byeashhh

[byeashhh]

[byeashhh]

Could you do mirko (mha) relationship headcanons? [:

thank you so much for sending this in! it means a lot that you'd take the time to share it with me ♡ ・・・・・ inbox open ⟶ ♡ ・・・・・ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ➤ mirko notices you because you hold your ground. whether you’re a fellow pro, civilian, support tech, or anything in between — you don’t flinch around her, and that earns her respect fast. she hates people who act fake or overly cautious around her. but you? you're real ➤ she’s not subtle when she likes someone. she’ll outright say things like “you’re hot. i like that.” or “you wanna spar, or you wanna make out? either way i’m into it.” she’s honest, sometimes to the point of being blunt, but she means everything she says ➤ she’s incredibly protective, but not possessive. she loves that you can take care of yourself — it’s part of what attracted her to you — but if anyone even looks at you sideways, she’s stepping in with a snarl and a cracked knuckle ➤ physical affection? constant. shoulder punches, arm slung around your neck, kisses that knock the wind out of you. she doesn’t believe in holding back — if she loves you, you’ll know it physically, emotionally, and loudly ➤ she calls you “bunny,” “badass,” or “sweet thing,” depending on the mood. if you fluster easily, she absolutely teases you about it ➤ she lives for sparring matches with you. win or lose, she respects you more each time. and if you manage to pin her even once? she’ll grin like a wolf and be absolutely feral with pride. “damn, you’ve been holding out on me.” ➤ her love language is acts of service. she might not be a huge talker when it comes to deep feelings, but she shows love by grabbing your favorite snacks after patrol or carrying you piggyback when you’re tired

➤ she cuddles like she fights — all limbs, all intensity. she wants you close. doesn’t matter how sweaty or scraped up she is after a mission — she’ll haul you into her lap like it’s her reward for making it through the day ➤ competitive about everything. who can cook faster, run farther, win rock paper scissors. it’s not mean-spirited — it’s flirty, energetic, and full of laughter. and if you beat her, she’s the first to cheer you on ➤ trust is huge for mirko. she doesn't open up to just anyone. when she finally tells you about her doubts, her stress, or her fears, that’s love. when she lets herself rest with you? that’s devotion. ➤ she doesn’t do dramatic romantic gestures, but she listens. she remembers offhand things you say and brings them back around in ways that hit deep. like, “you said you liked moonlight, right?” while dragging you up to the roof with a blanket and a bottle of sake ➤ loyal to a fault. if you’re with her, you’re her ride or die. she doesn’t love halfway. she’s not scared of fights, danger, or blood — but losing you? that’s the one thing that would break her

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[byeashhh]

haiiii!!! I'm honestly not super sure how to request things from people, but would you mind writing some headcanons/blurbs about Hellboy with a gender neutral/male reader? maybe a scenario where the reader is just absolutely over the moon about him and super caring and lovey dovey? I love that man so much he deserves his boobs to be grabbed okay 😔 (if not, that's okay! ty anyway :])

thank you so much for your submission! it really means a lot! ♡ i am so over the moon happy that someone requested hellboy,, i hope i do him enough justice in this!! ・・・・・ inbox open ⟶ ♡ ・・・・・ decided to do headcanons and a little blurb! ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

➤ most people see the cigar, the scowl, the big gun. but those who know him see the guy who rescues stray cats from alleys, quotes comic books mid-battle, and keeps trinkets from every mission like a sentimental magpie ➤ he watches people carefully around them, but he trusts them implicitly. he’s just... wary. he’s seen too much to not keep his guard up. but with them, he lets it down a little more each day ➤ hand holding? absolutely. leaning on him while watching tv? always. his favorite. he’ll pretend to grumble about it, but he melts every time ➤ his tail has a mind of its own. it wraps around their leg when they’re standing too close. it taps against the floor when he’s impatient or flustered. once it knocked over a lamp during a kiss. he blamed it on the wind ➤ not always great at words, but he’ll show love through actions: fixing their gear, bringing them back weird little souvenirs, or holding them all night after a hard day. “i’m not good at this stuff,” he’ll mutter, but he tries. and it means the world ➤ loves being fussed over. even if he won’t admit it. they clean his cuts, smooth his hair back, rub his shoulder with balm. he closes his eyes and leans into it with a heavy, grateful sigh. it's the kind of tenderness he never thought he’d get to have ➤ absolutely treasures little domestic moments. grocery shopping. watching old movies. folding laundry side by side. those quiet, human things he never thought he’d have a place in — he cherishes every one of them. ➤ keeps photos of them tucked into his locker or coat. grainy polaroids, blurry selfies, a picture they drew him as a joke — he treats it all like treasure

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the mission had ended hours ago, but the adrenaline always lingered in his bones like smoke in fabric — hard to shake. his coat was hanging over the back of the couch, boots kicked off and forgotten, one arm draped lazily around them as they nestled into his side.

the apartment was dim, just the low hum of the TV playing reruns they weren’t watching, and the soft sound of their fingers tracing slow circles over his chest. the contact made him feel like something real. something grounded.

they looked up at him with that gaze again — the one that always knocked the air clean out of his lungs. full of warmth and awe, like he was something sacred. like they still couldn’t believe he was theirs.

“what?” he asked, voice low and gravelly.

they smiled. “just looking at you.”

he snorted. “you do that a lot.”

“can you blame me?”

He didn’t answer — just leaned down and kissed the top of their head, his hand curling gently around theirs. he was still getting used to it. to being looked at like this. touched like this. loved like this.

he didn’t say I love you often — not because he didn’t feel it, but because it scared him, how much he did. but in the quiet way he held them closer, the kiss pressed to their temple, the way he exhaled like he could finally breathe again — it was all there. every bit of it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[byeashhh]

post-concert perpetua comfort bc after ritual depression has hit again. perpetua come home,, the kids miss you

content: fluff, comfort, emotional vulnerability, reader is perpetua’s safe place, gender neutral reader, use of they/them ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ the show had ended, but the echo of it still lingered on him — in the scratch of his voice, in the tremble of his fingers, in the phantom throb of the lights still seared into his vision. perpetua didn’t like the crowds. or rather, thought the crowds didn’t like him — not the same way they loved the papas before him. felt it in the lingering way some stared, the hesitant applause the very first time he took the stage.

but his mind was set on them… who always waited for him in the wings.

they were there now, tucked against the side of the dressing room couch as he slowly shed his vestments — his gloves first, carefully peeled from clawed hands, then his cloak, heavy with incense and sweat. he didn’t speak yet. he never did, not right away. he just let himself exist in the quiet, the hum of post-show stillness, until he was certain he wouldn’t fall apart in front of them.

they reached for his hand.

he flinched—not out of fear, but instinct—but then settled, their fingers gently curling around his. their touch was warm, grounding. real.

“you did so well tonight,” they said, voice soft, honest.

perpetua gave a huff of disbelief, slumping down beside them with the heaviness of someone who had been carrying too much for too long. “did i?” he rasped, still unsure if he believed it. “they look at me like i crawled out of the catacombs.”

they smiled, tucking an unruly strand of his damp curls behind his ear. “that’s because you did. but that doesn’t mean they didn’t love it. doesn’t mean i didn’t love it.”

a pause. his eyes flicked up to meet theirs.

“and i love you, too. all of you. claws, teeth, voice, everything.”

perpetua blinked, throat feeling like it was catching on something thick and ancient. he was still learning how to be this — to be soft, to be held, to be seen. and not feared. Not revered. Just… loved.

so he leaned in, tucking his face against their shoulder, murmuring low and shy:

“…will you stay? just for a while?”

they were already settling into a more comfortable position on the couch. “as long as you want.”

and maybe for the first time that night, he let himself rest. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[byeashhh]

Hii! I read your headcanon about Perpetua courting his love interest and am curious if you could write your thoughts about Copia on this. Tysm, love your work !!

(I'm sorry if you already done it and I'm blind)

just wanted to start out with a big thank you for your submission! my inbox is always open, and it means a lot when people send something my way! ・・・・・ i could yap abt copia all day long so i really appreciate this more than i can put into words ! ♡ not going to put a copia era on this (cardinal, papa, frater) bc copia is copia.. still precious no matter the era ・・・・・ inbox open for more suggestions ⟶ ♡ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ➤ copia isn’t the smoothest when it comes to romance, but what he lacks in grace he makes up for in sincerity. courting his love interest comes with a lot of internal pep talks, dropped objects, and half-mumbled attempts at flirtation… but his heart is always in the right place. he might trip over his words, but every one of them is honest ➤ his love language is a mix of dramatic flair and chaotic charm. think: surprise serenades in empty chapels, gifting relics he absolutely should not have access to, or composing strange little songs in italian and nervously performing them for his love interest with a red face and hopeful eyes. the stage presence is gone and left behind is just... copia ➤ copia is always offering little gifts to his love interest — a favorite snack he “happened” to find, a cryptic tarot card that reminded him of them, or a pressed flower from the abbey gardens. they’re never flashy, but they’re always chosen with care. he remembers details: how his love interest takes their tea, what incense they prefer, what makes them laugh ➤ once copia sees someone as his love interest, a subtle possessiveness starts to creep in. he’ll hover near them at social gatherings, always watching for signs of discomfort. if anyone flirts too boldly, they’ll be met with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. still, he respects autonomy — his protective nature is rooted in devotion, not control ➤ copia deeply values time spent together, even in total silence. whether he and his love interest are sharing a meal, reading in the same room, or just walking the abbey halls together, it brings him peace. sometimes he gets anxious that he’s not “entertaining enough,” but his love interest always grounds him just by being near ➤ touch is something he eases into. he might start by brushing shoulders, touching fingertips in passing, or fixing something on their shirt collar. over time, his love interest will notice him leaning closer, resting his head against theirs, or reaching for their hand instinctively. every small step feels sacred to him ➤ once he gets more confident, copia showers his love interest with little names — cara mia, il mio cuore, luce della mia vita. his voice gets lower when he says them, more reverent. it’s not performative. he means it. ➤ behind closed doors, copia becomes more serious. he shares his fears, his insecurities about legacy, and his desire to be loved for more than the title. courting his love interest means learning to trust, and being brave enough to be soft — even fragile — with someone who sees the man beneath the paint ➤ he has a drawer filled with little reminders: a ribbon they once wore, a note they scribbled on a meeting agenda, a button that fell off their coat. he keeps these like they’re holy relics, treating them with reverence. when he’s alone, he holds these things like prayers — reminders that his love interest exists, and that he gets to love them at all (he hoards these little trinkets like a rat)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[byeashhh]

how i am reacting to this post,,

(x)

[byeashhh]

reblog to kiss a fanfic writer on the mouth

[byeashhh]

Hello! I was wondering if you had any hcs/thoughts on how Perpetua would go about courting a love interest? 👀

yay ! thank you so much for the ask !! ♡ i feel like his courting style has an intensity that can both unnerve and mesmerize... inbox open for more suggestions ⟶ ♡ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ➤ perpetua doesn’t do casual. courting his love interest is like a sacred ceremony to him. he’ll present subtle, symbolic gifts — rare herbs, carved bone trinkets, or items heavy with spiritual meaning. he might lead his love interest into shadowed, candlelit spaces where the very atmosphere becomes an unspoken promise between them ➤ he’s not suave or flashy, especially when not channeling that on stage persona. sometimes he fumbles with words or hesitates, but every gesture he makes towards his love interest is deliberate. a brush of his fingers, a lingering gaze, a low growl barely audible — all meant to convey that his love interest belongs to him without breaking the sacred silence he surrounds himself with ➤ perpetua becomes quietly watchful over them. not in a creepy way, but with an intensity that says, “they belong to me.” if anyone gets too close, he might fix them with that intense creature stare. it’s a subtle jealousy ➤ his touch toward his love interest is both tactile and reverent — gentle and almost worshipful, or raw and possessive depending on the moment. courting his love interest might include shared rituals — marking them with ink or blood, binding their hands in silk cords — blending soft dominance with sacred intimacy ➤ perpetua rarely speaks plainly about his feelings for his love interest. instead, his courtship is built on actions and silence — a ritual dance of proving loyalty, endurance, and trust. a mutual understanding that once they’re with him, there’s no turning back ➤ he has a dry and awkward humor with his love interest, often in the form of cryptic or morbid jokes that make them laugh nervously ➤ as a creature of night, perpetua’s courting often unfolds in the night — under moonlight typically. he might guide his love interest through hidden corridors, ancient catacombs, or misty forests, places where the veil between worlds is thin. these shared journeys become metaphors for the trust he seeks ➤ his courting reveals his rare moments of vulnerability. he allows his love interest to see glimpses of the loneliness beneath his exterior, trusting them to hold that fragile truth. in return, he becomes a steadfast guardian

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[byeashhh]

open inbox hours !! ♡ ₍^. .^₎⟆ ・・・・・ be strange. be sweet. be unhinged. i’m here for it! mutuals & strangers alike — you're welcome here ♡ 🡻🡻🡻 • pls read my limits • fandoms i will service will be listed at bottom of text + in tags ! ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ what's welcome ··············································· ◟headcanons ◟character prompts ◟writing blurbs or scenarios you’d like to see ◟spicy thirsts (minors, keep scrolling) ◟compliments, chaos, soft rambles ‧₊˚ ⋅ what's not welcome ······················································ ◟incest, pedophilia, real person fic ◟eating disorders, self-harm, suicide ◟toilet kinks / vomit ◟zoophilia / beastiality ◟racism, misogyny, ableism ◟extreme CNC without care/aftercare context ‧₊˚ ⋅ with boundaries ··············································· ◟heavy power imbalance — if you request it, please be specific & respectful ◟overly specific kink content — might soften or skip depending on comfort ◟dark psychological themes — i'll write them with care ・・・・・ » anons are on « » i reserve the right to delete anything that makes me uncomfortable « » if i don’t answer right away, it’s nothing personal! « » tone tags are appreciated for sarcasm/jokes « » if you're not sure, just ask nicely! i promise i don't bite unless you're asking for it « » i will not fulfill explicit asks if you’re rude or underage « » be respectful — kink is about consent, not control « ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ fandoms (A-Z) ································ ◟Attack on Titan — pls im obsessed with eren ◟Baldur’s Gate 3 — astarion, halsin, karlach... need i say anymore? ◟Beetlejuice (the musical or film) — chaotic goth comedy ◟Berserk — high drama + dark intensity ◟Black Butler — will NOT write for minor characters ◟Castlevania — elegant and tragic, blood and silk energy ◟Chainsaw Man — power imbalance + twisted emotion ◟Death Note — power obsession galore ◟Demon Slayer — will NOT write for minor characters ◟Dorohedoro — gritty, weird, sexy monsters ◟Five Nights at Freddy’s — will NOT write for minor characters ◟Ghost (band) — obviously. papas, ghouls, endless lore + spicy religious themes ◟Hellboy — actual monsterboy lovers with good hearts and rough hands ◟Jujutsu Kaisen — will NOT write for minor characters ◟Lore Olympus — respectfully. greek gods + drama, perfect for mythic romance ◟Marvel / DCU — so many possibilities ◟My Hero Academia — will NOT write for minor characters ◟Overwatch — Reaper, Cassidy, Moira, Mercy, Genji, Ramattra, Hanzo = heaven ◟Resident Evil — feral, biohazard beast vibes ◟Silent Hill — horror, guilt, twisted intimacy ◟Slashers — obsessive killers (pop culture + DBD + creepypasta) ◟Star Wars — power, dark fics ◟Supernatural — angels, demons, hunters ◟The Boys — dark, violent, morally grey, superpowered ◟The Lost Boys — culty-vampire gang ◟The Witcher — feral energy, monster fucking, protective doms ◟Van Helsing (2004) — dracula, werewolves = cinematic monsterfuck potential ◟What We Do in the Shadows — comedy + vampires? yes. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[byeashhh]

please enjoy another soft moment with creature V ! let's pretend like this takes place after the last fic (you can read here ! - part 1 / alternate ending) ♡ i am perhaps very interested in creating a full length fic on perhaps here or ao3.. if anyone would be interested in that ?? idk.. leave your suggestions pls ♡ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ he doesn’t knock. he’s never learned how.

instead, he just appears — half-shrouded in your bedroom doorway, moonlight clinging to the torn edges of his robes and the curve of those long, clawed fingers. he hovers like he’s unsure. like he doesn’t intend to haunt your threshold, but doesn’t quite know how to cross it either.

“…may i?” he asks, voice crackling at the edges, like dry leaves underfoot. he always asks, even though you never say no.

he walks like a creature that used to fly — hunched slightly, moving with cautious grace, like he’s still learning the ground. his feet make no sound across your floor. just the soft, papery shuffle of his wings dragging faintly behind him — leathery, bruised velvet, curled in close so as not to knock over your lamp again like last time.

he perches at the edge of your bed like he’s not sure he belongs in it. claws curled into the blanket. hunched shoulders. glowing eyes casting soft reflections on the wall. his voice is low. “i… would like to stay. if you’ll let me.”

and of course you do. because how could you not?

his body is strange in the way all divine things are — too many seams, too many bones. you can feel the tension vibrating just under his skin, like he's holding back something instinctive. ancient. animal.

but he tries.

he tries so hard to fold himself small. to rest beside you without coiling protectively around your body like some hoarding thing. to speak softly. to breathe gently even when you’re this close — your scent all over his senses, heartbeat loud against his ribs.

“you smell…” he pauses, stiffens, brow furrowed with confusion. “warm. not just… skin-warm. but… safe.”

you blink. and then smile. and you think he might short-circuit from the way your hand gently brushes over the place where wing meets spine.

a puff of breath escapes him. something between a growl and a shudder. his fangs flash for half a second before he turns his head — ashamed of the reaction.

“…sorry,” he rasps. “it’s difficult. you… touch like someone i would like to keep as... my own.”

you freeze.

he doesn’t mean to say it. doesn’t know he said it aloud until he sees your face.

his wings twitch, feathers fluttering as he tries to backtrack. “i didn’t mean— no. i— that is—” his claws dig into the sheets. “i only meant— you’re… soft. and when you are near i—”

he hisses under his breath, jaw flexing tight.

“i want to keep you. fuck. i want to— to cover you with myself. fill my entire existence with your scent. leave marks. make it known. and i—”

he buries his face in his arm, wings cocooning around him in shame.

you reach for him gently.

and he trembles when you touch his cheek. claws flexing once — restraint — before he nuzzles slow into your palm.

“…i do not know how to be this and still be kind,” he whispers. “but i want to try. for you.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[byeashhh]

please go and read this amazing piece !!

Your creature husband is in heat and needs your help to alleviate his affliction.

Content: Creature Perpetua x Female Reader, Breeding, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fluff

18+ MDNI

"My heart?" You call out softly to the sound of rustling in the next room as you open your eyes. You slept like a baby, but it seems like Perpetua is still being tormented by his heat.

He can pass as a human most of the time, but in the midst of these spells, he's more like an animal. All he can think of is breeding and preparing his surroundings for any potential offspring. He becomes overly protective of you and guards your body as though it were a sacred temple.

Perpetua zooms into the room, panting. "Pillows..." He mumbles as he rushes over and retrieves a pillow from his side of the bed, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead before disappearing again.

"Do you need help, my love?" You ask, shaking your head and smiling. He's nesting.

"No, don't move."

You let out a sigh as you recline back into bed and stare at the ceiling, feeling helpless as your heart swells with endearment for this creature of a man.

"I have things to do this morning, V. Do you need me?"

Perpetua emerges again, anxious and agitated. You know what he needs from you and you're always more than willing to ease his suffering, even if he's restless again only hours later.

"Come here, V..." You coo, extending an arm out to him as he trudges over, crawling on top of you.

He immediately buries his face into your neck and nips at your skin with his fangs before kissing the superficial wounds as if to apologize for his lack of restraint. "You smell so good," He groans, his breath hot on your skin.

"I'm all yours, love..." You wipe away the beads of sweat that have formed on his forehead and upper lip as his gaze pierces through you.

"Careful, please..." He breathes, scared that such admissions will cause him to lose control. He can't resist you at his most stoic, let alone while in such intense heat.

Perpetua lowers his hips to yours, pinning your body to the bed and causing you to whimper in anticipation. You can feel him grind into you as he initiates deep, forceful kisses, taking your tongue as his prisoner.

"I want to give you a baby," He growls. "Please."

In this moment, he sounds as vulnerable as he does feral, at the heart of his lust a deep desire to have a family with you.

"I want your babies, V." You grin, running your fingers through his curls. "You know I do,"

In an instant, Perpetua is between your legs, pushing them apart and suckling at your inner thighs. You can feel arousal stirring inside you as he digs his claws deep into your soft skin, a contrast to his gentle mouthwork.

"Mmm," You hum, resting a hand on his head.

"Your pussy smells so good, I can't wait any longer," He utters, holding back a moan as the scent of your arousal draws him to you like a shark to fresh blood.

Perpetua slides your underwear down and off with haste as he wastes no time returning your sex, running his tongue along your soaking wet slit and shivering as he can barely restrain himself from fucking you there and then.

He licks your clit in slow upward motions before taking it in his mouth and suckling, watching closely as you writhe and whimper for him.

"V..." You groan as the pleasure begins to build deep inside you and spread throughout your body. Perpetua's hips buck into the mattress as he tries to pace himself, his inhuman sense of smell allowing him to become drunk on the scent of your pheromones alone.

Breathing heavily, Perpetua lifts himself up to align your bodies once again. He kisses every inch of flushed skin on your face and chest as he massages your nipples with his thumb.

"You're sure, my heart?"

"Yes." You don't hesitate, wrapping your arms around his neck and gazing into his beautiful, mismatched eyes.

Perpetua groans as he reaches down and pulls out his cock, almost doubled now in size from the bodily processes of his heat and pulsating in his hand as his precum leaks onto the sheets. He tenderly lifts your hips and reaches for the pillow he'd left behind earlier to place beneath them as he spreads your legs and positions himself at your entrance.

"Thank you, mea columba," [My dove] He whimpers, leaning down to kiss you as he tentatively presses the tip of his cock to your wet folds.

At first you feel a sting as his enlarged length stretches your walls, filling you to the brim. "Oh," You gasp.

"Are you in pain?" Perpetua freezes, searching your face for any indication that you're having second thoughts.

"It's okay, baby. I want you, please..." You reassure him as he slowly begins to move again, being milked by your tight walls.

"Fuck, my heart," Perpetua groans as his aching cock is finally being relieved of the heat, the discomfort easing a little more with each drop he leaks inside you.

He wraps his arms around you as his hips work into you at a faster pace, moaning and whimpering in relief and bliss.

Then, without warning, Perpetua pulls out abruptly and grabs you by the waist, flipping you over so that you're on all fours as he holds your hands behind your back.

"V...?" You whimper, scared but undeniably aroused by his dominance.

He doesn't answer you, pulling on your wrists to lift your body up so that your entrance is aligned with his throbbing cock once again.

You cry out into the pillow as he enters you again, his cock pressing into your cervix as he steadily but deeply thrusts into you from behind.

"I can't wait to make you a mother," He growls, admiring the sight of you taking his swollen, heated cock and before long his child.

"I can't wait to make you a father..."

This admission seems to only stoke the fire within him as he begins to fuck you with a force and speed that no human ever could. You can barely think or breathe as every cell in your body is enveloped with unearthly ecstasy.

You shake and squirm below him as you reach your violent peak and Perpetua tightens his grip on your wrists, holding you still so as to not risk wasting a single drop of his seed as he reaches his own at the same time. You can feel his warm, thick cum oozing out of you as he pulls out, catching his breath.

His animalistic side tamed for now, Perpetua picks you up and wraps you in his arms.

"Feeling better?" You ask, voice raspy and spent from moaning and crying out his name.

He nods silently, continuing to hold you close to his chest and place gentle kisses on your hands and wrists.

"You took me so well...I didn't hurt you?" His voice falters as he fears that he lost too much control this time around.

"I've never felt so good before, V..."

Perpetua breathes a sigh of relief as he cradles you, claws finding their way to your stomach and kneading as he makes a silent promise to himself to always protect you and the baby soon to be growing inside you.

[byeashhh]

more secondo bc he is my absolute favorite. he means everything to me. ♡ MDNI. 18+ NSFW.

CONTENT WARNING; degradation, powerplay, control, humiliation, denial, overstimulation, oral, minimal emotional aftercare, submissive reader, dominant male proceed ONLY if you're comfortable with those themes ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

you’re on your knees where he put you. not where you chose to be — Secondo doesn’t give you choices like that. he just looks at you, tilts his head slightly, and you’re dropping with your palms flat on your thighs, eyes lowered, like the obedient thing he’s trained you to be.

“look at you,” he sneers, standing over you in full black cassock, rings gleaming on his fingers. “on the floor like a fucking mutt.”

you try to hide the way your thighs squeeze together. he sees it anyway.

“oh? that gets you wet?” he laughs, cruel and low. “being called a pathetic little bitch? you’re sicker than i thought.”

he bends down to your level, one gloved hand grabbing your face hard enough to hurt — squeezing your cheeks until your mouth falls open.

“tongue out.”

you obey instantly. not even thinking. saliva already dripping down your chin before his cock is in your mouth.

he doesn’t go easy. Secondo fucks your throat like he owns it — no slow warm-up, no kindness. just one hand at the back of your head, forcing you to take every inch while your eyes water and spit pools at your lips.

you gag. hard.

and he moans.

“there it is,” he growls, hips jerking forward. “that’s the sound i like. messy little hole choking on Papa’s cock. you live for this, don’t you?”

you try to nod — he laughs again.

“pathetic. can’t even suck dick without drooling all over yourself.”

he finally pulls out with a wet pop, strands of spit connecting your mouth to his tip, and slaps your cheek with it.

“get up. bend over.”

your legs are shaking as you climb onto the altar, face pressed to the cold stone, ass up and exposed for him. you hear the click of his belt, the heavy drag of his boots behind you — and then the sharp, loud smack of his palm landing across your ass.

“you’re not getting praise tonight,” he says, lining himself up. “you don’t deserve it.”

he pushes in all at once, no prep — just a rough, deep thrust that knocks the breath out of your lungs. the stretch burns, your pussy already soaked from being used, and he doesn’t give you time to adjust.

“tight little hole,” he grits out, slamming into you again. “like you’re trying to milk every drop out of me. desperate fucking thing. is that what you want?”

“yes—” you whimper. “yes, Papa—”

“don’t ‘Papa’ me now,” he spits. “you’re not a sweet little thing. you’re a cockdrunk mess with a ruined cunt and a brain full of nothing.”

you cry out as he drives in harder, pace brutal. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you flat against the altar. another hand grabs your hair, yanking it back until you’re moaning into the stone.

“gonna fill you up,” he growls, voice thick and vicious. “gonna ruin this hole. maybe i’ll leave you like this — leaking and fucked, mouth open, waiting for the next one.”

you clench around him. involuntary. he notices.

“oh. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you whine, barely able to speak.

and then he’s coming — deep, hot, violent. buried to the hilt, cock twitching inside you while he grinds it deeper with each thrust, like he can’t stand the idea of a single drop slipping out.

he holds you there while you tremble. while the cum drips down your thighs. while you whimper, spent and shaking and completely wrecked.

and when he finally pulls out, he doesn’t offer softness — just a hand in your hair, dragging you down to your knees again.

“clean me up,” he says. “then maybe i’ll consider letting you come.” you’re still catching your breath when his hand grips the back of your neck again.

“i said clean me up.”

your body moves before your mind catches up — already on your knees again, already taking his half-soft, cum-slick cock into your mouth like you’re starved for it. and in a way, you are. not just for him — for his approval, his ownership.

you can feel it sliding down your throat again, taste the salt and your own slick on your tongue as he groans low above you. it doesn’t take long before he starts getting hard again — thickening between your lips while you work your mouth around him like a good little toy.

he lets you stay like that for a while. lets you do the work.

but not without commentary.

“look at this,” he sneers, brushing hair from your face just to see you better. “ruined and leaking, and still so fucking eager. do you ever think about anything else? is this what you were made for?”

you whimper around him — and that only makes him chuckle.

“that’s what i thought.”

he pulls you off with a sharp tug to your hair. your lips are puffy, your chin wet, and your cunt is aching. you’re so far past ready it’s unbearable. thighs shaking. slick dripping down both legs. you don’t even know how you’re still holding back.

but you don’t beg. not yet. you know better.

Secondo pushes you back onto the altar. on your back this time — fully exposed, legs spread wide. he taps two gloved fingers against your clit and watches your hips jolt.

“you want to come that bad?” he asks, almost amused.

“please—”

he slaps your cunt, sharp and wet. not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp.

he tilts his head, watching your face as his fingers slide through the mess between your thighs. his other hand grips your hip, pinning you down while he works two fingers inside you — fast, merciless, hitting that spot over and over until your voice breaks.

you’re writhing. clenching. on the edge.

and then he pulls away.

you cry out. it’s raw. desperate. you try to close your legs, but he pushes them open again easily — all strength and control and knowing.

“you’ll come when i say,” he murmurs, leaning in close, lips just brushing your ear. “you’re not here to feel good. you’re here to obey.”

he keeps you there — ruined, overstimulated, edging — while he takes his time. mouth on your throat, then your chest, biting, licking, claiming. fingers back inside again, curling just right. and every time you get close?

he stops.

and starts again.

and stops.

until you’re sobbing into your arm, unable to form words. your body is begging for this release— twitching, shaking, soaked.

only then does he press his forehead to yours and whisper:

“now.”

the orgasm tears through you so hard it feels like punishment — your whole body locked, muscles shaking, voice cracked open from the moan that rips out of your throat. he watches it all. drinks it in. proud. cruel. impossibly tender in the way his hand cups your face afterward.

“brava,” he whispers. “you took that like something born to be owned.”

he stays over you, weight heavy and warm, while you tremble and come down from it all — not kissing, not speaking, just… present. hands smoothing the twitching line of your thigh, brushing damp hair back from your cheek.

he doesn’t praise often. doesn’t cuddle. but you feel it — the way he covers your body with his like a shield. the way he doesn’t move. like you’ve finally earned your place.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ holy shit i love him so much

[byeashhh]

little sketchy lachryma v I made to plan out a patch I’m going to paint :3

[byeashhh]

Hello! I already left you a mildly unhinged reblog but I just wanted to thank you for the fun and pure lust of that Perpetua knitting story. Holy hell, that was *chef's kiss*

I love you tone you struck for Perpetua as tender but primal, and how the reader was perfectly seductive and into it. RAAAHHH

-@copium-copia 💚

aaa thank you!! i’m so glad you liked it ! your feedback means a lot — thank you sm for taking the time to send it! i seriously appreciate this more than you know ♡

[byeashhh]

“I am afraid of eternity too” 🥀

[byeashhh]

SECONDO, MY BELOVED.. SECONDO, I NEED YOU SO BAD.

Here’s some papas

[byeashhh]

i HAD to do a continuation of something i regret not adding to the original nsfw creature feature MDNI below the cut THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF THE STORY PREVIOUSLY LINKED

CONTENT WARNING; monster anatomy, knotting, marking, breeding kink themes ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

you don’t know how long he stays buried inside you — only that he doesn’t pull out. can’t. something thick and swollen pulses at the base of his cock, locking you together with a primal finality. you gasp when you realize it — the knot, caught right at your entrance, holding his release deep inside where it’s meant to stay.

he pants against your skin, trembling, wings twitching in little spasms. his tongue laves messily over the bite he left in your shoulder, trying to soothe it, even as his hips keep grinding — slow, shallow rolls, as if he needs to stay moving inside you, even now.

“fuck—fuck, i didn’t mean—” he slurs, voice thick with panic and bliss. “it just… couldn’t stop it. wanted you. i wanted—”

“shh,” you breathe, clutching the back of his neck. his hair is damp with sweat, his skin hot where it touches yours. “it’s okay. i want it. i want you.”

a low, guttural sound escapes him — relief and hunger and disbelief tangled into one strangled noise. his claws curl tight in the bedding as he ruts just a little harder, forced to keep the motion shallow with how tightly the knot has swelled inside you. it throbs with each wave of his lingering orgasm, pumping him deeper into your heat.

he growls into your skin, hips twitching. “you’re… not gonna be able to keep it in. i can feel it. sweet satanas, i want—”

your whimper cuts him off.

his words are raw instinct, pulled from somewhere ancient and terrible in his blood. he’d never speak like that in daylight. never admit to the way the smell of you — slick, sweat, the copper tang of your blood — makes him ache. makes his mind go quiet.

but here, tangled with you, claimed and pulsing inside you, he doesn’t have to pretend.

“you’re perfect like this,” he murmurs, lower now — a rumbling whisper against your jaw. “open. full. mine. you want me to stay in, don’t you?”

you nod. it’s barely more than a breath, and it’s enough.

he groans, a deep, broken sound from somewhere in his chest. his hips grind again, rolling the knot in slow circles — not enough to thrust, but enough to feel. your cunt flutters, trying to milk him again, and he growls through his teeth.

“fuck. you’re still squeezing. greedy little thing. i should stay like this. knot you again and again ‘til your body gives in.”

his voice is lower now — monstrous. reverent. a priest of something dark and primal, worshipping the altar of your body.

and still, he doesn’t move. just holds you, breath ragged and eyes wild, as the knot throbs in place — locking him inside, exactly where he belongs. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦