cellbit waves his concerns aside. "I'm just a little tired. I don't think I'm going to fall asleep, but I don't want to accidentally pass out during your show. That would be bad for business."

Roier's eyebrows furrow, just slightly. "Are you sure?"

"I mean, if it's okay-"

"No!" Roier cuts him off so quickly that he even seems to surprise himself. "I mean. It's okay, but you might not be comfortable. I can try and find you a pillow?"

His voice is shaking, just slightly. Hm.

"Nah, I'm good," Cellbit replies. He shrugs his jacket off and balls it up in his arms. "I've slept in worse places before."

"If- if you're sure, then go ahead."

Something feels... off. Maybe it's just because Cellbit is tired, but something is just. Weird.

But Roier eventually leaves the dressing room, though not without giving Cellbit a big fat messy lipstick-covered kiss on the lips.

Cellbit moves to the sofa, and he pillows his head on his jacket, and he closes his eyes, and he... he falls asleep. Just barely, because his dream is a faded memory around him, but. But.

But Venom isn't there.

The third stage of the dream is the coldest. It gnaws at Cellbit's brain, because it was the middle of January when his parents died. He was alone and under the bridge and covered in blood and absolutely freezing.

The dream doesn't ever go on past the bridge. He always just sits there shivering until he wakes up unless Venom shows up.

So he sits, and he shivers, and he waits to wake up. His body is crying, and the tears are freezing to his cheeks. He can't breathe. He can't stop thinking of... of... fuck, who is that girl? The one who chased Cellbit out of the house. The one with no face but the same voice as him.

A police car speeds over the bridge above him. It's going to his house, he knows this. The morning after the bridge, he snuck back towards his house, and the police car was still there. So was the girl. So were his parents bodies, wrapped in sheets and being carried to a Federation-white van.

He's a mistake. [She] was always better than him. [She] never hurt anybody. It isn't fair!

He sobs and buries his face in his knees. He won't sleep tonight, Cellbit remembers staying up all night because he couldn't close his eyes without seeing his parents die in front of him, and he still can't close his eyes without seeing it.

"I'm a monster," he whimpers, the first time he'd ever spoken those words, but not the last. (Later, he would try to embrace them and become the monster the media labeled him as, but it didn't help.)

There's a snarl above him, and then there's Venom standing above him with its fangs bared.

"I-" Cellbit chokes, forced to repeat what he'd said all those years ago. "I need to turn myself in. I have to!"

He stands. Venom moves to block him, grabbing onto his shoulders and holding him in place.

"There have to be healer heroes," Cellbit reasons. "They can fix them."

(They can't, and they won't.)

If possible, Venom looks distraught. The darkness wavers around it, and that's when Cellbit realizes that this is the closest they've really gotten to each other. This close, he can almost make out a face hidden behind Venom's teeth, buried deep within its mouth. But it's too dark, but if he looks hard enough...

Venom steps back, and he tears the bridge apart, and Cellbit finds himself face-to-face with-

Roier is cooking dinner tonight, and it smells wonderful. Of course it does, Roier's the one cooking it. Everything he cooks is wonderful, because he's wonderful.

Cellbit sits at the table watching. The kids are all in the other room doing homework, and it's almost peaceful.

Roier slips with the spatula and drops it into the pan. He swears and scoops it out and swears again as the oil inside burns him.

Again, almost peaceful.

Cellbit swiftly stands from his chair and goes to help Roier.

"Here, let me-"

Roier lightly smacks his hand. "Não, não. Go away."

"Mmm, what if I wanna stay with you?"

He slips an arm around Roier's waist and snuggles up against his back. He rests his chin on Roier's shoulder and watches a beautiful smile spread across Roier's face.

"I guess it's fine," Roier sighs, playing up the theatrics. "I guess."

And then it's peaceful once more. Cellbit watches Roier cook, and he pays special attention to Roier's biceps. (Sue him, his husband is hot.)

But then, in the other room, Richarlyson starts shouting:

"This is stupid!"

"Calm down," Bobby drawls. "It's just multiplication, let me see-"

"No, I can do it!"

Cellbit tenses. Roier doesn't seem to notice, and that's fine. It's nothing for either of them to worry about.

"You've literally been working on that for hours," Bobby argues. "Let me see."

"Não!"

Quietly, Pepito pipes up with, "I wanna see!"

"No!" Richarlyson yells. "I can- I can do it!"

"Let me see," Pepito pleads.

(Cellbit can't see.)

"Fuck you, give me the homework," Bobby snaps.

"Fuck you, it's mine!" Richarlyson exclaims.

(Cellbit can't breathe.)

"You literally can't even do it," Bobby mocks. "Give it."

(Cellbit can't-)

The world dissolves around him, and all he can see is his father's body sprawled across the floor and his mother across from him still muttering about how useless she is as he still muttered about how useless he is and he's both 26 years old and eight and he can't breathe and and and and and-

"Cellbit!" he hears. Two warm, gentle hands settle on his cheeks, and he blinks, and he's in his own kitchen. With his husband. Crying.

"It's fine," Roier whispers. He presses his forehead against Cellbit's, eyes slipping shut. "It isn't going to happen again. You're fine. They're fine. It's fine."

Cellbit blinks. The kitchen sounds miles and miles away, but he still heard that, and he knows for certain that he not once has told anybody about the night he killed his parents.

He swallows, fresh tears stinging at his eyes. "What isn't going to happen again?"

Roier tenses, but he doesn't move. His eyes squeeze even further shut, but he doesn't move. His mouth narrows into a pencil-thin line, but he doesn't move.

Cellbit can barely feel his hands, but he still moves his arms to hold Roier around the middle. The kids are still fighting in the background, but... but he can't handle them right now.

In a minute.

"Do we have to talk about it?" Roier hesitantly asks.

Cellbit's answer is immediate: "No. Just... sorry. I'm sorry."

Roier's brow furrows. "'Sorry'? Sorry for what, eh?"

"You shouldn't have to see all... all that. I don't even want to talk about it, but-"

"No, shut up. I'm sorry for sneaking into your dreams every night. It kinda just happens, I don't control it, but... it happened, and you were so sad, and I wanted to help."

Cellbit smiles faintly. His own eyes slip shut, and he can almost not see the bodies this time.

"You do help," he responds. "You help more than you could ever imagine, even outside of the dreams."

He tips his head up to kiss Roier, soft and brief and gentle.

Against Cellbit's lips, Roier mutters, "I can stop."

Cellbit shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. Now that I know it's you, I can stop freaking out about a buff scary monster guy haunting me."

Roier huffs out a quiet laugh. "I can try and be less scary, but I don't control that, either."

"It's still you. Just... God, does this make me a monsterfucker?"

Roier's laugh is much louder this time. He bites Cellbit's bottom lip before pulling back.

Cellbit's eyes open, and he looks into Roier's, and he can see the love in them, and he can feel the love in his own.

God-damn, how did he get this lucky?

"Who are you calling a monster?" Roier demands. He pinches Cellbit's side and turns back to the stove. "Fuck you, sleep alone tonight. I don't even care."

Cellbit smiles and invades his husband's space once more. He hooks his chin over Roier's shoulder, and he sighs against Roier's cheek.

"Te amo," he says. He presses a chaste kiss to the side of Roier's jaw.

Roier's ears turn red, but his face betrays no emotion.

"Your breath smells," he says, a smile teasing at his own lips. "Go brush your teeth before we eat."

Cellbit rolls his eyes, but he leaves to go do as he's told if only to try and finish panicking on his own and try and calm down before dinner.

He passes through the living room, and he sees Bobby at the table helping Richarlyson with his homework.

Some things do change, after all.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#guapoduo #spiderbit #here's a bit of a weird one #i'm playing fast and loose with 'superheroes' here lol #this is such a weird au i love it #basically: roier has some kind of sleep control! he can enter dreams and change them #but he always looks scary because he himself thinks he's scary for being able to do that #this is inspired by roier's old dream stream with bobby and tilin where they blew up the server

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naffeclipse · 4 months

Note

Hmm what if Eclipse and Yn switched places?( thinking humpback here)

In the past three have been massive whale hunting rounds for their bones and such so what if Humpback Yn still rembere those days and when Photografort Eclipse comes they do everything to get him away but it backfires?

Oh my gosh, I LOVE the role reversal here! Humpback Y/N would be bent on killing any and all humans on sight, and finding one (walking on two legs but not fleshy? What is this? Doesn't matter—looks human enough. It's got to go). Y/N gets ready to take the unsuspecting animatronic under only to have their picture taken by a terrified Eclipse. They register his slight awe for them like they're the most beautiful, dangerous creatures he has ever seen.

Well, maybe he's not too human. He can live, for now, but Y/N isn't going to make it easy for him to take pictures. When he tries, they steal him away from his responsibilities (they also like how easily he fits in their arms, how small he is yet taller than the other two animatronics.)

The intention of driving the not-human off with relentless bullying and sabotage falls horribly flat when Y/N finds themselves eager to see his faceplate again and hear what other photos he's captured and how much he cares for his brothers—this wasn't how it's supposed to be. They should have killed him already. They shouldn't trust anything the humans touch or send their way, but Y/N is very careful when they stroke the little 'sun rays' upon his head. He's so sweet and sees the frozen land and the wintery seas with admiration instead of contempt.

Y/N doesn't want to let him go.

#apex polarity #photographer!eclipse #humpback!reader #cailaventog

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

It’s Just Paint

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: a bad day of parenting, stress, anxiety, arguing, fluff, SAND

a/n grogu’s art is the future mona lisa. shorter piece, i hope you enjoy. I got this idea from a fan art (that I cannot find to save my life) so if you recognize the art, tag me please! I would love to give credit where it belongs :)

summary Din and Y/N struggle with the parenting lifestyle.

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read time: 4 mins 36 seconds

Home sweet home. If you could call the dingy, falling apart ship home. But home to you were two people; A Mandalorian and a green baby. Sighing, you questioned your life decisions as you began the journey to the ship.

You trudged up the sandy hill Din had parked the crest on, woven bags of groceries hanging from your arms. The calls of the night creatures began to ring, making you walk a bit faster. The suns were setting, and the gorgeous orange sky was very present.

The hatch opened and it was eerily quiet. Grogu wasn’t whining to meet you at the door; Din’s beskar wasn’t clanking around.

“Hellooo?” you sang, your voice echoing down the hallway.

Setting the groceries down on a shelf, you went to see if Din was even home. Maybe a bounty came up unexpectedly. You carefully made your way around a corner when the scent of paint hit you.

Your paint.

“Dank farrik,” you sighed. Grogu had most definitely gotten into your paints you had hidden away. “Din!” you called. No response.

Annoyed, you slammed the button to open your quarters and change out of your sand clothes. The goggles came off, and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your hair was a mess- covered in sand to say the least. Your white boots had now a tan configuration to them. The robes hit your floor with a thud. Exchanging them for a comfy pair of joggers and a tee, you walked to your sink and tried to get as much sand out of your hair as you could.

When you shut off the water you heard a bump.

So they are home.

As you squeezed out your hair, you heard a faint coo from Grogu.

You anxiously combed back your hair, eager to see your family for the first time today.

The hatch hissed open and revealed a sight. Din was struggling to keep Grogu still; little red painted toes ran across the steel ground of the crest.

“Need some help?” you asked, leaning your hips against the doorframe. You didn’t need to see his face to know what face he was making.

“It would be nice,” he sighed with a slight sarcastic tone, turning around from the sink.

Your eyes grew wide at the sight. Grogu was covered in red, blue, and mixed purple paint. Green paint was smeared on his fingers and on Din’s gloves.

A burst of laughter erupted from you. “Not funny,” he hissed, holding the nude creature awkwardly in his hands. You weren’t laughing at that; no way you were laughing at the wasted expensive paint.

Din had little works of art all over his beskar. Unsure of what, but Grogu had definitely painted a few murals all over him. What looked like Banthas were sloppily drawn over his chest plate; a surprisingly good night sky with what seemed like were orange stars plagued his helmet.

“What happened?” you asked, a hand supporting you on the wall to make sure you didn’t fall over in laughter.

“Grogu was naughty.” Din said, turning his attention back to the baby and plopping him in the sink. Grogu splashed around and whined.

“You fall asleep?” you asked, joining Din at the sink to help keep Grogu in control. No response.

“You fell asleep.”

“Did not.” he resisted. His body art was just proof he was lying. “You are a horrible liar, Din Djarin.”

“And you are a great painter,” you said, scrubbing Grogu’s tiny hands. “Painted all over daddy while he slept.”

Din audibly sighed over the daddy comment. “What do you mean, painted all over me?” he asked, taking his gloves off in defeat.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” you scoffed, grabbing a dry kitchen towel to wrap Grogu in.

Din stepped into the fresher. A small gasp came from behind the mask. You heard the hinges of the mask come off and him set it on the countertop.

“Put him down, will you? I need you to come in here.” he yelled from the fresher. Grogu now sat on the kitchen countertop chewing on some grass seeds draped in a kitchen towel.

You picked Grogu up and set him in his floating bassinet.

You entered the fresher to find Din in a panic. His mood was a shock to you. You didn’t expect him to be so upset about a little paint.

“It’s just some paint. It comes out,” you said, trying to calm him. “I just can’t believe- that little shit. Gods Y/N I just don’t know-”

“Din. It’s just paint.”

Your re assuring words weren’t as effective as you hoped. He still had a horrified look on his face and you understood why.

“My armor…” he said in shock, holding his chest plate now in his hands. “It comes out, right?”

“Just told you it did.” you called from the kitchen, collecting his gloves that were full of paint.

Coming back to the fresher, you were met with a defeated Din. His armor was sprawled out on the floor. He was sitting on the corner of the bathtub with his hands on his head.

A saddened sigh came from you. Meeting him at the side, your hand rested on his back and slowly moved back and forth. He slowly leaned his head into your stomach.

“He doesn’t know any better, you know that.” you said, turning and looking at his armor. “I know,” he said solemnly. “It’s just…”

“Hard.”

Din’s tired eyes met yours. “Didn’t sleep well last night?” you asked him, cupping his left cheek. He pressed into your hand and nodded his head. His scruffy face tickled your hand. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the small parenting moment the two of you were having together.

“Go and lay down. I’ll take care of this. If that’s okay,” you offered. Din nodded as your hand left his face. He trudged into the bedroom. You heard the bed creak as he flopped down on it like he always did when he was tired.

An hour and a half later, it was done. His armor looked almost brand new.

All the hard scrubbing, the pile of used paper towels behind you and the steam from the shower was enough to send you into a coma. You were exhausted. Slowly, you cleaned up the mess you made and layed a towel down next to the bathtub. There you left the beskar to dry, and for Din to do what he wishes with it later.

You peek out in the hallway. Grogu was fast asleep as you expected. A little bit of red paint sat on his ear tip, small enough where you could just flick it off. You gave him a small kiss on the forehead and left to go find Din.

He was wrapped up in the burgundy blanket on your bed. His soft hair was laying flat on the bed, his pillow was clutched between his arms. His mouth was squished against the mattress slightly agape.

A smile rose to your face. “Din,” you whispered, slowly making your hands meet and trying to loosen the pillow from his hands.

“No,” he muttered, pulling it closer to him. “I’m here,” you said. His soft brown eyes opened. “Oh,” he muttered, shoving the pillow aside.

You crawled into the bed slowly, trying not to make so much noise. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close. He let out a satisfied grunt when the two of you were comfortable. You knew he couldn’t sleep properly without you, or without holding something.

“The pillow really was a lousy excuse for you,”

all posts @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy

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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 3 months

Note

Just a thought I had with JJBA but here it is

Yandere Little Red Riding Hood JJBA AU

Bruno is the Hunter, Risotto or Diavolo who is the Big Bad Werewolf and Reader is little Red Riding Hood who’s off to take care of her sweet boyfriend Doppio, who came down with a fever? (It’s not a cold, he’s in heat)

I really, really love your JJBA Fantasy AUs (I always read them when I get that wonderful JJBA itch that needs to be scratched)

Aww thank you I'm so glad you love the aus.

But you tried making me choose who was gonna be the big bad wolf. And guess what?

I chose both.

I don't really know how to end this, maybe three separate endings? Rn I wanna see what you think (anon if you want a say send me a msg or another ask)

Out too late (yandere Doppio/Diavolo, Risotto and Bruno X female reader)

Warning: attempted noncon

You looked up at the evening sky to see the clouds that had drenched the earth in rain fade. You had waited all day for the rain to stop so you could make your way deep into the woods to your beloved Doppio's home.

He'd sent you a letter the other day. Writing about how he was ill and that it was not best you come til he was well again.

Yes, better judgment would agree but you could only imagine how horrible he felt stuck alone in that cottage by himself. So you had spent the morning preparing him food. Even if he refused to have you over that way you'd know he would have the food to help him recover.

So you put on your hood, grabbed the basket of food, and headed out the door. You didn't worry about the dimming sky as you knew the trail and the full moon would light your way home if you were out too late.

You followed the dirt path into the woods as you had many times before, however, you stopped as you noticed a beautiful patch of flowers just a little off the path. Surely Doppio would appreciate them you thought as you stepped into the tall grass and made your way to them.

You began to pick them until the snap of a twig caught your attention. You turned your head to see Bruno, the local hunter. You knew him fairly well but that wasn't hard in a village like the one you lived in.

“(Y/n) What brings you out in the woods this late?” He asked you with concern in his voice.

“I'm off to deliver some food to Doppio, he's been unwell for the past few days” you explained.

“Then you should make haste, the full moon brings the worst of creatures out at night” he warned.

“I'll be fine” you assured him as you stood back up and made your way back to the path.

“Wait!” He yelled as he ran towards you.

“What?” You asked.

“Here, take this. If anything happens don't hesitate to use it” he said as he pulled out a small hunting dagger.

“And stay on the path, I just laid the rabbit traps” he warned.

“Thank you but I doubt I'll need it,” you told him.

“Just take it, if anything were to happen to you I'd only have myself to blame,” he told you as he put the dagger in your hand.

“Alright,” you sighed.

“Thank you” he thanked you before you both left your separate ways

At this point, the orange sky was apparent even in the thick forest.

You put the dagger and flowers in the basket. And made a sprint down the path. It was getting darker a lot quicker than you anticipated.

You ran deeper and deeper into the forest. So caught up in the hurry you hadn't noticed the person in front of you until you crashed into them. The impact caused you to fall to the ground while they remained unfazed.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there” you apologized to them as you looked into the back to make sure everything inside was fine. Then you looked up to who you'd bumped into and your heart nearly gave out.

He was tall and broad with white hair and eyes you'd never seen before, red irises, and black sclera staring intensely at you.

“You answer my questions and I'll let you go” he coldly demanded.

“I doubt I know anything about whatever it is you're after,” you told him.

“I know you know something, I can smell it” he snarled. You crawled back but he only moved closer til your back was against a tree.

“Where's your partner?” He asked with grit teeth.

“Why do you want to know?” You retorted.

“He's caused me nothing but trouble lately, always getting in the way of my hunts. I haven't been able to see him but I know his scent and you're covered in it” he explained as he leaned down a little, pretty much caging you between him and the tree.

“You've got the wrong person, my partner doesn't hunt. He wouldn't hurt a fly” you tried to reason with him.

“You clearly don't know him well enough if you believe that” he snarkily replied.

He had a look in his eye that you didn't like. Like a wolf eyeing down its prey before the final blow.

“Actually… what would he do if something were to happen to you?” He continued.

This situation was getting worse by the second. You had to get away from him.

“I don't know anything, I'll give you money just please let me go” you plead as you reach into the basket for the knife Bruno had given you. You felt so stupid for insisting you'd be alright.

“I don't need money, perhaps you'd-” he was quickly cut off as you plunged the knife into his thigh. He didn't react. Instead, he pulled the knife out, wiped his blood off it on his pants, and put it back in your hand.

“Go home now, if you're still here at night you'll get killed,” he told you as he stepped away.

You quickly stood up and darted towards Doppio's house as it was probably too late to get to yours in time. Whoever that man was he was clearly not to be messed with but you wondered about his whole smell deal. There was no possible way he could have that strong of a sense of smell. Was he just lying to get the answer he wanted out of you?

You looked back to see if he'd followed you but it seems he hadn't. So you continued your way towards Doppio's house.

Once you arrived you knocked on the door but didn't get a response. You turned the door handle and it wasn't locked so you let yourself inside and put the basket on the dining table before heading towards his room.

“Doppio, it's me (Y/n). I know you told me not to come but I thought I'd at least bring you something to eat.

“(Y/n), you came?” A voice deep and strained spoke.

“Doppio you're voice, it sounds so hoarse” you commented.

“Yes I know… my throat is so raw… and swollen” he replied. You could hear his labored breathing as he spoke.

“And you sound out of breath, have you been resting?” You remarked.

“Yes I have been resting… but it feels like there's an anvil on my chest” he replied.

“That's horrible, I'm glad I came with food. You're probably struggling to do anything right now” you told him.

“Do you want me to bring you the soup I made? You've probably got two servings in the jar I brought” you asked.

“Yes… but first I want to see you” he said.

Feeling bad for him, you opened his bedroom door. You walked and couldn't see anything.

“Doppio it's so dark in here,” you remarked as you tried to make your way to his bedside in the darkness.

“My eyes have been hurting… so I closed the curtains” he explained.

“I'll open them now if you don't mind?” You said but then you were pushed onto the bed. Forced to lay on your stomach as a large hand? (It didn't feel exactly like one) pushed you down. This wasn't Doppio.

“Hey, what's the meaning of this? Let me go!” You screamed.

“aww so you're what Doppio's been trying to hide from me?” the same voice you'd assumed was Doppio's said.

“Who are you and what did you do to Doppio?” You demanded an answer from them.

“You don't have to worry your pretty head about Doppio, he's fine” they responded.

“And my name is Diavolo” he continued. You could feel their saliva dripping onto the back of your neck.

You attempted to thrash out of his grip before he pushed you further into the mattress. His free hand grabbed your wrist. It wasn't a hand, or a human at least it had padding and fur like an animal's.

“Let me go” you begged.

“Unfortunately I can't let that happen… you so happened to come right during mating season for us werewolves” he explained.

“You're lucky that the other one didn't take advantage of you earlier,” he commented.

Werewolves! You had scoffed at such a claim but it was undeniable now. You trashed again this time managing to escape. You bolted straight to the door. You turned back to see the brownish-pink werewolf chasing behind.

You opened the door threading to tear it off the hinges. Your blood went cold as you saw another werewolf at the door. Its fur is a snowy white. You noticed the wound in its thigh. Dear God, it was the man from earlier. You screamed and tried to find another exit but there wasn't.

You were trapped here with two werewolves right in the middle of their mating season. You were quickly snatched by Diavolo and held close. You cringed at the feeling of his erection pressed up your back but were too scared to even move.

“I'm ending this now, you've alluded me for far too long” the white werewolf spoke with a hiss.

“You really think you can beat me, you're lucky that you haven't died yet” Diavolo responded before he noticed the wound on his thigh.

“Aww did my little mate do that to you?” He mocked as he held the side of your head, his palm was as big as your head.

“Let go of me, I'm not your mate” you whined as you struggled. The white werewolf snarled in response as he charged forward.

You screamed once more as Diavolo dropped you and attacked. The two dug their claws and teeth into each other as they wrestled.

You watched them carefully. Waiting for a chance you could safely run to the door. They rolled into the kitchen, breaking the table in the process. You took your chance and sprinted towards the door only for one of them to grab your ankle, claws digging into you painfully. You fell to the ground, feeling the shock of the impact in your arms that had tried to break the fall. You screamed out in pain before turning back.

“Where do you think you're going?” The white werewolf growled as he dragged you closer. You realized that Diavolo had stopped attacking him.

“Let go of me!” You yelled as you tried to get him to let go.

Diavolo grabbed your arm and they pulled you back inside. Clearly you were a bigger priority than their feud.

“Please let me go” you pleaded. You were shaking at the thought of what they would do to you.

Then you were deafened by a gunshot, then a second as the werewolves fell back. You stood under and tried to leave only to bump into someone. You looked up to see Bruno who quickly wrapped his arm around you and yelled something. You couldn't hear him through the ringing in your ear.

He then took your hand and you ran with him. When the ring stopped you spoke.

“I'm sorry for disregarding your warning,” you told him.

“I don't think either of us were expecting to encounter werewolves” he replied.

“What were you even doing out this late?” You asked.

“I was checking the rabbit traps, then I heard screaming and that's how I found you” he explained.

You two ran until you arrived back at his home. He quickly sat you down before grabbing some alcohol and a cloth to clean the wound left on your leg.

“Again I have to thank you for saving me, if you hadn't killed them who knows what they would have done to me,” you said.

“I didn't kill them, only incapacitated them. The only way to kill them is to use silver” he explained as he began to dab the wet cloth on your wound, causing you to his in pain

“How did you even manage to live for as long as you did? They could have torn you apart in seconds” he asked. A shiver went down your spine as you remembered what Diavolo said.

“One of them… they mentioned this was werewolf mating season” his head shot up with a look of horror on his face.

“Oh no… “ he stood up, leaving the cloth hanging on your leg as he made his way to his bookshelf. He grabbed out a book and started flicking through it.

“There has to be something in here” he muttered as kept reading through.

“What are you looking for?” You asked nervously.

“A way to get rid of their scent, we may not be able to smell it but they can and they'll hunt you down” he explained.

“How do you know so much about werewolves, and why do you have books on them?” You asked.

“I like researching myths and folklore in my spare time. However, we've seen now that werewolves are no myth” he replied.

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere x reader #yandere #fairy tale au #yandere doppio #yandere diavolo #yandere risotto #yandere bruno bucciarati

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saphirered · 8 months

Note

hello saph! first off, i'm wishing you good luck on your masters! i'm doing mine next year and i'm super looking forward to it, so i hope everything goes well for you too!! 💖💖💖

now, WELCOME TO THE HOT VAMPIRE ELF CLUB!! may i request Astarion/Reader(Tav) where Tav is a good aligned Life Cleric (or anything similar) that focuses on healing and supporting allies during combat, someone's that's a ray of sunshine because they choose the difficult path of being kind. i'm curious of your take on Astarion receiving genuine kindness, being disgusted at first, the progression of his attempted manipulation, eventually realizing his feelings, and how he would react to Tav being extremely injured in a fight and trying to save them (with good ending hopefully).

oh and maybe some blood drinking. you know. for reasons :-)

you're such a creative writer, i'm always looking forward to anything you post, so thank you! have a lovely day!

Hello dearie and thank you! Uni is tough but worth it so good luck with yours! I hope this little piece of distraction is to your tastes. 😘

Oh how easy it is to wrap you around his finger. Your sickening sweet and sheer willingness to bend over backwards at the smallest inconvenience you have the ability to fix, it’s nauseating. You’d already naturally gravitated towards him. It must be this incessant need to fix the broken. You seem to be attracted to broken things, thinking you can mend them with love and affection and a gentle touch like a stray pulled from the streets. He is no such thing. He is certainly no stray. A handsome wanderer without a home port, now that’s more like him. But you didn’t need to see that. You didn’t need to know him or his past. As long as Astarion kept on the front he could be your next project, just like these strays you’ve pulled along, well that might just work to his advantage.

To say you were an absolutely horrible influence on him would be an understatement. Whether it be his thieving and charming tendencies that often lead to heartbreak of the recipient or when his silver tongue is perhaps a little too sharp at times, your disapproval sparked something in the coils of his stomach he has not felt in nigh two-hundred years. Is this what remorse and guilt felt like? Did he want your approval? Your praise? He’s being utterly ridiculous. He has nothing to prove and you are just a tool. But here he is feeling just the slightest bit of guilt at the thought of you finding out the truth about him and how you might look at him then. He considers he might just not be able to look you in the eye. What has he become?

Admittedly Astarion got a little peckish and without much opportunities to feed himself proper he’d taken to your neck. An attempt was made but you caught him. Your eyes opened and stared right at him in surprise. He was equally surprised, his stealth having failed him. In that moment you managed to flip him onto his back and held your palm to his chest as you crouched over him. You’re much stronger than he gave you credit for. Maybe you just got lucky.

“What the hell Astarion?!” You whisper trying not to wake the others. He can all but heart the beat of your heart, how quickly your blood rushes through your veins. When he doesn’t move you give him a little more space. You don’t move for a weapon or attack him as he might have expected given what it must have looked like. You simply sit down next to him and he watches the tension disappear from your shoulders, the adrenaline rush coming down with. He goes over the excuses, the ways to explain to you but you simply hold up your hand to silence him. He finds it in his best interest to do so.

“You know you could have just asked.” He freezes like a deer in the torch light. You knew? How? How long had you known? Why hadn’t you said anything, done anything. He’s not blind to the prejudices against the creatures of his sort. Especially the ones that feed on the innocent. yet here you are in front of him absentmindedly brushing your fingers along the side of your delicious neck.

“Yes. Yes of course. ‘Hello my dear, I’m a blood sucking vampire spawn would you mind lending me your lovely neck for a few gulps? I’m incredibly peckish and could use a snack.’ Exactly how long do you think it would take for me to end with a stake in my chest or my handsome head removed from my ravishing body?” He ridicules and for a brief moment that pang in his chest, that tightening string reappears when you cast your eyes down and frown. It only lasts for a second before you go back to your neutral welcoming expression of understanding and compassion.

“I just hoped you’d be able to trust us, trust me. If you’d asked I’d have said yes. Would still say yes. All you need is ask, Astarion.” He tries to decipher any means of deceit or strings attached but finds none which leads him exactly to wonder…

“Why?” You catch on to the hint of suspiciousness and guardedness but you’ve not seen anything else from the elf. You’ve witnessed him for a little bit now and you know he must have his reasons to be mistrusting and always assuming everyone’s selfishness to be the root of any actions. You made him question that entire way of thinking. Whether he deemed you an exception to his usual views, allowed you to prove him differently or he’s simply chalked you up as a very good liar, you don’t know and perhaps neither does he.

He needed you to trust him. You do trust him. You’ve proven as much yet here he is still questioning your motives. You have your answer ready for him and by the looks of it it would be a genuine one but he doesn’t think he has the heart to actually hear it. He shakes his head. Something within him once again sparks that guilt. He feels bad for his motives of befriending you, of pursuing the path to something more, of charming you perhaps even into his bed if he kept playing his cards right but with every step he takes in that direction he can’t help but feel that guilt, and having to force himself to push down his own feelings.

“Nevermind.” Once again Astarion flashes you a charming smile. “Now since we have this little secret out of the way, I will ask. Not a drop more than I need?” It feels so incredibly strange to blatantly ask. He knows about certain individuals who have a thing for the sharp teethed and sanguine hungers but that is not you. What you offer is not for you. It’s for him. You want to help him, truly help him and that is why you offer. He’s been feeling so weak. The animals aren’t enough. The humanoid is so much more sustaining. He’ll be strong. He has to be strong if he wants to see this all through, to finally become master of his own fate. An intrusive thought pops through his head; maybe there’s a place for you in that plan as well.

“Only as much as you need. I’d like to keep my wits about.” The first part is a true statement. The second a half-joke. As much as he needs his strength, so do you.

“Well then, let’s make ourselves comfortable then, shall we?” He gestures to your bedroll. You simply scoot over.

Astarion, ever so gently as if you might fade into the dawn itself, lays you down. Never once does he break eye contact. You can see the brief hesitation, then reassurance of himself, and then something akin to pain. It crosses his features in but an instant but you catch on to it either way. It seems he’s noticed you catch on but he does not read into you further. Instead he softens, brushes aside your hair as he supports your neck and back. You place one of your hands on his bicep and give a reassuring squeeze and nod. He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath before making for your neck.

It starts as a sharp and quick pain but is overtaken by a the awareness of the sheer rush of your own blood flowing through your veins. He drinks and drinks. You gasp his name, once more squeezing his arm but no response. He’s caught up in whatever runs through him, whatever keeps him latched onto your neck. You start to feel cold, then warm and lightheaded. You can feel your heartbeat speed up as well as your breathing calms and slows.

He doesn’t know what overcame him. This isn’t anything he’s experienced before. This is pure euphoria. You are pure euphoria. Your heart, your mind, your very soul. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the tadpole. It has to be. He feels it all. He feels it as if those feelings are his own. He feels the warmth you radiate as it warms him from within like the rays of the sun he thought he’d never be able to feel again, not without them being his end. Your compassion and affections for him, the way you allow him to cradle you, how you fit so perfectly within his embrace. You hold him dearly and think highly of him even if sometimes you disapprove of his choices, words and actions there’s not but understanding to him. Whatever this is, it is unconditional. No one has ever held an unconditional affection for him. He won’t go as far to call it love, but in a way it is. You truly do care about him. Even the whisper of his name upon your breath is like charm bells to his ears. The way you hold on to him, it means everything. And in turn it makes him regret every step he’s taken, every step he knows will lead to your heartbreak and destruction. But all this he feels through you, all this that opens within himself it is addicting and he can’t pull himself away.

By the time he stops you’re not responding. Your body is unmoving. Shit. He can fix this. Of course he can fix this. The matter now comes down to testing the limits of your forgiveness.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion romance #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3

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mingigoo · 2 years

Text

2 a.m. || Choi San

pairing ⇢ idol! San x makeup artist (prev. sex worker)! (fem) reader x wooyoung (kinda)

synopsis ⇢ it’s funny, you never thought you’d be underneath the Choi San, having him worship your body as if you were a goddess. The truth? You were just his little toy he could play with and toss around—good thing you liked it rough with no strings attached.

genre/au ⇢ idol au, and smut. Literally just smut.

warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), they use each other for sex, Also San is dominant as shit, fingering, maybe a little toxic idk, licking, biting, slight choking, dirty talk (barely, but it’s there), creampie, hotel sex, fwb but they're not even friends, i am horrible with tags please let me know if I missed anything.

word count ⇢ 3.5k

taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @meowmeowminnie @roe-sinning @yeritheloml @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @8tinytings @yukine-smx @jjhmk @yesv01 @halesandy @ch0isa99ie @y00nzin0 @spiderrenjunfics

You belonged to him. He belonged to you.

Breaths intertwined, fingers locked, hearts beating at the same time.

You met him at two in the morning, the first day you merged bodies as if it was the only way to survive. His lips became yours; your breaths became one as your bodies clashed into each other like waves of the ocean.

Powerful, so, so powerful they could knock you over with one little breath of wind. He clawed, grasped, clung to any possible surface as his power would rush through you, in you, all around you.

You gasp for air, for a breath, anything. He took away the reality, spinning into your world with those pretty eyes of his. His hips would crash, his eyes would shut, his mouth would open, crying out your name.

You didn't belong to him. He didn't belong to you.

You were his distraction; his resource to get rid of his pent up attraction. And he was the same, a way for you to release the tension you kept inside. His body was indeed yours at two a.m, as yours was his—the only time the word lover could be used as he’d make love to you, lustfully and powerfully. His lips would find your hips, your thighs, your breasts. He worshiped you on his knees for the night.

But when the next day comes, you wouldn't know each other. His lips weren't on yours, and neither would his gaze meet yours. His hands were at his sides, even if they were once gripping your hips as he pounded into you the night before.

Who? Who is the man that used you? Took advantage of your body? Caressed every curve, kissed every spot? He was no one other than a famous idol, known for his sexy image but sweet personality. Choi San, a wolf in sheep's clothing, attacking his prey the minute the clock strikes two.

And you would be his victim over and over and over again. Worst part?

You liked it.

–

You sat in the backstage dressing room, a bottle of water clutched in your hand and your phone in the other. You watched the time tick, second by second, as the time neared for the boys to arrive. You spent your daylight as a makeup artist for a k-pop group—none other than ATEEZ. You loved them, in all honesty, given the turmoil you've been through with other groups. This group was less of a headache, and actually cared for the people around them.

It was refreshing.

Before you worked for ateez, at night you became a fox—another level of the woman you already are. As your day ended, you'd walk into the darkness of femininity, becoming a creature of the night. You were the one to prey on men’s little hearts, taunting them with all kinds of sins.

Now that your day job took up time even through the evening, you lost that sense of desire, unable to fulfill your aches. Call yourself a whore or a slut, whatever, it didn't bother you one bit. You were just making money—it was business.

But after all this time of constant care for eight very attractive men, your femme-fatale roots are breaking through the soil, tempting you with something as little as a look in your direction.

Especially San.

Choi San, a literal nightmare-daydream, devil incarnate. It was so strong that even his breathing turned you on. He was built like a mountain—and you wanted to climb it.

Your hands were sweaty, nervous for the first performance of the tour. You weren't performing, no, you were carefully making the boys pretty, paying close attention to every part of their body. Your ice-cold heart was about to boil over when a certain boy walked in, his hair freshly dyed black and his face bare of any makeup.

You knew his name, his personality type, his favorite color. You knew he liked his dick sucked off while you kneeled on the ground. He liked his hands in your hair, on your ass. He liked it when you moaned his name, and liked to claw at your back like a feline.

And after all this, there was nothing other than that mutual attraction.

“San, you can sit in y/n’s chair,” the head stylist signaled to where you were standing, your eyes focused on his sinister smile and his heartbreaker appearance.

He was already fitted into his stage look. Tight leather pants clung to his muscular frame, and a cropped black tank top fit his torso like it was made for him. His toned abs basically screamed at you while he stood tall, staring at you for a long while. The main stylist made a knowing face, and walked away to take one of the other boys.

“You can sit here.” you spoke strongly, despite the urge to toss him in the chair yourself. He obliged, but not before giving you a flirtatious smirk. He sat down in your chair, manspreading the minute his fine ass hit the cushion.

God fucking dammit.

You didn't say anything else. You just reached for your hairband, and then turned to San, who was looking up at you with that glitter in his eye—a look you knew all too well. A look he’s given you many times, as well as others—including his best friend.

Your hands brushed against his face, fitting the hairband to keep his silky hair out of your way. He kept his gaze locked on you, and with every movement, his eyes followed.

“Did you enjoy last night?” he asked nonchalantly, a cocky, slightly jealous smirk on those lips of his. “I heard you all the way down the hall.”

You paid no attention to your racing heart, ready to pounce any minute. It brought Wooyoung’s attention, who was sitting in the chair next to him. You didn't even realize he was there.

You didn't spend the night with San last night, rather it was spent with Wooyoung, a slight mistake because San wasn't available—and Woo looked delicious.

“Of course I did,” you admitted, mixing the foundations together to get his perfect shade, glancing over at the younger boy who made you come the night before. “It was amazing.”

He let out a chuckle, throwing his head back. You couldn't help but watch as his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Was it better than me?” he purred, looking at you, and then at Wooyoung, who just looked away.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I can.”

Ignoring the obvious answer, you set down the foundation tubes, gathering what you needed onto your hand and dipped the brush into it. You gently painted his face with the foundation, his already perfect skin looking even more flawless than it did before. His eyes pierced through yours, sinfully, as if he could see straight through your clothing.

Wooyoung couldn't keep his eyes off you, but he knew that messing with San’s toy wasn't a smart choice. It was too late, though, as you now know what wooyoung tastes like.

San was silent as the time passed while you took your time making him look pretty. The other stylists were done with the others, leaving you alone in the room with him, wooyoung leaving with hesitation.

He parted his lips as you applied a gloss to them, staring into your soul and setting your core on fire. His eyes were narrowed, dusted with black eyeshadow and sparkles.

You met his gaze. “What?”

He tilted his head at you as your fingers brushed against his lips. “You're just really fucking hot. Am I not allowed to admire?”

You raised your eyebrows, but you weren't surprised by his words. He probably needed to

You smirked then, leaning forward as you brushed your thumb over his lips. He let out a breath at your touch, his eyes locked on yours. “You can do more than admire.”

“Oh? Is that an invitation?” he leaned forward now, inches away from your lips. His eyes ignited a fire deep down. How could eyes turn you on? “What kind of invite?”

You shrugged, pulling back to set the lip gloss tube down. San leaned back in the chair, his legs spread wide, begging to be sat on. You looked down at his crotch for a moment too long. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“I can get on my knees now or later,” he said to you, dripping confidence.

You were lost in his lustful haze. You would be happy to let him kneel for you and mess you up to the point of no return, but you had a job to do—this can wait until later.

“Later, I’ll meet you in your room,” you hummed, pulling off his headband as you finished the look. You nodded your head towards the door. “You should go, everyone else is ready.”

He stood up, towering over you in his platform combat boots. He felt like some sort of god that lived off of worship, and you were going to give it to him. Worship him; his body.

And before he left, he didn't turn around when he said, “And no more wooyoung.”

—

You found yourself in your hotel room as midnight rolled around. San wasn't in his room yet, so you ended up distracting yourself with instant ramen and some TV.

You watched the clock with all your brain power, watching the arms move slowly and slowly. You couldn't take it anymore when the clock struck 1:45 in the morning, and you threw yourself out of bed to walk down the hall to San’s room.

It was late; no one else was awake to your knowledge. You knocked on his door, a totally different woman than you were when the sun was up. Your knees were already weak before he opened the door, but when he did, he grabbed your arm with a smirk, pulling you into the darkness of his room.

He spared no moment of time, slamming you against the closed door with force.

“I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you,” he groaned in your ear, his lips on your neck and his hands everywhere else. “It’s not fair.”

You let out a moan as he sucked on your neck, his hands piercing into your hips, fingernails like daggers.

“What's not fair?” you asked breathlessly.

He didn't let you say anything else. He was already shirtless, but began to claw at yours, pulling at the edges.

“That wooyoung got to be inside you.”

Your core twinged, sending pressure between your legs at those words. You began to wonder if he was jealous—or just territorial. It would make sense for him to only have you to himself, but only in bed and nowhere else. You liked it that way, it was less of a headache to share a physical relationship rather than emotional.

“Jealous?” you teased, your hands trailing down the waistband of his boxers, gripping his hard on. He gasped, as if you've never done it before, and shoved you harder into the door.

You were sure everyone would hear you.

You bared your teeth, biting his bottom lip as he tried to answer through his arousal.

“I,” he breathed, moaning as you sucked on his lip. “I’m the only one you can fuck,” His words were like fire on ice. You gulped, arching your body into him as his talented hands pulled your shirt off. “No one else can know how you taste.”

You gasped for air the minute his lips touched your breasts, his hand gripping it with force, his other hand on your ass.

“What if wooyoung does?” you mumbled out, trying to stir him up. It pleased you even more to see him disheveled over you.

He kissed your nipple, then your chest, and up your neck. All you saw was red.

“Never again,” he moaned, lips on yours now. His forehead clashed with yours, his eyes open to stare into your soul. “Your body is mine.”

You didn't care that he didn't love you. You didn't care that he only liked you for your body, because you felt the same way for him. His temple was there for worship, so you would become a believer.

Just as you were going to make love with your mouth, San was ahead of you. He gripped your hair, tightly, roughly, and pushed you to the ground. You peered up at him through your messy hair, his fingers still tangled in the strands.

“Suck me off.” he demanded, his lips parted and breathless already. It was already a pleasure to see you below him. Your fingertips grazed his sides, sliding down his underwear to his ankles. He kicked them off quickly, his dick pulsing for your touch. With his hands still in your hair, he shoved you into his length, causing you to moan immediately from his actions.

He was huge—bigger than most of your previous partners. Wooyoung was also big, But there was something about San that made you dream of everything. He made you come at the thought of him, wet dreams enveloping your mind.

As you drew your tongue along his tip, he grunted, almost crying out in an orgasm. You smiled as he cried out, taking pleasure in his sudden reaction. He may be skilled, but you were able to make him come with a single lick.

“Slow down.” he hissed, pulling you off him. You tumbled back slightly, noticing the pained look on his face. He was holding his orgasm in, almost as if he was embarrassed that it was almost over.

“San—”

He interrupted you by picking you up, gripping the back of your knees, lifting you over to the bed. He tossed you, harshly—with such force to knock the wind out of you.

He stood over the bed, looking down on you. You were experienced; a nightmare for vulnerable men. San was, in fact, the opposite of vulnerable. His toxicity felt like purity, his devilish gaze felt angelic. You complimented each other, bodies crashing, limbs intertwining, and you couldn't get enough of it.

He looked down at you for a moment, paying close attention to the curve of your hips. His finger glided down your side, his body begging to be inside you.

He crawled on top of you, grabbing your hips to position you on your back. Your ass pressed against his cock, feeling the slight drip of precum. “Your body is perfect,” he praised, unable to keep his hands off you. His fingertips dancing down your spine.

Before he forced himself inside you, he had to take some time, worried that he would reach his high before he got to enjoy more. His lips brushed your back, from the beginning of your neck to the curve of your bones. His hands gripped your ass like his life depended on it, and as he entered you, he held your hands over your head, pinning you to the mattress under his weight.

“Ah,” he hissed as he pumped into you, moving slowly, but rough. “You take me so well, baby.”

You felt yourself flood at his words—he always knew how to get you going. His hand met the back of your head, slamming it into the pillow, while his other one kept him upright. You gripped the duvet in your hands, nearly tearing the fabric as you suffocated in his power.

He slapped your ass, causing you to cry out in a moan. You arch your back even farther, sending him into a fit of breathlessness, him gasping for air through groans and whispers of your name, dangling off his lips like the unspoken bond between you two.

You moved as he moved, rhythmically, sinfully, artistically. His teeth pierced into your shoulder to muffle his moans, begging you without words to react. You moaned his name, he pushed into you, his hips rocking, eyes closing. He was one within you, pulsing through you, hearts beating at the same time. There wasn't an ounce of romanticism—no love, no string of fate. You needed him in one way, and it was enough.

“You're so wet, babygirl,” he flushed, sweat dripping from both your bodies, the sweet smell of sex taking over your senses. “All for me.”

You shook in your high, your muscles tight and heartbeat racing. With your vision fading at the edges, you shut your eyes tight, moaning out his name, craving to ride him like no tomorrow—He had other plans for tonight; he always needed to be in control.

“Jesus fucking christ y/n,” he let out a groan, his hand fisting your throat. You gasped for air, but him choking you sent your body over the edge, seeing stars and lines dancing in your hazy vision.

He moved quicker, but still amazingly well. His movements were smooth, his expression hidden behind you. He noticed your struggle to reach the end, and flipped you over without pulling out, lifting one leg and tossing it onto his shoulder

He now preyed on you as if he were about to attack, and as he began to thrust again, harder and harder each time, his fingers brushed your clit—finding it immediately. You moaned, hands still above your head despite the lack of force holding them.

“Your hand..” you hummed, unable to see or speak clearly. “Your hand feels so much better than mine.”

You must've set him on fire, because the minute he processed those words, he tossed his head back, locks of black hair sticking to his forehead. His teeth were clenched and eyes were shut tight, letting your name fall off his lips.

You weren't sure how long this lasted—time became nothing but a number to you. He tossed you around like a ragdoll, spending the night as a pillow princess when you normally took the reins. San’s presence was stronger, overpowering your tasteful skills, ruling your body as if he were a king. He made you come all over his dick, wetness surging below. He chuckled cockily as you came, slowing his movements, but you saw he was about to reach his high, too.

“Let me cum in you.” he huskily whined, his head pressed against yours. It wasn't a question, it was a demand. You had no qualms with being filled in his arousal, nodding into the mattress, unable to speak.

He fucked you deeply, letting out shaky breaths and sighs. When he came, his head clashed against yours, his hands caging you in on the sides of your head. You felt warmth radiate your core—a thick, smooth feeling took over your senses, and he stared down at your naked, sweating body.

His chest heaved, the moonlight peaking through the lush curtains, hitting his side like stardust. He pulled out of you then, slowly—much more gentle than a minute before.

His eyes were on yours, his lips curved upwards. “Was that better than wooyoung?” He arrogantly interrogated, knowing damn well what the answer was.

You laid there in a daze, his body still over yours. You breathed in the air of his room, feeling as high as a kite. “Mhm,” you acknowledged, closing your eyes. Usually you left immediately, giving each other space without ties, but you were so tired out from his intensity.

His eyes softened, nothing more, nothing less. He moved off you then lay next to you, something he never did before. There was usually no aftercare; no need for it. He hesitated, not knowing what to do with his arms as you laid still, uneven breaths becoming uniformed. You weren't asleep yet, but you were on the verge.

He scrunched his eyebrows, studying your soft features and smooth lips. Finally, just before you fell into the darkness, his hand brushed away the stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear. You felt his gaze without seeing it, and to your surprise, he did something completely out of the ordinary.

He kissed your forehead—just a peck—and continued to lie next to you, holding back his touch even if he’s invaded every part of your body.

2:00 am became three. Three became six. Six became eight. You woke up next to him, warm in his distant yet comfortable embrace.

This was all you needed.

—

BONUS

—

“I didn't get any sleep last night,” Hongjoong groaned, looking between San and Wooyoung. He smirked, noticing them both look away from his authoritative expression.

“Yeah me neither, Someone was getting their shit rocked. For HOURS.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“What can I say,” San clicked his tongue, baring that devilish smile of his. “Prepare for another night of no sleep because she’s in my bed right now.”

“She was in my bed the other day,” wooyoung shrugged, his lips in a frown.

“And mine last week,” Yunho cackled, unable to hold in the laughter as he saw San’s harsh glare. “I’m kidding. Kidding. Maybe.”

With one last look around his bandmates, he gave a knowing look around the dressing room.

“She won't be in anyone else’s room from now on.” He said, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s mine.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #choi san #choi san smut #choi san fanfic #oneshot #san smut #ateez wooyoung #idol au #fwb au #toxic

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marksbear · 1 year

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Hi! I hope you're doing well, and I was wondering two things: if I could be 🏴‍☠️ anon and if you would be willing to make a part 3 for Spencer Reid x unsub reader? Sorry for bothering you if not, and I hope you have a good day/night!

Hey! I hope you're doing well as well! And yes you can be 🏴‍☠ and yes I would be glad to make a part 3. And the link for the babes who didn't read the other parts.

I can't stress enough that you go read the 1st part. But don't mind my old shitty writing.

Warnings! Gaslighting, manipulation, two face reader, unsub reader, gore, killing, cutting open, human organs/guts and fish guts, toxic reader, ooc Spencer.

SPENCER REID X UNSUB MALE READER

Spencer watched Y/n from afar watching him as he worked on the beautiful sea creature. The star fish to be exact. Spencer wondered how Y/n could be the K/n. He was so gentle and kind to others.

But sadly Y/n already confessed to him and everything, but Spencer couldn't see it. He couldn't see Y/n killing fish and putting their cuts inside human beings.

He couldn't see Y/n doing the horrible killings.

As Spencer was in deep thought Y/n looks up from the star fish that was currently sticking onto his hand.

"Why..." Spencer says before realization hits him and before he could take back what he said Y/n beats him to it.

"Why what?" Y/n questions with a eyebrow raised before gently taking the star fish off his hand and back into the tank.

"It's nothing." Spencer says desperately trying to change the subject. "No... Why what Spencie?" Y/n says moving away from the tank inching closer to Spencer.

"N-no uhm. It's an uncomfortable question." Spencer says trying to push past the conversation.

"No. Thats such nonsense. Ask away." Y/n says giving a trusting smile. Spencer would had folded and melt for the kiss if he didn't knew what was behind that mask.

"Why...Why do you kill people in horrible ways? You brutally murder them first then after that you cut open their stomach before taking out almost every single organ inside and replace it with fish guts. A-and sometimes for fun you'll mail the fish heads and human heads to random places---" Spencer rant gets cut off by a fast hand with Y/n curving his mouth tightly.

"That's enough. I don't want my pretty boy to think of my victims. It makes me jealous..." Y/n says with a light tease. Spencer pushes Y/n hand away.

"Stop trying to flirt your way out of this." Spencer says.

"Fine... To answer your question it's because I love the fame. Everybody across America knows who I am. And I take out human guts and replace them with fish guts because it's a statement." Y/n answers with a sick smile growing on his face.

"What Statement are you trying to make exactly?" Spencer questions.

"That even with a whole different organ system. People are still assholes on the inside." Y/n answers. Spencer couldn't tell if Y/n was joking or either dead serious.

"So you don't have a deeper meaning as to why your K/n."

"Like I told you. I love the fame. You yell out K/n and everybody knows who exactly that is. Unlike my regular Marine biologist job. I find a new breed of fish no one gives a shit and that somebody else can just take my credit. With this nobody can be me. No one can just brush me off." Y/n says with his smirk becoming more and more twisted.

"So I just lied and risked my whole career over your little obsession for fame!" Spencer blurts out after everything starts to play in his mind.

"No baby... You risked it all for me. You know that somebody could never love you like how I do. You can't find somebody like me. You know how much I love and care for you, so please don't leave me." Y/n says as he moves his hands to both side of Spencer cheeks.

This time Spencer was aware that Y/n was just trying to manipulate him. But still Spencer couldn't shake off the words.

Spencer recognized the sweet lies Y/n was telling him. But he couldn't help but to feel bad and that he was in the wrong for bringing this up.

"P-please... Don't rat me out. Don't leave me. I promise i'll change. I swear." Y/n begs with sorrow with his eyes beginning to water.

As more and more words Y/n spoke the more the genius believed. For a genius Y/n was surprised he would fall for his words. But a bit more gas lighting and manipulation Spencer was all Y/n's.

"Spencie you know if they find out who I am they're gonna give me death. You're the only one who knows the real me. So if you go and tell you be the one who actually murdered me." Y/n coo's as he pulls Spencer close so their heads are resting against each other.

"And that means you will remember me and what you did for the rest of your life. But I don't want my doctor to be traumatized so let's try to avoid that outcome."

In a flick of a switch Y/n was the one acting like hes the victim.

With a few more words that was lased with lies Y/n pulls Spencer completely in kissing Spencer.

As Spencer melts into the kiss all of his previous thoughts were out the window.

Y/n wraps his arms around Spencer's waist pulling him closer. Spencer wraps his arms around Y/n's shoulders kissing him back.

Y/n pulls away slowly with his head resting against Spencer's own forehead.

"Tell me that you won't leave me. Tell me that you love me Spencer."

"I won't leave you I swear! I love you and only you!."

"I know."

THE END

#spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #x unsub reader #x male reader #male reader #the bear club

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findafight · 2 years

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I have an extremely stupid thought: Addams!Steve. His parents are horrified at his normalness. Everybody in the family tries to come up with ways to make him enjoy pain, even a little. They are all devastated that his interests are basketball and popularity. Usually, he isn't even cruel on purpose! His parents do their best to support him in his interests (this is why their house is so horribly decorated) and leave every time they feel the need to Be Weird or visit the family. When the Upside Down happens, they are overjoyed. Finally, a truly Addams pastime! But he doesn't seem to be having a lot of fun? Is he just trying to fit in their family? They don't want him to change for them, they just want him happy! His parents end up leaving him alone longer so he doesn't feel pressured to share the delightful portal to Hell (or keep getting involved if it stops being fun) and check in on him from time to time. He looks so delightfully beat up every time! What fun! Let's give him space. If he wants to battle hellmonsters, they definetely aren't gonna stop him! Even if it's a bit strange that he hasn't chosen one as a pet yet. Oh, no, is he secretely having a bad time? Does he not enjoy the hell portal? Look Steve we support your normal lifestyle! Do you want a job? A normal, horri- we mean, it's-totally-cool-if-you-want-one job? We won't think less of you if you do!

Steve for his part is very grateful that his family are so supportive of him, even if he's still trying to find a way to ask them for help with the Upside Down stuff without 1) secretely disappointing them and 2) his family making the situation worse on purpose. He knows they wouldn't mean to! But if he asks his mother to shut down a portal to a nightmare dimension full of flesh-eating monsters without even letting her keep one as a pet he might just make her cry, and that's unconscionable.

He's also under the impression that he knows the difference between people-normal and Addams-normal, but he still gets tripped up from time to time. Dustin keeping Dart as a pet? Duh, super normal, didn't even think about it until everyone started berating Dustin. What do you mean Jonathan and I aren't friends? We loved the same girl (who chose him), clearly we are Friends For Life.

(He'll never admit that Eddie is the first thing in his life that felt Right to every part of him. Sweet as pie the way he likes it even if his family is baffled by the preference, with a Deeply Weird appearence and demeanor that remind him of the best parts of home)

Yes yes Oh my god your mind.....

In S1 when Steve says his parents are away because dad has business and his mom went with him because she doesn't trust him it's not that his dad's adulterous it's because his mom didn't trust his dad not to, like, go grave robbing without her, (such a romantic date in the moonlight and it would be a shame to do it all alone, she knows he can't resist it though...)and they knew Steve wasn't particularly About That and also don't want him around for date night, and they don't want to do Weird Shit (their normal) in Hawkins because they don't want to have a reputation that would harm their darling normie son, AND he needed to stay in school at least for sports.

They return and he's like so I fought a demon creature from another dimension and got my shit rock by Jonathan who is now my best friend... (Because I doubt an Addams cares about NDAs within the family) and his parents are delighted! A portal to a hell dimension! Steven! You'll have to invite us along next time, and bring that nice young woman who is even MORE normal than you-oh she pointed a gun at you? Magnificent she'll fit right in! But they notice he's even more wound up than before and his mother, sister to Gomez Addams (hence the Harrington name), goes to her brother and bemoans the development.

"a hell dimension! In our own backyard, Gomez! We should all be rejoicing on our luck! But poor Steven only seems stressed. Apparently a girl died in our pool and instead of inviting her to haunt us he just feels guilty. I don't know what to do... However, the nail studded bat--complete with blood splatter, it's marvelous, you really must see it--is a welcome addition to the decor in the main room that we may be able to relax the highly attuned 'normal' look and expand from the basement."

And the next year, Dustin gets Steve to look for Dart and he's like "wait it's a baby demogorgon? Oh man my cousins would be sooo jealous. It ate your cat? Ah. I see. Eating a family member is certainly frowned upon." And Dustin is like. Why aren't you mad that it's a demogorgon u weirdo. What the hell. And Steve realizes that maybe weird carnivorous pets is an Addams Thing. In his defense Dustin got one. He'll have to tell his mom that it tends to eat other pets and isn't advisable.

Afterwards everyone is so proud! Steve helped defend some children who seem very keen on arson, which an Addams can relate to, and he always wears a broken nose so well. It is unfortunate that that Nancy girl broke his heart, but all's fair in love and war, and an Addams can bounce back! And what a tale, to have a girlfriend run away with you best friend! Worthy of a revenge plot, hmm Steve? Oh? No? You just what to cuddle and watch sad movies? Well. Alright then.

Perhaps a summer job, at that new mall will help. That is what normal people do, right? And Steve is so keen on normality that his parents can't refuse. They go on vacation, the last week of June, and tell him to just consider poisoning some of the icecream. Just a little! A bit of botulism or ecoli is good for a community! Keeps everyone on their toes.

They cannot believe they missed it AGAIN! Horrible luck, missing all the fun in their hometown. But, Steve seems to be bouncing back, (and his mother and father were both relieved and disappointed that the Russians who dared torture their sweet little pastel son and his friend were blown up before they could get a taste of Addams retribution) he's got a dear friend he works with and is overly attached too (excellent! His parents are so happy he's got someone he's mildly Weird with) and he happily drives the little arsonists around. (Steve's parents don't really meet the kids but know about them, are pleased as punch they all seem like little Addams-Harringtons Steve's taken under his wing. After all, arson, pet monster adopting, car thieving, and spycraft are all delightful pastimes for today's Youth)

But spring break of '86 rolls around and they return to their son in hospital besides another boy, who was apparently accused of serial murder, and discover that the hell dimension is gone for good (and, really, how can the senior Harrington-Addams' have such terrible luck! Missing all the fun once again, and to be told it's all over forever, well. At least their Steve was involved.) They kiss his cheeks and ask if they can get him anything, if his little arsonists are alright. They chat, telling him how little cousin Wednesday is doing and that his uncle Gomez was so thrilled to hear about the flesh monster last year and sends his love.

Eddie is there watching and once they leave he's like Steve....what is going on with your parents. Steve just shrugs.

Slowly, he falls for Eddie, sweet as pie and funny, with just the right amount of...well, freakishness, to settle that place in Steve's heart that's all Addams. Once they get to the stage where Steve introduces him to his parents as his boyfriend, he isn't even nervous about Eddie fitting in. He knows he will even if they live Steve's silly little picket fence and six nugget dream.

Steve's father is delighted by the development. "A murderer in the family!" He yells, which Eddie must interpret as some form of outrage or disgust instead of the delight it is.

He waves his hands in front of him "I didn't actually do it! All charges dropped!"

Steve's father Pat's his back in a consolatory way, "yes, yes. What a shame that is. We can't win them all. But! The reputation persists! And that is what matters. Oh, Priscilla! Gomez and Morticia will be besides themselves with envy!"

Eddie, who wore his most provocative and "fuck society and the man" outfit, on Steve's request which he assumed was to piss of his parents but...really doesn't seem to be the case now... Is. Baffled.

Steve's mother adds "indeed! You'll fit in so well with the rest of the family, dear, no need to worry that you're only an accused murderer. At least without prison time you are free to go where you wish and reap the benefits of a dastardly reputation!"

"I can't believe you didn't introduce us to your boy earlier, Steven. Look at him! Addams-Harrington material already. He even fought in the hell dimension with you!"

"you know about that?"

"of course, what's an NDA to family? We've been trying to join in the fun since the beginning." Says Steve's mother. "We've had such dreadful timing, though. And I'm still terribly annoyed that I wasn't able to give those Russians a torture session of their own!"

Eddie is...well. He doesn't actually know what's going on other than Steve's parents seem to like him? So. A win? He's calling it a win.

#steve Harrington #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington's parents #addams steve Harrington #findaanswers #finda writes stuff #the most addams trait steve has is Being Obsessed With Your Spouse Syndrome #silverseedthings #also to be clear his parents are t4t as many addamses are

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rainintheevening · 2 months

Text

Okay, here goes.

The unicorn...

His name is Erah, or at least that's the most easily spoken version of his name

He can't talk, not human speech at least

He was born mute

He can talk horse, or the more complex dialect common among Talking Horses anyway

This is how he communicates

When they meet in Aslan’s camp, startling each other around a corner, Peter is honestly more struck by a creature who doesn't talk than he is by any of the ones that do

In all the fuss and hubbub, and with a sword hanging at his hip, Peter doesn't mind the unicorn's quiet

His eyes say plenty

Oreius translates for him

Philip also does this for Erah

Anyway Peter learns the unicorn's name, and that he thinks it would be the highest possible honour to be Peter's mount both in training and in battle

Unicorns do not let their riders fall

Except Erah does

He is horribly ashamed of this after the battle

Peter is desperately reassuring

"You got shot! You almost died! Lucy had to heal you with her magic cordial!"

Peter's never really ridden before

But on Erah's back he feels safe and strong and steady

On Erah's back he feels a lot more like the king he needs to be

When Erah first joined Aslan’s camp, along with his friend Philip the Talking Horse, he was planning to ask Aslan why he was born mute, why he'd been cursed in this way that had led to so much pain in the death of his dam and the sorrow of his sire

He wanted to ask Aslan to fix him, to make him like a normal unicorn

When Oreius brought him to Aslan, Erah could only whicker an approximation of the Lion's name, before he fell silent and trembling under the weight of that gaze, that saw every thought, and every suffering, and every way he felt inferior and broken, and... loved him.

And suddenly he didn't need to ask, he only knew that he was loved, exactly as he was, and oddly, that was quite enough of an answer

It became a blessing in one way, he later told Peter, as he would likely have left if Aslan had healed him, and then not met Peter

Peter learns him, learns every little way he communicates, the thousand different snorts and whickers and whinnies, the tilts of ears and head and back hooves, the shake of mane or swish of tail, the volumes read in his liquid dark eyes

They make their own language in a way, and Ed is fascinated by it, but can never really parse how they speak without words

So Erah the mute unicorn becomes High King Peter's battle horse

Legendary, iconic, the boy king of Narnia in his red tunic with the gold lion rampant, the silver sword called Rhindon, and the white unicorn he rides

No, riding a unicorn is not normal, but Erah doesn't care one whit, he wants to do this for Peter, his High King and his best friend, and Peter quickly comes to trust no other mount like Erah

Peter always leads the charge in battle, riding with the cavalry and the great cats

Edmund prefers fighting on foot, and often marches out with the foot soldiers

Philip is actually not fond of combat, and prefers it when Ed leaves him behind

Philip trains the girls to ride as well

Philip is also a great debating partner, and there is a running joke that Ed honed his conversation skills with his horse

Erah and Peter save each other's lives many times on the battlefield

Erah often takes Peter for a gallop when the High King is tired or discouraged or worried

Often Ed and Philip will join them, and the four are a beloved sight

Erah also likes being ridden by Lucy

She often tells him how beautiful and handsome he is until he would blush if unicorns could do that

Eventually Erah gets married to a sweet unicorn mare

Her name is Pearl

He still rides out to battle with Peter but doesn't live at the castle anymore

He doesn't want to have a whole herd like stallions normally would, one mare is enough for him, and he has to be there when Peter needs him

They've had three foals by the time the kings and queens vanish

No one knows exactly what happens

Philip is lost, uncertain, he spends days scouring the woods

Till he sees Aslan in a dream, and the Lion asks him why he mourns, asks Philip to trust, and tells him to 'be always ready for the coming of your king'

He comes home to Cair Paravel, and the worst part for him is having to tell Erah that Peter is gone

And Erah looks at him, and his eyes shine when Philip repeats Aslan’s words, because he'd heard the exact same thing in his own dream

'Be always ready for the coming of your king'

Back in England, the new school the boys get sent to has stables, and Peter is down there on the second day, talking to all the horses

He rides every chance he gets

The schoolmasters and boys who knew him before are surprised by how good he is

He's oddly regal in the saddle

Even more he often rides bareback

Ed rides too though not as much and only one particular horse

Edmund is a one horse boy

Peter gets very good with horses

They are much easier to talk to than his classmates

If anyone's having a problem with a horse, someone's gonna yell 'get Pevensie!' and more often than not, Peter can settle the animal down

But though he gets to know some of the horses quite well, nothing ever comes close to the bond he had with Erah, and as time passes and he misses Narnia more fiercely, sometimes riding is a painful reminder of what he has no longer

Now unicorns live long, and Erah lived near twice as long as most, saying farewell to many in that time, including his mare Pearl, and his beloved friend Philip, who also left many decendants behind

He never stopped waiting, never stopped looking for his king's return

Sometimes he would watch the sun set at the end of another day, and in the blaze of glory he would see Aslan’s face

He always wanted to ask 'why' but then he never did

He didn't understand why Aslan would take his beloved friend away, but he would never forget that he was loved, and Peter was loved, and they were all held between the great paws of the Lion anyway

Perhaps, he thought, near the end, King Peter had already gone ahead to Aslan’s country, and really it was Peter who was waiting for him

Erah did not see the Telmarine invasion

His great-grandsons fought in those bitter battles, and they suffered greatly in the losses

Unicorns were heavily persecuted as very obviously magical creatures and most of them fled north

North to the land that had been High King Peter's special domain

The legends of the high king and his white unicorn remained

It was a terrible blow to Peter, to return to a Narnia so changed, and to discover his old friend so long gone

Glenstorm knew the old legends, retelling several of them one night around the fire, while tears slid down Peter's cheeks, and Lucy curled close under his arm, and Caspian turned his head away, feeling like an intruder

Later, in a private moment with Aslan, Peter asked only one question: 'did he die at peace?'

Aslan said only (but very very gently), 'he waits for you still, son of Adam. Be at peace'

After they go back to England, Peter treasures his memories of Erah's friendship and loyalty, even writing a little memoir about the unicorn

He still rides whenever he can

He hopes he will see Erah again some day

In the end they are both rewarded

Erah finds he is mostly right for it seems he has no sooner arrived in Aslan’s country than there is the sound of much joy and the laughter of reunion

He sees two tall men, and he calls the blond one's name and Peter laughs, because, well, it's actually not surprising in the least that Erah should speak aloud, but it is still wonderful, and they run together

Peter wraps his arms around the warm neck, and Erah wraps his chin around Peter's back, and then Peter is up, astride him

Philip is talking next to them, and Ed is laughing and there is a whole wide open stretch of green in front of them, and the sweet smelling wind is singing their names with the Lion's breath

So they ride fast, and they ride free, and Erah and Peter are a king and a unicorn belonging to each other, and they follow the Lion wherever he goes

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