#a predator will eventually get them and my brain will eventually get me.

[kittlyns]

Need to get OUT of this goddamn town but there really aren't any other options

[lovelybluebirdie]

A sight to behold

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: Astarion is far more than his beauty, and you want him to know.

Word Count: 1,7k

fluff, comfort

[AO3]

“You should get some rest, love,” Astarion whispers against your hair. He holds you comfortably in his arms, your fingers loosely grasping the end of his collar while his hand strokes along your waist, caressing your battle-bruised skin. 

Usually sleep didn’t take long to claim you after an exhausting day of defeating vigorous creatures or learning another disturbing fact on the tadpole inside your brain, but tonight it seems to avoid you for some reason, leaving you tossing and turning within your bedroll until Astarion eventually pulled you into a loving embrace.

“I’m good,” you mutter as a deep yawn escapes your throat, smothering your last syllables.

Astarion cups your chin between his thumb and index finger, surveying your face. “You’re a weary little love if I ever saw one.” 

“Fine, you’ve got me,” you reply in a drowsy voice. “Maybe I am a little tired, but somehow I can't find any sleep.”

His brow furrows. “Is anything troubling you, my dear?” he asks sincerely, pondering if he might’ve done something wrong.

The unpleasant thought has no room to spread its hooks any further, as he's met with only fondness from your tired eyes, leaving his ribcage bursting with adoration.

“No need to worry about me, Astarion. I promise, everything’s alright,” you assure as you begin to massage his ears, causing them to twitch.

“You still need to get some sleep though,” he scolds with half-closed lids. It's more of a moan, as he’s unable to suppress his desire for your blissful fingers to go on. You seem to know exactly where he enjoys them most, he notices, when another quiet groan spills from his lips. 

You brush the pointy tip of his ear once more, cautiously not to overstimulate this sensitive part of him, before you rest your fingers on his neck and playfully raise an eyebrow.

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to indulge in your beauty a little longer before I find myself dozing off.”

A benign remark, and yet something inside Astarion shifts. Something he can’t fully fathom at first, a faint sense of melancholy starting to linger, despite the comfort of your touch.

He’s been called beautiful more times than he can remember, but he’ll never be able to judge for himself, being robbed of his reflection since Cazador turned him into a vampire spawn centuries ago – his own appearance remaining a dark shape from his past.

“Beauty you say?” he mumbles quietly. “Tell me then, what is it you see when looking at me?”

Your expression softens as you grasp for his hand and squeeze it lightly. It seems you’ve already caught his musings, as you often do, without him needing to vocalise that something’s on his mind.

“Well, your most outstanding features are probably your piercing eyes – crimson, like rubies,” you explain before resting a kiss on his cheek. 

Astarion listens attentively. His gaze must indeed be exceptionally sharp, he thinks, trying for a brief moment to recall the colour his eyes were before he was turned, but to no avail. A shiver runs down his spine as he wonders if you might think of him as a dangerous predator at times, uncertain whether this poses a pleasant or a frightening notion.

“Sometimes they’re full of anger, resembling freshly shed blood. And other times they’re… so soft. Reminding me of the cutest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen, almost competing with Scratch,” you giggle as you draw your thumb along his cheekbone, right where your lips parted from his skin.

Astarion stares at you in bewilderment. “What do you mean – puppy eyes?! I’m a century-old vampire spawn, not some gushing maiden.”

“You asked what I’d see when I’m looking at you, didn’t you?” You offer him a mischievous grin before blowing a strand of hair off his forehead. “Or do you prefer me to stop?” 

Astarion rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. “Fine, go on.” 

Although not particularly delighted by the comparison you draw, he can’t resist the urge to listen to you further describing him.

“There are also your beautiful white curls – so smooth that I often find myself wondering which soap you use for them to stay that way,” you say as you take one of said strands between your fingers. “Come to think of it, those are probably one of my favourite parts of you, my love.”

“Mhm, I certainly have the best hair in camp,” Astarion purrs approvingly, a smug grin playing around his lips, vanishing the furrow on his brow from your previous remark.

“Don’t let Shadowheart hear,” you joke before continuing. “Of course I also adore your smile – seeing those little wrinkles when you laugh.”

Astarion’s grin freezes as he quickly feels the spot beneath his temples.

“My sweet, you surely must’ve noticed by now that one of a vampire spawn’s rare perks is eternal youth, so I’m quite positive that there are no such things as wrinkles on my face.”

“If you say so,” you chuckle as you reach for his hands to press loving kisses on his fingertips. “This was supposed to be a compliment, you know.”

“Perhaps if I wasn’t your lover, but your doting grandmother,” he grumbles with pursed lips, but doesn’t pull away. 

“I sense you desire to listen to some of your less grandmotherly features, then?”

Astarion battles another grin but loses, his lips twisting to a wry smile. “Yes, please.” 

It's true, he doesn’t want you to stop, secretly enjoying how sincere you express your sentiments.

“Let’s see if I find some, though…” you tease, earning a gentle nudge to your hip before your eyes are glued to his face again. “Honestly, you're stunningly beautiful, Astarion – a goddamn sight to behold.” 

Astarion’s smile widens at your flattery. “Oh dear, that sounds far better than being described with the attributes of an old lady.”

“As I thought,” you reply, brushing one of his curls behind his ear. “But do you want to know what I adore about you most?”

Astarion's eyes grow round. “As humble as I am, I'm always thrilled to receive some more praise.”

He notices a flush to your cheeks as you let your finger slowly trace along the bridge of his nose, until it comes to a rest on his lips. 

You clear your throat, seeming in search of the right words. 

“You’re so much more than your beauty,” you begin, your fingertip still resting on his bottom lip. He presses a kiss, his curiosity roused.

“I love the way you make me laugh, like no one else can, despite all the madness we have to endure. Or watching you reading for hours, chuckling at little passages you like. Seeing how you squint when you take in the details while you embroider a piece of fabric.” 

You pause to cup his face in your hands and smother him with gentle kisses, starting at his jaw, moving up to his nose and then his eyes. Astarion remains silent, graciously relishing your warmth. 

Your words and touch are like a balm, and not for the first time he wonders how he came to deserve such kindness.

“Your skin is cold, yes, but no one has ever kept me this warm when being in their presence. You’re brave, and despite everything you had to endure, you turned into this wonderful man I came to love more than everything I ever held dear. You're most precious to me Astarion, and I never want to spend a day without knowing you by my side.”

It’s not often that Astarion finds himself speechless, and yet your genuine affection robs him of the ability to respond. He has to hold back tears that dwell behind his fluttering lashes.

Deprived of his ability to speak he can only press a kiss to your forehead, followed by another peck to the tip of your nose, before his lips crash into yours – hastily, in need of you.

Astarion can sense your pulse quickening as his tongue enters your mouth, a soft moan escaping your lips while your hand runs through his hair. 

He gently bites your lower lip, the initial rush of his kiss replaced by a sudden tenderness, a flutter spreading right where his dead heart once beat.

Astarion has never felt like this with anyone but you. Perhaps you've turned him into a love-struck maiden after all, he thinks with a smile as he kisses you once more, gentle and soft, before your lips part and he glances at your endearing eyes, finding his voice again.

“I love you too, you cheeky little thing. Even if you have the guts to describe me like a grandmother first, and then almost make me weep from your loving words,” he chuckles while grasping the fabric of your nightgown to pull you closer against his body.

Astarion is used to conceal his emotions behind his jesting shell, and yet when he’s with you, his façade naturally crumbles.

“Guilty as charged,” you reply fondly.

“But honestly… Thank you,” Astarion speaks softly. “For seeing me, like no one else does.” His words come out raw, honest. “You know I don't pray to any of the gods, but if I did, I'm sure I would've caught myself thanking them for bringing you into my life. You're a vision, and through the time I spend with you, it almost feels like my dead heart starts beating again.”

“You’d better stop with that loving talk yourself, before we'll both start to weep,” you laugh as you reach for the corner of your eye, a single wet streak glistening on your skin.

Astarion moves up to kiss it away. “As much as I like to revel in our mutual affection, I don't wish to see more of your tears.”

“Well, perhaps we should call it a night then. I’m certain I’ll find some rest soon,” you whisper as you shift closer in the crook of his arm. 

“You truly should, as I'm positive there’ll be more shenanigans awaiting us tomorrow,” Astarion replies and places a kiss on your hair. “Sleep well, my love.”

“You too, Astarion,” you hum, sounding slightly weary again. Maybe sleep has decided in your favour after all, he thinks as he notices your breath becoming more even.

When you finally doze off in the safety of his embrace, Astarion's chest is filled with warmth over the love he holds for you.

Masterlist

[enbyfvcker]

[Poke the bear and face the consequences]

𝙒𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 (𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩!𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2,8k

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Logan gets enough of Wade's teasing and decides to use other tactics to shut the merc's mouth.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: Smut, top!Logan, bottom!Wade, dom/sub dynamic, masochism, sadism, brat-taming, oral sex, face fucking, anal fingering, anal sex, orgasm control, orgasm denial, edging, degradation kink, blood, violence (claws are used).

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.

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It's common knowledge that Wade Wilson does not know when to shut up.

People call him the merc with a mouth for a goddamn reason, and it took minutes after meeting Wade to Logan learn that.

It doesn't matter how many times Logan drills his claws into Wade, how many times he breaks his bones or punch him, Wade always says some shit that pissed him off.

The guy did not have a fucking filter, his mouth works faster than his brain and yeah it did got him into a hell lot of trouble but it's not like he ever learns.

Despite the affection for Wade slowly growing in Logan, it did not changed the fact that the merc was fucking infuriating.

Now and then, Logan would drill Wade into their shared apartment's walls or floor with his claws through his organs whenever he'd crack a joke that had Logan growling with rage, and Althea would always shout for them to clean the goddamn blood from the carpet.

Either Wade's a fucking masochist or he just enjoys poking the bear. Or maybe he's just stupid. Maybe a combination of all above.

The thing is: Logan was having none of it. If his methods weren't working, then he'd simply find new ones.

...

After Logan moved in, he quickly got bored. Between sitting around in the apartment and spending hours in random bars, there wasn't much to do. So, eventually, he accepted Wade's invitations to join him in his mercenary jobs.

It wasn't really what he was used to. After spending so much time working with the X-men, he couldn't help but have Charles's voice in the back of his head when he'd help kill Wade's targets.

But it's not like he didn't spend the last years in a killing spree without an ounce of a moral compass, so now that he was killing actual bad people, it didn't weight on him so much. Besides, it helped pay the bills, so win-win.

In this job, though, Wade was more mouthy than usual. And that's saying something.

"Gosh, Wolvie, your suit really should come with a boner warning. Didn't know it was my birthday, that cake's outstanding." Wade babbles as Logan slices through a guy, both of them fighting a dozen criminals at the same time. "Wish I was wearing my white pants."

"Do you ever shut the fuck up, bub? Focus on the damn mission and zip it." Logan growls, driving his claws into two guys at once, a cacophony of screams filling the abandoned warehouse they found themselves in.

"Sorry, can't control myself when you're in that heavenly comic-accurate outfit, peanut." He remarks while piercing his katanas through one of them. "Makes me want to put those bj-handles to test."

Logan snarls, but before he could curse at Wade, he grunts when 6 bullets pierce him at once from behind. If his mood wasn't great, then now it just got damn worse. He turns around to see a man desperately pulling the trigger of his now empy pistoll and walking backward in fear as Logan stalks like a fucking predator before using both his claws to cut through the man, an animalistic growl leaving him.

"Oh god, I'm soaking wet right now. Can I be next?" Wade comments as he slices the last one of them, a pile of bodies around the place.

When Logan's victim drops dead, he sighs as his body rejects the bullets, a pained grunt leaving his throat.

"Yeah, any other funny quip and you're right next on the list."

"I'm 'bout to do a fucking stand up act, then, peanut." Wade retorted, gasping when Logan roughly grab him by his collar.

"I'm not in the fucking mood, bub. Quit it." He warns through gritted teeth, and he was almost sure he could see Wade grinning behind his mask.

"Oh, you know me better than that, baby girl." Wade teases, running his finger sensually against Logan's chest and his control barely slips as he just grunts and shoves Wade with force.

"Let's just get the fuck home, already. Contact your guy, say we did the job." Logan walks through the bloody bodies, the merc following right behind him like an excited puppy.

Wade chuckles. "You're so sexist! Who said it was a guy?"

"Isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is, but my point remains."

"Let's just wrap it up, Wade."

...

"Honey, I'm home!" Wade shouts when they got in their apartment. They realized Al was out, probably walking mary puppins or at the market or something. The author wasn't feeling much creative to tend to side characters.

Logan sighs with frustration, sliding off the upper part of his suit as soon as he closes the door. He was sweaty from the fight, and he could hear a whisle behind him.

"I swear I can still hear Madonna in my head whenever you take your shirt off. I mean, look at those boobies-"

"Shut. Up." He growls. "I'm not saying it again." He was about to walk to the bathroom to take a shower when Wade made him turn around:

"Alrighty, if you jerk off, can I put a glass on the door and hear it?"

Usually, Logan has a level of tolerance over Wade's idiotic jokes, but they were getting more and more flirtatious, and now it not only pissed him off but it also send a mix of animalistic arousal through him and it confused the shit out of him.

Before he realizes it, he has Wade against the wall.

"Ooh, 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑦."

Logan was gritting his teeth and looking at the merc like he was about to gut him right then and there, and Wade actually thought he was going to.

For a while, Logan decided to see Wade's obvious teasing as simply jokes. He was never sure if the merc actually meant the shit he says, but well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Get on your fucking knees." Logan orders in a dark tone, not leaving room for arguments. "𝘕𝘰𝘸."

For a few seconds, Wade was speechless, and as much as Logan loved him silent, he thought maybe he had read it wrong. Maybe it was all jokes, after all.

"What-" The mercs eyes drift down to the raging bulge against his thigh, and god, he may be daydreaming this. "Oh, 𝘨𝘰𝘥, yes daddy." Wade moans, already kneeling in front of Logan.

"Do 𝘯𝘰𝘵 call me that."

"Too late!" He says while making quick work of Logan's belt.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Lose the mask." And Wade did as told, unzipping his mask and throwing it somewhere, he didn't cared. He pulled Logan's pants and boxers down, and Logan stepped out of them, standing completely naked in front of Wade and with a very large erection tall and proud.

"Oh my god. Did you stabbed me in the brain and now I'm hallucinating?"

Logan doesn't respond, instead gripping Wade's jaw tight and gripping himself at the base of his cock. "Put that damn mouth to good use, will ya, bub." He smirks, not waiting before filling the mercs mouth to the brim with his lenght.

Wade fucking 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 with his eyes and suck greedily, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue around Logan's dick, the musky taste of him making his rock hard cock twitch in the confines of his suit.

Logan groans in pleasure, looking down at Wade on his knees and with his mouth full of him and best of all, fucking quiet. It's a goddamn head rush.

"Finally, some fucking peace." He grunts, gripping the back of Wade's bald head and starting to move his hips steadily to fuck into the mercs mouth, reaching deep into his throat until his lips meet his hairy groin and watching with a smirk as Wade gags and his eyes get glossy.

"If I knew this is all it took to shut 'ur sassy mouth, I would've done this ages ago." He thrusts particularly hard, watching with lust as the merc's throat bulges.

"Gonna keep ya on your knees from now on, bub. Using your mouth as my own personal fucktoy whenever you start annoying me too much." He moans, his thrusts getting faster.

Logan notices the tent in Wade's pants and grins, placing one foot on top of it and adding pressure, earning a moan from his mouth that vibrates through Logan's cock and his eyes roll back in pleasure. He could see a wet spot on the mercs pants as he felt Wade's cock throbbing under his feet. He adds a bit more pressure with a wicked smirk.

"Fuck, you look so good like that." His hips grow more erratic, fucking the merc's throat mercilessly as he groans. He pulls out suddenly, Wade gasps for air, his eyes holding a dreamy look. Logan slaps his cock against the merc's face three times, spearing his pre-cum on Wade's cheeks before pushing it back into his mouth, settling a relentless pace.

"Gonna fill your throat, bub. Swallow every drop like the cockslut you are." Oh, he didn't have to say it twice. After a few more thrusts Wade could feel him twitching repeatedly in his mouth before he thrusted deep and stilled, spilling his cum deep into Wade's throat to ensure he wouldn't waste a single drop. He swallowed eagerly, his own dick leaking desperately with pre-cum at the sight in front of him and the lewd animalistic noises leaving Logan's mouth.

When Logan finally pulls out after a few seconds, Wade gasps for air. His lips were puffy, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes glossy filled with lust, and Logan's dazed mind didn't think he could be any more beautiful. He removes his foot from Wade's crotch and runs a hand through his own hair, catching his breath.

"God that was so fucking hot. Fuck, peanut, almost jizzed in my pants just watching you." Wade gasps, making Logan smirk.

"Can't have that, bub. Get up. Now." Wade immediately obeys, and the moment he gets up on his feet, Logan is pressing their lips together in a heated, hungry kiss. Wade lets out a soft moan into his lips, kissing him back with equal fervor.

Logan could taste himself in Wade's tongue and his cock twitched back to life in response. He leads Wade backward to his own room while their lips are connected, closing the door shut the moment they get in. He shoves the merc into his own bed and looms over him with a predatory look.

"Oh, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬." Wade gasps, feeling like he was being fucking hunted by an starving beast.

Logan's hand palms and squeezes Wade's bulge before removing his suit entirely, tossing it somewhere in the room.

Now with Wade's cock free, Logan grasp it in his hand and squeezes tightly, drawing a pathetic whimper from the mercs mouth.

"Now, listen to me carefully, bub. If ya even dare to cum without my permission I'll fucking chop your dick off, understand?" He asked with a dark tone, feeling Wade's scarred cock twitching in his hand, beads of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

"God, yes yes yes, please Wolvie~" Wade babbles, his mind overwhelmed with need.

Satisfied by his response, Logan turns him around and manhandles him into all fours, making him bend over. Spitting in Wade's hole, he rubs his finger against the rim teasingly. He thought about sliding in without preparing Wade first, but he's not that mean. I mean, sure, he stabs him with his claws all the time, but he wants Wade to feel good, wants to control his pleasure.

He slides one finger knuckles deep, feeling his cock throb at the moans that it elicited from Wade.

"𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺..." Logan smirked at the desperate whimpers and obliged him, adding a second finger and scissoring his hole open. He eventually adds a third one and thrusts them deep into Wade, grinning when he hears the gasp and whines that comes from the merc's mouth when his fingers brush against his prostate.

"Fuck- Wolvie... not enough, please, need your cock- Ah!" Wade gasps when he feels a hard smack against his ass. He was begging so prettily and besides Logan still wanting to tease him further he could feel his own cock throbbing with need.

"Desperate little thing, ain't ya?" He pulls his fingers out of Wade, earning a whine from him. He grips his own cock and rubs it against the merc's prepared hole.

"I'm taller than you- Oh fuck 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴-" Wade whimpers loudly when Logan roughly pushes inside of him in one brutal thrust, reaching deep until his groin meets Wade's ass.

"Stop talking and just moan for me, bub." Logan grunts as he sets a punishing pace, fucking into Wade hard and fast, knocking the air out of his lungs. "God, you're tight."

Wade could feel Logan's cock so deep inside him and his whimpers were growing louder and louder with each rough thrust against his sweet spot, his cock leaking obscene amounts of pre-cum into the matress.

"Wolvie, feels so good~ fuck, so fucking good please don't stop-" Wade whines, his cock twitching desperately. He feels Logan scratching his back with his nails and the pain mixed with pleasure almost had him cumming right then and there already. "Shit- Logan, fuck- I'm so close, please please..." Just when it was all getting too much he whines out when Logan suddenly slow down his movements, fucking him in a torturing slow pace.

"No no no, please go faster, please, need it-" He's interrupted by his own gasp when Logan slaps his ass again, harder this time.

"Shut up. Take what you're given." He orders, driving into Wade slow and deep, not enough to drive him over the edge.

He keeps it like that until the merc is straight up crying out desperate pleas, alternating between fast and slow whenever Wade gets too close, his neglected cock slapping against his abdomen.

"Ah, fuck... That's it." Logan grunts as he thrusts hard into Wade, pleasured whimpers coming out of the merc's mouth non stop.

"C-Can't hold it- Please Wolvie please I'msosoclose-" Wade begs desperately and cries out loudly when Logan's claws suddenly dig into his shoulder, pressing him on the bed, his blood soaks the sheets as Logan keeps railing into him. The sudden pain sends shockwaves through Wade's brain. "Fuck!"

"Yes, you fucking can." He grunts, driving deep into the merc. But right when Wade was about to tip over, Logan pulled out and cums in his ass cheeks and back, leaving him desperate and needy. He unsheathed his claws from Wade's shoulder, watching as the wounds close in seconds.

"God- You selfish little prick! You're mean-" He curses but gasps when another hard smack is delivered against his skin.

"Watch your fucking mouth or I might just not let you cum at all." Logan warns.

"No no no, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'll be good, peanut. Pinky promess."

Logans grins at the desperation in Wade's voice, feeling a rush of power. He turns Wade around, laying him on his back.

Wade was panting, his sensitive cock twitching and leaking against his stomach.

"You look filthy." Logan grunts, his eyes filled with hunger.

"And you look like you're about to eat me alive."

Wade's eyes shine when Logan settles between his legs and a whimper leaves his lips when he takes him into his mouth, the pleasure making the merc's eyes roll back. "Yes, yes, yes... so good, shit-"

He couldn't help but buck his hips up into Logan's mouth, earning a dark glance and hands tight on his hips, Logan using his strength to hold him down. He bobs his head up and down over Wade's cock, sucking eagerly as he watches in awe every little reaction coming from the merc. Not long into his ministrations he could already feel Wade twitching in his mouth and his moans growing more desperate. He keeps it up until Wade was teetering on the edge and pulls his cock out of his mouth with a 'pop', chuckling at the frustration in Wade's whines.

"Already?" He tsks. "Such a pathetic little toy." He smirks and it earns a whimper from Wade.

"Don't bully me! It'll only make it worse..." He cries out, trying to buck his hips up but Logan didn't let him. "Please, this is torture! can't take anymore... Pretty please please please with a cherry on top!"

"Hmm... 𝘕𝘰." Logan grins before diving back and taking Wade's cock back into his mouth, setting a relentless torture as he brings Wade to the precipice and then brings him down again, taking him deep in his throat ans then pulling away just to watch the tears welling in Wade's eyes as he grow more and more desperate, begging and pleading.

When Logan did allowed Wade to cum, though (after what felt like hours) Wade was sure he never came so fucking hard in his entire life. The pleasure was so overwhelming and lasting that he got straight up dazed and nonverbal for minutes, only babbling incoherent words and something to do with "Luv ya, sugar tits" and "Sweet marvel jesus".

As he lies beside the groggy merc, Logan was just happy Wade got fucking quiet for once.

He might do this more often.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Can we get some Ghoulcy nsfw hcs?!

Of course you may. I've had requests for Ghoulcy for a minute, but I get so weirdly nervous at the idea of writing for these two. Thanks to everyone who's reassured me about those feelings; you're the best. I'm dipping my toes into the pool, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean NSFW Headcanons

She's incredibly ticklish, which he discovers early on by accident and eagerly uses against her (that is, once he's sort of adjusted to being allowed to touch someone/allowing someone to touch him). It's an easy way to subdue her when they get to wrestling around, which happens more and more frequently once they start to get touchy, but before they get truly intimate. It's a playful, mostly innocent way to blow off some steam and touch one another (which they're both desperate to do) without anything being too weird, and it often turns into Cooper teaching Lucy a thing or two about fighting. Once they start sleeping together, though, it often turns into Lucy pinned to the ground while Cooper holds her in place with one hand, working his fly open with the other, already grinding his fully hard cock against her before he fucks her breathless. Those big prey animal eyes of hers activate the predator in him like crazy.

He refuses to take off a single article of clothing that isn't the duster or the hat, but once they start to get really close, he'll shed things. It would start slow, though. Rolled up sleeves to expose his forearms, a little sliver of his throat and chest exposed after he undoes a few buttons. Eventually he'd take his gloves off, wanting to feel her soft skin under his hands more than he wants to hide them from her. It's a very rewarding risk to take; the first time she feels his bare hands touch between her legs, she cums nearly instantly, not just from the way he manages to make her feel physically, but from the overwhelming joy she feels at the level of trust he's showing her.

Lucy is so used to having Chet and his very obvious attraction to her around that Cooper's aloofness drives her absolutely crazy at first. Initially, she couldn't care less if the old jerk is interested in her, because she hates him. She hates everything about him and she tries her hardest to not be like him. But the more she gets to know him, the more she realizes how similar they already are, she starts to develop what she realizes is a little crush on him. That's embarrassing enough for her (and the feeling is mutual, right down to the embarrassment), but it's even worse when she starts to be nicer to him, flirt with him, even, and he barely responds. Slowly, she increases the obviousness of her attraction, but even when she's basically laying it out on the table without explicitly saying it, he brushes her off, doesn't even seem to register her moves. Granted, she isn't insanely experienced, but for that very reason she also isn't very tactful about it...the old man simply doesn't believe she knows what she's doing. Growing up in the vault has just made her that friendly, he tells himself. Writes her off as naively, unintentionally coming across as flirtatious, assuming she'd never be with someone like him, no matter how hard she tries to demonstrate otherwise. She basically has to grab him by the collar and shove her tongue into his mouth to convey her meaning and get it to stick.

Speaking of Chet, Cooper teases her mercilessly about the "cousin stuff" thing when she lets it slip, at least at first. Eventually, though, he lets her live, even starts to pry a little about it. What exactly does "cousin stuff" entail? He wants to know how far she's gone, and even though the answer is "not very, really", he still feels an ugly sense of possession start to wrap around his brain at the thought of another man touching her, feeling her skin, making her feel good. When they fool around early on he just can't help himself, asking "Did he touch you here?" the first time his hands find their way under her shirt, into her pants, "Did he make you feel like that?" the first time he makes her cum. It's pretty embarrassingly needy in his mind, but she happily reassures him that anything she did with Chet was out of boredom, basically, and that he could never make her feel the way Cooper does.

He doesn't ask about Max, though. It seems to him that the two likely didn't get up to much in the time they were together, and it's pretty clearly painful territory for her to discuss. He avoids asking her about old paramours when it comes to genuine romantic feelings, and hopes she'll have the courtesy to do the same. Discussing sexual histories is one thing. However, once the two realize they're falling in love themselves, they'll have to have a whole long, awkward talk about it. He's told her about Janey plenty at this point; she's the reason he keeps going every day, so it's hard for him to not talk about her once he has someone he trusts to talk to. He never talks about Barb, though, mentioning "Janey's mother" offhandedly at best. When he finally tells Lucy about her, about how their marriage ended, he cries. Well, he doesn't quite cry, but his voice breaks and his lip quivers in a way that shows more vulnerability and emotion than he has in forever, and it makes Lucy want to hold him close, protect him. After their big talk, they have sex. After they have sex, they exchange "I love yous" out loud, face to face for the first time.

She isn't completely blind to how possessive Cooper is of her. She knows how territorial he can be, and the thrill-seeking side of her wants so badly to try and make him a little jealous. However, she also knows how unreasonable he can be, as well, and she isn't really willing to put anyone else's life or limbs on the line for a little extra excitement. It's wise of her, since she doesn't really grasp the full extent of the older man's desire to keep her for his own. Really, all she needs to do is laugh at another man's jokes a little too loudly, smile a little too big at him, and the minute they're alone he's bending her over the most stable surface he can find and pumping her full of multiple loads, slapping her bare ass beet red as he does it. She'd never admit to how much she enjoys the spanking, but obviously she can't hide how soaking wet it makes her.

The moment he initially uses that lasso on her for the first time, she instantly develops a rope kink. She doesn't really know that that's what it is; all she knows is that any time she sees him using it, she can't look away, can't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. Especially if he uses it during any kind of combat. He'll notice her looking, and he figures he knows what she's thinking, but he's a little afraid to tie her up too much, always secretly a bit afraid that she'll randomly decide (or reveal) that she hates and finds him repulsive in the middle of them having sex. He doesn't want to fully restrain her, but when he finally decides to use it on her just a little, tying her wrists together above her head as he teases every inch of her naked body with his tongue, her reaction makes him much more agreeable to doing so again in the future. Maybe one day he'll feel comfortable enough to full-on hog tie her. It would drive Lucy crazy.

Similarly, he's got his own little thing for watching her sleep. He doesn't partake, himself, not wanting to deal with the vulnerability of unconsciousness, both physical and mental, but seeing her so relaxed and sweet and exposed often gets him going. Once it comes to light, she's agreeable to him touching her, using her while she sleeps, but he worries about waking her up. Good rest is rare in the Wasteland, and he wouldn't want to deprive her of something so important for smoothskins just to have sex with him. So, despite him certainly finding the idea of somnophilia very appealing and despite her being open to the idea, he almost always refrains...unless they're staying somewhere especially safe, or she's sleeping harder than usual. Even then, all he typically allows himself is to touch her a bit while he strokes himself off. But sometimes he simply can't help himself and he'll spend long, slow, agonizing minutes silently undressing her just enough that he can slip his cock inside her. He's never woken her up yet, but they always go again the next morning when she wakes up and realizes what's happened.

[nyxe9206]

Scream

All character(s) are aged up to be in their 20′s and some scenarios are suggestive so 18+ MDNI. Nameless and ageless blogs will be blocked. I do not own these character(s) and all scenarios are just fiction and for fun. Please do not copy my works or repost without either asking or giving credit.

CW: Dark content, light blood play, knife play, fem!reader, piv sex, unprotected sex, Ghost face!Megumi, nicknames (pretty girl), degradation, daddy kink, public sex, predator/prey

Synopsis: What happens when you tell Megumi you love Halloween and scary movies

a/n: this is what happens when me and @levis-fav-brat try to change @fountain-baby’s mind about Megumi and @trevengersprincess is just there for the ride

WC: 956

It’s 2 am and you can’t sleep, you’re alone in your apartment watching tv trying to find something so mind numbing to try and knock out in the living room. Then you hear a noise from the hallway and go to check it out and find a window you know you closed wide open. You close it and go back to the living room to just see him standing there in a scream mask.

“You should really lock your windows, not just close them. Anyone could get in here”

Your heart beats quickly watching as he twirls the knife in his hand and you take off using that same window to escape running into the dark city streets running in and out of the lights and shadows seeing him pop up every now and then to wave at you menacingly.

He could’ve caught you already but he’s letting you have a little fun, get a little comfortable thinking you’re outrunning him. Eventually he gets bored and decides it’s time to catch you for real.

You think you finally lost him and run into an alley behind a closed bar just to find out it’s a dead end. Your pulse quickens and panic settles into your veins, he finally pops up from the shadows. He pins you against the rough brick wall of the building holding the knife to your throat as he picks up your leg wrapping it around his waist pushing your loose sleep shorts and panties to the side before finally slipping into you.

“You really thought you could get away from me? From me?” he LAUGHS, punctuating his words with a harsh thrust.

your pulse is still thrumming from fear and excitement as you hold your chin up scared of the blade digging into your skin too deeply. Your pussy flutters and throbs the more turned on you get. Your cunt leaking down his shaft leaving a thick creamy ring at the base.When he realizes that this is what you wanted the whole time and he berates you because how could his pretty girl be so filthy, would you let just anyone fuck you in this alley?

He feels your pussy throbbing and he looks down, seeing what a mess you’ve made on him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says mockingly, tracing the knife very lightly along your jaw. He leans into your ear. “You like this, don’t you? You filthy little girl.” He grips your leg tighter to him and he pounds into you, pressing the knife into your throat — but careful not to hurt you. “I could be anyone and here you are, creaming on my cock in a dirty alleyway. You’re such a little slut, you’d let anyone fuck you here huh?”

”such a dirty fucking slut aren’t you, whining on my cock and letting me fuck you in a dirty alley!” His voice is so deep and gravely that you feel it in your chest. He pushes the knife just a tad bit closer to your throat gently nicking you, his cock throbbing at the little whine you make. “Answer me, you’d just let anyone inside this fucking pussy?” His thrusts are so rough and fast that the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echos off of the brick walls. You try your best to answer but your brain is nothing but thoughts of his cock gauging and stretching your poor cunt.

“N-no, fuck~ so good~”

“Liar,” he slams into you, the knife nicking your neck again, a tiny trickle of blood dribbling down the column of your throat. He lifts the mask only enough to see his mouth, licking a stripe up your neck, lapping up your blood. you whimper and whine, his cock throbbing inside you.

He lowers the mask again. “How could my pretty girl be so filthy? you’re just a hole for anyone to use, aren’t you?” you wrap your arms around him, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“n-no! only for y-you daddy! I promise!”

His mouth turns into a dark snarl behind the mask, his hips thrusting up even harder into you. He drops the knife, choosing to grip your throat instead. Lithe fingers squeezing the sides of your neck watching as your head tips back.

“Yeah, it’s only daddy’s pussy to fuck and fill?” You nod your head dumbly as the tip of his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust making you cry out in pleasure.

“Say it again, tell me I’m the only one!” You scream out clutching onto his shoulders as you cum around his cock.

“Only one daddy, promise!” He groans feeling your walls flutter and pulse around him. He can’t help but let go painting your walls white with his thick hot ropes of cum. His grip on your neck loosening as he shudders.

Your body falls limp as you cling to him, your eyes feeling tired and your breathing slowing down as you fall asleep against his shoulder. He takes off the mask holding you close as he gently pets your hair. “Don’t worry pretty girl…I got you…”

He tucks himself back into his pants, picking up the mask and pocketing it. he picks up the knife, sheathing it in its place and picks you up, holding you close to him and carrying you back to your apartment. he lays you down so gently in your bed, pulling your comforter up around you — a stark contrast to the person he was just a few minutes ago.

He changes into more comfortable clothes and slides into bed next to you, pulling you close to him and stroking your hair. “my pretty girl, you did so well for me. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[idekkkjja]

Flowers,, Giselle x f!reader 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ

⚘( ၴႅၴ Decayed flowers laid in your loosened grasp contently—their desperate tendencies gone, unable to plea for repair—its pitiful state reflecting your and Giselle's 'relationship'.

Heads up: English isn't my first language, toxic yuri, Giselle is toooxiccc, mentions of death, plus murder, a bit of angst too, just doomed stuff, weird relationship or even situationship, Giselle is cruel and uncaring, manipulation, smut, a bit unhinged stuff mentioned here and there, and this is my first time writing smut.. help. 😭

࣪ ⭒

Within the unbearably bitter night, numbing your senses left, the frigid tombstones became visible in your blurred vision as you neared closer: hesitation transparent in the footsteps. Its physical evidence of the passing was set before you, the dawning realisation washed over your very drained soul. He's dead, he died just about a week ago.

White lilies hanging from your tremor crumbled slowly, your mind was not set nor caring about how tightly you held on to them that could possibly damage the meagre gift. Flashbacks uncontrollably drowned your brain, yanking you back in where the scene of his last breaths painfully sucked out, the loud plaintive cries eventually fading into dreadful silence that was the final signal that he passed from the exhaustion of merely surviving. Desperately hanging by the sheer hope of making out alive, to get away from that horrible, horrible woman.

Those coloured eyes used to be filled with such vibrant emotions, so alive, and a bright glint present, dimmed. Now, they are the void. The only thing left reflecting was the past existing beneath it. You were there, witnessing it all, helpless, unable to intervene. Selfish, indeed, although who could blame a pathetic woman like you? You couldn't afford being under your former lover's wrath, could you?

Barely, so barely, you turned out to be her ex. Or who knows, if you have stayed with her, the grave shown would be your consequence. Many bouquets filled with sympathy of the egregious result were scattered neatly, a consent for your measily flowers to join in.

Nobody knew or knows what happened.

Supposedly, the crime scene you desperately ushered the police in to expose the woman's ruthless crime against that man was degraded to a suicidal cause. In utter defeat, you had a feeling you couldn't do much so you accepted it without further protests or complaints.

The least you could do was earn the dead justice and you failed to do so.

Flowers fall lazily out of your hands, the wind swaying them so gingerly that they land in an available spot next to the other overly expensive posy that expresses nothing, not even sympathy, but a display for repuation to flaunt off wealth absurdly in scenarios like these. Heaving a hoarse, trembling breath to the cool air, muffled footsteps crept behind you like a predator in action to capture its prey.

"Well, well, what's my pretty Y/n doing here?" That's the question you wanted to scream at her, what is she doing? At one of her deceased victim's graves? Visibly, your shoulders haunched over stiffly as a useless protection.

"I'm not yours, Giselle." Hissing those oppressive words through clenched teeth, swiftly, you turned around to see that sly smirk still masked on her lips after all these months. What'd you expect? She never changed later these years, nor will she ever.

Unamused by the pathetic, tough facade you shielded yourself with, she tilted her head as a mocking gesture to simply rile you up for free entertainment. "Flowers, you brought him flowers," Giselle stated flatly with abrupt notice, the simper faltering when eyeing judgmentally the odd flower out. Not with any caution or such, she snatched the flowers off the ground, her (unnecessarily) sharp nails dug into the stem, reaching the sticky centre before caelessly split into seperate parts.

"You never brought me flowers." Bewildered, unable to process the (frustratingly) bold utterance, you blinked slowly at her. Speechless. During the time of your relationship, so soon, Giselle became jealous of others occupying your precious time. To the point it blossomed into something dangerous, the risk somehow allured you to stay with her for some time longer. Until it rose to where you are now. At a graveyard.

"I'm giving it to a grave, a fucking grave." The audacity of this woman.

Envy could lead people to do what their own souls cannot grasp. Following their own irrational instincts and stick to a red haze, acting upon intrusive thoughts. Giselle, an example of it all.

No, she didn't have a sob story whereas many villains written in stories did have a temporary tenderness that willingly excuses their terrible depravities. Perfect in others' eyes, to yours, she had no reason to have such morals so corrupted. Once, borrowed in her suffocating embrace, curiously you questioned why she’s so, so… her. Immediately, the answer was ‘why not? It’s fun.’ Ever since she casually reasoned her behaviour, you knew she was a sicko.

"He was a bastard anyways, did nothing to receive flowers." Bored, she played with the flowers for a fleeting moment, seconds later throwing them away for a fair distance from the tombstone.

“He died.” Seamlessly, Giselle had no care for that, a slight chuckle accompanied her further agitating words, “do you think I don’t know he’s dead? I was the cause of it, after all.”

Enough of spending any more time with this murderer, you shook your head in disbelief, remarking the last jab against her. “That’s nothing to be proud of.” Fixated upon the opposite direction, your feet subconsciously followed the way until rudely interrupted by a rough tug on your arm.

“Don’t. Baby, why are you trying to leave me again?" On nearly every occasion, the casual use of the pet name reserved for you melted the contumacious resistance. Conscious, wary, voices constantly warned you not to give in so foolishly yet again; make this occurrence different for once. Your desperate tendencies pleaded otherwise, the opposite of what the wise would have chosen, to re-enter the cycle shamelessly.

The toxic cycle awaits you with a great, snug hug.

"You know why." Monotonous purposefully in your words, an implication suggesting various reasons, since Giselle did so many deviant actions against you and others: you eventually lost count from the beginning.

"No, I don't. Please care enough to tell." You ignored her persistence.

Pausing momentarily, the still silence enveloped the remaining words in your throat. "Giselle," you breathe shakily out that forbidden name, breaking your inner promise to never utter it again.

Cockily, she cuts your word off, a sly grin crinkling the corner of her eyes. You couldn't tell if it was genuine. "'Giselle,'" she taunted with an exasperated (lewd) suspire, visibly pleased as she suppressed a fit of laughter.

"I loved how you moaned my name; it was so pretty. I miss it dearly, as I miss you. Why leave me?" Genuine, most likely never, your naive heart pounded relentlessly against your ribcage, trying to jump out of that cage it is forced into.

You knew you couldn't and wouldn't, not again.

"You're a horrible person, a murderer." The crimes and details you shoved to keep in your system were thrown in one sentence alone, Giselle hadn't immediately replied surprisingly, her smirk falling.

"You stayed, didn't you?" Against your slightly parted lips, a cold finger firmly shuts it, subduing all the words you wanted to cry out in weak protests.

Her sweet coos deceived you in a sweet subconscious blur. As if under an uncontrollable spell, your body inched closer until your chests grazed each other. Discreetly, her hand slithered down your waist, rubbing it so slowly and feather-light that her nails trailed marks to leave you dizzy. Leaning close enough to let her warm breath hover over your ear, she murmurs "as much as I will love to fuck you over this bastard's grave, people will see."

Idly reaching over to grab a beautiful pair of a bouquet, she inspects it, humming in approval. "Follow me," she had no care to glance behind her shoulder, she knew you would follow obediently in the end.

The location the two of you ended up in wasn't ideal, at all. A grimy alleyway located near the graveyard, rather in an impoverished area including common crimes and such; suiting Giselle perfectly despite her background.

With specific precision, she plucked a vibrant blossom, its petals shimmering like silk, tempting in the cool glow of the moonlight above. Her fingertips, soft yet commanding, brushed against your lips as she parted them insistently and put the stem in as if you were a mere pretty ornament used for her pleasure.

"Hm, pretty..." she murmurs, a shark-like grin spreading across her lips, admiring the state of you, against the wall between her: looking deliciously helpless. Leaving a pathway of wet, mouth-open kisses amongst your jaw and collarbones, her teeth abrade your neck, sucking in more than necessary to create a lasting hickey.

Her fingers tugged on your shirt, lifting it up briefly to lean down and slowly go on her knees as she glanced up at your flustered face to muffle against your skin, "I don't mind getting dirty for you, you know?"

Sunk down to her knees, she (patronizingly) slowly peppered kisses across your stomach, teasingly giving the lower abdomen light bites to draw in a pathetic whimper out of you. Clawing in your waist from the sides firmly, she trailed her tongue dangerously closer and closer, relieving an unexpected warm sensation to you.

Unbuttoning your pants deftly, she tugged them to your knees, letting you shiver at the wind brushing against your inner thighs. Rolling the sides of your undeniably soaked panties, she shoved them down too, revealing your wet sensitivity to her.

Leaning in to finally place her mouth upon it, her tongue explored the region slowly, letting the time go completely to be mesmerised at the moment. Giselle missed this a little too much than she should've.

Tauntingly, she used the sultry tip of her tongue to electrify the bundle of nerves in your clitoris, giggling at the sight of you on the urge to chew the stem of the flower in your mouth to moan freely and shamelessly.

Your fingers entangled roughly in her hair giving her the encouragement to feverishly suck on you while trail marks on your bare stomach, keeping you overly stimulated. Circling your intimacy with her tongue, she left you dazed.

A familiar ache formed in the lower part of your stomach, a signal to keep going, your body twitched, and Giselle did unknowingly; not paying any attention to your hidden warnings abutting the flower.

Peeking up, a sly smile came back seeing your face contorted in all its glory before the liquid filled her eager opened mouth, she went back greedily for some more, resuming back to her previous actions.

She made sure she swallowed every single drop, not excluding any before at last, leaning away. Wiping the glistening moisture off her lips with the back of her hand, forgetting about mannerisms or courtesy forced to act upon in public settings, Giselle stood up biting the flower off your lips and kissing you deeply; letting you taste yourself.

"Did I make it up for you, my love?" She pulls reluctantly to remind you of the dawning reality you were in.

A huff of unadulterated disbelief flew out your parted lips, "eating somebody's pussy out isn't even an attempt to make up for murder—"

She cuts off you again, unwilling to hear opposing protests. "I'll take that as a yes, you're lucky I didn't want to fuck you on his grave today."

"Today?"

"Mhm."

[neverchecking]

Day 5: Sweat- Twilight

Smut so Minors Do Not Interact. If I find out a minor has interacted with my blog, I will block you.. Thank you!

Smut CW: Sweat, licking of said sweat, country boy

This is Day five of My Kinktober so be sure to come back and check out the other days! Friendly Reminder that all of my smut is tagged 'Cindersins' including this, but this will also be tagged as 'Cinder's happy halloween' along with the run of the mill smut tags.

Kinktober Masterlist <<< Day 4 >>>Day 6

Everyone knew that farming was a…taxing business. Being a ranch or stable hand was not an easy job. Certainly not one anyone could do. They had to be born and bread or carved out of the depths for it. 

Twilight had been born, bred and raised on farm work. Anyone with working eyes could see that. See the way his biceps had bulged and curved, or with how broad his shoulders were. Made for carrying heavy stacks of feed or, in his case, wrangling Ordonian goats. Not an easy task by any means, but one he was more than willing to take up. The feeling of pure dopamine after a job well done kept him hooked, and the steady, slow consistency of it all brought him comfort. But more than anything, it made him work. Made him push his own limits to the point of nearly snapping, only to drive right past those pre-conceived notions of restrictions and carve out new ones for himself. It had made him sweaty, yes, and gave him an odor that eventually even the goats would avoid, but the feeling of pure accomplishment won over any negatives. Threw them to the ground like worthless maggots as he trampled his way forward. 

His shirt had long since been shed as he continued moving around hay in the back of the barn, his entire chest coated in a sheen of sweat that shined in the dusk of the ever falling sun. It was getting late, and you would worry in that same adorable way you always did, but he had wasted too much time in talking to Rusl this morning and had fallen behind on his chores. He’d feel guilty for the rest of the night if he didn’t finish, even if Fado had long since waved him off. It was his own conscience that wouldn’t let him rest until the day's work had been completed. Although, he wasn’t overly excited to delay going home to you. You’d understand, it’s who you were. Just as hardworking and resilient as he was, if not more. You believed in seeing a job until it’s end, even if it wasn’t necessarily a good one. You were just perfect like that. One of the many, many things he positively adored about you. 

Throwing down the pitchfork, he ran his forearm along his forehead. It came back, coated in sweat, but it was shaken off. The job, at last, had been finished with the last goat’s pasture finally cleaned, and he was free to leave. Free of the torment of his brain and it’s need to torment him. 

Just as he turned to make the trek back to you (After a dip in the river of course), he nearly shouted at the sight. You were there, hanging onto the pole of the stall and staring him down much like a predator would it’s prey. Your eyes never left his chest as your other hand fiddled with the gold band on your finger. 

“Ya’ okay there, darlin’?” He dared to ask, hoping his racing heart calmed itself. “Scared me half to death back there.” 

You blinked then shook your head, as if snapping out of some sort of trance. “Yeah, yeah, just…Do you trust me?” 

What a foolish question. He would rip out his still beating heart and give it to you if you asked because he knows you’d use it for something worthwhile. He’d tear the kingdom right out of Dusk’s grimy claws if it meant you could have it because he knew you’d run it perfectly. He would side with Ganon should you so wish since he knew you had his best interest at heart. 

Still, he nodded. 

You stepped forward, hands reaching for his chest before they glided against his pecs, thumbs brushing just against his nipples. It wasn’t something new, you had an odd fascination with his pectorals and he knew it, but the look you were giving them was something he had never seen from you. It was hungry and laser-focused, nothing deterring you from whatever you had deemed necessary in this very moment. 

He licked his own sharp canines. “Sweetheart-” His mouth suddenly clamped shut as his entire body went stiff. Your tongue dragged right between the valley of said pecs, licking up to the curve of his collarbone before flicking away with the sweat collected. Your saliva, which was quickly cooling along his skin, shined much in the same way the sweat did, marking no real difference to what you had done. Not to the visible eye at least. But to Twilight? 

His entire head was screaming at him, pushing him to move or do something, but it was as if he just couldn’t. He was stuck. 

“Sorry, I just- I don’t know what came over me, but-”

“Do it again.” 

You paused. “What?” 

He gently grabbed your hands, holding them away from your chest. “Do it again. Lick e’ry inch a’me until ya can’t taste anything else. Until every time ya look at me y’er reminded of what ya did. Do. It. Again.”

You swallowed. When you hesitated, he leaned in close with a gruff growl. 

“I said, do it again.”

[thejujvtsupost]

Hi! I saw your requests and can I just ask a little red riding hood au where reader is little red and geto/gojo/nanami/toji are the wolves that eat you (out).

[They don't have to be literal wolves but just as wild. U can pick one but if you want to write for more than one it would be great]

Good Enough To Eat 18+ mdni

Anon your brain is beautiful! This was originally for Halloween, but my I present: full moon Nanami 😌

Notes: F!reader, sex in the woods, prey/predator play(+dom/sub?), oral (F receiving), light breeding kink bc it’s Nanami, minor injuries, reader is consenting/discussed beforehand- consent is v sexy!

Someone did a public service and pulled an audio of Nanami’s heavy breathing and I need to be euthanized. I’d also like to dedicate this to @pseudowho because they’re always on top of the Kento Agenda and sharing the audio with them was a MUST. Like that’s literally our husband. 💗

You weren’t sure how long you were running with your picnic basket but you couldn’t catch your breath.

You couldn’t stop, either.

What started out as a simple evening picnic in the woods with your lover turned into a chase, as you ran for your life.

Kento… Kento was different from other husbands…

His unique qualities weren’t a hindrance to your relationship aside from the few times a year his instincts took over- and the heightened senses around the full moon. Even then, you both were so careful to avoid any accidental injuries. His body was far stronger than yours, with his heightened strength and lack of restraint being around him during his most vulnerable moments was dangerous.

“You can’t run forever, my love. I can smell you…”

Despite his taunts you refused to respond. He would catch up eventually but you didn’t want to make things worse by alerting him with your voice.

Unfortunately, between the blood pounding in your ears and lack of oxygen in your lungs, you lost your balance and tripped over an exposed tree root- with a twisted ankle, you were now dinner.

“Poor thing, that looked painful. Let me see it.”

Kento sounded calm but you knew the truth. Inside he was a simmering, insatiable, beast that already expressed its intentions of eating you.

He was getting closer and closer with his inhuman speed, you tried to get up and run but he had you pinned face down to the forest floor in seconds. Fuck.

“Got you.”

His voice was raspy in your ear as he started mouthing at your neck, “Gonna take you apart right here, right now. Feel how ready I am to take you?”

And you did, his cock was straining in his pants when he harshly ground against your ass. Impatiently, he pulled your hips up and adjusted your legs, keeping a hand on your back to maintain a good arch. The draft of the cool night air hit the back of your thighs, reaching higher when Kento flipped your dress up.

“No panties huh? You like being a wet whore don’t you? Running through the woods from a beast and leaking from your cunt.” He leaned down to inhale your scent close to the source and growled. “This pretty cunt needs filled up.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit of shame at how turned on you were by all of it.

A high pitched mewl left you as his tongue flicked across your clit from the back, feeling the way it throbbed each time it lashed against you. His lips sealed around your sensitive nub, alternating between slurping up your growing arousal and suckling your clit.

Your body was on fire, pussy clenching, needy for him to fill you. “Kento please!”

With one last smack of his lips he moved his body over yours, completely dwarfing you under him and tangling your fingers together. “Gonna get you full of me, breed this pretty pussy.” His cock brushed against your folds for a moment before he thrusted into you in a single breath.

If you weren’t so wet, the stretch wouldn’t be as pleasant. Unlike now, when your eyes were rolling back from the feeling.

You could feel his cock grow harder, stretching you, his swollen tip rubbing against the spongy spot in your cunt, making you leak around him.

He’s panting in your ear, needing you to milk his cock, your whimpered moan of his name only spurring him on more. He moved your legs higher to fuck you deeper, thrusting into you in the most animalistic manner you’ve ever experienced with him. With every pass, he hit his target. You knew your knees would be bruised by morning and it would be a welcomed mark.

His grunting and panting rivaled your moans as you grew close to your peak- he wasn’t far behind you with the way your cunt was fluttering and slicking.

“Kento- gonna!” You couldn’t finish your sentence before you released around his cock, soaking the dirt beneath your bodies.

“Yeah that’s it, come baby.” He roared, spilling his spend into you with a few sloppy thrusts before stilling, his cock throbbing with its own heartbeat, an endless stream of cum filling your pussy.

He pulled out once his breath was even and carefully flipped you over, “Are you okay, sweetheart? Hurt anywhere?”

Your eyes were still glassed over when you smiled all dreamy at him. “We gotta do that again.”

Kento fixed his clothes with a chuckle and gathered you in his arms, putting the little picnic basket in your hands as he carried you back to the car.

He buckled you in and held your hand to his lips when he got in the drivers seat. “How about a hot bath and some ice for that ankle when we get home?”

While worth it, you’d definitely feel deliciously sore tomorrow, deciding then to take the day off work.

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3 link) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Part six people!!!)

Batting away a pod of stalkers that didn't get the memo he wasn't food Duke sighed. Rarely persistent predators, normally all it would take to scare them away was a slap from his tail. But with all the chaos that'd happened in such a short time period, they were agitated, attacking him more frequently much to his dismay and his sibling's entertainment. His face heated as he felt laughter erupt into the bond.

"Are the stalkers okay?" Damian questioned demandingly.

"I- They're still trying to maul me?" He replied, taking a second to whack a stalker, its mouth wide open ready to attempt biting his tail off.

"I think a Mesmer wandered from one of the nearby cave systems," He proposed, shaking the attacking stalkers off of him and watching with bared teeth as the fish finally realized they bit off more than they could chew leaving. A Mesmer would explain the stalker's agitation, their hypnotism and eventual biting tended to tick a lot of creatures off.

"So the glow from earlier was just from a Mesmer...?" Dick questioned, disappointment flooding into the bond.

"It was about the size of a Mesmer... Maybe smaller?" Duke started, peaking into the egg from before, no sign of anything being inside at all. " I didn't get to look at it, I was too busy being mauled," Duke complained, turning to glower at a stalker lurking beside him.

"You don't seem very certain Duke," Dick began, "Did something happen?"

Duke froze, staring intently at one of the smooth crystal-like slabs glowing dimly from inside the egg. "Yeah, I heard one of the little noises from the...you know?" The babies carried these around with them, it would make a little noise. A string of little chirps and clicks, and the baby would panic most often dying soon after.

"I think it was from one of the dead ones,"

'one of the dead ones' god he felt disgusting just saying it. But that's all he really could say. None of them lived long enough for them to know anything about them. They couldn’t pin personality and preferences to any of them like they had before! None of this batch lived long enough to fight reapers or watch plants and animals with curious awe.

Dick’s silence was deafening, hope dying slowly. It was like being stabbed, Dick was the one who so desperately wanted a new baby sibling to come out of this tragedy.

“Hey, I-“

“Father wants you two to join him patrolling,” Damian interrupted.

“Aren’t Cass, Steph, and Tim already doing that?”

Damian scoffed, “They have their own territories to patrol Thomas” Damian snapped. “The hell hole was blocked off!”

“And that means…?” Duke questioned, trailing off as the younger scoffed.

“Any idiot with a brain could understand that means we have to watch for sea dragons,”

Terror settled in his stomach. “Those things are real?!” He screeched, gills flaring.

“Real and hungry. What do you think is going to happen when they no longer have a fresh supply of reapers to snack on?” Damian mused and Duke could almost see the sharp-toothed grin on the youngers face

“Well I’m hoping they start eating rocks instead but I’ve gotta feeling you’re going to tell me otherwise.”

“It’s going to wander through the lost river and eat everything in the crater that moves,” Damian warned.

“Damian quit scaring Duke," Dick chimed in exasperatedly.

" I'm not!" Damian protested.

"You quite clearly are, Baby fish!" Dick replied voice laced with faux authority.

"It's not my fault he asked a stupid question!"

"Wait..." He started, pushing himself off the ground, flicking his tail to glide through the kelp forests. " Are we or are we not going to be eaten by a sea dragon?"

"No Duke, they only need to eat large meals every so often,"

"If you see one outside the lava zones switch forms and swim away. We're faster, they won't see us as something worth chasing" Dick explained.

"Oh..." That was relieving, the amount of damage a sea dragon could potentially cause him was terrifying. Precursors had made the fatal mistake of messing with one and you don't exactly see any of them around anymore.

"Why does Bruce need us then?" Duke could almost hear the infuriated shriek from here.

"What part of precursor activity screams 'business as usual'?"

"Be nice you two," Dick warned. Duke shook his head, gliding his way toward the impact site.

"I think he's just bitter that he's the one who was tasked with watching the shallows" Duke teased, an uproar of laughter flooding the bond at Damian's offended squawk.

"At least I won't have to deal with the reapers!" Damian bragged

"You won't if you'd get your ass to the shallows Demon spawn," Jason piped up.

"Plenty of reapers in the dunes kid,"

"Snitch,"

"Slacker,"

Duke snickered as he slithered into the crash zone. Murky waters, from the massive amounts of sand yet to settle at the seabed. Chunks of metal littered the impact site an egg floating upside down yet not a trace left of the red blood that spilled into the ocean the other day. Reapers circled the site, teeth snapping at anything they saw.

A blur of red entered his peripherals, Jason used his horn to stab through a chunk of metal before launching it full force at a charging reaper. A loud snap as the metal hit its target shrapnel spray slicing into a shrieking reaper.

"These fuckers are getting bolder every single day," Jason laughs humorlessly. Mandibles snap, teeth gnash, reaper screaming louder and louder as it starts circling the two of them. "I almost miss the Sea dragon," Jason joked. A gnarled pinkish burn scar on his left side, dorsal fin torn off and smaller burns littering Jason's body told him he would never in fact "Miss the sea dragon,"

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim

[kirabasai]

au where an ancient briar valley general accidentally gets tangled up in the space-time continuum when he combines his unique magic with teleportation, and gets spit out into general vanrouge's era. i'm thinking this is before levan or revan or however the fuck u spell his name disappeared. i'm going to be pasting parts of my original conversation with my friend bow_to_the_king (he doesn't have a tumblr but check out his ao3! he depicts fae and lilia beautifully) below, and THEN i will be adding my spitballing additions below the cut.

me: doing stuff rn but this brain bunny entered my head. general vanrouge x time traveler except the time traveler is a past briar valley general who disappeared one day. and is as feral as lilia so ofc they initially hate each other

me: brainrotted more. they're an owl fae

me: he's an owl fae?

me: she?

me: whatever's an owl fae

me: thinking... blue hair. so it's the blue/red trope

me: ok vibes for what i have of them so far is def not a she so. gonna refer to this time traveler w he and they until i settle on whatever sticks more

me: thinking their um is usually just jumping forward in time a bit. like 5 minutes max. they use it in combat decent bit because hey what works works u know?

me: until one day he's like. super desperate. so he used his um while teleporting. which mixes..... Badly. he gets tangled up in the spacetime continuum and spit out to somewhere near a camp of lilia and his soldiers

me: it would be rlly funny if this was a time that predated the animal masks. so they don't recognize lilia as someone from briar valley and lilia doesn't recognize him as someone from briar valley, because he has a cloak and mouth veil thingy (only eyes and some hair r visible)

me: so its like a huge misunderstanding until SOMEBODY works it out. but lilia and this dude r still bitter from their first impressions. so they r constantly at each other's throats and arguing over choices and whatever

me: it's like. a power / pride thing

me: and then something something something, something something something! dadadadada blah blah blah

me: and then they kiss

(- i said something around here abt being a literary genius)

me: i just love red/blue who start off in hate ok

me: technically enemies to lovers i suppose, even though they're actually on the same side.

king: Get that duality

king: Emotion enemies to lovers

king: Two alley cats that hiss at each other but end up cuddling eventually

me: and it's extra funny because they are similar

king: Ooooo do a but where they say the same thing at the same time and then proceed to glare at each other the rest of the meeting while trying to out do the other

me: it's funny because this dude is like. actually famous. he's in briar valley history books like lilia is in the present day.

me: everyone else is like oh my god... i can't believe im in the lost general's presence.... he's such an icon... i've looked at so many accounts of his battles..... while lilia is just like

me: die

me: i do not give a fuck

me: fight me

king: They get home from deployment and Owl gets flowers and such thrown at him and has people constantly wanting to talk to him and Lilia’s just stewing in contempt (and secretly territorial about every one monopolizing Owl’s time)

me: he actually is lowkey bitter about it "oh going out to greet your adoring fans instead of training?" and owl is like. "IM SORRY??? WHAT." and then they brawl

king: Oh my god

king: They’re Malfoy and Harry

king: Rivals to lovers

me: well yes

me: but in their heads they r enemies

me: so both technically

king: That adoring fan bit is absolutely something Malfoy would say to Harry

king: In like canon

me: shit you're right

me: ah well drarry is a classic i cant complain

me: just realized im at a point i should probably name owl…

king: Seras is a cool name

king: Seras is technically a female name meaning princess, fiery, or bright

(i noted this down and told king i usually collect a handful of different names & surnames and mix and match them until i find The name)

me: seras, emil, and cyrus/kir r my first name options

me: tbh i don't actually like cyrus/kir as much as seras and emil but i need to keep my options open wait wait wait

me: emil seras

me: lilia calling him seras not as in using his last name to be respectful but as in calling him princess to mock him

king: The general is a menace like that

and then at some point mid-convo

me: also while u were gone i played a bit in picrew typing to capture general owl fae's vibes

(i sent king the ref pics i made. courtesy of this picrew and this tiefling picrew.) [insert links]

king: Ooooooo those wings look gooooood

OKAY NOW ONTO MY YAPPING AND SPITBALLING BELOW THE CUT

first of all the CLOAK. the cloak is actually a necessity. it's a type of padded armor made of thick pressed wool tightly pressed together. not only is it warm, but the way the fibers connect together and work is that it stops piercing blows from swords. it even could stop very early bullets! (not modern day). from what i can tell, this was generally worn over the rest of somebody's armor? it also wasn't exclusively armor. shepherds and whatnot also used it to keep warm, and shield themselves from wind. generally there shouldn't be a hood, but i really wanted the hood. a little feature that stuck w the armor and apparel of briar valley soldiers through the centuries (because general lilia has a hood but no cape/cloak)

it's originated in the caucasus mountains, and is called a nabadi or burka. it was generally made from sheep wool (according to wikipedia, karakul wool which is central asian in origin). it is also a style of clothing customary of males in the caucausus region at that time. at some point, around the 18th century, russia appropriated it and made it apart of their armor (which is why it is also called a burka). you can learn more about the nabadi and padded armor in general here.

something i like to do is put little aspects of myself or my heritage into my characters, which is what i did here lol. i'm half kurdish and according to my father we (as in my clan i think) originated from the caucasus mountains and descended down to where we lived in the middle east (obligatory rip kurdistan).

i thought this form of armor would be quite suitable for emil, because not only does briar valley seem to be a very mountainous region (and mountains are COLD. also from what i can tell briar valley seems to be located quite up north so. extra cold.) additionally, some of the briar valley names just feel a bit. russian. if u will. such as lilia, zigvolt (ignoring the fact they immigrated), vanrouge, etc. also russia and the caucasus region in general? in asia. close to the middle east. which is also mostly in asia. sebek coming from an egyptian god and baul sounding a lot like baal. ik real world geography has no bearing on the cultural influences of the countries in twst, and it's more generally mashing a mix of cultures together, but it makes sense in my head.

so the cloak? 100% an essential and totally canonical to the briar valley region. (i did not expect to brainrot so hard on this part oh my god.)

[yearningaces]

The concept of Nyx’s Partner being a hunter is so interesting to me. Like Nyx is in danger? Boom! Whatever animal is attacking is immediately dealt with. Nyx wants some clothes to keep him warm? He now has an entire collection of furs and coats at his disposal. I just wanna give him and his family all that I can offer~💖

- 🪩 Anon

And they will forever adore you- their own special human!

For some fun, little ideas I keep rotating in my brain:

Rabbit-hybrids are small, like... 3/4ths the size of the average human at best.

They tend to live in burrows together or at least burrow side by side(hobbit-esk design if you need a visual)

This means, the bunny-folks home is tiny compared to a human. And once Nyx's family gets to know you, how gentle you are with their Nyx and with them as extention? Well, that practically makes you family already! Not like Nyx will ever leave your side, everyone in his family can see how enamored he is.

So what do they do? They make you your own chair at the supper table, larger and stronger to support you. They make silverware and dishes that are more your size, grandpa bun even crochets you a blanket twice the size of his normal ones so you can be cozy when staying there too

Grandpa bun, ever the burrow bun(as opposed to house husband) will also try to learn how to cook different sorts of meats for you. It's clumsy at first, but Nyx(who's been studying this like he's in fucking Harvard) helps and Grandpa bun has a good steak and skewers and chicken cooked like a pro

The younger rabbit-hybrids want to play chase and who better to play than the big scary human that they know is super nice? They will swarm you. They might just grab onto a leg or an arm and hang on, just keep walking it's fine it's entertainment.

The elders will want to ask you about your instincts, ones that don't seem useful to you but to them is life changing. What do you mean you have standoffs with other creatures and the first to move breaks the standoff? What do you mean you just throw your weight around to get what needs done done. You can see in the dark? To an impressive degree to them. So if you were hunting and the prey did this what would you do? For no reason other than their own knowledge of course.

The buns your age can be the most weary, they're old enough to know danger, but too young to recognize peace without a plethora of proof. Give them time and you'll be part of the gossip group, it's worth the wait I promise

Nyx will have to fight his own kin away so he can have you all to himself... For a few minutes at least. Just hold his hand, let him sit in your lap and he'll be happy.

Also, humans are carnivorous leaning omnivores. Predators in nature we could say. Any big predator needs naps. The buns are energetic to the nines but the first time you've visiting Nyx's family and you fall asleep on that soft couch? Lounging across it, blissfully sleeping?

It doesn't take long for Nyx to find you, crawl up to lay on your toreso, curling up and falling asleep... Then the young buns gather around, some trying to lay on or next to you, some sprawled on the back of the couch. The young adult buns are next, laying a blanket on the pile, maybe one or two joining but most lounge around the couch. Eventually the elders join as well. Seated in their respective spots and relaxing too.

Human designated nap time is the unspoken burrow law now, so don't be too surprised when you wake to that whole situation.

Welcome to the family!

Oh, and Nyx is total burrow bun material. Learned to cook the foods you enjoy as a human, concerts your home into a nice mix of bunny and human styles for the most comfort, and is pretty much bouncing by the door waiting for you to come home so he can literally jump into your arms, and that's if he didn't leave the house with you.

[coalswriting]

murder and rescue ii - natalie scatorccio

summary – ghostface makes a return with a bit of help (approx. 1.6k words) >> part i <<

tw; murder, mentions of sexual assault, slight homophobia/fetishization of lesbians, natalie, reader, and misty are evil in a Fucked Up Way

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

finding out that natalie scatorccio was ghostface was not something that existed on your yearly bingo. you hadn’t talked much about it since the night at the party, and some twisted part of you didn’t seem to mind that she was a murderer. in fact, you found it energising, exciting, intriguing. these, you decided one day as you listened to music and stared at your bedroom ceiling, were not the words you should have been using to describe your girlfriend. maybe you were as messed up as she was.

natalie had killed a few more times since the party. there was a guy that misty was having trouble with. he had felt her up in the middle of a lab and he didn’t stop even when she pushed his hand away. she couldn’t tell anybody because he was the son of a well-respected teacher. misty wasn’t his first, nor last victim. she found out who ghostface was (seriously, the girl was basically a detective), and instead of handing the information to the police, she actually asked nat to take care of him. this is how misty, natalie and you became a trio; your house was the hideout, natalie was the killer, and misty was the medic and brains.  

every time nat would show up outside your window at an obscure time, you always unlocked the door for her, let her run a hot bath, and hid her outfit. then, the two of you would passionately make out and love each other until dawn; the thrill was sickeningly addicting. this system had worked for a few kills, but eventually natalie stopped. justice was served, and you assumed that the predators of wiskayok high had ceased their ways. that was until two months later.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

natalie pushed you into a bathroom cubicle, pinning you against the wall. you moaned as her lips attached themselves to your neck, kissing you down to your shoulder of which she pulled the hem of your shirt to reveal. “nat,” you breathed heavily, warmth pooling into your stomach. your girlfriend smirked, bringing her mouth to your ear.

“shut up,” she whispered huskily before nibbling your lobe. your hands clasped themselves onto her hips as you pulled her closer. suddenly, a hand covered your mouth as natalie went stiff. you heard three or four voices enter the bathroom and then the unzipping of (presumably) a makeup bag.

“what is it that you wanted to tell us, allie?” one of the girls said, “you’ve been looking nervous all day.”

“well”, you heard allie’s voice, “you know patrick johnson?”, followed by a few ‘mhhmms’, “he forced himself on my sister at a party a few nights ago. i couldn’t go and protect her, i was sick. she’s been closed off ever since and she won’t tell me exactly what he did. i’m so worried…”

natalie’s eyebrows rose in curiosity as the both of you listened. you heard the girls reassure allie before one of them piqued up, “he’s really evil, i’m sorry. he did the same to tamara too… nobody believed her so she dropped out to avoid him. she was so lovely too.”

after consoling allie for a few minutes, all the girls went back to their classes. natalie finally took her hand off your mouth and whispered to you, “we need to get that bastard.”

you only nodded in return.

“i’ll tell misty to meet at yours tonight and we can plan it?”

“yeah,” you murmured, “looks like ghostface is back.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

the three of you stalked your prey over the period of a few weeks. you found his phone number and took note of his patterns: he always arrived at school ten minutes before assembly and used his locker first, after third period, he always went the bathroom, and he walked a friend home every day. most nights, he was home alone because his mother worked the night shift. his lights were off by 11pm most nights, and he almost always forgot to lock the back door.

it was 3am on a tuesday when you rang his phone. with the help of misty, you had installed a voice changer into your own device, and he answered after the third ring, voice sleepy and tired.

“uhhh, hello?”

you smiled as you spoke, “is this patrick johnson?”

you heard a shuffling on his side before he finally answered, “who is this?”

you watched from the bushes as natalie slipped her way towards his garden, hugging the wall. she was donning the ghostface costume, knife hidden under a fold of fabric. “you need to tell me, are you patrick johnson? this is serious.”

“fuck off”, is all he said before he hung up his phone. your eyes darkened as you rang again, and he picked up faster this time.

“seriously, who is this? don’t mess with me.”

“patrick,” you said, voice barely a whisper, “have you seen any horror movies?”

“uh, yeah, a few. why?”

you ignored his question, continuing with yours, “do you know what motives the killers normally have?”

“they’re normally insane, like you,” he growled, and you heard him hang the phone up again.

so, you rang again.

“fuck off, leave me alone. i’ll come and kill you,” he threatened, seething from anger.

“you’re right,” you said, darkly, “they normally are insane. but they can have motives too. have you heard of ghostface?”

when patrick didn’t reply, you continued to talk, “ghostface only kills people that deserve it.”

his voice was shaky as he cut you off before you could talk more, “is this ghostface?! i didn’t do anything!”

“i’m not ghostface”, you said simply, “but you did, patrick. you hurt a lot of young girls, didn’t you?”

“wait, listen to me! they never said no! leave me alone-“

“i didn’t finish,” you growled, shutting him up, “as i was saying; i’m not ghostface, but look behind you.”

you heard shuffling again, and then a muffled scream through the phone alongside the sound of the device being dropped. there was an audible struggle as he pleaded for his life. your smile grew wider. the tussle appeared to last about three minutes until everything fell eerily quiet. then, you heard someone pick up the phone, and the voice of your girlfriend rung out, quiet and still, “come in.”

you sauntered in through the back door, entering his kitchen. the phone he had used to call you was left discarded, a few feet away from the counter. you stomped on it, breaking it to pieces before turning to your girlfriend. she stood over the body, breathing heavily. stepping over the corpse of patrick johnson, you ripped the mask off ghostface, watching as her hair cascaded down her shoulders like it had the first time she revealed herself to you. she looked like a goddess, basked in an omnipotent light. you felt your heart flutter, watching blood drip down her lips.

“he got me good”, she said, smiling at you. she then looked down at the deceased, an animalistic grin painting her features. her eyes were wide; not with fear but with fascination – the adrenaline of the hunt was taking her over, as if she wasn’t herself.  

snapping her out of her admiration, you wiped her bloody nose with your thumb before you brought your lips to hers. the kiss was passionate, and you could taste the metallic taste on her mouth, though that didn’t deter you. her hands trailed down your body before resting on your hips and before you could escalate the kiss, you heard the jingle of keys coming from the front door. you pulled away from your girlfriend as she put the mask back on and you pulled your hood over your head. taking the knife out of the corpse, she ran out the back door she had come in from, you following her. nobody saw you.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you closed the suitcase that contained natalies now clean costume, sliding it under your bed. she met your gaze as you entered the bathroom, slipping into the bathtub with her. natalie pulled you into her chest, brushing your hair with her hands as you both relaxed in the hot water. you hummed relaxingly, before looking up at her.

“i love you”, you confessed. though this was not the first time natalie had heard you say this, her heart still began to beat a little harder than before and you chuckled, “i can feel your heart!”

“shut up,” she gave you a playful slap on the thigh before sighing gently, “love ya too.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

the next morning came faster than you had expected, and as you, natalie, and misty sat in your assembly, an announcement came through the speakers.

patrick johnson was dead; a suspected murder.

misty, natalie, and yourself gave each other fake confused looks as you peered around the classroom, a small hint of amusement in your faces. everybody burst into chatter and discussion, theorising who killed patrick. not many seemed to be particularly sad, moreso than they were curious. misty continued to doodle in her copy whereas natalie shrugged her shoulders at you.

“people seemed to be kind of hopeful”, you stated later, as you walked natalie home, hands interlocked.

“yeah, it was weird. i thought people would be at least a little sad that he died but i guess he wasn’t too popular with anybody from the beginning. he really did deserve it”, your girlfriend said, a small smirk on her face.

a car drove past you full of football players. they stopped on the road a few feet ahead and began catcalling you.

“why don’t you two make out? let us see some girl on girl action!”, someone yelled out. the boys erupted into laughter before continuing to drive on.  

you groaned, disgusted.

natalie squeezed your hand a little tighter, a reassuring glint in her eyes. “hey, hey, it’s okay. ghostface will get them,” she whispered deviously.

you looked ahead, watching the car drive off. maybe ghostface would get them; maybe he was back for good – or at least until you’d all get caught.

[carnivorousyandeere]

tw: dubcon

my lil dream is darling admitting to marcus physical contact/physical affection/sex??? makes them uncomfortable becos of their past (if you know, you know) but it's something that torments darling becos it makes them feel like a freak. like darling wishes they could be more physically affectionate with hypothetical significant others and be able to have sex like others have sex.... and marcus instantly is like (: interesting (: well we could defo do something abt that (:

IDK YOU SAID SEX THERAPY AND I IMMEDIATELY GOD I WANT IT SO BAD

marcus starts off with just soft light touches and darling is trembling becos touch from others has always hurt and it pains marcus to see darling like that but now he gets to introduce gentle touch to them. he skims his hand across their skin and darling is so brave, eyes fluttering close, focusing on the touch.

then it escalates from there every session. marcus is always so gentle, so encouraging, so loving. they hold hands for long periods of time. they hug. after a certain session, they start sitting side by side every single session. eventually, even that escalates to darling sitting on marcus' lap, his arms wrapping around her waist.

idk abt marcus but MAYBE he likes the way that every single session, darling trembles under his touch but darling puts on a brave face anyway. like a rabbit that so desperately wants to run away from a predator but, instead, decides to face it head on. something abt it whets his appetite?

eventually, darling happily tells marcus that they've started to really recover and that they've incorporated what they've learned in therapy. they've started being okay shaking hands with friends! isn't that great??

of course it is! except, no, internally, marcus isn't okay with it. becos he liked being the only one. he liked his darling exclusively being his. so he ups the stakes.

he starts slipping his hands under their clothes, fingers skimming across their hips, across their waist, across their thighs. darling trembles, wondering if this is right but... marcus knows best doesn't he?

then marcus cups darling's cheeks and soundly kisses them. darling wants to pull away but marcus is stronger and so, instead, trembling so very much, darling returns the gesture. becos..... marcus...... maybe..... marcus knows what he's doing...... right?

and then marcus tells darling next session they'll really practice intimacy and darling can't tell if the feeling in their stomach is anxiety or butterflies.

ANON WHO ARE YOU. WHO GAVE YOU THE KEYS TO MY BRAIN?? Same wavelength it’s kinda scary 😳

Iykyk— I think I get what you’re putting down. That wasn’t exactly my experience, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.

( MDNI )

CW: dubcon, abuse of power/authority, EXTREMELY unethical therapy practices, manipulation

Marcus has you in his lap, facing him, positioned just so that you won’t feel his hardness. He doesn’t want to scare you by having you feel that— this is about you, about making you feel better.

You cling tightly onto his shoulders, eyes shut and lips trembling as his hand travels under your waist band to gently stroke you through your underwear.

He leans in to press a soft kiss to your hairline, reminding you as he always does that it’s okay, you’re safe with him. He won’t hurt you. You can ask him to stop any time and he will. You nod, eyes still screwed tightly shut. Marcus keeps his pace steady and touches light, waiting for the tension in your body to unspool and melt into a different sort of tension.

When he notices your breathing become shallower, Marcus pauses and moves back to cup your face in one hand. Your eyes flutter open, dark and hazy.

“Do you need me to stop?” He asks softly.

“…..No,” you whisper, before letting your eyes close again and nuzzling into his hand. “Please….?”

He smiles softly at how cute you are, despite the pain of seeing you so obviously struggling, and leans in to kiss away the little tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“It’s okay if you’re enjoying this,” he whispers. “It’s okay to feel good. This is supposed to feel good. You deserve to feel good.”

You shake your head no at that, beginning to really cry.

Marcus shushes you, wiping the tears away, “But it’s also okay for it not to feel good. You’re allowed to feel however you feel, and if it doesn’t feel good we’ll stop.”

When you don’t respond, Marcus sighs a little, fighting the urge to hug you closer to comfort you. “It’s alright, that’s enough for today. You did so well for me.”

He tries to move you off his lap to sit next to him and bring you some tissues— he can’t possibly let you leave his office like this, so wounded and vulnerable— but you just cling tighter to him and shake your head again, eyes still screwed shut and head turned down in shame.

“P-please… please don’t stop, Marcus…”

His heart stutters in his chest. How could he possibly refuse your heartfelt plea?

[haru-sen]

Through the Gates of Horn and Oak

Caught the BG3 Brain Rot AND a deep love of the tieflings, hithero referred to as "my cabbages!" No, seriously, I've been screaming about them like the guy from ATLA.

Anyway, WIP preview, playing with some Tav X Zevlor, which will eventually be some Zevlor X Halsin, and maybe some poly dynamics. Look, I just want to poke sad old men with a stick and then feed them cheese.

This preview has light spoilers for early Act I side quests. I have not beat the game, I'm still in Act 3, so please be mindful of spoilers. This is spicy but not explicit.

“How do you do it?” you grumbled, perched on a crate and resting your forehead on the cool stone table, your eyes closing as you reviewed your day. “From harpies, to bugbear assassins, to evil druid-controlled child-tormenting serpents, how do you keep these people alive? I mean, honestly, Zevlor, I’ve only been at it for like a day, and I’m exhausted.”

Zevlor, the tiefling-wrangler in question, gave a dry humorless laugh. “You assumed it was easy?”

“No,” you muttered. “I’m just gobsmacked by the sheer variety of ways they get into trouble. You have my deepest respect and my most heartfelt sympathies.” You stayed facedown while you spoke, which might have detracted from the authenticity of the delivery, but alas.

About a meter away, Tilses snorted. “Have you met Mol yet?”

“Have I met Mol?” you laughed, and it might have been a sob. “Have I met the future legendary patron of the Thieves Guild, you mean? Have I met a force of chaos constrained in a tiny tief package? Have I counted my purse half a dozen times today? Where do I even start?”

Zevlor groaned, clearly not interested in delving into that subject.

Tilses laughed. “You should have seen the time she-”

“Tilses, it’s getting late: you don’t have to stay,” Zevlor said.

“But-”

“Tilses, it’s getting late: you’re dismissed.”

You didn’t need to use your illithid powers to read the subtext in the room. Small talk aside, Tilses didn’t want to leave Zevlor alone with an outsider. Zevlor, however, didn’t seem worried. It could be that he thought you were trustworthy, but it was more likely that he knew that it didn’t matter if she was here. If you decided to turn on him, her presence wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

You could picture his expression easily, that no-nonsense frown, accentuated by the severity of his hellfire eyes and sharp ridged bones. He wasn’t exactly scary, but he had a quiet dignified gravitas that you and Tilses lacked; the kind of man was used to being in charge. Still, Tilses wouldn’t argue, not with you here.

“Understood, sir.”

Military discipline was a hard habit to shake, or so you heard. You smiled as you as her steps faded in the distance and the stone door grinding open and shut. And then there were two.

“I don’t blame you for Mol,” you said. “Obviously, the circumstances are shaping that one, and it would take more resources than you, me, or the entire Grove has to alter her trajectory.”

Zevlor sighed. “...I don’t think I’m capable of discussing Mol’s future right now.” There came a soft grunt and you didn’t have to open your eyes to know that the tiefling was sitting on the table across from you, just a few handspans away. If you lifted your head, he would probably move away, so you stayed there, the slight dissonance of his aura making your ears ring. You didn’t mind though. Things that might have bothered you a week ago couldn’t really match up to a godsdamned mindflayer tadpole swimming through your brain.

Some tieflings possessed a discomforting presence, akin to knowing you were being stalked by an apex predator, or that feeling of something alien crawling across your skin, or that screaming gut instinct that warned you when truly dark magics were abound. It was an involuntary inheritance, a side effect of being part devil, or at least having their human bloodlines tainted by a Hellish pact. But you knew better than most that biology didn’t override character.

Zevlor was a striking model of an Asmodeus tiefling: deep red skin, sharp features, and a pair of thick black horns twisting out of his skull. From what you heard, that strain got well and truly screwed over by their progenitor devil lord’s plotting.

“Would you like something to drink?” A cork popped and there was the clink of metal cups sitting on the table.

“Is it poison?” you asked. “Because I’ve got some lovely wyvern poison of my own. No need to dip into your personal stores.”

“That would be a poor repayment for all the help you’ve given,” Zevlor said, his tone mild.

You didn’t think he was offended. Hard to say. He was difficult to read, unless you decided to use your illithid powers, but then- People didn’t like it when you did that. You didn’t always like it when you did that.

He poured the drinks, and you slowly raised your head, lured out by your own dry mouth.

Zevlor was standing now, he gestured to the uncorked bottle, which sat beside the cups in front of you, all of it available for your inspection.

“Ashaba Dusk?” you asked, sniffing the common wine.

“It’s not so bad,” he said.

It figured that he liked red wines. You wondered if he smoked a pipe too. “You seem like the type to prefer a Gulthmeran Reserve.” It was a dryer red, complex with stronger mineral taste. Something suited for the palate of a stoic older man.

Zevlor’s lips twitched. “Is that so?”

“Am I wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say “no” to a bottle. But finding one out here might prove difficult,” he said as you chose your cup, pretty certain that none of it was poisoned. After all, they still needed your help dealing with the goblins, defanging Kagha, and rescuing the Archdruid. Logic made rationalization easy, even though you had no logical reason to be here alone with this man.

The wine wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. You drank it though. Today had been long, and you weren't going to turn your nose up at his hospitality.

The two of you finished your cups and sat in an almost comfortable silence. Your shoulders lowered incrementally and you basked in his calm company. You were on your second round of refills before he spoke again. “Was there something you wished to discuss?” he asked, fixing that burning stare on you.

Your stomach flip-flopped, but you just raised your cup and took a drink, buying yourself a few seconds to compose your words. “Just enjoying the ambiance.”

His brow furrowed, and he looked around the cave, clearly trying to figure out what you were referring to. The air in the chamber was cool, there were a couple shelves lined with books, and the candlelight was warm and golden. There were no fleshpits, no bloodstains, and nothing was trying to kill you. Best of all, you could not hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel bickering. To be fair, Lae’zel sniped at everyone, but Shadowheart got so damn shrill about it.

“Look, my...friends are nice and all, but sometimes they’re a bit much,” you said. “I’m taking a break from being mediator.”

“Ah,” he said. He rested his chin in his hand, thoughtfully. “I can lend you the chamber. Would you like some privacy?”

You winced. “No, no, I’m enjoying the company too.”

“I see,” he said, brow furrowing momentarily. He refilled your cup, sitting on the edge of the table farthest from you.

You studied the map of Elturel on the desk, while sipping your unpoisoned wine. And then a thought occurred to you much too late. “Oh gods, I’m intruding, aren’t I?” you groaned. “Look, don’t feel obligated. I’ve found a ton of great hiding spots in the Grove. I can take a dip in the sacred pool. There are some very private corners in the library. Hell, I can even go camp out with Mol.”

“...Don’t do that,” Zevlor grimaced.

“You’re right. She absolutely doesn’t need access to wyvern poison. I’ll go sit with Dammon. Aside from the hammering and the smithing, he’s pretty quiet.”

You’re not intruding,” Zevlor said, forcefully. “My hosting skills are simply rusty. I...welcome the chance to practice.”

“Oh,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t a believable reason in the least, but it did seem that he wasn’t trying to shoo you out. At least, you felt more confident that you were not unwelcome.

Zevlor studied your face. “How do you find Dammon’s company?”

“He’s a good kid and so cheerful in the face of everything that’s happened. I’m impressed by his attitude and his skills,” you said. “He’s helping me keep my tiefling in good shape.” Karlach was a certified badass, but she still needed extra special care. Gods, now that you thought about it, tieflings were like exotic fish, it was a real struggle to keep them alive.

Zevlor nodded. “We’re lucky to have him.” He set the empty bottle down and looked over his shoulder at the worn down storage crates, clearly considering the state of his supplies. He was a lean man, and while the kids were small, it was clear that the adults weren’t letting them go hungry. He likely didn’t have a lot to spare.

“Oh! I’ve got a bottle of Ithbank in my pack – the good kind.” You quickly dug into your bag and pulled it out. You were considering trying to bribe Asterion with it, but honestly, he would probably just turn his nose up at the unimpressive offer. You rummaged around your supply pack and found some cheese wedges, ham, a loaf of sourdough bread, and the treasure you scored while exploring. Looking around furtively, you pulled a small ripe sunmelon out and winked. “I know everyone is eating apples, but I’m sick of things trying to poison me-”

“You’ve mentioned poison very frequently today. How often does this happen to you?” Zevlor asked, looking concerned.

“Well, just this week-” You tried to think back. “The bandits, the goblins, some traps, the swamp apples, Nettie-”

“The healer?” Zevlor sounded alarmed.

“Yeah, because of the whole parasite infection thing,” you muttered, the wine loosening your tongue. Only a select few knew that you were carrying mindflayer tadpoles, and he was one of them since you had to explain to him why you were able to just walk into the Absolute camp without raising the alarm. “Look, the point is, I’m put off apples for awhile.” You pulled out a clean food knife – not a dagger, people applied all sorts of deadly coatings to their weapons – and eyed the cheese.

Zevlor rose and brought over clean plates and more cutlery. There was an economy to his motions, a careful precision to everything, no wasted movement. No tells either. This man tried to keep his cards very close to his chest.

It was very different from the first time you met, when he was shouting orders and coming down from the post-battle fury and the loss of one of his charges. Rage uncoiled all those carefully suppressed feelings and destroyed self control: you understood that feeling all too well. The contrast was interesting, you liked watching him.

You made a nice little plate cubes of cheese and ham, slices of bread, and cut your half of the melon into long wedges. Zevlor made a neat sandwich and chopped his melon into bite-sized chunks. This time you poured the Ithbank while Zevlor watched.

He took a sip. “This is nice. Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It really is,” you smiled, biting into the melon and getting some down your chin. The flavor was honey sweet, the flesh luscious and crisp under your teeth. You happily licked your fingers, slurping down the juice. Fuck, these were so much better than apples, and absolutely worth fighting a bunch of bandits for.

When you looked up, Zevlor was staring down at the table.

“I’m being messy, aren't I?” you muttered, wiping your mouth off. The heady combination of too much wine, sweet melon, and the company was making you sloppy. “Sorry.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Zevlor coughed and poured himself some more wine, averting his eyes. He carefully bit into his melon cubes. His tongue flicked out and he licked his lips, closing his eyes. “That is delicious,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his tail swishing behind him.

Satisfied that he was enjoying his fruit, you devoured your slices too quickly, eating them down to the rind. When you looked up, Zevlor was only half finished, clearly taking his time and really savoring the experience.

“These are better than apples,” he said, glancing down at your empty plate. He speared a chunk of melon and extended his fork. “I don’t know if I can finish all this though.”

A damned lie if you ever heard one, and between Wyll and Asterion, you heard a lot of creative truths. You took a swig of wine and met that burning gaze, your breath catching. “I’ll take a bite,” you said. “But you clearly aren’t eating enough. You really should take better care of yourself, Zevlor.”

You leaned forward, delicately took the melon between your teeth, and pulled it off the tines. You gave the utensil a light parting bite, never looking away from Zevlor’s face.

He swallowed audibly, but his hand did not shake and he did not draw back. He just watched you with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched, those sharp nails digging into his palms, his tail snapping from side to side. That tension was familiar. You remembered a similar strained look back when he got into a confrontation with that asshole mercenary. Maybe you were pushing him too far.

“Have I offended you?” you asked a little sheepishly. You did just take his food from him while insinuating that he was bad at taking care of himself.

“No,” he said gruffly, his voice an octave lower. “But are you going to claim that you don’t know what you’re doing?”

You smiled, lowering your eyes in amusement. “I’m just enjoying the ambiance.”

Zevlor gave a low exhalation, those orange eyes burning intently as he regarded you. “The situation is difficult enough,” he said, his voice harsh. “Hells, teasing an old man is cruel.”

You blinked. “I’ve seen you fight, Zevlor. I’d hardly call you old.” You met his gaze. “And teasing is only cruel if one doesn’t intend to follow through.” You stood, the wine giving you a cocksure recklessness that you would not possess sober. You leaned over the table, nearly nose to nose with him, baring your teeth in a grin. “I’ll deal with Kagha tomorrow. We’ll figure out the goblins after that. And then, if you’re still interested, let’s do something about it.”

Zevlor stiffened, his eyes widening, his lips parting in shock.

You took a swig of the Ithbank, and slammed it down next to him, lifting one of those calloused hands to your lips. You brushed your mouth against the inside of his wrist and then caught his index finger between your teeth. You sucked it down to the knuckle, tasting the blended salt and sulfur of his skin and the sweet stickiness of the melon. The heat of the digit made you want more than this, but you had to be careful with those sharp nails.

Zevlor’s nostrils flared, those brimstone eyes burning as he gritted his teeth, your name a hoarse curse in his mouth.

“And if you’re not interested,” you said, lowering his hand gently. “That’s fine too. It’s entirely up to you. We can just blame the wine.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and left, before you did something really stupid. It didn’t matter though, the fire was already in your veins and the taste of him lingered on your tongue.

Fic posted on AO3 now.

[derangedhyena-zoids]

Hello, back with more disturbing, fucked up Zi biology facts re: Organoids. I'M SURE EVERYONE IS VERY EXCITED (or running away, idk) It always has bothered me I didn't have a solid behavioral bead on how Organoids went from hunting Zoids to teleporting/fusing with cores. Apparently my brain has been thinking about it on some secret extra backburner because I just thought of this all suddenly the other day:

Zoids in general have something like this as a "nervous system" of sorts as relates to their cores. wild and zoidian zoids were more organic-ish while modern zoids' are basically purpose-built

this is sort of how the conduit stuff grows (top) vs is is "populated" (bottom), but the end result is basically the same. You have a core "nerve" suspended in matter in a tube. this blueprint of internal conduit is true for all Zoids, including, Organoids. Except with Organoids the concept just went utterly batshit. so while a huge amount of Organoids' evolutionbeing so conduit-heavy had to do with reproduction (re: adding a whole new step to encase core buds in protective eggs) it also had to do with a heavily-utilised feeding strategy. As I've talked about before, Organoid colonies are hypersocial - they maintain individuality but are all attached to their colony's hivemind. This made them really distressing predators - because while they were smaller than much of the Zoid megafauna they hunted, they did so in groups ranging from a pack to a swarm. One that could perfectly coordinate at all times.

If you're familiar with how wild dogs/hyenas/etc tend to go after their prey you might see where this is headed. I'd post a picture but that'd be kinda rude on random folks' timelines, so if you really don't know google youtube videos of african wild dogs killing large herbivores. basically pack carnivores usually go for weak points like orifices to start ripping into things. which works great when the whole prey is made of food... but Zoids are encased in a lot of armor and the best parts are very difficult to get to. which would actually lead to extremely protracted and dangerous hunts because it takes so long to destroy enough of the Zoid to actually immobilize it

SO the genesis of the whole fusion concept actually lies in the strategy Organoids as a species tried to solve this with - attacks that could directly target the core. Basically a swarm of Organoids overwhelming something, chewing holes in it to access the "conduit" - then, while the Zoid is being overwhelmed by a bunch of Organoids still attacking it, a number of them cling on and shove their own, much smaller cablings up through these 'conduit veins', damaging things and eventually getting access to the core chamber. refresher from my organoid anatomy bullshit - there's three types of this cabling:

one of these is GI - these type usually connect to the craw/stomach but they don't have to (I realized in writing this last night/today that there's some function "rules"/descriptions for these cables I've never articulated, but I've had those in mind for a long time, I'll write them down sometime soon I guess) but re: everything above, In what's basically a starfish move Organoids shove their own fucking guts up directly into a Core to start feeding on it. It's very miniscule individually, but multiplied it'll rapidly damage and collapse the Zoid's core, stopping (and killing) the prey for Everyone

When Organoids became more benign, and Zoids weren't hostile to their presence, they found they could accomplish this same basic thing individually without, yanno, all the Horrifying and Death, so. everyone was happier the end

thanks for coming to my fucked up ted talk. that's why you follow this blog right? lmao

[snowed-leopard]

TEAM BIRDTRESS 3/9: SPY!

Spy: the boreal owl. This owl is rarely seen by humans, and its binomial name of Aegolius funereus quite literally translates to a bird of ill omen and funeral, respectively. For sneaky he's sophisticated killer like spy i think it may be my favorite of my choices that I worried over, but ironically, into on it is lacking due to aformentioned secrecy, especially on behaviour. They're sit and wait predators like all owls, both silent and agile. They change up what tree they roost in every night and don't form a permanent nest when single. It just seems perfect for the sneaky bastard, yes?

Up next: Medic! (Feel free to guess what he'll be :) ) As always, musings below the cut, as well as my sources

And consider joining the rally to tell Valve on June the 3rd to #FIXTF2.

We don’t need updates, we just want the damn robots gone.

I'll be honest spy was the most difficult to figure out a bird for. I literally only figured him out the night I did scout's portrait. I played with dozens of birds for him. Bluejays for their cleverness, mynahs and European starlings for their mimicry. Red kites for their Grace in the air, barn owls for their mask like face. And many. Many. More. But while I was scrolling though the list of birds in France on Wikipedia, this one caught my eye and it just. Clicked. A barely seen or known about omen of death? Yeah that's spy. God I wish I could have just given him a mockingbird and been done with but y'all Europeans are losers that don't have them. Also his pose gave me strange amounts of grief trying to think something up. I wanted to do something with his disguise disappearing or him decloaking bc the smoke visual is nice, and this eventually beamed into my brain. Really like how the rendering came out tho, I tried a new technique and I think I'll keep it.

Also, for those asking why spy doesn’t get face feathers while the others did: it just looked wrong man, couldn’t get it to not be strange, imagine he’s got some peppered under his mask or smth

Additionally, I'm really sorry this took a bit longer, the weather has been making my joint pain act up and it was almost too physically painful for me to draw last night and most of today. I'm going as fast as my body, muse, and busy schedule lets me. All I can ask is your forgiveness for slow times, and your patience.