#SIMPLY TO CHOMP CHOMP FOOD

[stormofbats4224]

This has been sitting in my drafts for a month bc I WAS gonna draw examples (and I’m halfway done with them, so they might still come) but if I leave it I’m Going To Explode

So

LETS TALK ABOUT TEEF

Side note: I’m using design and place ideas from several different continuities for two reasons: I like those versions best, and not all of these bastards are in RiD or Prime.

Other side note: some headcanons were built from reading specific fics, either by roundabout or directly correlated to, and will be credited at the end of the relevant section. Highly recommend them all, tho they are all just straight up porn😅

As it stands, there’s five groups I like to put fang types in (six if you count combined outlier types like Tarn and my Jeep Axle, but we’ll get to that later): Tetrahexan, Velocitronian, Warframe, Rodionite/Dead Ender, and Beast.

These are just where the style is seen most prominently, and most fanged bots from other places fall into one of these categories so it didn’t make much sense to split them any further. If there’s any offshoots you’re curious ab, feel free to ask!

Starting off with the smallest group, we’ve got:

Tetrahexan!

The nearly dead warrior race with a single canon representative gets its own type, why? Bc I gave him and my gal Cross Brace really cool teefers, and I think it separates them very nicely from the rest in more ways than one. Double why?

DOUBLE FANGS. AND SELF-SHARPENING.

Double fangs? Like, a set on top and a set on the bottom?

NO

Four true fangs on top, none on the bottom, made for the sole purpose of ripping through heavy armor with brute force. All four are thick and slightly hooked to better do their job, and so well sunk into a bot’s “gums” that it’s more likely to tear their own helm off than break one.

Thinking comparatively on the self sharpening, the other types of fangs are like needles or swords —needing some kind of outside source to keep them from going dull— but Tetrahexans have their own built-in sharpeners attached to their lower jaw.

Depending on the bot, it can either be a set of false lower canines that sit neatly between the front and the back fangs when the mouth is closed (Cyclonus, his false fangs are decently worn and curved outward a bit), or a set of indents that the teeth rest in like a knife block (Cross Brace, she’s absolutely terrible at not getting her lip stuck between her teeth and the slot). Both sharpen the fangs naturally as the bots open and close their mouths.

Like I said, there’s really only Cyc and CB to use as examples, but it works out bc they have the two different types split between them.

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/54813724">Listen, they deserve a ridiculous amount of Teeth</a>

Moving on, we’ve got:

Velocitronian!

Bc I believe the zoom zoom bastards deserve them, as a treat. Also bc KO exists. He will be lending his service to us today alongside my lovely, spindly asshole, Coast.

The main thing that sets Velocitronians apart is they are what we would consider the baseline. They’re your average two on top, two on the bottom set that most would assume when thinking of fangs. Except that they’re really, really fucking sharp, and the rest of their teeth are basically just incisors, making their whole mouth like one of those guillotine paper cutters.

If guillotine cutters were made to chomp through as much thin plating and tubing as fast and clean as physically possible, which they Are Not, but these bastards are!

The fangs themselves are catlike, fitting together like scissors, and about average as far as fragility goes. Their purpose is simple: take as big a chunk off in as little time as possible without sacrificing momentum.

While most speedsters are built to be light, they’re also made to be aerodynamic and even, most importantly. Chomping off even a little too much from a competitor has the chance to give someone an edge, and while it’s technically not a legal move in racing circuits, you’d be hard pressed to find a bot that doesn’t do that shit.

Knock Out, unsurprisingly, is the textbook for Velocitronian fangs, well-maintained, sharp to the touch, and neat; my little whack job Coast, on the other hand, is all the way on the other end of the spectrum: crooked, chipped, and she doesn’t care as long as they’re sharp.

Moving away from city categories, we have a build type instead:

Warframes!

You love ‘em, I love ‘em, they’re great for size differences, and who better to use than THE Warframe, Megatron? Also, Blitzwing is here because this hc is ENTIRELY his fault.

Unlike Tetrahexans and their cannibal rumors (they weren’t), or the measures Dead End Rodions turn to for survival (more on that later), Warframes are actual bot-eaters. Or, at the very least, they’re designed for it.

Paired with a tank system that can break down just about anything and convert it into fuel and frame repair, Warframes have teeth that are built to kickstart the process.

Like molars mixed with sharp gears, Warframe teeth crush without care and interlock neatly for maximum crunch and proper mouth fit. Their teeth sacrifice sharpness, but it doesn’t really matter in the end when even the strongest plates crumple under the highest psi and thickest teeth of any other fang type (teeth tend to make up almost or more than half of a Warframes mouth).

While Megatron was the textbook average for Warframe fangs at the height of the war, years of getting his aft beat ended up warping his helm just enough that they never quite sat right, and after the war he ended up getting the edges flattened down to a less intimidating shape, though they’re no less dangerous.

Blitzwing, on the other hand…

Blitzwings teeth are just weird. The front’s fine, there’s nothing wrong there, but where the molars would be on a normal set, his teeth move. They’re set on a short track that churns them backwards like tank treads, adding to the level of rip-crush-tear he’s capable of.

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332080?view_adult=true">The Inspiration</a>

Shifting back to cities, we’ve got:

Rodionites!

Plus their Dead End counterparts! Bc this is the best example of circumstance changing the fangs use. Drift was obviously first pick for examples, and Sweeper ended up tagging along bc I wanted more lore to give him.

By far, Rodionite fangs are the weakest type one can have. They’re long, thin, and shallow-set in front of the canine position like vampire teeth, more for show than anything. They tend to be so long, in fact, that it’s not uncommon for fangs to need special pockets in or below the lower gum line to properly fit. Due to their removability, they’re seen as highly customizable frame parts, sort of like body jewelry.

The one thing they are useful for, though, is piercing lines.

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

Dead End Rodionites do what they can to survive, and if it means sometimes siphoning energon from the already deceased (or still alive, depends on the bot) to keep going, it’s a price to pay. Other than that, most will either sell their fangs for a quick shanix, or lose them in any number of ways (fights, deterioration, thieves, what have you) over the course of their functioning.

Drift was one that managed to keep his —abnormally long— fangs from the start, and not even he is quite sure how that happened, considering both his history in the Dead End and the frame rebuilds, but he’s appreciative nonetheless. Sweeper, by contrast, quickly replaced his fangs with a shorter pair. He found long, needly teeth more a pain than anything (plus dust kept getting lodged in the resting holes) and changed them out not long into his first job.

Lastly, we’ve got my personal favorite:

Animal Based!

Not only does this encapsulate beastformers, but also whatever the RiD ‘Cons had going on, and will be explained as such by my beastformer and a RiD ‘Con, Richter and Steeljaw.

The main trait of this category is that it’s far more fluid than the others. If their frame is animal-inspired, their teeth will imitate said animal within reason, and with few exceptions (the exceptions are usually bug based). Their purpose is the same, function changing with the animal, and it’s all around a rather simple category to wrap one’s head around.

With Steeljaw, he’s got the standard teeth that a wolf might have and uses them in a similar fashion, they’re just more compact and human-looking to fit better in his mouth. Likewise with Richter, though his Sabertooth fangs are the ones he uses in alt, and stick all the way front to back through his helm instead of ending in the gum (they’re also technically removable, but leave an uncomfortably large nightmare hole through his head).

The unofficial Mixed category is a group of bots that, for one reason or another, ended up with two or more kinds of teeth in their mouths. Representative species are Tarn, bc I wholeheartedly believe that man would reshape his mouth hole to better imitate Megs (his original Velocitronian-type fangs and Warframe everything else, but it was a little shoddily done, so they don’t lock together properly.), and Axle, who…technically kept their —normal-sized— Rodion teeth, just added Warframe teeth to the mix in an attempt to ensure a meal at the cost of their frames nervous system and a few non-life-sustaining bits and bobs, but they’re fine. Probably.

I wish I could say my reasons for spending so much time on this were warranted, or that the length was reasonable, but no, all this shit came from a late night fic binge and my longstanding fascination with teeth and fangs. If you read this entire thing, know I am extremely appreciative ❤️😅

[starsandnoodles]

Surprise chat I did doodles of Magolor Chompers

[darabeatha]

/  pov: u enter his simulation room and its completely pitch black, yet u realize ur not alone the moment u hear the sound of organs hitting and splashing against the ground from above u

[tame-the-lion-writes]

reader x dog shifter 141 [pt.2]

(If you haven't seen it yet, here's part one.)

It’s been a couple weeks, and you’re starting to catch on to just how smart your dogs are.

Not that you know what they actually are—but they’ve got this weirdly human intelligence behind their eyes, and weirdly human personalities. The Great Dane likes to sit on the recliner in your living room, regal and commanding, often watching your front yard whenever the gardener would come over. The gardener’s son replaced him once for a job, leaving grass cuttings in the driveway, and he was all huffy about it. It amused you at first, but then you realized his judgement wasn’t reserved for strangers. He was even more huffy the time you accidentally burned a steak. (Jeez, since when was he a dad?) Not to mention the empty whiskey glasses he likes to keep around, but that's not right—dogs can't have alcohol, can they?

The German Shepherd, on the other hand, is surprisingly clingy—but not in a bump-into-your-leg or overtly cuddly kind of way. Instead, he follows you while never begging for attention, attentive and patient as though a soldier awaiting orders. You’ve been jump-scared one too many times by his presence, when you think you’re alone and he appears out of thing air. A massive giant of a dog, with paws as silent as a shadow. And he’s stubborn—doesn’t initiate contact, but you swear you’ve caught a subtle bashful glance. Especially when you scratch behind his ears and along the scar of his cheek and chin.

But what the Shepherd lacks in open affection, the Labrador makes up tenfold. He doesn't pester about it, though, simply hopping up to your side on the couch to curl up or placing his muzzle on top of your knees. Still, while probably the most obedient out of the four, you’ve seen him get roped into food heists with the Foxhound, or stalking as closely and silently as the Shepherd. Very much the little brother who tags along with whatever. But you can't stay mad at him for long, either—not when he knows how to apologize—bringing you a freshly chomped-off flower from the backyard whenever you get mad. Then he'll sit at your heels with a faint tail wag, whining 'til you're settled and appeased.

The Foxhound is perhaps the most talkative, in both a noisy and conversational way. His joy is unrelenting around you, and he greats you like you’d expect any other dog. Still, he’s awfully communicative. It’s how you’ve learned their names—with you wandering aloud what to call them, and him making faces at every suggestion. He eventually settled for playing retriever: playing charades by bringing you back bottles and bars of soap. For the Great Dane, he grabbed an old receipt from the trash. For the Shepherd, he threw on a sheet. He seemed awfully confused on what to do for the Labrador, though, and just kept whining as if in apology.

“So Soap, Price, Ghost, and…,” you trail off, glancing at the Labrador with a slight pout. “Oh, I’m sorry, boy. I really don’t know what to call you. And Soap here seems like he’s run out of braincells.”

Ghost snorts in amusement, which is returned by Soap’s unfettered glare.

The next morning, though, there really is no explanation as to how Soap learned the alphabet, how to write, or to arrange your bedsheets in the following name: GAZ.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

"Aha... what the fuck."

Price has face-palmed (face-pawed?) and Ghost just walks over and calmly almost slapstick-esque baps Soap on the head. Meanwhile, Gaz looks dejected, pressing his forehead to the front door, like he's expecting you to kick them out in the next five seconds.

Not that you would, of course—but we can queue the mild horror and existential questioning of what the hell these dogs actually are. You call your friend to rant about your theory—that they could be escapees from a top secret government laboratory, or spies from another country. She just says to enter them into a dog show, or make ‘em celebrities on social media.

[syoddeye]

down the hatch / twinkie talk

141 x f!reader | ~1.7k read parts one and two tags: flashback in italics, possibly bad french (sorry french-speaking people, i tried). thoughts about fucking. a/n: i am having a ball writing this goofy story. banner by @/cafekitsune.

you miss some things from the before times. a couple are obvious—fresh food and the internet—but then there are indulgences that haunt your dreams: monster munch, memes, those talking toilets with heated seats, and fresh nails.

then there’s the annoying things you oughta not miss, but you do. mouth breathers. drunk teenagers. the librarian with a one-sided beef over your overdue charges.

it hits like an errant frisbee to the face. what the annoying things have in common. people. yeesh. you miss people. 

but you aren’t sure if the fellas staring you down are the kind of people you miss. they confer, huddling in the kitchen. eight eyeballs glued to little ol’ you, on the floor and tied to a side table. back aching from slumping against the couch. no one’s offered water or one of your twinkies. pilferers. thieves. vagrants.

all this looking gives you ideas. 

first. they’re clearly all fucking. if the shower gargling wasn’t evidence enough, they’re touchy. two of mohawk’s fingers hook through the loop of scragglebeard’s belt. dry bones’s big arm holds ballcap close. and when dry bones presented you to the other three, he got two ass slaps out of it. (you can’t blame them. apocalypse be damned, the guy is keeping himself fed.)

second. scraggle is in charge. the pecking order is like one of those shape puzzles kids play with. you’d be an idiot baby to not figure it out.

third. they’re not afraid of you—why would they be—but they’re wary. it makes you wonder how many folks are upright above ground, and by extension, how many women. you’re not stupid. even if they’re together and experts in gland-to-gland combat, you’re alone in a bunker nobody else knows about. yet, it’s been hours, and they haven’t tried anything.

under different circumstances, you’d be interested. it’s not every day the universe serves up four hunky albeit stinky men. there’s no harm in indulging in fantasy, though, especially if they’re likely to kill you. get your jollies where you can and whatnot. so, you dip your head back and close your eyes, picturing a writhing tangle of limbs and a hole buffet.

some time later, the men break.

you crack an eye, and watch the four fan out, approaching as if you’re the elephant’s foot. scraggle drags the coffee table closer and sits. his ass barely misses the puzzle.

a hiss pushes violently from between your teeth. “watch it.”

his lip quirks beneath his mussed beard. for a moment, he simply assesses. his eyes linger briefly on the jorts, before dragging a breath in through his nose.

“bonjour mademoiselle. parlez-vous…english?”

it's the most god awful french. you think of muzzy. why he’s speaking to you in broken—

oh yeah.

“told ya i was gonna find ya.”

you chomped dry bones’s fingers with as much force as adrenaline could spare, momentarily freeing your mouth from the tyranny of his mean hand. “tu es un artichaut! artichaut!” 

“what the fuck is—” he swore, dodging more teeth as he wrestled you the ground. 

loud, clamoring footsteps announced the arrival of his bleary-eyed comrades. you got a look at their bewildered faces with your cheek pressed to the ground, screaming. “les nains! de jardin!” 

scraggle’s mouth hung open, eyes darting from yours to the man whose knee pressed into your shoulders. he nodded, and something struck your head. light switch, lights out.

they think you actually speak french. titters of laughter burst through your chapped lips. if panic-quoting film is enough to fool them, planning an escape will be no problem. still. maintaining the ruse long-term is not ideal. you chew your cheek, then shrug.

“yeah. i speak english."

scraggle’s eyes pinch. “then why french?”

“because i’ve watched ratatouille and amelie about a dozen times each since i got here.” you explain. “because it’s the language of love and i’m desperately in love with dry bones.”

mohawk snorts. scraggle shoots him a look over his shoulder.

“if i free you, are you going to be good?”

you bat your lashes. “what else could i be—wait, wait!” the jerk rises to his feet, lips pursed. “i’m joking, christ, did humor die with everybody else up there?”

scraggle sighs. awfully impatient for a man with nowhere else to be. “got a name?”

it takes a moment to find it. something itchy and uncomfortable sticks to the base of your throat. nobody’s said your name in months. you haven’t thought about it. it comes out more of a question than an answer.

annoyingly, scraggle repeats it, stupid easy. “are you alone? how long have you been down here?”

no point in lying. “yeah, i’m alone. it’s been three months, i think. since it happened. you gonna free me now?”

scraggle’s chin dips to his chest, studying you for a second time. the patheticness you’re trying to exude must work, because he jerks his head. “gaz, untie her.” 

ballcap—gaz, what a name—doesn’t hesitate, but his frown deepens with each step. he drops to a knee, guiding you to sit straighter to reach the cord. he doesn’t smell as bad as dry bones. probably because he got a quarter of a shower. 

“i know what you did. puzzle interloper.” you whisper into his ear.

to his credit, his nose only wrinkles.

scraggle scratches at his scalp under his hat as your bindings loosen. “did you build this place?”

“hilarious. no. technically it belonged to my neighbor. it’s mine now since he melted.”

“melted?” gaz pauses, pretty brown eyes blinking incredulously.

“yeah. you guys nearly stepped in him. he’s the hardened chunky stew outside the hatch.”

mohawk whistles, shaking his scruffy head. “thought that was sick.”

“and who was he?” scraggle asks, making room for gaz as the younger man stands.

“no idea. he told me once, the, uh, time we spoke.” you rub your wrists, thinking back to move-in day maybe six months ago. the absurdly large man openly stared and talked at you as you carried in boxes. didn’t offer to help. “i just called him ‘austria’. speaking of. do you have names? because i don’t think you’ll like the ones i made up.”

“oh, let’s hear them.”

“that’s not—”

“mohawk. scragglebeard. dry bones. you were ‘ballcap’ sixty seconds ago.”

“very creative.” mohawk sneers, though he looks more offended than anything.

“what the fuck is ‘dry bones’.”

“video game character. super mario, mario kart. skeletal-turtle creature.”

“quiet.” scraggle orders, glaring at you, obviously displeased with how you’ve sent his little interrogation careening off the rails. 

you drag an invisible zipper over your lips.

another long sigh. he points at each of the men, then himself. “gaz. ghost. soap. john.” 

you unzip. “what, too cool for an absurd nickname? or have you not earned one better than ‘scragglebeard’?”

for a second, you think you’ve signed your execution. sped the collapse. then your stomach grumbles loud enough to make four men wince, and that’s how you end up at the kitchen counter with a twinkie. scrag–john, gives you the short and sweet of the situation topside.

bombs. lots of them. thousands dead, possibly millions. difficult to know for sure with the dissolution or retreat of the powers at be and the general, violent distrust between survivors. long-distance communication is spotty. they’re military and emphasize that they’re special ops. you should’ve seen that coming. whatever 'special ops' means. but what raises your interest and your hackles is that they plan to use the bunker as a rendezvous point, if they can reach their friends in kastovia.

“ex-fucking-cuse me?”

“settle down.” john urges with arms crossed over his broad chest.

you jut a finger in his face, nearly touching his unkempt beard. “you broke into my home, my safe spot, and now you’re planting a flag. don’t tell me to settle down.”

“hen, i dinnae—”

“i don’t want to hear it.” you snap at soap, then reel back on john. “pull up stakes and move on.”

“mm, not gonna do that.” john lifts his chin to stare down the bridge of his nose. “first place we’ve come across with stable power. water. food.”

“don’t forget the sterling company.” ghost adds.

you want to hurl a pastry. a knife. a stick of dynamite. you couldn’t miss people, couldn’t want some around. not these dickhead invaders. john’s eyes say it all. underscore their intentions. they’re sticking around and digging in. potentially inviting more fucking soldier types underground.

all your plans to sneak out and lure them to their deaths or dismemberment eddy out of your head. you’ll need time to recalibrate and come up with a fresh strategy. sizing them up again, you chew your lip. 

gaz’s hand rests on a sidearm clipped to his belt. ghost and soap lean against one another, the former’s hand curled in the latter’s shirt like a leash. and john…

he smirks underneath his oily whiskers.

big, mean bastards. strongarming you into letting them stay. 

the fantasies of a fuck bunker dissolve. you’re definitely gonna kill them.

“fine.” you relent, ignoring the twinge of satisfaction from seeing four sets of shoulders relax. “but i have ground rules. conditions.”

john plucks a third twinkie from the box and offers it in an open palm.

“let’s hear them.”

~~

“it’s like bein’ back in th’ barracks.” soap grouses, twisting beneath the thin sheet. “it’s nae fair she gets the bigger bed.”

“it’s what was negotiated, and it’s only right to give a woman a private room.”

gaz scoffs, shucking off his shirt. “the same woman who spied on soap and me in the shower.”

“soap liked it.”

“i didnae like it, lt.”

“s’not what our old collection of tapes say.”

“the three of you, shut it, and keep your voices down.” john groans, sinking onto the edge of the firm bunk, scratching through the fur of his bare chest. “it’s either play nice now and hope she warms up, cooperates, or piss her off and live with what amounts to a rabid dog until—”

“until she needs puttin’ down.” ghost finishes, leaning against the bedroom door. still kitted out, adamant someone keeps an eye on their reluctant host.

“your words, not mine.”

“dog. more like a bloody badger. holed up underground, cushy little life. bad fuckin’ attitude.” gaz grumbles, punching the thin pillow into shape.

“four unshaved, dirty men with firearms broke into her home. did you expect her to throw a parade once we met?”

soap, propped on his side, traces a circle into the empty space beside him. “would have been nice.”

~~

next door, ear pressed to the ventilation shaft, your grin curls. grinch-like. play nice. you can do that. 

tramps. drifters. vagabonds. you will make them regret coming down the hatch.

[darkaviarymc]

Imagine Grian eating like. Super spicy food all the time. Extra hot sauce, stuff loaded with peppers, just straight up peppers.

And because this is Hermitcraft, other hermits try to one-up Grian by eating more and spicier things in front of him. But while Cub is shoving his face into a bucket of milk, Xisuma is gasping and crying on the ground, and Scar is stripping down and jumping into a cold ocean, Grian is just sitting there with a smug grin chomping down on ghost peppers like they're candy.

It becomes a game among the hermits to try to find a pepper or a sauce that will make Grian react. Doc's "Spice Hybrid Inovation Technology" initiative has produced peppers that can't even be measured on the Scoville scale.

But Grian? Never once do his eyes even tear up. His cheeks never turn even the subtle shade of pink.

One day during a meeting, Bdubs looses it. He starts screaming at Grian demanding to know what trick Grian has up his sleeve, what sabotage he's doing to their efforts to find something spicy enough to make him sweat.

But during Bdubs' tirade, Pearl burst out laughing. They all turn to her and accuse her of being in on the conspiracy. Once she finally calms down, she simply says,

"What? It's not my fault you guys didn't know."

"Didn't know what!" Bdubs demands.

And for some of them it clicks. Their are groans and facepalms throughout the group, but just as many confused looks.

Grian takes a sip from his bottle of Atomic Destruction. His face finally cracks, but this time its because he's the one bursting into laughter now.

"Hello?" Pearl says and points at Grian’s wings. "Parrot hybrid?"

Through the tears of his laughter, Grian finally comes clean.

"Birds can't taste capsaicin."

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part eight max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ( fluff ) series summary . . . when the lives of an f1 and wec prodigies collide, they find out they find out that they’re not that different and carve out a place for their selves in each others hearts. the commentators from sky sports call this puppy love

( fic master list | general master list ) ( tag list ) ( previous | next )

Max was sitting cross-legged at the end of you’s bed, tugging on one end of a rope while Marshmallow, you spotted Dalmatian, gave it all he had on the other. Marshmallow growled playfully, his teeth gripping the rope as he crouched low, eyes shining with determination. Max was grinning, leaning back slightly to tease the dog by letting the rope slacken, only to give it another quick tug just as Marshmallow tried to make his move.

The game paused when you reappeared from the room service table, balancing two plates. She handed one over to Max, who glanced down to find a plate of kebabs, still steaming and smelling like a mouthwatering mix of spices. He blinked, caught off guard. He’d mentioned in a TikTok interview once that he loved kebabs, but he couldn’t remember telling you about it. She couldn’t have known . . . right?

You sat on the bed beside him, nibbling on your own food and looking entirely unbothered by the thought that you might’ve just exposed yourself. Marshmallow, on the other hand, was absolutely determined to ruin the peace, inching up next to you and giving you the most heart-melting stare as he eyed your kebab. She chuckled, shooing him off with your fork. “You already ate, mister.”

Meanwhile, Max was twirling his fork, glancing between the plate and you, and mustering up the courage to ask something that had been weighing on him. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than usual. “So . . . what’s your mom like?”

You paused mid-bite, looking at him with a mix of surprise and confusion. She’d never really been asked that before. It was then, as you were processing the question, that Marshmallow seized his chance. With a swift, triumphant chomp, he snagged a piece of kebab off your fork and trotted proudly over to Max’s side, plopping down as if Max had been his partner in crime.

You huffed, laughing softly as you watched your dog munch away before turning your gaze back to Max. “Well . . . I wouldn’t really know,” you started, your voice carrying an edge of practised nonchalance. “My mom was young, barely eighteen when I was born. I guess you just weren’t ready to handle it, so . . . you didn’t.” you tried to brush it off with a shrug, focusing on the flickering TV screen instead. “It didn’t really matter, though. My dad was always there, and I had Fernando, Carlos, Jenson . . . I grew up surrounded by people who cared. I was happy.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, each taking bites from their plates, and for once, Marshmallow seemed satisfied as he sat curled up by Max’s feet, licking his chops. you glanced back at Max, curiosity pricking at her. “Why’d you ask?”

Max hesitated. He didn’t want to admit he’d overheard Carlos mention it to Lando; he didn’t want to make you feel awkward. So he simply shrugged, offering you a gentle smile. “I know your dad pretty well, but your mom? Not so much. I get it, though,” he added softly, his gaze dropping to his plate. “In a way . . . I think we’re kind of similar. We both had parents who—weren’t really there in the way we needed.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt a surprising warmth bloom in your chest. She gave him a small, appreciative smile, inching a little closer until you could lean your head against his shoulder. You watched TV in silence, the show barely registering as you both sat in a quiet, shared understanding.

You ate in easy companionship until you suddenly remembered your conversation with Lando from earlier. You sat up, your eyes bright, catching Max mid-bite.

Max blinked, pausing as he chewed, his fork halfway to his mouth. “What’s up?”

She bit your lip, and without thinking twice, you asked, “Can I kiss you again?”

Max nearly choked on his kebab, swallowing quickly. “Uh, my mouth’s full of kebab, but . . .” He grinned, wiping his mouth on his wrist. “Sure. Please.”

He leaned in, giving you a quick, playful peck as you giggled, and for the first time, Max felt like he could happily sit here, lost in your laughter, for as long as you’d let him.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Is that guy serious?” you groaned, easing off the throttle as the black Alpine in front of you sluggishly took the corner, red lights flashing, his car creeping around the track like it had all the time in the world. You abandoned your fast lap, grip tightening around the wheel as frustration boiled over. “Is he fucking—who is it? Who’s number 31?”

“That was Ocon—”

“Ocon?” you cut off your engineer, voice sharp and incredulous. “Really? Is he serious with me right now? Again?” You sped past the Alpine, flipping the driver off as you zoomed down the straight, jaw clenched so hard you swore you could feel it in your temples.

Your radio crackled back. “That’s P15 for tomorrow, Yn. P15.”

“Great,” you shouted, sarcasm seething through your voice as you pushed the car into the pits. Every turn, every acceleration suddenly felt meaningless. You were stuck now. “That’s it? I’m done?”

“Yes, confirm. That is P16 for tomorrow.”

“Fucking hell.” The words hissed out before you could stop them, anger rushing like adrenaline in your veins. The second you pulled into the pits, you pulled your helmet off, ripping it free of the wires, and hopped out. As you strode over to your team, you could feel the weight of that disappointment pressing down, hard and relentless. Ocon’s little maneuver had cost you everything you’d worked for in qualifying, and now you were looking at a dismal starting position because he decided to mess around.

As you hit the weigh station, getting through the post-session formalities, you felt the simmering anger twist into something even sharper. And what made it worse was everyone around you treating you like a ticking time bomb that they needed to defuse. “Just calm down, Yn, it’s all right,” someone coaxed, a hand patting your shoulder gently. “Deep breath, all right?”

It took every ounce of self-control not to scream. You didn’t need their calm words, didn’t need to be handled like you were on the verge of a meltdown. They didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t okay, that losing your lap to an unnecessary block wasn’t something you could just brush off.

In the end, Ocon had done exactly what he wanted, securing his teammate’s spot in Q3 while shoving you down the grid. You could feel your fists clenching, the need to release all this pent-up frustration itching under your skin. Your PC stayed glued to your side as you made your way toward the briefing room, but your mind was still racing, stuck on that Alpine. If you saw Esteban after the debrief, he’d better have his helmet on—because right now, every thought you had involved giving him a piece of your mind and then some.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

direct messenges: Max + YN

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

‘Finally’, Charles thought as he leaned his folded arms on the back of your sim chair, watching you do a few laps on the circuit. You smiled a little when he unconsciously commented on what you should do differently, glancing up at him. “I think I know what I’m doing, Leclerc.” You joke, turning off the sim and scribbling your quiet time somewhere.

“But this is the first time you’ve driven here since 2017.” He reminds you, smiling down at you as you stand up. “I’ve also won here a few years ago.” If it was up to Charles, he’d let himself get lost in your eyes and melt at the sound of your sarcastic laugh, or the way you patted his chest before walking out. His eyes followed you as you regrouped with Carlos’ PR to prepare for the media pen, overhearing how your goal for tomorrow would be gaining points for the team, the same words you’ve said last weekend.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The start of the race had been a chaotic mess, with red flags and yellow flags throwing half the field off their game. But for you? It was a godsend. Each restart and caution felt like another opening, and you seized every one with a focus sharper than any you’d felt in weeks. Bit by bit, you clawed your way through the pack, pushing the limits of your car, finding every possible inch of track space until you found yourself in P2, just one position away from Max. And from there, the real chase began.

For the next grueling stretch, you stayed glued to his tail, pushing him to his absolute limit. You could almost imagine him there, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, knowing that one slight slip would cost him the lead. You were pushing him so hard, it felt like a game of chess at breakneck speeds—one where every maneuver, every millisecond counted.

Your engineer buzzed into your ear. “You’re gaining, Yn. Keep the pressure.”

“Copy,” you muttered, eyes locked on Max’s car just meters ahead. He was fast, but you had DRS in your back pocket, an advantage you let linger, savoring the chase. You didn’t need to pass him yet; you just needed to keep him pushing harder, faster, to build that gap. And it was working. The two of you were so far ahead of the rest of the field now that it felt like your own private battle.

Each time the DRS opened, you felt the adrenaline kick harder. You could pass him whenever you wanted, but where was the fun in that? You’d wait until the moment was perfect. Finally, with Logan Sargeant’s car ahead, you knew it was time. You opened DRS, overtaking Max with precision, your car slicing past his like it was second nature. Your heart surged as you glanced at him in the mirror, the split-second look of determination in his eyes making you grin.

Now in the lead, you latched onto Logan, using his DRS to bolt ahead and create an impossible distance for Max to overcome. Each corner, each stretch, you could feel the power surging through you, knowing you’d not only taken the lead but had crafted a strategy that made it near impossible for him to catch you. Logan played his part well, too; after you overtook him, he got DRS off you, towing along behind you as you both surged forward. Watching Logan gain positions behind you almost felt like poetic justice.

It wasn’t until you reached the back markers that you glanced in your rearview mirror, expecting Max’s car to be right there, as relentless as he always was. But he wasn’t there.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The crowd was roaring, a deafening symphony of cheers and applause, but you were hardly aware of anything except the pounding of your own heart. You stood on top of your car in Parc Fermé, fists raised to the sky, just like your dad used to after each of his wins. The moment felt surreal, as if it wasn’t just yours but his too, echoing through time. Closing your eyes, you could almost hear his voice, proud and booming, “You did it, kiddo.”

When you finally hopped down, the first person you spotted was Fernando. Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, leaping into his arms, your heart bursting with the joy of the moment. His hands pressed into your back, holding you close as his voice broke, thick with emotion. “I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you!” The warmth of his embrace wrapped around you like a protective shield.

Pulling back, you caught the glisten of unshed tears in his eyes. His expression said everything his words couldn’t—this victory was more than a trophy; it was a piece of the past you’d resurrected. You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of joy and bittersweet nostalgia bubbling up inside you. “I felt him with me out there, you know?” you confessed, your voice soft.

As you reveled in the moment, somewhere in the crowd, Max was trying to make his way to you. His eyes darted through the throng, heart racing at the thought of celebrating your win together. He clutched a hair tie in his hand, a little memento from last night—a way to keep your hair back amid the whirlwind of the podium. But before he could reach you, a firm grip yanked him back by his shirt. Carlos stood there, his expression a silent warning that conveyed, Not now. Max froze, understanding the message, but the urge to congratulate you burned stronger than ever.

You were blissfully unaware of the tension, moving on to greet Susie Wolff, who pulled you in for a warm embrace. “Thank you, Yn,” she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve shown that it’s possible. We always knew it was, but now everyone else knows it too.” Her words settled deep within you, pride blooming like a flower in spring, the weight of her admiration lifting your spirits even higher.

Next came the Sainzes—Carlos Sr. wrapped you in a bear hug, his smile radiant, soon joined by Carlos Jr. and Fernando, pulling you into a warm, all-Spaniard embrace. Their laughter mingled with your own, a shared joy that felt like family. “You’re a legend now, Yn!” Carlos Jr. declared, beaming. “Next, we’ll need to build a statue!”

When it was time for your post-race interview, you spotted Jenson waiting with a grin, microphone in hand. But before he could say a word, you charged forward and threw your arms around him. He laughed in surprise, the warmth of your embrace catching him off guard. “Didn’t… didn’t expect that!” he exclaimed, patting your back awkwardly. Pulling back, you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, and for a moment, the nerves and adrenaline of the race melted into pure joy. “You really stole the show today, didn’t you?”

Finally, you climbed onto the podium, greeted by the deafening cheers of the crowd below. Mark Webber handed you the trophy, his eyes twinkling with pride. You hugged him tightly in thanks, feeling the warmth of his support. Taking a deep breath, you held the trophy close, leaning in to spit on it before kissing it, a ritual honoring your dad. As you lifted it high, tears pricked your eyes, the weight of the moment crashing down on you. This victory was yours, but it was his too, and you wished he were here to see it.

Before you could gather your thoughts, a jet of icy champagne hit your shoulder, and you yelped, spinning around to see Lando grinning mischievously, the bottle in hand. Laughter bubbled out of you as you grabbed a nearby bottle, spraying him back with equal enthusiasm. “You’re going to pay for that!” you shouted, both of you drenched in the celebratory chaos.

Once the festivities quieted, you sat down on the edge of the podium, the trophy still cradled in your arms, letting the crowd’s cheers fade to a distant hum. The reality of it all was slowly settling in, the magnitude of what you’d achieved filling every corner of your mind like a warm glow.

Then you felt a presence beside you. Charles plopped down on one side, ruffling your hair with a proud grin. “Look at you, superstar,” he said, unable to hide his admiration. On your other side, Lando joined you, patting your back. “I knew you could do it! The legend of Yn Ln begins now!” The three of you sat there in comfortable silence, gazing out at the sea of fans, feeling the victory settle into your bones, the warmth of friendship and accomplishment wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

“Have you guys heard from Max?”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the superyacht as the drivers celebrated the Australian Grand Prix victory. Laughter and music floated across the water, mingling with the soft sounds of waves lapping against the hull. You arrived fashionably late, the buzz of excitement already palpable in the air. As you stepped aboard, the chatter momentarily faded, and all eyes turned to you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your Australian GP winner!” Lando’s voice rang out, booming over the crowd like a proud announcement. Cheers erupted, a chorus of claps and whoops filling the air, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you raised your trophy high above your head, the gleam of victory shining in your eyes.

“Thank you, thank you!” you called out playfully, the thrill of the moment making your heart race. The warmth of the celebration enveloped you, and as you mingled with your friends, you noticed Lando leaning against the railing, a playful scowl on his face. He shot you a stink eye, as if to say How dare you win before me?

With a grin, you sauntered over, wrapping your arms around him. “What’s wrong, Lando? Jealous?” you teased, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, your lips brushing against his skin. He feigned annoyance, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself.

“Just surprised you didn’t trip over your own trophy on the way here,” he shot back, but the light in his eyes betrayed him. You giggled and hugged him tighter, savouring the moment before excusing yourself. “I need to find Max,” you said, waving as you slipped away from the group.

Navigating through the crowd, you spotted Max in a quiet corner, leaning against the wall with that familiar, soft smile. As you approached, his eyes lit up, warmth radiating from him like a cozy fire. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Hey, you,” you greeted, your voice a whisper amidst the sounds of the party.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, his eyes glinting with admiration. He reached up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You were amazing out there today.”

“Congratulations, Yn,” he murmured, his voice low and full of admiration. His honey-brown eyes softened as he looked at you, and you felt a flutter in your chest at the intensity of his gaze. It was as if the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“Thanks, Max,” you replied, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “It means a lot coming from you.” You could see the pride written all over his face, and it filled you with a sense of warmth.

He reached up, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and your breath caught for a moment. “You look amazing up there. Like a true champion,” he said softly. Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he added, “Not that I’m surprised or anything.”

“Did you have fun out there?” he asked after a moment, his voice low and soft, filled with genuine interest. You could feel his warmth radiating through you, those honey feeling blue eyes melting any lingering stress.

“More than I ever expected,” you replied, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. You couldn’t help but admire how the moonlight caught his features, making his smile even more captivating.

In a moment of tenderness, he gently lifted a stray lock of hair from your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Then, with the hair tie he had saved from earlier—more like stole from your room from when you two had dinner together—he deftly gathered your hair into a loose ponytail. “There,” he said, satisfaction evident in his tone. “Now you’re ready to celebrate.”

You chuckled, warmth flooding your cheeks. “You’re the best, Max.” Your eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own little universe. The noise of the party felt like a distant echo, the laughter and music muted by the magic of the moment.

“You know where the Red Bull fridge is?” You ask, taking his hand and pulling him to the rest of the party.

“You are an addict.” Max laughed as he followed along.

As the celebration continued, the music pulsed in the background, but you found a cozy corner on the yacht, curling up on a plush couch with your trophy nestled against your chest. You were half-awake, a blissful haze of exhilaration and a few too many drinks swirling in your mind. The trophy felt heavy yet comforting, a tangible reminder of your victory and the legacy behind it.

Max wandered through the yacht, searching for you among the revelers. Spotting your familiar figure sprawled out on the couch, a gentle smile spread across his face. He quietly made his way over, sitting beside you, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. His fingers instinctively reached out, brushing through your hair with a tender, soothing motion.

You stirred slightly at his touch, eyes fluttering open to find him gazing down at you with a soft, affectionate expression. “Hey,” he said quietly, as if afraid to break the tranquility of the moment. “What are you doing down here all alone?”

“Mmm . . . just reminiscing,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleepiness. “It’s just . . everything feels so unreal.” You shifted slightly, hugging the trophy tighter as a sleepy smile spread across your face. “I was thinking about my dad.”

Max’s heart softened at the mention of your father. “What about him?”

You took a deep breath, the memories flooding back, sparkling with nostalgia. “You know how the Australian GP was always our favorite? We used to come here every year.” A giggle escaped your lips, your mind drifting back to sun-soaked days. “He would always say, ‘This is where legends are made, Yn!’ and I would dream about being on that podium one day.”

Max listened intently, his fingers still weaving through your hair, his gaze locked onto your face as you spoke. “We’d spend the whole week surfing, chasing the waves. He’d push me to go bigger, to not be afraid. I can still hear him cheering for me, ‘Go on, my little champion!’” Your eyes sparkled with fondness, but there was a hint of sadness that Max caught.

“Did you surf today?” he asked gently, wanting to keep the conversation flowing, to draw you deeper into those cherished memories.

You shook your head slowly. “Nah, I didn’t. Too busy racing, I guess.” A small laugh escaped you. “But it doesn’t matter. I feel like I brought a piece of him with me today. Winning here... it’s like I finally made it happen. I know he’s proud.”

Max’s heart swelled as he absorbed your words. “He is, Yn. You did something incredible today. I could see it in your eyes out there.” He brushed a thumb against your cheek, his gaze unwavering. “You’ve honored his legacy.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you. “Thanks, Max. I really needed this. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

In that quiet moment, as you shared your memories, a profound connection blossomed between you two, weaving your past into the present. Max leaned a little closer, whispering softly, “I’ll always be here to remind you of how amazing you are. You’re more than just a champion—you’re a force.”

With a sleepy smile, you closed your eyes again, allowing yourself to drift off once more, comforted by his presence. The gentle rhythm of his fingers in your hair lulled you into a peaceful state, the chaos of the party fading into the background as you felt safe, cherished, and deeply understood.

[pincushionx]

hello! out of curiosity, would it be possible for a witch with healing magic to let Hunter, i don’t know, bite a part of their hand off, and then just regenerate it with their magic? i’m not sure if that would defeat the plot of the au as Hunter would freely be able to chomp on someone, haha!

.

Actually they can! However it’s incredibly limiting. This method would only allow Hunter to get surface level meat. He also need organs, deep tissue, bone, ect. Also while healing magic can do all sorts of wonders and I’m sure could regenerate limbs and flesh depending on how talented the healer is. I doubt they would find someone genuine that’s would be willing to do such a thing and at a frequent rate, especially when he starts eating more and actually developing healthy eating habits. I’m sure one of his family members would be happy to do this but Hunter would never allow it. Id imagine it also be a much longer medical procedure than him simply being able to bite chunks out since that would literally him mutilating someone alive lol, even with the help of numbing or pain relief potions.

The amount of food shown would have been perfect for Hunter a few years ago but now with lots of love and healthy habits being put upon him, it’s no longer sustainable. But what healing witches can provide is blood!

Blood is a good alternative for when he’s unable to have meat so I’d imagine he’d be pretty stocked up on it. He gets frequent refills on blood, it’s also slightly more socially acceptable to have as I’d imagine blood being a regular part of some demons and those suffering from vampirism diets. I’d think most people would assume Hunter is a vampire if they don’t know about the grimwalker situation. So he takes blood bags with him on the go as food.

Of course he needs actual food and lots of it as he’s pretty malnourished and has lots of catching up to do. As well as developing healthy eating habits.

He eventually gets a pass that allows him to eat bits of bodies that aren’t being used, that where donated. So if a bunch of healer students are dissecting a cadaver, Hunter is cleanup. Or if organs are given for a transplant, Hunter could eat what wasn’t used. Obviously this disturbs Hunter but it’s better than going feral and attacking people. Of course it was a bit difficult to obtain pass but with the right strings pulled and some light threats, he was able to get it.

All these images are post canon in the Au. For the amount of pain and suffering inflected upon Hunter for the majority of this Au, I do want him to have a happy ending. While there are tragic alternatives, him having a happy ending was always my intention. While it be more difficult to reach than in canon, he gets there eventually :3

(Feel free to ask some questions but do note it may take a bit of time to answer, I already have some questions waiting rn lol)

[la2yn0va]

A General’s Obsession

Yandere Feixiao x Male Reader

CW: Yandere, what more do you need…? slight smut… I think…? Manipulation/Gaslighting, Stalking, yada yada yada it’s a yandere I think you know what you’re getting yourself into.

—————

“You smell divine vixen~” Feixiao growled lowly, her voice low and husky yet seductive and hypnotic. Her tongue working to make wet trails on your neck, her teeth grazing your skin.

Her nose and ears twitched with lust and desire. Your scent overflowing her nose along with the scent of desire, fear, and blood. Oh, your delicious blood that she loved to smell. Biting into your flesh and forcing a love bite where she attacked.

This was her reward. YOU. ARE her prize, her irreplaceable gift from the aeons. Her long and hard life, her endless battles against the abundance, her patience and obsession on your life—all for THIS. VERY. MOMENT.

She saw your lips twitch, a mixture of trying to hide your moans and wishing to speak. A smile appearing on her face as she slowly caressed her hand up to your face “Ah-Ah-Ah~ don’t fight it~ don’t defend yourself from me…! It’ll simply make me get more ROUGH with you~~!! Unless your.. a naughty boy~"

She finished before licking your earlobe, receiving a slight squeak of surprise from you. She smiled as she looked back on all her hard work…

First, she talked to you regularly. ‘Accidentally’ bumping into you at least three times a week. Finding out PAINFULLY and SLOWLY more and more about you.

Then, she stalked you. Watching you from the roofs, corners of the walls, your window. She saw how you acted to those much closer to you than she was, she saw what your favorite food and drinks were, she saw EVERYTHING.

Moreover, she slowly began manipulating events around you. Making your friends distant with you and being there to fill the void. Buying you the things you wished to have, forcing Jiaoqiu to cook your favorite meal and sneaking in a certain potion she brought from the alchemy commission in the food.

Finally, she got you distant from your family members. You don’t need them, you don’t need anyone but her. After all, when was the last time your family made your life THIS good? When was the last time your family loved you without comparing you to anyone? Such toxicity isn’t worthy of your presence. but SHE is~

"It’s in my nature darling~ in my blood to… act like this~!" She whisper growled, her nails slightly and softly grazing your exposed skin, her eyes narrowed and darkened with desire. Her lips constantly drooling form the pure need to stop this charade and simply devour you right here and now.

Holding you in her arms like this gives her memories to when she got rid of your distractions. Those ‘friends’ of yours were now ridiculed and criminals who got the death they deserved. Oh how your tears made your skin shine in the moonlight~ how you buried your face in her body when she told you what your friends ‘final words were’

She lifted you up and slammed you against the wall, earning a yell from you as she held you there. Her body keeping pressure on you as her hands freely explored your body. “Make more of those sounds~~! Please!! I need it vixen!!” She begged. Please moan some more! Reward her with those pretty sounds! All her hard work and manipulation for those moans!!

Her hips grinding against your crotch, her mouth softly chomping down on your chin before moving down to your throat and licking the outer area before softly biting down, gaining another one of those moans she so desperately wants. Her eyes slightly widened as she felt you scratch the back of her ears.

Her body twitch more, her mouth drooling like a river, her eyes darkening even more with pure and unbridled lust. “Mmm~~ you naughty boy~~!” She growled deeply, she voice becoming more animalistic by the second. Her grinding increased in speed, your neck covered in her drool, your skin marked with multiple layers of lovebites. “Keep…Scratching~!!”

She growled with a face of lust, which also cracked her carefully crafted mask that hid her obsession from you. Her eyes scanning your body and looking crazily into your. YOUR body that affected her senses like this. YOUR body that drove her mad. YOUR body that had to be crafted by idrilia herself! YOUR body that made her lose complete control of herself.

As you continued to do as she asked, she slammed you onto the bed and quickly go ontop of you, not bothering to hide her unhealthy love towards you. "I’ll ENJOY DEVOURING YOU VIXEN!!" She growled out before ripping your pants off. She laughed before finally exposing your entire body for her eyes, licking her lips uncontrollably her hand quickly grasped your cock “PERFECT~”

—The End—

….i need to learn how to write better smut

[teacupwrites]

Angel Dust, Husk, and Alastor with Cannibal! Reader

Angel Dust

After the extermination/battle between hell and heaven, you decided to simply just stay at the hotel, after getting Rosie’s permission

It was nice there anyway, and she didn’t mind your departure so why not?

Everyone there welcomed you with open arms, and you were giddy to have a new home 

Angel of course flirted with you the moment you both met, and usually brought in your claws and sharp teeth into said pickup lines

Though after a few threats of eating his fingers, he eased up on it

Angel didn’t fully trust you, sure, he liked you and your presence, but not enough to open up to you

He also wasn’t the most delighted with your diet, and was quite disgusted whenever you chomped down onto some demon legs or ribs

But he tried not to be judgemental, and never made any comments about your food choices

Though his trust changed one day

Angel and Vaggie had an argument, and you were picked to go chase after him

He was being jumped by some random demons, and you watched from afar until one of them brought out a gun

Within a split second, the malicious smiles and laughs were cut off into screams

Angel watched in mixed shock and admiration as you ripped off one of their limbs, and chased them off

Though you weren’t too close to Angel, he was your friend, and you weren’t going to let some assholes hurt him like that

Then, you turned back to Angel with an innocent expression coated in a cherry-red blood

You basically became his bodyguard since then, per Charlie’s request

Angel kept you by his side, other than when he went to work

The two of you had grown close, after he realized you had gone into danger just for him, and he wanted you as far away from Valentino as possible

You were Angel’s best friend, he last thing he was going to let happen was you getting found out by the Moth Overlord

Your his arm candy now, you don’t get a choice

But on a serious note, he cared for you dearly, and kept you close

Angel glowered down at the shark demon who eagerly dug into his pockets, forking out dollar bills with gritted teeth. “Listen here, bitch, I’ll even pay you overtime,” he growled, stuffing the crisp 20s into his gloved hand, whilst the spider rolled his eyes

“I told ya buddy, I ain’t in the mood,” he quipped, propping a hand onto his hip as he quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Now would you fucking leave?”

The shark brought out more money, sneering and spitting onto his boots as he continued to ramble at Angel. Then, he reached into another one of his pockets, bringing out a revolver

But the moment he did so, he froze, and paused, the gun dropping from his shaking hands. 

Angel smiled as he heard low snarling from beside him, clawed hands reaching around his waist and gently bringing him closer to the growling cannibal behind him. Your void gaze pinned down the shark demon, who sputtered and quickly snatched his weapon and darted away.

You watched the shark skitter out of sight with a sharp-eyed gaze 

Angel exhaled, turning up to you as your furious and vicious expression immediately dropped into a gentle, wide eyed gaze.

Like this lmao-

“Heh, thanks dollface,” he greeted, his frown also turning into a smile.

“Anytime, Angel,”

Husk

When Husk first saw you, he thought you were no good

Alastor had brought you into the hotel to work at the front desk, so Charlie and Vaggie could do other things

You had sold your soul to the charming Radio Demon long ago, and yet Husk had never heard of you before he brought you up to be the receptionist

You were cheery, a bright smile adorning your lips wherever you went, and he despised it

You were too bright and smiley for him at times

Though he was neutral to you, and just gave into your giddiness

And then the extermination came around, and you were all preparing for battle

With the risk of death, you opened up, more truthfully than just sharp-toothed smiles

And then the battle happened

You fought tooth and nail beside your fellow cannibals

Despite the threat of the angelic weapons, you fought well, and killed Angels left and right

But then, an exterminator swooped down, and pinned down Husk, with their spear pointed at his throat

Of course he was horrified, squirming and writhing as he tried to fend off the Angel, but he was vulnerable

Husk was about to accept his death, when you popped up out of goddamn nowhere

Teeth bared, blood stained claws, black eyes blazing

You had seized the angel, grabbing the base of their wings and tearing them from their back, and then sinking your teeth into their neck, killing them off with one final stab to the chest

He was petrified, even after the battle ended

You were cold-faced now, standing by your people with the heart of a lion

But he had a new respect for you

Husk would listen to you whenever you needed it, and you stood up for him as his personal bodyguard

Especially when people would get drunk at his bar and would try to A. sexualize him, B. attack him, or C. demand for more drinks

“Need a drink?” he inquired, continuing to try and clean and wipe blood from his matted and tangled fur. 

You shook your head, sitting down at one of the barstools. You both were soaked in red and gold gore, but you were a lot less bothered about it. You were used to it of course, in fact, the golden blood tasted quite sweet on your tongue.

“Hey,” he called quietly, making your black eyes pop open

Husk paused, his gaze shifting as he tried to distract himself, grabbing a well-worn rag and beginning to clean a glass that was already shining

“Are you alright? You’re not injured or anything?”

Considering you were a hellborn cannibal known only for your diet, you were quite surprised to see the grumpy bartender of all people caring for your well-being.

You paused, taking a moment to register his low-octaved words

“I’m good…”

“Thank you, Husk.”

Alastor 

Probably one you’d get along with pretty quickly

You were the quiet seamstress of Cannibal Town, sewing, remodeling, and fixing up the old-fashioned clothing that your fellow cannibals adorned

Though there was one customer you always enjoyed to see

Alastor was quite the gentlemen, and a had a soft spot for the hellborn women in Hell

First of all, despite being a murderer himself, he appreciated the purer people, (totally doesn’t get off at seeing them descend into madness)

He came to you every once in a while, and adored your politeness whenever he came to get his coat fixed

During his earlier days, when his hands were much more commonly bloody, he visited you much more often

But when he suddenly disappeared- your shop dimmed and the lively cheer that once graced the insides vanished

When Sir Pentious tore his coat, and he was forced to come to you once more, Alastor wasn’t expecting to come in and have himself seized and violently shaken by you

To say you were pissed was an understatement

You babbled and yelled at the Radio Demon for hours, which took the others by surprise when they came looking for him

Alastor, an Overlord was being sat in a chair as a hellborn cannibal seamstress scolded him like a fretful mother as you fixed up his jacket with quick yet skillful movements

Alastor took it like a champ, and even apologized for keeping you worried for seven years

You forgave him- eventually

Even when not in search of your services, he visited you quite commonly

During earlier morning strolls he’ll buy you some tea or coffee whilst he gossiped about the other Overlords

Sometimes when he visited Rosie he would invite you over

And Rosie was overjoyed of course

The hellborn Overlord was very fair, and even offered you advice when you needed it

While everyone was on good terms with Rosie in cannibal town, you and her were just closer

Alastor also takes you over to the hotel when you so pleased

While the others were disturbed by your diet and the way you ate, they were quite welcoming and were pleased when you offered to help fix their clothes

Not only were you a seamstress, but you also designed clothes

You were ultimately the one who created employee uniforms for other demons after the battle with Adam-

And oh shit- were you enraged at that

You fought alongside your cannibals in the battle, and you witnessed first-hand what happened to Alastor

And you were the one to tend to him

Honestly, you, Niffty, and Rosie were probably the only ones he trusted with stuff like this

Alastor hissed in pain as you carefully worked milk-white bandages around his torso, covering up the bloody wounds along his ribs and chest, bright eyes glaring

“Careful darling, please,” he protested, only for you to narrow your eyes down at him.

“Perhaps if you weren’t so cocky out on the battlefield maybe you’d be more than half-alive,” you quipped, gently completing the wraps and patting his back with a gentle sigh. “I’m lucky you even let me help you.”

The deer demon’s ears pinned to the back of his head, eyes narrowing slightly at your motherly glare

“My dear- I told you I’d be fine,” he protested, quick to stand up and reach for his shirt, though you were quick to pull him back down and plop him into your seat.

“No you wouldn’t have,” you replied, propping your hands on your hips. “Now relax, and let me get Niffty to get you some food.”

…

“Thank you, dear.”

A/N: I apologize, I feel like these were really short, but I hope you enjoy! xox 💋

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Hypersexual

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: reference to SA if you squint?, Astarion being soft, reader being defensive af, persistent Astarion, happy ending because I'm weak

————————————

It was one of the first things Astarion noticed about you. Your bed was rarely empty. The Grove, the Goblin Camp, the Underdark, Moonrise Towers, etc. Everywhere you went you seemed to have a warm body beside you by the end of the night. Himself included. He pined for your attention. Feeding from you daily brought you close, sleeping with you brought you closer, opening up bit by bit brought you even closer. And yet, he could still find the occasional rando leaving your tent at first light. If he listened closely enough, he could almost always hear sniffles coming from your tent every time someone left. He typically ignored it, opting to not care so he didn’t get attached. Unfortunately for him, he was attached. He had been for a while and seeing people leave your tent was like a knife to the chest every time. He wanted to confront you eventually, so that's what he did. 

He walked over to your tent, hearing the sniffles intensify the closer he got. When he peered inside he saw your naked form, balled up tight, sobbing quietly. He saw the hickies and claw marks the tiefling from last night had left on you. “Y/N?” he whispered.

You swiftly wiped your tears away as you moved to cover yourself up. “Astarion, darling. It’s so early, is everything alright?” You threw on the best smile you could manage while willing yourself to shed no more tears. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked as he moved into your tent fully.

“Tears of pleasure.” you waved him off, doing your best to sound lustful.

“You’re a terrible liar, my sweet.” he said as he sat opposite from you but still giving you space. 

You sighed, rolling your eyes, “Why do you care anyways?” you cringed internally, that sounded harsher than you intended. 

Astarion’s eyes softened a bit, “Because I care for you.” he said honestly. 

“Because I’m your blood bag,” you scoffed. “Worry not, I’m well enough for you to feed so… get on with it I guess.” you said as you tucked your hair behind your ear, leaning in for him to chomp down on your pulse point. 

Yet you felt nothing but the cold night air. Your eyes found his after a moment of hesitation. “What?” you said.

“You are so much more than food.” he said, a guilty look on his face. Is that all you thought of him? Somebody using you? “Why do you sleep with them?” he asked suddenly, trying to connect the dots in his head.

Your eyes widened, “It’s none of your business.” you said, your voice wavering. “I like sex, so why not?” your eyes avoided his, afraid he would see the truth in them. 

“Terrible liar.” he whispered, his foot tapping against your knee trying to get your attention. 

“Because it makes it all hurt a little less!” you yelled, his consistent questioning pushing you over the edge. “Because it fills the fucking void somebody put inside me. They used me, they hurt me. So if I can be desired, even for a moment, I will.” you felt tears stream down your cheeks as Astarion watched you, his mouth slightly agape. “This horrible feeling sits inside me like tar. Black and oozing and there is nothing I can do to fix it. I sleep with them because I want to know I can still be desired if I cannot be loved.”

“Who said you cannot be loved?” he said, leaning forward to wipe a tear from your face with his thumb.

“I… I just can’t… nobody can love me after what they did to me. Taking my body, playing with it while I just laid there… frozen. I thought they loved me…” you mumbled, memories from your past flooding you. 

“I love you.” he said simply.

Your head whipped up to gaze at him, “You don’t even know what love is Astarion.” you turned away from him so he couldn’t see you cry. 

“On the contrary… I have seen lust. I did it for 200 years. But this ache I have inside me, the longing I have for you and only you. That, I believe, is love. And… I like to imagine you feel the same way.” Astarion put a hand on your shoulder, moving slowly when you initially flinched away. 

“How can you love me? Aren’t you disgusted?” you whimpered. You wanted to believe him so badly, but how could you? You were made to be used. 

Astarion shifted so he could see you as he tilted your quivering chin upwards. “For sleeping with others? Darling I have bedded thousands.” he rubbed your cheek reassuringly. 

“That’s different. You didn’t have a choice.” you said, your voice coming out strained.

“I would argue that you didn’t either. When someone violates you like that… I’ve seen it go two ways. You overindulge, or you isolate. Both are natural reactions. Yours was to try and find solace, penance in others. None of it is shameful… it’s just… how things are I suppose.” he said, struggling a bit to find the right words but you felt the connection he was trying to make. 

“Each of them took a little piece of my soul… I’m not sure how much is left of me to give.” you shuddered in a breath, trying to calm yourself. 

“I don’t want your soul… All I ask is your heart, in exchange for mine.” he smiled at you, moving to hold your hand while he cupped your cheek. You had never seen eyes with so much sincerity and kindness. 

“I… I’d like that.” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his for a moment before your eyes opened once again with worry. “Do we have to…” you motioned between the two of you and the bedroll.

“Not until you want to. Completely, freely.” he nodded at you.

“And if I never want to?” you asked cautiously.

“Then I will love you all the same.” he leaned in slightly. He could feel your breath on his lips but waited for you to close the gap. 

You kissed him softly. He could feel the fear and apprehension in your kiss. While you felt the patience and adoration in his.

-------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello lovelies! Hope ya'll like this one as well. Two in one night? What a deal lol I really like this one. Is it a bit of a trauma dump? Yes but writing is how I get it out and Astarion would 10000% comfort me through any of it. We love a supportive king. What a guy. Anyways! - be safe everyone, see ya'll soon!

[seventhcallisto]

Chapter 1 — "why didn't you answer my call?"

—Deep Down.

Toc/cw; read prologue or you'll be v confused!! Touching. Nothing much except world building. Language. Heats are the omega equivalent for periods(without the bl00d). I said what I said. Heat suppressants work, they just sedate the need for a knot(#worldbuilding). Angst at the end, lots of it throughout(it gets better I swear.)

It's not a surprise when the majority of unanswered texts come from mingi. You left without warning, and to think; he thinks he was the one who sent you to the hospital. All because he simply bumped into you. You feel bad. You feel terrible. Yet you're so scared you're gonna say something and reveal what really is going on.

Your hip, ankle, shoulder, and elbow ache. Your hips for two reasons. You scratch at the bandage on your elbow.

"You want me to lie?" You mumbled into the speaker. On the other side is your manager, no, not jongsik, but the overly obsessive and pushy manager that takes care of most of the groups publicity and what can and will be said. "I don't want to lie to them, they'll figure it out" you continue, growing more upset.

"Just until your next uhm. Cycle. Then the company can break the news publicly and personally to them." Song Pilyoung. Mr. Pil. Answers, as if expecting you to say that.

It hasn't even been a day since your last heat. You're supposed to keep up with your lies and completely change demeanor and body back to your old self for a month? When you know your obvious behavior will be to coddle and preen at any affections from the alphas you so desperately missed during your heat.

Seonghwa, who knows when the slightest thing is off with you. Who can tell when you're sick based on how you act and watches you so intensely under his pretty keen eyes, even when he bites you, ever so gently, you think, compared to the aggressive chomps he does to the rest of the guys.

Yeosang, who genuinely likes to be near anything that smells like you or makes him think of you, which he shyly admitted, who ever so gently leans his head on your shoulder when he has a stressful day. Yeosang who you constantly are seen next to, brushing arms gently with.

Mingi who continously hugs and drags his long limbs across you, because you're the only member who won't complain and will put up with him, who shares his food with you, but only you because he likes the way you follow him without questioning what it is you're being fed. but it's indulgent. You like how he casts himself on you and the way he grabs your chin when he wants you to try a piece of food.

Yunho who can't help but hold your hand whenever he's next to you, because an alpha and beta can have that public privacy without being seen as dating, yet you hope he doesn't feel the quickening pulse vibrating your fingers, yunho who defends your name and includes you in any type of conversation if you're nearby.

San who, for some reason, always flirts with you the hardest, only for you to plainly respond or brush him off because you're a beta, and you tell him so - not because you know he doesn't mean what he says, right?. San who sits side by side with you and makes sure the blanket covers you when you sit at award shows, even going as far as to take his own suit jacket off and maybe cover you from prying eyes.

Wooyoung, who gatekeeps you too much when he gets the chance, who stands behind you to make sure you get up the stairs safely, and so no one peeks up at you. Who always tells you about the drama with other alphas cause he knows you don't gossip, wooyoung whos smile makes you smile, whos lips make yours want to gravitate towards them.

Jongho, who you baby yourself - but always steps up to take anything on your shoulders that seems too heavy. Even during any type of game, he'll give you the answer and never regret it. He who will share his jacket and shuffle closer when he sees you shivering. When his eyes meet yours across the room just because you assumed he was searching for something, he holds the contact until you pull away. he warms you more than the jacket he lends you whenever it seems the slightest bit cold.

Hongjoong, who lets you sleep in his bed when you have a nightmare, who people say favorites you the most. how his calming scent always drags you under and sparks fireworks within you, how you never indulged yourself to scoot closer and be wrapped up in his arms anywhere at any time whenever he looks at you. He who leaves his clothing in your room, who silents everyone immediately when he knows you have something to say.

When did you realize you felt like this? For a while, actually, you would never say that, though. Feelings are feelings, yet you'll be with these guys the rest of your life, and you don't want to ruin anything. Plus, you're just another pack member. You're genuinely sure all of those moments can be because they're protective. You highly doubt they feel the same.

"I can't promise anything" you sigh as you tell Mr. Pil. "Great, I've got a driver on his way to you already, he's picked up everything you'll need for the month."

Perfect.

You see yourself out of the idle apartment. "Bye, gorgeous!" Yuqi and shuhua wave down the hallway. Miyeon is the one to walk you down, making sure you make it out safely.

You've washed yourself of their scent as much as you can. A bag of fresh, unworn and recently bought clothes are given to you provided by miyeon after your shower. You've got to undo ever being there, so you scrub yourself free of every scent of them. A new bottle of shampoo, conditioner, body soap, and perfume is given to you. Each of the members have an assortment of things they don't use or didn't want anymore. Which is very convenient for you.

From the pile, they each pick out things beta-you would have liked. Current omega-you doesn't have the same nose beta-you had. So you have to rely on your best friends' scents and recollection to give you things you would have liked. Which is how you smell as close to as you did before. You just tweaked a bit because you gotta like at least some of your smell. The girls give in. Your new permanent scent. A smell; omega-you indulges in which you didn't before. A lingering scent of sweets and tropicals you try not to get used to under the chaotic neutral tone your old scent gave off, a love-hate feeling.

You pull the hoodie snug. Miyeons pants are a bit tight, considering she doesn't work out as much as you do. A plain black and white track suit. "This is me," you sigh as the sleek black car pulls up. Miyeon is silent, yet you wait for her to speak anyway. "You're always welcomed here, you know that, right?" She nudges your shoulder with her hand.

"I know."

"And if you need anything. Anything. you call or text." She adds. "I know." "You know we love you, new sex and all" she smiles, you laugh. "That's very reassuring, thanks, love you too." You want to hug her, but you'll know it'll undo the scent process you just spent all morning working on.

"If anyone gives you problems, tell em idles' got your back." she grins, pressing a single digit finger to your forehead. "Bye cutie pie," she ushers you off the sidewalk and towards the car.

The ride back is full of anxiety. How are you supposed to explain the reason you haven't responded to the number of messages they left? Maybe cause you were actually too busy going through a terrible, disgusting, uncomfortable heat by yourself with no relief for days on end.

You can't say that though.

"Mr. Chen, are the guys at the apartment?" You speak to the driver. He's an older omega man, one you've come to know personally. The man in the passenger seat, an alpha, doesn't seem to care when you talk to him. "No miss, they're at the stadium filming." Chen glances at you through the rear-view mirror. "Filming?" You repeat. "Yes ma'am, filming for the music video starts today.."

Right. Of course. How could you forget? You've memorized everything down to the tiniest detail in the span of two weeks before your sudden omega sex came and distracted you. But you doubt you'll be picture perfect. At least in your own eyes.

The car passes the turn to your apartment. You can see the building in the distance. "Mr Chen, are we not going to the apartment?" The man in the passenger seat sits up and turns around to look at you. His eyes hold irritation. "Listen, beta, we're going to the filming site. Yeah? Got it? Be patient. Sit back."

If you were childish enough, you would have kicked his seat. You scoff. Falling back, letting the disrespect go. You gotta let it go. Don't fist fight a random alpha with a superiority complex.

Don't do it.

As soon as chen comes to a stop at the designated location, the alpha pops open his car door. You wait for him to get between your door and his. Boom. You slam your door open on his tush.

He pulls back, glancing between you and the door. There's a flare to his nostrils. One, you know only a pissed person would showcase. And god, is it satisfying to slam the door behind you and smile like the petty person you are.

"Woops," you simply say. His pissed face urks you to stand your ground. He doesn't hesitate to walk up to you, a crazed look in his eyes. "You-"

Your name is called in the distance, and you know exactly who's calling it. Your head whips, and your heart skips a beat. Running straight towards you are the guys, emerging straight from the field to your right. They look unreal, like they popped out of a commercial.

Mingi is the first to slam into you.

"Hey, ow!" You laugh, pulling him in tighter. The alpha, whose energy dissipates, turns away as if he wasn't about to go off on you.

Mingis arms are a welcoming feeling. He twirls you around, taking on your weight like it's his own. There's a certain desperation in his tight hold. You feed into it, pulling him just as tightly by the shoulders.

"Are you okay? Why didn't you answer my calls?" He pulls away only enough to scan your face. Maybe you really shouldn't, but mingis face is picture perfect. Whatever the makeup artists have done to make him look this good, it surely is based on hard work and years of perfection. Or maybe it's just mingi.

You stutter to answer, "I'm sorry, I wasn't.. really allowed to" it's half the truth. His hands fall to your hips, silent as he takes you in. "I'm sorry," he says, pulling his lip under his teeth. He genuinely looks sorry. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Mingi! No, I'm fine, completely." You pull his hands off you, missing the smell of sea salt and jasmine. You spin around. "Fine! See? Mingi.. i-"

Another pair of arms scoop you up. Silencing whatever you were saying, it's yunho this time, smiling ear to ear. And immediately after, waiting patiently next to mingi is San, his eyes flicker behind you, but as soon as you look his way, he catches your face. "Hey," he says so simply, with that sneaky grin he always has, yet you can tell he wants to say more.

"Hi," you say simply back, pulling both Yunho and San into a tighter hug. "How was it?" San asks, his voice is so sultry, something you missed, your mind goes haywire. "What?" Your face falls. "How was being away for so long? You missed us, right?" San laughs.

"Missed you? Never," you joke, pushing them both away when you catch Jongho and Yeosang jogging over. Jongho scoops you up next. His arms are tough, obviously, from working out so much lately. You take a well needed whiff of him. Fresh florals, mahogany, charred sandalwood, and laundry invade your nostrils. His head falls over yours, pulling back to let yeosang get a hug. Yeosangs arms are lean, but his hug is soft when he pulls you close, breathing you in.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa are last. Which you find surprising. Seonghwa, who usually pulls you into a half hug- full-on, brings you in. He smells like leather, dark coffee, and vanilla cream. There's so much more, but you're pulling away before you can smell him some more. Wooyoung locks you in, tilting you on your heels back and forth. He's the smiliest of the bunch. He sets his face on your shoulder, and his hands squeeze your sides comfortably. San scoots past the two of you, popping open the trunk.

The trunk, where your bag is. Full of assortments of scent blockers, heat suppressants, and the many smells the girls gave you so you can get by for the month smelling like your old self. Panic sets in, yet you try to seem as casual as you can when you twist in wooyoungs hands. "San, I got it!" You somewhat shout. San looks up, confused, pulling the shoulder strap over his shoulder. Wooyoung still has you in the tightest embrace around your waist.

"You really want to carry your own bags?" Yunho scoffs at the idea, mingi takes the other bag next to san. One you don't even remember throwing in. "I'm a big girl. I can take my own bags," you mumble. Wooyoung laughs from just over your shoulder. His lean body presses directly into your back. He's so very warm. You try not to think about it, opting to continue struggling.

"Woo, c'mon," you slump, you're not getting to that bag. It's no use, you're too exhausted to fight against him. He laughs. "It's just one bag beta, I'm sure your big girl attitude can be put aside for now," Woo loosens his hold around your waist, patting your hip with his large palm.

Seonghwa continues for him, a certain upset tone in his voice. "You just got out of the hospital. I don't know why you're here instead of resting at home."

You gulp when San slings the backpack around. "What did the hospital give you anyways?" He chuckles. You count heads, realizing hongjoong isn't here. "Where's -" the door behind you slams.

The alpha from before storms around the driver side. Everyone stops to stare. San shares a look with seonghwa. "What's his problem?" Wooyoung whispers to you, his breath fanning your ear. You scoff silently. "Egocentric alpha." You grumble.

"Got it," he laughs, he's missed you. Pulling you away. The guys all fall behind you two.

The cold of spring is fading away. It no longer nips at your nose. Soon, summer will roll around, and filming will get exhausting more than it already is. Your clothes whip around at the slight gusts of wind. Your makeup isn't caked on for once. Thankfully, you have a new makeup artist this time. Your scent still lingers. You'd have to reapply scent blockers soon. The bottle shifts between your fingertips, twisting and pulling at the lid. You subtly rub it around your scent glands. The chatter of the guys behind you cast in the background of your attention. Hongjoong is just a little bit away. You haven't seen him since you got there. Makeup and clothing took at least an hour or two.

Even though he's right there, you miss him. Hongjoong stands by the filming aquitment, speaking with the crew. You take your time walking up, having just now realized hongjoongs hair is back to the pretty brown you know suits him.

"Joong," you call, a blanket shrugged over your exposed shoulders. His shoulder straightened at your voice; his head whipped around. "Hey!" He calls, a genuine smile lighting up his features.

Hongjoongs figure is still so welcoming. The pack leader has always had that effect on you. It takes everything in you to pull away from the hug. "We missed you," he says earnestly, his hand resting on your neck where your scent gland is. "How are you feeling?"

You sigh, "I'm feeling good," it's somewhat true, although genuinely exhausted from the entire week of being poked and provoked by doctors and annoying alphas. what really got you was your first heat.

"You should be at home, not working." He huffs, reaching up to pull the blanket over you further. "I want to work," you nod, confirming it to yourself. He chuckles. "Yeah, right"

"Take it easy, kay?" You smile. "No promises"

It's the next day when the sun begins to set. You realize you're your biggest enemy. You will never be satisfied with how you contort your body to follow steps. 4,5,6. You repeat. 4,5,6. You stare as you watch yourself perform on the monitor.

There's a tension in the air, the staff can feel it, and the guys can feel it. Everyone moves around freely around you, the guys getting ready to perform the next sequence of steps. Yet you don't care if you're the one giving that tense energy off, your feet stand firm. "One more time, please," you ask the tech crew to repeat the video. A hand falls on your shoulder. Yunho calls your name softly. "Yeah?" You respond, not paying attention to what he says.

4. 5. 6. 4.5.6.

You watch as your lines loosen. This solo shot of you is cursed. Why can't you keep your movements sharp? "Beta," yunho calls firmly. You lift your head, catching his brown eyes with your own. "You're perfect." he guides your chin when you want to turn your attention back to the monitor. "No- look, my arms -" you go to point.

Yunho roughly turns you fully towards the monitor, and his hands fall by your waist. His chest presses against your back as he bends over you, and his head leans over your shoulder. "Look," he takes the word from your mouth. Pointing at your arms as you dance around on screen. "Your arms are fine." His silver hair brushes against your cheek. "There's nothing wrong with your shot. It's perfect."

And it's not because the alpha uses his firm voice to make you listen. It's the way yunho so passionately stares at you, like he believes what he says wholeheartedly. His eyes never slip from over your shoulder, even when yours keep falling back to the monitor.

"Okay," you listen. Yunhos hands fall off you, stepping away. You miss his warmth.

You're a week into the month when suspicion arises. Seonghwa is the one that finds your unopened bottle of scent blockers. "Hey," he says, twiddling the bottle in his nimble fingers. Your eyes shoot up from your phone, watching him stand in your doorway. "Are these yours? None of us had to get a refill." it's such a normal question because seonghwa doesn't think about it. All of the guys use scent blockers to perform for concerts or events.

But you're honestly choking. "I uh- I got a new bottle last week," you gulp. Quick, excuse. Excuse!. "Oh" His eyebrows furrowed. You haven't performed in about a month since the comeback is soon. "Yeah, i - that smell thing I had going on? That's what those are for." You loosely point.

"They're supposed to help," you gulp. Please take the hook. Seonghwas eyes scan you over once again, then back at the bottle. "Are they working?" He finally says. You blank.

"I don't know, can't really tell," you mumble. "Can you?" You sit up, scooting further down your bed. Seonghwa walks into your room. His scent mixes in with the smell you've had to endure all week. "Yeah, I suppose." You can see the gears behind his eyes moving.

"You suppose?" Your eyebrows furrowed. He bites on his lip, pulling at his earring. "Mm, you smell like you usually do.. but.." he thinks about it, scanning your room. His eyes finally fall on your face, urging him to continue. "Never mind."

Seonghwa exits your room without another word. You're in silence by yourself. The suspicion makes your anxiety skyrocket. He left his shirt behind on your bed.

You take it. Why not?

Hongjoong is late coming back again from the studio. He smells stressed beyond belief, even from where you sit across the apartment. He hangs his jacket up in the hallway. And you hear the slow pattern of his feet when he walks down the hallway. Your head falls on the arm of the couch, eyes focused on the TV. Hongjoong calls your name in a whisper. You look up at his tired eyes.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" He questions you. You have half the energy to laugh quietly. "Says the one in the studio at.." You check your phone. A picture of you and the girls on the lock screen. "4 am.. why aren't you?" You set your phone back down, pulling your feet up so he can take a seat on the couch without you hogging the whole thing.

He gladly takes it with a heavy sigh. His hand falls to your ankle poking out of the blanket, and you shiver slightly at the chill of his rings. "How are you feeling?" You scoot to sit up, leaning on your hand. "It always gets hectic before a comeback," he huffs a smile, turning towards you. "How are you?" His finger brushes up your calf. "I asked first," you glance back.

He smiles, a tired one, one he always has for you. "Why were you still up?" He changes the question. You take the hint. Laying back down on your pillow that's propped up against the couch. "I wanted to wait for you," you whisper.

The silence is comfortable. Hongjoongs fingers rubbing circles on your ankle. You reach down to grasp his hand, his tired eyes blink back at you. "Lay with me?" You ask, perhaps you shouldn't. But in your sleepy state, you're bold enough to ask, scooting over to make room for him. He doesn't answer but scoots up enough to take the spot next to you. Face to face. "Nightmare?" He asks, as if giving you an excuse, his eyes bore down on yours.

He's so pretty, you think. His eyes are so soft under the darkness. You question if he's one of the prettiest guys you've ever seen, an uncommon trait for alphas. You hum, taking the lie. "Yea"

Your eyelids slink as does his, the rhythmic breathing between you two casts over like a lullaby. Eventually, his arm falls over your hip. Alice In Wonderland playing in the distance, a sound you've gotten used to as you fall into the solitude of sleep.

The next morning, the comfort of the couch is something that you want to fall back into. You want your beauty rest, but the sun keeps beating on your eyelids. You turn in the grasp of the blanket, it has a tight hold, you wiggle to get comfortable.

The fan of someone's breath hits the shell of your ear. Your eye pops up, blinking at the sun coming down on you from the window. You turn to feel the body pressed against your back. Slowly turning so you don't wake them up.

Hongjoongs face is mere centimeters away. His hair falls over his face in waves. You want to reach out and push it away, kiss his eyelids, and touch his face ever so delicately. Your head lays on his arm. Hoongjoongs hoodie rid up his forearm, the scent gland on the bend of his elbow directly in front of you. Hongjoong smells.. like a ripe pear, tahitian vanilla, the heat from the sun, and sweet spices. You nuzzle deeper into his warmth, sighing gently into his chest.

Still foggy from sleep, every second that passes, you fall further into a dream state. Hongjoongs soft and quiet breathing echos in your mind.

Pictures pass in your vision, memories you haven't yet explore dance beyond the border of your sight. You dance silently, following where you lead yourself. Through doors that open without a sound and a floor that is void, your feet patter and swirl like raindrops on water. A distant noise echos. Hands reach out for yours, an assortment of them sticking out from the void and invisible walls that surround you. But you don't reach back. Your movements flow in a rhythm. When you stop to breathe, you sink into the floor. And fall continously. Echos of your struggles and inner thoughts consume you.

You wake up with a shudder, sitting up abruptly. You pat around you, you're in your bed. Hongjoong isn't here. You hope it's not because of what you said. You hope it's not because you made things awkward. You fall back into your comforters, sighing heavily. You stare at the crack in your bedroom door, watching figures pass and go. They block out the sun. The first to stop in the twenty minutes of you staring is Jongho. He pushes your door open softly. Two solid knocks hit your door.

"Want to get some breakfast?" He leans in, jongho is already dressed and ready. You hope he was waiting for you to wake up and ask you to tag along. You smile. "Yes"

The walk is brisk, just down the street to the coffee shop you visit most often in the morning. Jongho holds the door open for you, and you thank him. The smell of coffee hits you straight on. A pleasant surprise that makes your stomach grumble. Your mask stays put on your face, as does jonghos. Your arm wraps around his, a subconscious thing on your part. He doesn't pull away.

The line isn't long. A few stand around, picking and choosing their order. Many of the seats are taken. Chatter echoes in the large shop. "The usual?" Jongho nudges you, pulling your attention from the crowded strangers. He takes the lead compared to when you always do, you don't fight him about ordering like you usually would. "You know it," you smile, although you know the mask will block it. His eyes pull up, and you can tell he's smiling back.

You're compliant to the way he orders everyone's breakfast and drinks, something jongho finds strange for your behavior but boosts his ego a bit. You tell him the rest of the orders he forgets, leaning up to whisper it in his ear. He leans down and meets you halfway, so you aren't straining your still healing ankle. His hand falls to your mid back, steadying you.

"That's it, Thank you."

You lean up against the free space in the waiting area. Propping yourself up against the cold stone wall. This area is just as busy. You know the order will be a while. Jongho takes the spot next to you. Bumping shoulders. "How's your elbow?" He touches your arm gently.

You look down at it, a distant memory compared to the week you've had. "It's fine, it wasn't that bad." You shrug it off.

"If it wasn't, why were you in the hospital for a week?"

A lump forms in your throat. You advert your eyes to anything else. "I.. they wanted to run tests." That catches him off guard. "Tests? What for?" He leans on his shoulder to face you.

"Because i.." swallow the lump, don't word vomit. Please don't word vomit.

"Because I'm a -" ding! "order for Mr. Choi Jong!" Saved by the bell. God, it's so perfectly timed. Jongho stares at you for a second longer, his eyes scan you for answers. Like he's hoping you'll continue. Your mouth is glued. When he adverts his eyes, the emotion that crosses his features is like you did something terrible. He leaves to get the order when you don't look back up at him.

What are you doing? Are you crazy? Your hand falls to your forehead, rubbing the tension away. Jongho is silent the entire walk back. He takes the load of drinks and bags by himself, a few strides ahead. When you offer to help, he pulls away. "It's fine." he simply says. You flinch at his tone.

Just two more weeks.

The second week starts rocky. You haven't talked to yunho since the monitor incident. As well as jongho still being upset at you, hongjoong, avoiding you like the plague, and seonghwa not even giving you the time of day. You don't know what you did.

Your bed feels empty, as does your heart. You toss and turn all night long. Barely able to get any sleep for hours. A knock breaks you out of your tossing and turning habit. "Come in" you turn towards the door.

Mingi stands with his pillow tightly wrapped in his arms. Although childish, you find him cute. "Hey," you push yourself to sit up. He looks shy when he shifts on his feet, rolling his palm over your doorknob. "Can I sleep in here tonight?" He asks, it's mumbled, but you make out what he's asking.

Your lips poke up into a smile. You don't answer, just scooting over to the empty spot you were just upset about. You give him your warm spot instead. He giddily falls atop your spot, snuggly placing his pillow under his head.

"I sleep better in your room," he laughs, his eyes turn into cresents, and you stare at the way his face squishes into the pillow. You gently wiggle off the glasses from his nose, setting them aside on your side table. "It's because my room isn't messy," you snicker lightly.

Mingis whispering voice is just his normal voice, just less loud. You don't mind, though. You give him space. He hardly fits in your bed, yet he says he's the most comfortable in it. You can't tell if he's saying it to make you happy.

Mingi calls your name softly in the dark. "Yeah, mingi?" You whisper back, tucking your arm under your pillow. There's a few seconds of silence. It's uncommon when mingi is around. "I'm sorry again," he says so softly. You sigh. "it wasn't you mingi, you didn't do anything to hurt me that bad.." You close your eyes, excuse.

Excuse.

"...I had to get checked out because of my weird scent change thing going on." It's not true. You're feeling sick from lying so much. He hums. "So I didn't hurt you?" You laugh lightly. "No, min, you didn't hurt me." Your eyelids close. "I would never hurt you on purpose," he slurs in tired words. Your eyebrows furrow.

"I know.." You hear him shuffle closer. He reaches to grab your hand from under the pillow. His grip is soft. Your eyes stay closed.

Is this real?

"I'm here if you ever need anything." his thumb catches yours, intertwining your fingers. You sigh softly.

The amount of lying all week weighs heavy on your shoulders, mingi, who genuinely says what he means, twists your heart between his words. You try to breathe through the sudden sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

"I know." You answer with a shaky breath. You slip your hand out of his, and your world feels as if it's crumbling. Turning on your side away from him.

Just half a week. Half.

It's getting repetitive. Filming for another episode of a variety show you don't care for currently. You just miss your bed. You miss your boys. You miss being normal. You miss not having to hide. You miss being a beta.

"Your turn!" A finger points in your direction. You blink for a few seconds, gathering your wit. "i.. what am I supposed to do?" You laugh to cover the fact you weren't paying attention. The camera shines just out of view.

To keep up with performances, the majority of the boys all yell out the instructions. You get it, just a bit. San and Yeosang are at the top of the tower, having climbed all the way up with their gear.

You have to climb the tower. "Do I have to?" You bounce on your feet anxiously, looking towards the camera. Staff buckle you into your gear, the chatter getting lost whilst you get stuck in your head. You're not a big fan of heights.

You're really not a big fan of heights. You start noticing that when you shuffle across the platform to collect a red scarf. The premise of the game is to collect your color accessories, whilst also not allowed to go back if you miss any. Whatever team gets the most accessories wins. You're on Yeosang and Sans team. Paired in three.

Your rope is tied to san, whose rope is tied to yeosang. You don't think you got the strength in your arms to keep going. You power on anyway. Slipping your hand between spray painted fake rocks and clawing your way up.

Your helmet keeps slipping down your face. Surely, it's unfair that you got a helmet that doesn't even fit you. And dangerous. But mostly unfair.

"You got this!" Sans yell encourages you. You're in a particularly tough spot. You have to reach sideways to grab a pair of red sunglasses. It's the last thing you have to grab to win.

To your left, the blue team, which consists of wooyoung, yunho, and hongjoong, yells to each other. You try to drown it out and focus on your own team.

You just gotta reach over. You wedge yourself as close as you can.

Just reach. You can hear the game hosts encouraging you on, shouts of surprise.

Your fingertips just barely scrape it, almost knocking it off the ledge it's on. You shuffle, your single hand holding onto a rock is getting sweaty. You breath cautiously, reaching out again.

It's so close.

And then you grab it.

Shouts from San and yeosang make you smile. You're proud of yourself. You go to turn back, slipping from your left foot. Oh no. You're slipping, trying to get a solid hold on the rock. You slip the sunglasses on your head, hoping to be able to get your right hand free to grab the ledge.

San and yeosang are only a few feet up, not close enough for you to reach for. You've got to maneuver yourself out of the spot you're in. You don't know if you can. You wiggle and twist your waist, stretching your right arm above you.

Your fingers wiggle to get a good grip on the jagged red rock you grabbed. You're not as muscular as you thought as you try to use your right arm to pull your full body weight further up.

You strain it so, to the point where when you finally get yourself up. You have to shake off the hurt. Just two more rocks. Two more big reaches.

Two seems to appear a lot lately.

Distant shouting of all the teams catch your attention. Wooyoung is gaining speed. He's on his last accessory, a few feet behind you. When he sees you staring, he smirks like a predator, gaining speed.

Your movements are calculated but rushed. You keep pushing the helmet back on your head. The sunglasses slip down over your eyes, somewhat blocking your view. You're sweating bullets at this point.

Yeosangs hand is a saving grace. He pulls you up by your right wrist whilst san pulls your left arm. As soon as you get up, you book it to the table you have to put the accessories on.

Your team wins. Confetti cascades around you. You cheer happily, jumping around and laughing out of breath.

How it feels to be victorious.

You look to yeosang and San. They stare, shocked.

You wipe the sweat off your brow. The sweet scent hitting your nostrils.

Oh no.

You swipe the sweat away as quickly as you can, pulling the roll on bottle out of your pocket. Hurry. You try to twist the top off. Rolling the scent onto your scent glands and over your forehead as much as you can.

It's no doubt in your mind. They smelt your real scent. They know. You don't turn to look. You don't even want to know what they're thinking. Your breathing turns shallow.

Fuck.

Your world is crashing.

This time for real.

You take the emergency stairs. Ignoring the calls of yeosang and san. Stripping the gear off of you as you go. You don't care if you're ruining the victory shot. You just gotta get out of here.

You're wondering the hallways when wooyoung finds you. Hot tears stream down your face. Why are you even crying? You don't know. Maybe you're scared this will change everything. Maybe you're scared you messed up again and ruined it.

Wooyoungs hand is a soft pull to your wrist. You yank yourself out of his grip. Pain flashes his features. He says your name gently. You continue to sob. "What? What now" you huff. Wiping your tears harshly.

"Tell me what's wrong -" "Nothing!" You painfully shout, stepping away from his distressed smell. "Nothing is wrong. Nothing is ever wrong." You laugh at your situation. Wooyoungs hand clenches in the air. His hair falls over his eyes messily. He's still in the outfit he was wearing for the game, minus the gear. It's as if he came looking straight for you.

Just for you.

Wooyoungs mouth falls open and close. You dont think about whether or not he has something to say. You don't want to even look. "Just go away, please"

Wooyoung face is painted in pain. You know he doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to react. "Omega, please." he whispers.

Your sobs stop. Your tear stained face whips around, and your shocked face is evidence you weren't expecting that.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. "We need to talk," he sighs, allowing him to walk up. He takes your wrists in his hands gently. His thumb rubs soothing circles on your wrists.

Silently, tears stream. You don't have the energy to pull away.

You ruined everything. They know.

A/n; cliff hanger bc my phone is glitching out BAD. IM SORRY! hopefully, the two chapts will make up for it. Thanks for all the support ♡.

Taglist: @lelaleleb @bratty-tingz @0325tiny @smilefordongil @atinytinaa @unripeapple7 @ja3hwa @stopeatread (thanks for your support ♡)

[paymechildsupport]

"Sink your teeth in me"... // Heian!Sukuna x Reader

He just wants one... teeny tiny bite...

-!! Unsanitary, cannibalism used as a literal form for "love", slight body horror, food play (in a way), Sukuna is genuinely so kitten coded ┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

----- -- ------ ■━■━■━■ ------- -----

He likes food-- eating is canonically his favorite pastime

So what if in the past he got a lil carried away, -- took a lil nibble, a quant chomp outta your flesh? He's entitled to that much, right? I mean, you should feel honored, the King of Curses deemed you as something fit to eat-- that doesn't just happen to anyone now

Back in the Heian Era, he may just stop by your humble abode from time to time, grace you with his presence like the benevolent creature he is.

You're all bloody, and it's not even yours. You feel sick, the tangy taste of bile boiling in the back of your throat, the metallic smell of blood invading your nose. You were going to be sick

But don't worry! Sukuna will be more than happy to clean you up himself-- he's just a nice guy like that.

The river? No, silly! His tongue is a much more adequate bath for you, -- and good thing he has so much of it. Embracing you, cleansing you of the stains of his sins, he'll hold you as he laps the blood from your skin. It may take quite a bit, only working from the top down, -- which is why you're in luck because it so happens that he can always just spawn more! Mouths on each of his four hands, latching on and suckling on tender skin wherever he grabbed, as if you were some fine candy. You yelp, feeling the large, wet mass of the mouth on his stomach. Usually just a simple slit in his torso, you vastly underestimated how big the thing actually was. Its tongue swipes out, licking its lips, smearing Sukuna's saliva all over his own stomach. He couldn't care less. The warm, pink muscle snakes out, swiping a long, wet line all the way up your back, ripping a shudder from your body. You were so slick with his spit, your skin had a watery sheen to it, -- god he was so sloppy with it, making such a huge mess of himself and you, but that was always half the fun, the obscene provocative nature of the act what made it so appealing in the first place. You were so pretty, skin all red and angry from him licking it raw, your entire figure littered with adoring marks. He just loved you like this, laid bare and shivering in his arms, dripping with his spit-- you were so vulnerable, so trusting to leave yourself in such a compromising position at his feet, perfect for the taking. He would ravish you.

He'll start with a lil' kiss, -- something cute. Just a wee lil' sample. Maybe you'll even get more than one, a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your neck down to your collarbone. You wouldn't mind if he took a little lick, right? Just like a kitten, little careful swipes of his tongue, licking up your spine. You just taste very sweet, he jus' wanna taste some of his beloved human some more, -- because he loves his darling fleshbag human. He adores you so, simply just indulge this for him. He'd start to take small nips at the soft flesh of your neck, his sharp, elongated canines teasing over your jugular..... nahh, he wouldn't do that to you. He'd relish in your slight spike of adrenaline at the immanent death poking at your windpipe-- he quite literally has you in his jaws, -- like a little rabbit in the jaws of a big bad wolf. He's practically drooling, thin strings of his saliva drip down into the crook of your neck. His breaths are long and almost labored, each exhale sending a resounding shudder throughout his body, pressed at your back. He's starving, you the five-course meal that's gonna fill this empty void of his stomach. Certainly, you can't deny him this, this tiny small thing. He takes the skin over your shoulders between his teeth, sucking softly. Just a lil' more, that's all he needs, just one more small bite, you're doing so well for him. Drops of blood peek out from the indents made from his sharp fangs, which he eagerly laps at. Just a lil' more... yeah, just like that, let him gnaw at your shoulder, -- you just taste so good he almost can't control himsel-- oh, there go your shoulder blades, whoops

He really didn't meaaaaaan to, honestly :( you're just so good- you can't blame him for getting carried away-- I mean, it is technically your fault for tasting so damn delectable. He wanted your heart, and he'd tear it out with his teeth if he had to. You just bring out that animalistic side in him, -- hunger is the main utility for survival, afterall. Even the most simplest of organisms have to feed on something. He loved you like a wolf, a ravenous wolf who just came across their next meal-- snarling and slobbering and so, so messy

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

[youremyonepiece]

salty afflictions

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), reader's pov

your powers come with unique dietary restrictions, but sanji's not one to back down from a challenge (especially not if it's you).

warnings: none, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 1.9k

"okay," sanji says, tone verging on exasperation, "let me get this straight." he peers at you through his furrowed curly eyebrows, but there is no malice in his stare-- only disbelief. "you can't eat salt?"

you laugh uncomfortably at the question. the rest of the straw hats have their eyes fixed on you as well, waiting earnestly for your answer. most of their plates lie forgotten in front of them; only luffy is moving, shoveling food into his mouth with both hands, but he too is staring directly at you. sanji is standing in front of you, a matching plate balancing on one of his hands. your own grip tightens around your carrot as you shift and shrink under the weight of everyone's combined gazes before taking a small chomp to hopefully diffuse some of the tension.

it doesn't work.

it makes things worse.

the carrot feels like dry mulch as you chew and swallow it loudly. everyone else simply continues to stare, the moment dragging on as they wait for you to respond.

you let out another uncomfortable laugh once your mouth is empty before clearing your throat. "um, yeah," you finally manage to say. you resist the urge to slam your head into the dinner table at your eloquence and continue, "the salt content in my body would get too high. i'd be no different than a puddle of sea water. which would, um-- which would be bad."

you can't stop another laugh from defensively bubbling through your lips. sanji notices and moves away to put your plate in front of luffy (with him around, no food would ever go to waste). "well," he says, pointedly nonchalant as he takes his seat and leans back to take a drag from his cigarette. "i love a good challenge, and you certainly are a lovely one." a smirk forms around his cigarette and just like that, the tension in the room shatters. you throw a grateful look in his direction as the crew's attention turns away from you and back to their dinners.

"typical sanji," usopp says with a playful roll of his eyes before shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth. "still, that must suck."

"yeah," you say in response. "i mean, i'm used to it, but i definitely miss some foods. it saved my life, though," you say with a shrug, "so it is what it is." you take another bite of your carrot, larger than the last in hopes of deterring anyone from asking you any more questions.

you feel someone's eyes on you again and turn your head to see sanji staring at you. there's still a smile on his face and in his eyes-- you can't help but hold your breath as you meet his gaze. he's looking at you as though he’s just discovered a new type of fish, you think to yourself. like he can't wait to experiment and discover the best ways to filet, bake, fry you up.

unlike with the others, being under sanji’s gaze doesn’t make you squirm in your seat. instead, you find yourself feeling comfortably warm-- you’re always comfortable with sanji. he’s been nothing but considerate and thoughtful from the start, and you knew he would never do anything to hurt you.

well, he would never do anything to hurt any woman, not just you.

you ignore the turning of your stomach-- get real, he would never feel the same way about you-- and instead avert your eyes to take great interest in your carrot. wow, it sure is orange--

"you'll have to allow me to borrow some of your time later, sweetheart," sanji says, interrupting your riveting thoughts. "we'll figure out what i can cook for you. can't have you going hungry, now can we?" he winks at you and you feel the heat creep up your neck and into your cheeks.

“um-- sure,” you say, and you're sure your face is bright red. gosh, did you have to be so awkward?

to your relief, though, franky starts talking excitedly about his ideas for new upgrades on the sunny, and with that the flow of the conversation is thankfully diverted away from you and the side effects of your hydro-hydro logia devil fruit. you finish your carrot as quickly as you can before quietly excusing yourself from the group and scurrying out onto the deck.

and though you don’t dare look up to confirm it, you swear you feel sanji’s eyes on you the entire time until you’ve left the room. but no-- there’s no way. you’re imagining it, letting your fantasies get the better of you. he wouldn’t have watched you leave, not when nami and robin were still in the room with him.

(if you had looked up, though, you would have found you were right.)

you’re sitting on a bench by nami’s tangerine trees the next morning after breakfast, absentmindedly flipping through a novel you borrowed from robin. it’s an unusually calm, placid day, the weather perfect and the soft breeze refreshing. the kind of day you want to spend outside and doing nothing. it’s easy to zone out the various noises from your crewmates: luffy’s joyful yelling followed closely by chopper’s worried shouts, zoro’s rumbling snores, nami’s playful teasing at usopp’s desperate rambling, sanji’s... footsteps?

you look up from the book to find the blond man walking calmly towards you with his blazer slung over his shoulder, an easy smile gracing his lips. it grows as your eyes meet, but he doesn’t speak until he comes to a stop a few feet away from you. “hello, gorgeous. got a minute? i wanted to get your thoughts on a few dishes i whipped up earlier for you.”

be cool, you tell yourself. be calm, casual-- “yeah, of course! i’d love to!” great job.

but you can’t feel upset for too long, not when sanji’s face lights up at your response. not when he’s holding a hand out for you to take. your cheeks grow warm (surprise, surprise) as you pause, taking in the sight of the kind man in front of you and his breathtaking smile, before reaching out to take his hand.

you’re hyper-aware of his fingers against yours as he gently guides you to the kitchen and can’t help the wave of disappointment that washes over you when he pulls away to drape his jacket over a bar chair and roll up his shirt sleeves. he motions you over to the table before turning away to grab a couple plates from the kitchen counter.

“so,” he begins as he places various dishes in front of you, “i normally use salt in just about every dish i make. it’s a flavor enhancer-- without it, most foods would taste flat and bland.” he places the last dish in front of you before straightening and flashing one of his brilliant smiles at you. (if you were in a cartoon, your heart would have just doki-doki-ed out of your chest.) “but there’s other ways to bring flavor into food, and there’s beauty in simple foods, too.”

you take in the various foods in front of you; each plate contains no more than maybe five spoonfuls of food, but there are so many. salads and soups and stews and snacks-- so many foods you hadn’t eaten since getting your powers. sanji pushes one of the plates closer to you-- a colorful pile of leafy greens and veggies, topped with what looks like olive oil and a freshly squeezed lemon wedge-- and takes the seat across from you. “salads, of course, are an easy answer. the best salads use fresh vegetables and high quality oil, and as long as you balance the flavors well, you won’t even miss the saltier ingredients like cheese.”

intrigued, you bring a forkful to your mouth, and-- wow. you never had been a huge fan of salads, especially since they now consisted of the majority of your meals, but this is easily the best salad you’ve ever had. you clean the plate within a couple seconds, much to sanji’s apparent delight.

and so he continues, explaining his reasoning behind each dish and watching intently as you practically inhale the food. “sanji,” you say in between dishes after what must have been over half an hour of food tasting, “this is amazing. i don’t think i’ve had food that tastes this good ever-- not even before i ate my devil fruit. i can’t believe you did all this for me.”

it’s his turn to blush at your words, and for some reason his bashfulness makes you feel embarrassed as well. you shut your mouth and look back down at the plate in front of you: cauliflower chunks he had coated in a spiced batter before frying and coating in a sauce made from nami’s tangerines. it’s true, though-- every single dish you had tasted had been phenomenal, so clearly made with kindness. you had resigned yourself to eating raw veggies for the rest of your life, and the fact that sanji had come up with a whole slew of meals that you could eat despite your power-induced diet, that too within a day of learning about it... no one had ever done something so thoughtful for you before.

your thoughts are interrupted by an unexpectedly acrid scent-- is something... burning? you look up from the plate, frowning, and almost immediately spot the smoking pan on the stove. “sanji! the pan!”

sanji, who had been staring at you with a dazed look in his eyes, seems to come to his senses with a few blinks. he glances backwards towards the stove and does a double-take in shock before leaping to his feet and rushing over to the burning pan. “merde! so sorry, love-- i must have forgotten to turn it off-- i was so excited to see your reaction--” he hisses suddenly, pulling his hand back with a jerk.

“sanji! did you burn yourself?” you’re on your feet, too, reaching his side within a blink of an eye. you take his hand in yours without hesitation, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“darling, you should stay back, the fire--”

within seconds, you’ve doused the stove in water using your free hand. you then turn your eyes back to sanji’s burn, frowning in concentration as you coat the reddening skin with your cold water. “it doesn’t look too bad,” you murmur, eyes locked on his wound, “but you should still have chopper check it out.”

“will do,” he responds softly, and you freeze-- his voice is so close. you were so close.

you look up, throat dry as you meet his eyes. you feel your cheeks heat up yet again, but you can’t bring yourself to step away-- you can’t bring yourself to move. “you should--” you stop to clear your throat-- “you should be more careful.”

“i always am, but something about you makes me forget where i am.” he must see the question in your eyes, because he quickly adds, “in a good way, of course.”

“yeah, um-- same,” you say intelligently.

he laughs at your response, eyes full of affection as they remain on you. “c’mon,” he says, softly tapping your cheek with his uninjured hand before stepping slightly away from you, “we still have a few dishes to go.”

gosh, you think, stunned in place as you watch him move back towards the table. this man is truly going to be the death of you.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Crazy Cars

Debut: WarioWare, Inc.: Mega Microgame$!

I hate cars. Wretched contraptions! Wretched infrastructure! Far too dangerous for any average schmuck to have total control over. Thankfully, WarioWare has asked the question of "what if cars were sillyfunny instead? What if they were goofy? And what if they were trying to kill Wario and nobody else?". And they made a bunch of wacky cars! And now I will share them with you, using the updated sprites from Gold! Sorry it the wheel placements are a few pixels off. It's ok.

Shark Car is the main character of the funny cars! You've heard of shark faces painted onto warplanes to make them more intimidating (which is hilarious. If that intimidates someone then they would be fooled by a moth's eyespots) but this car is an entire shark, upon some wheels! A speeding car would be a very bad thing to be struck by, and potentially even worse if that car is a shark. Imagine such a high speed chomp! Jeepers! But also imagine it hits you with its nose and gets a little disoriented after you get sent flying. It was having so much fun driving its self!

Next is Hot Dog Car! Or maybe a different kind of sausage, because it's so girthy. What's so funny? Stop laughing! I didn't mean it like that! I would never say "penis" in one of these posts. This Fast Frank is very endearing to me for how it looks like a novelty car for a hot dog vendor to drive! You just know a hot dog vendor in Bikini Bottom would drive one of these babies.

My favorite of the original trio! Potato Car! This is the tallest of the three, but also the shortest in a width sense. For whatever reason, some cars get regular green wheels, while others get yellow wheels that squash and stretch like a cartoon. Potato is always a splendid and funny thing to see in any situation, including barreling down the road to kill you! Shark, Hot Dog, and Potato are an interesting trio. Shark and Hot Dog are both made of meat. Hot Dog and Potato are both basic foods. Shark and Potato both have a bunch of little dots (potato eyes, and ampullae of Lorenzini). And what do all three have in common? Wheels!

WarioWare Gold added three NEW funny cars! The first is Lightbulb, which is honestly the least interesting to me, so instead I will use this paragraph to say that the funny cars can be Tricky. Sometimes instead of just driving, they will jump! It is very hard to react to. But sometimes, the usual "Dodge!" prompt will be replaced with "Dodge?" and the car will suddenly stop, and then either reverse or stay still for the remainder of the time. I hope that if you thought these funny cars were simply being pushed from offscreen, you now believe that they have free will.

Teapot Car has a trick up its spout...! Sometimes, it will stop, but rather than reversing, its lid will open, and spit out a smaller teapot car! The previously discussed cars have all had tiny versions that can spawn, but Teapot Car is the only one that releases its baby into the world before our eyes. Maybe the others come out of funny car birth canals off screen. Tiny cars will just bounce of Wario if they touch him, giving this microgame quite a few unloseable variants! I don't care about the challenge, though, I care about the funny cars! And I've saved the best for last!

This is not just "Door Car". This one has been given a name, as it appears in the Wario Kard minigame as an opponent. This is Door to Nowhere! A door is already a pretty silly thing to be hurtling toward you dangerously. Just move to the side a bit. But are you forgetting about Door's Special Attack? Door can open! And this door can stop rolling, but then open, and release another car out of itself! I really love the concept of portable cartoon passages like this. I don't see it often, and the only other one that comes to mind is the portable hole teleport feature from ToonTown, but it is so whimsical!

That is all for this post! Good bye! *enters a door that then drives away*

[shiny-kaibernyte]

begging for more drayton romance hcs pls! 💜

Ask and you shall receive💜

Pokémon Headcanons | Drayton (Romance) Part 2

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!

Been storing up more romance headcanons for our toothpaste man since the first one of these I wrote. hope I have met your expectations 💜💜

SPOILER WARNING AHEAD (Indigo Disk Main Story)

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He loves to hold your hand when walking around the school together. He has no shame in showing everyone you are the one he loves and the one who has a lock on his heart. If you are more shy, he will only do what is comfortable for you, so if that's no hand holding, he will simply give you a special smile only you get to see.

If you’re a Pokémon battler, expect to battle him on the regular. Not just double battles either, every kind of battle.

Forehead kisses. Drayton loves giving them to you, just holding your face in his hands whilst he kisses your forehead. It's very comforting to him. As an added bonus, whenever you two are walking together, if you feel nervous he will kiss your hand and squeeze it lightly, in a hope to comfort you even the slightest.

Sleeps like a log. He can be quite laid back by nature and can fall asleep on a dime. But once he is asleep, good luck getting him back up again! Throw water on him, asleep. Shake him, asleep. Scream in his ear, asleep. But if your poor soul is stuck under him when asleep, get comfy because you are not moving for a while. Try and roll him, and you will fail; he’s got you trapped in a cuddle lock.

Drayton can be quite lazy, he doesn’t like going on long trips. But with the right motivation, he would go anywhere and everywhere with you, so long as there is a bedroll and cover from the rain. Oh, and food! 

He once tried to cook dinner for you as a surprise, he may or may not have started a fire… Crispin was his favourite person that day

Rarely ever calls you by name. Drayton’s favourite names for you are: love, sweetheart, treasure, starlight, songbird and darling. Though, he can get creative and surprise you with others on the rare occasion, just to fluster you.

If you are sick, he will react in one of two ways, depending on how sick. If it’s something small, like a minor cold, he will just make sure you get plenty of rest and stay hydrated; he knows it will pass and that if you are walking around just fine, he won’t fuss. OOOOO but if you are really sick, to the point all you want to do is lay in bed and need a bin by your side, the world better step aside because he is coming through and is bringing every possible thing you could need and more.

His love language is physical touch, he loves to just hold you close and show you that you are safe with him. 

Your Agias and him have a rivalry with one another. Food is their best friend, so any time you make a sandwich, expect them to fight over them. Even if you make enough for everyone - they will try to steal the sandwich from the other. Agias has been known to just yoink it right out of his hands, whilst Drayton will throw a ball to distract Agias then chomp it like a Greedant.

If you are a gamer, he is your new player 2. If he has no idea what he is doing, expect to have the time of your life and no lung capacity. Because the things he will do will be way too funny.

Has zero sense of direction, he just wanders around and hopes for the best. And somehow, unlike Leon, actually ends up where he's supposed to be 9/10 times on time! Granted, he will not go the way he’s meant to, but will get there! You may have to go retrieve him from a cliffside at some point, though.