#and also the other maw stages

[shakingparadigm]

In a modern au I think the wagyein would be like one of those gaint ass crocodiles that Ivan gets away with keeping because its technically a service animal. As long as its on a leash its all good and not a threat to the public!!

Ivan being rewarded with a more expensive and unique kind pet like a whole fucking crocodile honestly seems pretty in line for him 😭 especially since it adds a new "chic" flair to his photoshoots and his general aesthetic. Imagine Ivan's new photoshoot drops and he's in a suit posing with a fucking crocodile. Insane.

I really like the imagery of this large, scaly and dangerous looking reptile being tamed as Ivan's pet, something that could help boost his image and push that luxurious, enigmatic vibe. You know, like how stereotypical evil lairs have sharks or other rare and dangerous animals guarding the entrance or simply acting as accessory. That kind of vibe. I also like the imagery of this sharp creature being forced into submission and captivity. Forced to become a good, obedient pet, holding in its urges and keeping its teeth hidden. A being taken from the ruthless, grimy darkness, cleaned and maintained to perfection, forced to perform for the cameras. Ivan can empathize, he knows what it's like.

"Technically a service animal" is fucking hysterical. Ivan going Hello, sir! Please excuse my emotional support 12ft crocodile. Don't worry, he's very well-behaved.

I actually think Ivan would get along very well with his hypothetical crocodile. Just like the wagyein, he'd feel connected to it in a very personal way. Also just like the wagyein I think Ivan would be the only person it would never harm. In my head I have the mental image of Ivan petting and cuddling it as if it were a puppy.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Don't cha wanna dance?

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31

Prompt: New year's resolutions

Rated: T

CW: Vague boner references again

Tags: No UD AU; dancer Steve Harrington; good neighbor Eddie Munson; Flirting; Sexual tension

Notes: Continued from day 22. This is for @sourw0lfs and @wormdebut specifically, who very gently bullied talked me into writing more dancer!Steve. 🩰

Eddie has never understood new year's resolutions. He believes that, if he wanted to change something about himself, he could do it any time. Like quit smoking. Or stop biting his nails. Or be less of a goddamn push-over. 

Okay, so maybe the latter is something he should really, really work on, ‘cause it's gotten him into a whole shitload of unfortunate situations lately. As if chauffeuring Max to her stupid ballet classes wasn't enough. Now he's also helping out at the dancing school’s annual Christmas recital, because he's just such a nice guy, apparently.

While he tries to arrange the lopsided folding chairs into something resembling a neat line, he struggles to remember when he agreed to this shit. For the life of him, he can't recall. His brain was probably flat-lining when Max asked him, as it tends to do around a certain very hot dance teacher and his muscles and his tights and-

“Looking good!” 

He whips his head up. Steve is standing a few paces away. The tights are a pale pink today. Jesus Christ. 

“You too,” Eddie blurts. Steve's eyebrow arches and shit, he wasn't talking about Eddie, was he? “I mean, thanks, I … ow, son of a-”

“Oh, shit!” Steve is next to him in an instant, freeing his hand from the maws of the folding chair. Eddie swears, sucks his throbbing thumb into his mouth. “Sorry, these things are ancient. You need an ice pack? I've got some-” 

“‘m good,” Eddie says. Tries to go for suave. Fails because he's still got his own thumb up his mouth like a fucking two-year-old. “Had worse.” 

Steve’s face is a mask of doubt, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Anyhow,” he smiles instead, putting the offending chair in line with the rest. “I just wanted to say thanks again. You're probably busy enough around the holidays, but Max insisted you'd be happy to help.” 

“I'm not,” Eddie says. Pauses. Grabs a strand of hair to hide behind. “Busy, I mean. I am happy to help, so … don't sweat it, or whatever.” 

A heartbeat passes in awkward silence. 

“So, what's with the, um …” Eddie says. Watches how Steve tilts his head at him, hair swooshing with the motion. Briefly considers stuffing his thumb back in his mouth to shut himself up. “... with the y’know. The getup.” 

Something flashes across Steve’s face, something dangerously akin to hurt. 

“What?” he asks, doing a hesitant three-sixty. “Something wrong with it?” 

Screw the thumb, Eddie thinks. He needs to find a way to fit his entire hand in there. And Steve, for what it’s worth, needs to stop twirling, or they're about to have a massive fucking problem.

“It’s fine!” he says. Maybe a bit too fast, because he thinks Steve’s mouth curls into a smug smile. “I just mean, um … you’re not … dancing today, are you?” 

Is he? Oh dear God, please no. The place is gonna be swarming with proud parents and relatives, Eddie is not ready for the inevitable consequences of Steve in his pink tights on that stage. Not in the skinny jeans he had to wear today, stupid fucking moron that he is. 

“Huh? No, tonight is all about the girls,” Steve says. Eddie is so busy sighing in relief and nodding that he doesn’t catch the next words.

“Sorry, what?” 

“That other recital I was talking about earlier? You coming to that, too?” Steve repeats, and fuck, what other recital? Eddie really needs to work on his listening skills. If he actually listened instead of staring at the guy like a catatonic caveman every so often, he might be able to maintain a halfway intelligent conversation. 

He’d also probably know why Steve is suddenly coming closer. Eddie tries to take a frantic step backwards and almost crashes into the folding chairs. 

“Oh, erm …,” he stammers. “When was it again?” 

Stever reaches up to run a hand through his hair, boyish and bashful. 

“Um, New Year's Eve,” he says apologetically. “I totally understand if you already have plans, it's just… There's a little get-together after the show, too, with drinks and snacks, and I thought-”

“Sure, I'll be there,” Eddie says. 

See, what did he say? Total push-over. 

The thing is, with the way Steve’s eyes light up, he can't really find it in himself to regret it. 

*

“Ew, what happened to your finger?” Max looks about as disgusted as she sounds. Which is probably fair, because Eddie’s thumb has turned a vibrant purple. 

“These little babies did,” Eddie gestures offhandedly at the chairs they're stacking against the wall. “So be careful.” 

“Were you staring at Steve again?” 

“Fuck off, I wasn't.” 

She pushes the hair that has come loose from its bun out of her eyes so she can give him a deadpan stare. Eddie glowers right back. 

“And even if I was, what's it to you? You can be glad I keep showing up to these gigs. Today, on New Year's Eve, it's really getting-” 

“What are you on about?” Her entire face scrunches up in confusion. “There's no recital on-” 

“Oh no?” Eddie pulls the flier Steve gave him from his pocket and pushes it into her chest. “Then what's this?” 

“That's not our school, dumbass. Check the address.” 

She studies it for a second.

“Huh? What d'you…?” Eddie is already squinting at the letters again. Sure enough, the address doesn't match the one he's been driving Max to. Instead, it's somewhere downtown. “What?” 

“That's the studio Steve goes to,” Max has already returned to stacking chairs. “Super fancy place. He used to be a pro, y’know? Before he tore that muscle?” 

When Eddie doesn’t reply, she tugs the flier from his limp fingers, folds it neatly and puts it into his jacket pocket. 

“Happy new year, doofus. Better wear bulky pants.” 

All my holiday drabbles

[kechiwrites]

kerberos

touya, natsuo, and shoto todoroki x f!reader kinktober countdown day four, (foursomes)

synopsis: "...the air is sucked out of the room, and you’re frozen in place as they move above you, forming a beast overhead, one with a sneering maw, frigid hands and a piercing gaze."

wc: 4k

cw: a dabi-less au, but touya is still a lil fucked up, fem + afab!reader, drunk sex, threats of violence/harm, anal play, fingering, dubcon, foursomes, creampie, oral (m + f receiving), praise, pet names (honey, baby), hair pulling, light choking, degradation, finger-sucking, a little bit of powerplay / dom sub undertones, mdni.

author's note: a fic that didn't make it in time for kinktober last year, finally finished. this originally started as a natsuo fic, but the other boys wanted to play too. (everyone is 20+)

 It sounds like someone’s humming, jovially, quietly, when you stir to consciousness, the alcohol in your system thrumming through your veins, loosening your limbs, making it near impossible to guess the hour. The curtains are drawn in the room, the lights low, leaving the room just bright enough to make out the figure above you. Then, the figure seems to split in three.

“I can't believe you got me to do this with you, and I can't believe you dragged Shouto into it too."

A derisive sounding scoff bounces off the walls, and the bed you're lying on sinks with the weight of someone sitting on it. The voice speaking is so familiar. You know you could place it if the world would just stop spinning so quickly.

“C’mon, you saw the way she flirted with us. She’ll love it. I promise.” Another voice stage whispers. A hand brushes your cheek and you follow it, nestling your face into the calloused palm, opening your mouth when a finger presses against your lips, letting the digit settle on your tongue.

“Cute.” The first voice sighs, and it’s too far away to be whoever is touching you, the person who pushes their thumb (you’re sure of it now) deeper into your mouth.

“Good morning sunshine.” Touya Todoroki smiles down at you, all big hands and white teeth and cerulean eyes that meet yours when you finally rouse from half-consciousness. Your face warms in embarrassment, and you draw back, Touya’s thumb withdrawing from your mouth and leaving it woefully, humiliatingly empty.

Your voice is high and tight in your throat when you finally speak, after your eyes have adjusted to the low light of the room. "Ah. Good morning?" You respond, apprehensive and more than a little startled. When you realize exactly who else is in the room with you, the last few hours of the night flood your mind in an instant.

Arriving at the Todoroki Estate for Shouto’s birthday party, drinking a ridiculous amount of tequila with Mina and Momo, grinding against Bakugo until he had to excuse himself to the bathroom, sidling up to Natsuo and Touya in their little “older brother corner”, pressing your hand to each of their abdomens and giggling before prattling on and on about the “family resemblance” and mumbling something about wanting to see if all Todoroki men had “super huge feet”.

You distinctly remember Touya’s knife-sharp smirk when he grabbed you by the chin and murmured to you, “Ask what you really want to ask, honey.”

You also remember whimpering before blacking out right in front of them, crumpling to the floor.

Jesus, that’s embarrassing. Pretty quickly you reason that they must’ve carried you upstairs, and you couldn’t have been out that long, because you can still hear the party raging on downstairs. Your friends are most likely getting drunk in your absence, assured of your safety stashed away.

“I didn’t mean to pass out like that. I just…” You drift off, peeking at the eldest Todoroki through your eyelashes.

“It's fiiiiine." Touya stretches out the word like a seedy car salesman, giving your eyes time to skip from him to Natsuo by his side, to Shouto, who's leaning against the far bedroom wall. "You know Natsuo wanted to keep you all for himself, wanted to lock you up and knock you up.” Touya laughs at his own joke, elbowing Natsuo in the side and receiving a scowl for his troubles.

"But I convinced him it’s only right to share, after all, he wasn't the one who saw you first."

You hear Natsuo mumble something that sounds suspiciously like "neither did you" before he crowds into your vision too. His face up close is a marvel. Steel gray eyes, clear skin and perfect white teeth.

"Is your head alright?" His fingers lightly graze the back of your head and it takes everything within you to not shiver at his proximity.

"Haven't had any complaints." You hiccup your response without missing a beat.

You are definitely still intoxicated.

Natsuo looks concerned while Touya laughs at your expense. Shouto stays blissfully quiet. And though it’s one of your favourite traits of his, it seems it’s short lived. He pushes off the wall and stands at the foot of bed, bringing all three men into your field of vision for the first time.

“Maybe we should wait. At least until we’re sure she doesn’t have a concussion.” the youngest Todoroki looks you over in concern, his face still typically placid.

You sit at attention, head swimming at the sudden shift in your position.

“Wait for what?”

“For us to give you what you asked for.” Touya intones, brows almost reaching his hairline.

Your palms sweat and your heart thumps in your chest, so loud you worry it can be heard over the pounding bass downstairs.

“I don’t wanna wait.” You mumble it so low you can almost convince yourself you didn’t say it. Like the words appeared out of nowhere, spoken by a stupid, reckless, horny spectre.

Four words.

But apparently, that’s all it takes. The air is sucked out of the room, and you’re frozen in place as they move above you, forming a beast overhead, one with a sneering maw, frigid hands and a piercing gaze.

Natsuo is the first to kiss you, and his skin is so cool, you're surprised you can't see your own breath when you pant a sigh against his lips. His kiss is slow and building, constant, consistent pressure that only stops when he pulls back to stare at your dazed expression. Touya is next, shouldering Natsuo out of the way, his hard on is urgent and searing against your stomach when he plasters himself to your front. Touya crushes his mouth against yours, impatient and searching. If Natsuo is a glacier then Touya is a goddamn wildfire, hot and fast and vicious, all teeth and branding tongue.

Your dress was pretty much non-existent to begin with, strappy black fabric and gold buckles. Natsuo and Touya's hands make quick work of the cloth, stripping you down to your underwear, clothing tossed haphazardly to the ground, discarded, unneeded.

"Are you just going to stand there, Shouto? Because if you wanna watch, that's fine. I just figure our girl here needs as much attention as she can get.” Touya calls over his shoulder, pulling your underwear down your legs. He drops the panties at his brother’s feet while Natsuo circles around you, situating himself behind you so you're reclined between his spread legs, your back resting against his chest instead of the headboard. His fingertips graze a trail in-between your shoulder blades, unhooking your bra, clasp by clasp, pressing a barely there kiss into the middle of your back. You smile at the tenderness of the action even as your brain struggles to catch up with what’s happening.

The moment doesn’t escape Touya’s attention.

There’s an indent between his eyebrows, betraying his irritation.

“Y’know,” He simpers, settling on the bed in front of you, leering, “I feel like my handprint would look so good,” The eldest brother places his open palm over one of your hips, “right here, permanently. It’d only hurt for a minute” You choke on your answer, but it’s not really a question to begin with. His palm heats on your skin and you scramble back further into Natsuo’s chest, letting him wrap his arms around you,

“Touya, don’t be an asshole.” Natsuo bites, his tone acidic, “You’re scaring her.”

“Then why don't you take charge for a bit, little brother?” Over your head, Touya meets his brother’s eyes, his challenge clear.

You can feel Natsuo bristle behind you, his hackles rising at Touya's goading.

"Fine. Touya, why don't you shut the fuck up and tongue her tits for a while?”

The corner of Touya’s lips curl up, before he descends on you as ordered, mouth nibbling, sucking and kissing at the skin of your chest. The piercings decorating the shell of his ears glint back the light from the lone illuminated lamp in the room, blinding you momentarily before Natsuo angles your head upwards, covering your mouth with his own.

He traces the seam of your lips with his tongue, groaning when you open up for him, the cool surface of his palm tightening around your throat. Your nipples pebble under Touya’s attention, he uses his teeth more than anything else, biting and scraping and only soothing the pain when you cry out when it gets to be too much.

“Fuck,” and Natsuo’s voice is already so wrung out despite you barely having done anything, “you like when he hurts you?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb over your cheek repeatedly, a perfect contrast to Touya’s canines on your skin. You nod frantically, letting the second oldest sink his teeth into your bottom lip, then soothe the pain with the tip of his tongue.

Shouto crouches at the foot of the bed, watching his brothers touch you with hooded eyes. “I would’ve done this months ago. If you’d just asked me. But you’re greedy aren't you? I wouldn’t have been enough. You wanted them to fuck you too. Didn’t you?” His eyes never stray from your cunt, his voice is pitched low and so, so quiet, it’s almost as if he’s speaking to himself. You stare at Shouto, jaw dropped in shock at the filth pouring from his mouth, and when he finally drags his eyes from your pussy, it takes only a second for him to shove Touya out of the way and kneel between your thighs.

“I-I.” You stumble over your words, the lingering haze of alcohol weighing your tongue down in your mouth, making you clumsy, needy. You give up on speaking coherently, deciding to just shift lower, spread your thighs further, so Shouto can situate himself in between. He places a hand over your thigh, digging his thumb into the underside, crowding so close you can feel the puff of his breaths against your pussy.

“I won’t touch you until you tell me the truth.” He mutters, and you aren’t sure if he’s telling you or reminding himself. Even with Natsuo behind you, away from view, you know they’re all staring at you, you know they’re all waiting.

And it’s mortifying.

You bob your head in the affirmative, hoping it’ll be enough.

“Say it.” Touya urges, his hand on Shouto’s shoulder, finger digging into the fabric of his brother’s shirt.

The words stick in your throat at first, like your tongue is sitting in your mouth wrong, blocking the admission. “I-I wanted all of you.” Touya whistles saucily, Natsuo smiles into the crown of your head, and Shouto sighs, then he gives in.

“What a slut.” There’s so much blood rushing in your ears you almost miss Touya saying it. Instead, you opt to focus on Natsuo sinking his fingers into your mouth, covering your tongue with the rough, cold surface of his digits.

“Our slut.” Shouto corrects immediately and his tone is so insanely earnest you hiccup a laugh, even with your lips stretched around two of Natsuo’s fingers.

Shouto makes good on his promise immediately, his hand sliding between your legs, palm covering your pussy gently before his calloused fingertips move in a silky slide down your wet folds. Your body breaks out in goosebumps, all while Shouto eases two fingers in and out of you, deceptively quiet, letting the room fill with the sounds of you creaming against his hand. Your breath flees as his fingers thrust just inside your slick heat, teasing you with soft friction. You try so hard to stop yourself from holding your breath, periodically remembering how to inhale.

Your thigh is almost uncomfortably warm where Touya’s head lies, cheek pressed to bare skin. He groans happily as he watches his youngest brother’s fingers disappear into the dripping, tight clutch of your cunt.

“Right.” He murmurs, sinking his teeth into the plush flesh below him. “Ours.”

Shouto drops his head to lave at your clit in sweet, probing circles, making your toes curl and your hips twitch. It’s all you can do to not rip his hair from his head when your hands fist in his red and white locks. Natsuo tugs at the tips of your chest, rolling your already hypersensitive nipples between his fingers. It’s mind altering, how badly you want to come from this, your skin is covered in a fine layer of sweat and you jerk and buck against Touya keeping you held down. It feels as though Shouto is doing everything in his power to keep you lingering right on the edge, balancing the rapidly tying knot in your stomach with your desire to have this go on forever.

“As fun as this is to watch, I’m getting a little impatient here.” You watch as Touya palms himself through his jeans, undoing the fly when he realizes he has your attention again.

“We agreed I’d go first.” Natsuo grunts from behind you and Touya's eyes turn flinty in response but his stare never leaves yours, even as he talks down to his brother.

“Well I’m the oldest, dipshit.”

Natsuo continues groping at your chest until you break eye contact with the eldest Todoroki. Your head hangs down, getting an eyeful of Shouto pulling away, licking the taste of you from his lips. You open your mouth, to thank him? To cuss him out for stopping? You just don’t know and ultimately it doesn't even matter because before you can say anything, Natsuo sinks his teeth into the nape of your neck, biting down so hard he almost breaks skin.

“Fine.” He concedes, and Shouto wordlessly pulls away from you, eyes downcast and disappointed, like he can’t bear to part his mouth from your cunt. You bear down around nothing while Touya replaces Shouto, tapping the already hard tip of his dick against the puffy lips of your pussy. You buck your hips, silently begging him to get on with it, hoping to provoke Touya into action.

“Should I hold her open, little brother? I wouldn’t want either of you to miss me breaking her in.” He slides his thumbs up the lips of your entrance, keeping you exposed while Natsuo grinds the hard column of his cock against the small of your back. The shine in the eldest’s eyes is borderline scary, his gaze strips all artifice, any blustering confidence. Under Touya’s stare it’s not just your body that’s naked, it’s your fucking soul.

God, you’re really drunk.

Touya fists the root of his dick, slipping the angry red tip over your clit, once, twice, teasing you until you tilt your hips, wordlessly pleading with him again to push inside you. Finally, Touya concedes, shoving himself deep all at once, letting the girth of his cock spread you open. You cunt drips its contentment all over his pelvis, the sound of your hips colliding with his almost drowning out your fevered, breathless pleas.

He presses both hands to your shoulders, pushing you impossibly closer to Natsuo, making it absurdly difficult for you to squirm away.

The way Touya fucks you takes you by surprise. He’s slow, maliciously so. The heavy weight of his dick carves into you inch by inch, like he wants you to go insane. It isn't until he’s halfway in that you realize Touya has a piercing, several actually, concealed by the angle he’d had from above. What feels like six stainless steel orbs bracket the underside of his cock, three on each side. They’re not massive, thank god, so the sensation is barely perceptible at first, but once he’s finally all the way in, his hips flush with yours, the metal nudges and presses against the spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. You dig your fingernails into his shoulder and when he smirks at you, you struggle to not bite the motherfucker. It’s clear he takes pride in the overwhelmed and impatient expression on your face, keeping his predatory glare on you while he grinds in deeper, not stopping until your eyes turn skyward.

He barely thrusts in and out, opting instead to pick and prod at your already pathetic mental fortitude by crushing his front to yours, bullying your insides with the head of his cock while you shriek and hum and sob with the overwhelming pleasure he brings you. He presses a flat palm to your abdomen, pushing down hard and greedily rubbing his pelvis against yours; “Fuck, you really are something. Natsu, pull on her tits again, bet she gets so goddamn tight.” Natsuo follows the instruction, tugging mercilessly, coercing you into arching your back. Touya takes advantage and slides his free hand under your ass before you can bring your hips back down again. Two fingers rub boldly at the entrance below your pussy, and you flinch violently when Touya pushes against you. You shake your head, hissing from the beginning aches of a forced intrusion and Natsuo and Shouto bite in unison; “Knock it off!”

Touya, to his credit, merely rolls his eyes and moves his hand lower, rubbing at your perineum in slow purposeful circles that occasionally allow the pad of his fingers to catch the rim of your asshole. You squirm beneath him until he starts fucking into you again, piercings, now warmed by your body heat, brushing what feels like every nerve ending you’ve ever had. Touya watches you bounce on his cock, all while you lay in his brother’s arms, thrashing when the feeling gets to be too much. Your cunt pulses around him, milking an orgasm out of him before he can warn you.

Not that you think he would to begin with.

“Fuck. Fuck. That’s it, squeeze down on me, baby.” He jolts forward, and the sound of his pelvis hitting yours is punctuated by the long drawn out groan of Touya being spent. You kick your leg out in frustration when he pulls out, whining low and watery in your throat at not getting to come again. All Touya does in response is lay a quick open-palm slap at your thigh, wink at you and smile, pleased, you assume, to have gotten a nut off before anyone else.

Mission accomplished you guess.

Shouto shoves his brother aside, and you could cry to God with how happy you are to see him between your thighs again. When the youngest brother seals his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking in long, desperate pulls, it feels almost vindictive. Like he’s punishing you for enjoying yourself, for enjoying how his brothers touch you, fuck you. Occasionally, his tongue flicks against it, pressing the peak against the ridge of his teeth, all while he grazes his rough fingertips against your inner thighs. His cheeks are flushed and he’s panting, honest to god out of breath at the sight of you, pussy puffy and used, hazy eyes heavily lidded, mouth slick and parted around gentle, quiet sighs in the shape of his name. He thumbs at the lips of your cunt, pulling you open, spreading you so he can see everything, watching you clench around nothing, watching you leak Touya’s come onto the bed sheets. “So needy.” he mumbles, and you both hang there, just for a second, while Shouto stares, consumes.

And then...he’s on you.

He isn't as big as Touya, but dear god does he make up for it in enthusiasm. So unlike the teasing, drawn out grinding and half strokes of his older brother, Shouto ruts against you like your pussy is the only thing keeping him alive.

The black t-shirt Shouto wears makes his shoulders seem even broader than before, his frame looms above you, arms heaving up and pushing back the weight of your thighs, until Natsuo helps by holding them up too, until you're very nearly bent in half for them. your toes are curled and bounce with every thrust he completes against you. The slow, thick drip of his brother’s cum leaks from your cunt, where the greedy pace of his thrusts disturbs it, sliding down the plush curve of your ass before dripping down into an obscene puddle below you.

The easy glide is perfect, nudging over and over at the rough spot deep within you. The tip of his cock knocks repeatedly against your insides and the sensation disables any and all coherent thought.

You choke on your spit as he fucks into you, gripping the bedsheets so hard you swear you can hear them tear in protest. Your core protests at the strain but you manage it, keeping your legs steady while they bracket the youngest Todoroki’s ears. Shouto tugs you further down the mattress, forcing you to slide down Natsuo’s front, and when your cheek makes contact with the middle brother’s hard-on, you place wet, open mouth kisses on his fly. Natsuo takes a fistful of your hair and tugs, separating you from his cock, brutally. You keen in pain, but Shouto’s dick distracts you from the worst of it, tunnelling inside you and striking that spongy spot that makes your vision go blinding white. Natsuo fishes his cock out frantically, as though he’s been waiting for your go-ahead, which is...sweet. Rather, it would be if he hadn’t agreed to debase you with his brothers while you were still heavily intoxicated. The younger, white haired brother releases you only when he’s completely free of the confines of his jeans, and smacks the length of his cock against your mouth, rubbing the shaft over your tongue when you present it to him for use. Natsuo is thick, thicker than both his brothers. His dick is mouthwatering, straining and red and threaded with angry looking veins you are desperate to taste. He won’t let you take it all though, will only let you kiss and mouth at it while he jerks himself off. Guides you to suck on his balls and stare into his eyes while Shouto fucks you harder, bringing his thumb to the hood of your clit and rubbing with intention. He must’ve been at his limit, because of the three of you, Natsuo comes first with a pleasured grunt, jerking his hips and covering his hand and the side of your face with his come. And though you know logically that it’s impossible, you had kind of expected his nut to be...cold.

Hands trembling, the middle brother returns his attention to your chest, smearing his spend over your nipples, pinching at them in time with the swipes of Shouto’s thumb.

You finally get to come, waves of it hitting you and dragging you undertow, smacking into your body so hard you give yourself a burgeoning headache from clenching your jaw. Your body spasms, over and over and Shouto fucks you through it all, eventually adding his own seed to the mess between your thighs.

At least you think he did. It’s hard to distinguish what happens around the time you pass out from the fucked up cocktail of exhaustion, intoxication and the sedating power of the best dick you’ve ever had.

When you surface some time later, Touya is gone. “Fucked off somewhere,” Natsuo provides when you ask and...well you aren’t sure if it’s a relief or a disappointment.

Best not to think about it.

Shouto is there though, gliding a warm, damp towel over your heated skin, while Natsuo, who it seems, hasn’t moved from behind you, presses soft kisses to the crown of your head, your cheeks, your throat. He plays with the gold hoop earrings you're still wearing, rubbing your earlobes, and tugging on the jewellery every so often.

“How was it?” Natsuo asks, his voice quiet and soothing, and despite having just woken up, you could see yourself succumbing to its gentle tone and slipping into sleep once again.

“Good,” you respond, murmuring quietly. Shouto finishes cleaning you off, tossing the towel into a nearby hamper. “Really good.”

Natsuo chuckles, and his breath huffs over your ear.

“Good.” He tightens his arms around your middle.

“Good.” Shouto nods, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Good.” You repeat. 

and so, i make my glorious return to bnha. support city girls who would do anything, including kill, for one night with soft yet firm dom natsuo. reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

[curtins]

GOO GOO MUCK #1 — jujutsu kaisen x reader choose a storybook to open. aka my mythos take on jujutsu kaisen.

you've turned the page to: CHAPTER I. ITADORI YŪJI go back to the table of contents.

"an unchangeable colour rules over the melancholic: his dwelling is a space the colour of mourning. nothing happens in it. no one intrudes. it is a bare stage where the inert is assisted by the suffering from that inertia. the latter wishes to free the former, but all efforts fail, as theseus would have failed had he been not only himself but also the minotaur; to kill him then, he would have had to kill himself." alejandra pizarnik

prologue. → there was no other ending for this story — none where you did not end up as fodder for the beast in labyrinth, not after the king decreed that you would be the next sacrifice. how ironic that itadori yuuji doesn't seem like a monster at all, just a brilliant boy who was marked for death and sorrow.

pairings. minotaur!yuuji itadori x reader (sfw!)

song inspiration. goo goo muck — the cramps / still monster — enhypen

warnings reader comes from the royal family, has a deadbeat + awful father, mentions of injuries, death, sacrifices, angst and hurt, comfort. mildly ooc yuuji because life has dealt him a rough hand. reader picks their skin and cuticles + mention of bleeding, ambiguous ending, grief. word count. 2.9k!

a/n. y'all know i dont play abt this little guy but omg i was literally scratching my head trying to come up with decent plot. also i'm not entirely faithful to greek mythology my bad 😧 i hate spelling the word 'labyrinth' bc who the fawk came up with all that?

ask/comment/dm to be added to a taglist 🩵

mp3. when the sun goes down, and the moon comes up, i turn into a teenage goo goo muck!

you're not quite sure how long it had been since you were thrown to the rough, cold stone of the maze, where each jagged groove bit into your skin as you traced the contours of your new prison. the walls rose ever so high, swallowing you in an oppressive and towering silence and had it not been for the cold that bit your bones, you might have sobbed.

what was the weight of family, or the worth of blood, when a father could offer his own child to the gods as casually as one might surrender a coin to the tides? you could still feel the rough ghost of his grip on your shoulder, his hand heavy with the ringed wealth that he refused to give up.

all his gold, all his riches, the coffers of a kingdom that was within your rights to inherit, what did it matter in the end — when it was you that he sacrificed? the gods did not care for mercy, was that not why they were gods? but they had demanded, and the king had answered. not with offerings from hoarded treasure, but a child of his own flesh and blood. you, stripped of finery and beaten gold, and left adrift in the maw of stone and shadow.

but now, you laugh, a bitter sound swallowed by the cold air, hoping that your nerves are able to rework themselves into something braver, to allow the maze to drink in your defiance. at this point, you're not quite sure where you'll meet your end, but you've been told the beast waits, a monster of bone and sinew and deific anger, bound to the hunger of the cruel gods.

your eyes have caught the faint outline of something strewn along the path ahead, a line of small and crooked shapes against the stone. brittle sticks left to decay? a morbid curiosity has stirred within you, drawing you closer, as you kneel in thin linen onto the grimy stone.

they are not sticks at all, but fingers. withered and mummified, bent in unnatural shapes as if frozen mid-reach. dark, claw-like nails tip each one, and the skin is shrivelled and taut over bone, in a faded mauve hue. something bruised and ever so ancient.

you just cannot help the sickened gasp that escapes you, lurching back and clutching a hand to your mouth as bitterness rises and makes a home in your throat. the grotesque trail stretches on before you, and you hazard a guess that this rotten path leads into the heart of the labyrinth. a warning, a lure?

but a sound has risen from the depths of the stone around you, a low and rumbling roar that makes the walls tremble, as if the maze itself is struggling to take a breath. the noise grows, and it sends a cold shock through you that drains away every shed of defiance you had clung to.

for a moment, you can scarcely breathe, chest tight with fear. the memory of all you wanted to be, all you dreamed of becoming, hands over you like a whisper, a fragment of hope already out of reach. you think of the things you will never see, the lives you will never touch, and it startles you — how your heart breaks with a quiet desparate longing as you regret the way you lived in this short life. you wanted more than this, even if you did not get a proper death. but you wanted more than to be swallowed up as a nameless sacrifice, your thread picked out of the tapestry of history.

a flicker of thought urges you to raise the torch in your hand, to wield it as some pitiful defense. you imagine the flames as a fragile beacon against the shadows, a last defiant spark in the face of the death that you have been handed. but even the flame trembles, casting erratic shadows, and in the pallid light, you feel the futility of it all.

your strength has failed, and you sink to your knees as a numbness overtakes your body, as you bow your head, pressing your forehead against cold, damp stone.

"please..." you murmur, the word a faint breath lost in the maze, a plea without direction or expectation. whether it is mercy you seek, or simply a swift end, you cannot say. but death has never been kind, and it would never hold its hand out to you in a painless way.

but in waiting for a blow to be delivered, your eyes crack open, vision blurred by the shadows that lovingly cling to the labyrinth. each muscle is tense as you struggle to rise from the cold floor that pressed sharply into your smarting knees. but slowly, a shape and a form comes into focus — broad and menacing, a silhouette bathed in the flickering light of your torch.

at first, he seems like a nightmare sprung from the depths of the eldest primordial myths, markings etched across his skin like a map of some forbidden world, as dark ink ripples down his shoulders, down his chest.

you blink, and your gaze adjusts to the strange half-light, and you're bewildered as the black lines begin to fade, dissolving as if they were never truly there. the intensity of his form softens, and you're not sure if the monstrous edge is beginning to fade away, leaving something...unexpected in its place.

the form before you now is young, hardly older than you, with a face that seems almost human in its expressionless calm, yet somehow haunted. your breath catches, air hitching as you take in his features — amber eyes so intensely golden that they seem to glow in the dim light, fixed upon your with a gaze that is neither hostile nor welcoming, nay. just unflinchingly steady. his hair is a soft, choppy pink; like the goddess of the dawn had run her rosy-tipped hands over his head. but he is bare-chested, the lean muscle across his torso gleaming with a faint sheen, and the broad lines of his shoulders and thickened waist speak of one who has been carved for war.

you fight to quell the tremor in your chest, a rising mixture of terror and something else — something you just cannot name. there is no cruelty in his face, nor hatred. but it is a sad emptiness, a blankness, as if he himself is lost and hollow, waiting in this forsaken pit for far longer than you can possibly imagine.

but the soft rumble of his tone pulls you back, "so, you are the next one they sent?" and his voice is coloured by a kind of bitter amusement.

his eyes, that haunting amber, crease slightly at the corners, and you cannot help but notice that despite his demeanour, his face is incredibly expressive when he speaks, with a warmth that softens his gaze, but the sadness remains. a quiet and relentless grief that settles around him like a shadow.

you feel the tremour in your own voice as you stammer, leaning back against your calves, and yet still kneeling. but your head is tilted up to meet his gaze. your heart races, an awful and unsteady ba-bump! but you force yourself to speak.

"i would ask only for mercy," you whisper, "for my only crime was being an obedient child of a harsher master."

for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crosses his face. but the boy scoffs, a bitter sound that is not entirely unkind. he looks away, his mouth twisted into a grim half-smile with no real mirth, and you watch as the puckered scar on the side of his lips crumples.

"if there was any mercy in the world," he replies quietly, "they would have just executed me by now."

you pick at your nails, at the skin that is peeling off your cuticles with a sharp sting, "mercy is as much as a myth as the gods themselves."

"and yet you choose to kneel and ask me for it?"

you've looked down, focusing on the rapidly blooming crimson, "i do not want to die."

the boy does not answer at first. instead, he just stares at you with an intensity that feels as though he's examining you from the inside out. you're not sure if you meet a hint of suspicious flickering behind topaz eyes, as if you are the real danger here.

but you just test your luck, shaky but persistent, "why would execution be a mercy?"

it is no kindness to your nerves that the question hangs in the air like a fragile thread — and his response is a growl that rumbles deep in his chest, primal and sharp. it's shaken you to your core, and in that instant your gaze blurs, with your heart slamming against your ribs as a foggy vision plays before you like a twisted reflection.

you've pushed the beast too far. and for a moment in this haze you see him, this beautiful boy, morph into the very thing you had imagined in the darkness before. a four-armed creature covered in dark markings, his form expanding and distorting into something far more grotesque. would there be savage claws, reaching for your face as you recoil, tearing you into ribbons?

but the moment passes in a breath, and he's still there, slumped against the stone. no monster, just mortal fresh. no, he has not moved to strike, nor to rush at you.

instead he just sinks lower into cold stone, pulling his knees up to his chest, and resting his elbows on them, looking almost defeated. there's a strange heaviness in his posture, as if the weight of something much larger than the maze itself is dragging him down, something wide and unbearable.

"what did they tell you before they tossed you here, alongside me?"

"they told me that i was doing my father a service," you begin, and you wonder if there is a bitter drip that falls from your tongue as you let the words fall from your dry mouth, "and that the gods would award me for my pious duty and sacrifice."

the boy raises a thin brow, a faint flicker of surprise scattering itself over his faint, pale scars, "your father. the king i gather? he sent his only heir down here?"

what a sting. even a monster could understand. even the ones trapped in the dark can understand the greed that drives the hearts of men. you grimace, a fleeting shame twisting in your gut as you nod, but it is no surprise. your father's name had never been one to inspire reverence — only fear, and the hollow hope that the gods would look favourably upon his ritualistic sacrifices. it was hard not to feel small and broken in comparison to the king who stood tall in his halls of marble.

your new companion shakes his head, almost in acrid disbelief, but he continues, "i'm not the beast that they say lives down here," and at your look of disbelief and confusion, he grinds his heel down onto sharp stone, "it's not me."

your gaze drifts over him as he speaks, and your eyes fall on the harsh marks scattered over his chest. some are thin, barely more than pale lines, while others are thick and jagged — carved into him by hands that had no mercy. there's one in particular, a long streak that cuts across his face, something etched there by something far darker than any mortal blade. like patchwork.

there's a curl in your fingers, one that scratches at you. one that tells you to reach out and place your hand on thickened skin, but you tamp it down. he must have noticed the way your eyes linger on him, and for a moment, the corner of his scarred mouth quirks upward. he doesn't seem quite offended...just aware. you shift slightly, folding your legs beneath you, the thin linen shift you wear now soiled with the grime of the stone floors. the dirt clings to the fabric, staining it a muted grey.

"the beast is not me," he says again, and there's a quiet ache in his words, "he just lives within me. that's all."

you frown, trying to make sense of his words. "he?" you echo.

the boy glances at you, his gaze distant for a moment before he continues, as if he's not looking at you, but rather past your head.

"the council said they were going to kill me at first. said it would kill the monster that lives in here -," and he presses a hand harshly at his sternum, fingers splaying against his chest, "thought it would kill him if they just put an axe to my neck. two birds with one stone."

"and then...," and his smile is harsher, rueful, "then the king decided that it would be more useful to keep me down here, extend by sentence a bit. said that i could help them like this. said i could control the beast just enough to save the lives of others."

you curl your lip, and you can't fathom the cruelty of knowing your body is a prison. that your blood, bones and sinew is being used as the bars of an enclosure. such was your father's consistent cruelty.

"i am sorry that you suffered at the king's hands."

he doesn't look up at you at first. instead, his gaze drifts to your hands, where you've ripped at the edges of your cuticles, leaving faint scars that are prone to be reopened. your fingers tremble as you shove your hands into the folds of linen, hiding the fresher, red wounds.

his voice is low, but not unkind — with his eyes lingering on your hands, "i could say the same for you."

you almost smile, feeling as though a distant thunderclap has unsettled you and shaken you.

"what's your name?"

he doesn't answer immediately, the silence stretching just enough to make you wonder if he'll speak at all. but finally, his voice emerges, laced with a faint warmth, "itadori yuuji." now his eyes flicker to you, and after a beat, he adds, almost with a touch of irony, "your highness."

the title sounds wrong here, in the dark deeps, in the hollow of this wretched place, yuuji's home. you laugh, though you're certain the sound is thinned, "i'm sorry we met under these circumstances," you say, words slipping out before you can stop them. but you are sincere — and you wonder, briefly, what it would have been like to meet him in another life or another world.

yuuji laughs softly at that, and you catch the faintest glimpse of a smile, wan but genuine. it's a tragedy, you think, at how you cannot help but marvel at the way the torchlight catches onto his beautiful silhouette, illuminating small crescent marks that lay under his eyes.

"i am too," he says, and you wonder foolishly if he, too, regrets the way he lived. the strange fate that has brought you both to this moment.

your smile drops suddenly, "i will die down here, won't i?" the question slips from your lips, softer and more naive in a way that doesn't belong in the air of this place.

yuuji frowns, the furrow of his brow deepening, and his eyes darken — is there pity in his eyes? or something else that you cannot place?

"you don't have to."

you don't believe him, not truly. you know the customs of this sacrifice. the king's laws, and the will of the gods — they all point to the same conclusion. you know this, for all of yuuji's apparent mercy cannot hold back a four-armed beast when it catches the iron scent of blood in the air.

"and when the guards come with the next prisoner?" you ask.

yuuji doesn't look at you immediately. instead, he draws faint and absent patterns in the dust with the tips of his fingers.

"the guards will never be able to report back to your father then. maybe sukuna can be of some use, for once."

you frown, a thousand questions racing in your mind — about the finality of his tone or the underlying oath of blood being spilt. but the one that rises to the surface is the unfamiliar name, "sukuna?"

yuuji shifts slightly, his posture loosening, as if he's trying to make himself more comfortable in the cramped space between you. your gaze catches on his slender fingers tracing lines in the dust.

"the beast within me. gojo said he was my uncle too, apparently."

"gojo?"

yuuji's face darkens, "he was my - " he ends his sentence abruptly, as if he has not the heart to bite the last words out.

you stare at him, bewildered, your mind struggling to process the connection he’s just made so casually, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. what cruel fate.

he catches your expression and laughs softly, a sound that is more bitter than it is light.

"long story," he adds, as if that explanation is enough, his eyes glinting with something unreadable as he leans back slightly, his attention slipping into the distance.

"seems like you have a lot of those," you offer heartedly, but it darkens your heart. you do not see a boy capable of great violence in front of you. in another life, itadori yuuji would have lived a happier life — surrounded by those that he loved. but when the beast, sukuna, is unleashed, who will stand between you and the creature to protect you? how haunting, for the last face you believe you will ever see is the first face that you think you've ever loved.

[werewolfghoul]

Ghoul teeth headcanons anyone? (Hey tag spam and long post! Sorry ^^') - 🐕

ALPHA: Alpha's teeth are large and dull. They were once sharp and pointed, however, because of his terrible chewing habit, they have gotten marginally duller. Despite his duller canines, he has a throat and tongue similar to a penguin, covered in backwards pointed spines.

OMEGA: Omega's top teeth are flat, and so are the majority of his bottom teeth. However, he does have two tusks that peek out from his bottom lip in an orc-like manner. They are about 5 inches or 12 centimeters in length and need to be kept maintained.

CHAIN: Chain's teeth are similar to a shark's, all of them being sharp and regenerative. However, Chain only has one row of deadly teeth, but frequently gets them knocked out or loses them. He can be missing teeth one day and have brand new ones the next.

BIG EARTH: Earth's teeth are entirely flat, resembling a goat's or other grass eating field animals. This is also an evolutionary result of his extremely long tongue not having enough room in his poor mouth.

LAKE: Lake has no teeth. He is completely nonverbal and cannot speak if he tried, he can only make small noises. Unlike other water ghouls, he is most closely related to his element. He does not need food, so he has no need for teeth to chew.

AERO: Aero's canine teeth are retractable, but aside from that feature, his are most close to human teeth in the cast of Opus/Infestissumam ghouls. Similar to Vampires in modern media, he can retract and detract his fangs. However, this is for intimidation and not sucking blood.

IVY: Ivy's teeth are also very similar to a goat's mixed with that of a human's, his underbite leaving him a bit of a snaggletooth exposed from his jaw. It's very rarely seen from stage because of his mask, but without it, it is one of his most distinct features.

RIVER: River's teeth are piranha-like. Unlike Chain's, they are not thick and sharp. His teeth are small line needles, opening his mouth to reveal a line of unevenly sized sewing needles. He was evolved to eat smaller creatures, hence why he does not have massive and tearing teeth.

DELTA: Delta's teeth are flat and hidden in the back of his throat like a goldfish's. However, he does wear dentures since he worries about scaring the Papas or his human fans and friends. Whenever he eats, he takes them out and seemingly swallows food whole, chewing in his throat.

COWBELL: Cowbell's teeth are more adjacent to an actual cow's. He only shows the bottom row of his teeth when he talks, because he does nor have an upper layer of teeth. He is a pure vegetarian simply because he is not evolved to eat meat.

MIST: Mist's teeth are sharp, jaded like the spine of a porcupine. She has to wear protection under her mask considering they scrape the inside of her mouth when she plays. She also needs her mouth guard to sleep. Because of the way she evolved, it makes her having her mouth closed very uncomfortable.

IFRIT: Ifrit's teeth are nearly identical to a wolf's, just featured in a smaller maw. He has long canines on his top and lower jaw, a gap between his front teeth and his canine so his lower canine can comfortably place in his mouth. His back teeth are also extraordinarily sharp, his mouth was made for ripping and tearing.

AETHER: Aether's teeth most closely resemble a human's out of the whole cast. He has regular molars and slightly sharp canines but not to an inhuman extent. He is the one who manicures Omega's tusks!

DEWDROP (WATER): Dewdrop's teeth are varied and also resemble a human's, but with the unfortunate twist that they are completely retractable. He usually is toothless whenever he is by himself, but unleashes his teeth on stage or in questionable situations. Similar to how cats use their claws. Sometimes they go away or come out on their own without his say, which annoys him deeply.

ZEPHYR: Zephyr's teeth are normal as well, but he has two layers of them. This is because he has evolved to open his mouth and protrude the outer layer to make himself seem scarier despite his dull teeth (considered dull to other ghouls). He can also unhinge his jaw like a snake! Which lets his mouth look bigger and scarier than it is as well.

PEBBLE: Pebble's mouth is almost a beak if it wasn't for the sharp teeth circling around the inner part of his mouth, just bordering his throat. Unlike the other Earth ghouls, Pebble's mouth almost comes off as more of a predator mouth than that of prey.

MOUNTAIN: Mountain continues Big Earth's legacy with the flat teeth, still akin to a goat's. This is more fitting considering Mountain's body resembles a goat strongly as well. However, his teeth are rather crooked, so he currently has braces to fix their appearance.

CUMULUS: Cumulus's front teeth are much sharper than her back teeth. Her front row of teeth can be mistaken as a carnivore's, but her back molars are very useless for chewing meat as they are just as dull as Mountain's. She does like to use her bitey front teeth to spook her friends, though.

CIRRUS: Cirrus has the sharpest teeth out of the ghoulette's, even rivaling Mist's. However, she evolved to avoid Mist's plight of uncomfortable teeth. Her two large canine teeth are constantly exposed, poking out from under her lips. They look like the fangs of a Sabertooth, if not as long, length and thin but extremely sturdy. They are venomous when she chooses them to be, but work as a sedative and not a poison.

SWISS: Swiss is... Well, his teeth are very regular on the surface. His teeth are rather normal, a bit sharper than your average ghoul. His special feature regarding his teeth and mouth is the fact he can show his gums similar to a threatened dog. His gums are black, like most ghoul's, but contrasting with his pearly whites can be a frightened sight if you are in the middle of a dark room.

RAIN: Rain's teeth are sharper than a normal person's, but not quite shark level like Chain's. It is very clear that Rain descended from the same generational evaluation that Chain and Mist did, his teeth being thick and sharp, and he has two long canines right beside one another.

SODOMIZER (FIRE): Sodo's teeth are still somewhat retractable, but other's have permanently stuck in place. His fangs got sharper after the element transformation, making it much more difficult to retract them or the surrounding teeth. Overall, his teeth just got much sharper and similar to Ifrit's but not quite as canine-like.

SUNSHINE: Sunshine has a row of sharp teeth on her upper row, her lower jaw being much duller. She has a bit of an overbite as well, leading to her mouth being open a lot of the time. Her canines are her sharpest teeth, thick but sharp on the ends. She has kind of the "classical monster" mouth.

AURORA: Very similarly to Swiss, Aurora's teeth are not her main attraction. She is a snarler, even unintentionally. Her gums go farther down onto her teeth than Swiss's, so even when she smiles, it gives off the ominous impression of a grimace. Her teeth themselves are quite sharp, only a tad sharper than other ghouls, but duller compared to most.

PHANTOM: Phantom's teeth are very human-like since he is very evolutionarily close to Aether, he didn't really have a need for large fangs or harsh bites.

PHIL: Phil is a shapeshifting ghoul so his teeth are pretty varied. However, for interviews, he usually sticks with the classic human look, or sharp canines and nothing too excessive.

[ask-elliot-doorman-fam]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN YALL!

Haunters Eve-

“This is embarrassing Kia…” Tera mumbled, looking at herself in the mirror, she was dressed as a cat, a black cat, the ears poking out from her mane of black hair, most of it held back in a wolf's tail.

Black fur covered felt covered the cord of her tail, the only part uncovered was the head; which protested bring covered by anything. Her costume included gloves shaped like paws- the world's most unflattering black leather jacket, and black shorts.

“You look puuurfect!” Kiara giggled, wearing a witch costume, pointy hat and all.

“Ugh… I think I'd rather be one of the monsters for Mom's haunted house again…” Tera groaned, which got worse when Kiara rang the bell attached to her neck.

“You promised~” She teased, making Tera's face heat up in blush and a growl escape her core.

“I promised to go to the festival with you and Rad… not to wear a catsuit.”

“Daw but you look sooo cute!” Kiara replied, pushing lightly on Tera's chest, making the solver drone sigh.

“Fine. Whatever, what's Rad going as?”

“Werewolf.”

“So why am I cat?! You're both actual monsters!” Tera protested, slumping in defeat.

“Hehe. Because you said you didn't care what you went as and let me pick it out for you.” Was the worker girls response, standing in the middle of Tera's room, ready to head out.

“Right…”

Kiara grabbed her wrist and out the door they went, tumbling down the walkway stairs and ending up on the ground in a minute flat.

The little town of Sanctuary was lit up in a festive hue, lights of purple, orange, and green, banners of every color depicting drone cores. There were booths full of games and prizes that ranged from food to plushies to electronic parts, and a stage with live music.

Of course… there was also a big, spooky temporary structure sat at the mouth of the front gate- the haunted house, run by the Chieftess Uzi Doorman herself.

“Hey dudes!” Said a voice from behind them, and there stood Rad, green eyes mixing well with the shaggy brown ears stuck on his hat and a limp tail attached to his shorts. He was wearing tattered rags with faux fur lining the arm and leg holes…

“Nice witch K! And uh…” He looked Tera up and down, snickering a little. “Cute kitty.” He teased.

Tera whipped forward and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, about to yell about how she absolutely was not cute- only for her big paw gloves to squeak loudly.

Rad began to laugh histericly, despite still being lifted into the air. “Oh my god! That's the best!”

Tera flustered, putting him down and crossing her arms. “I'm not cute.”

“Tell that to the squeaky paws.” Rad smirked, earning him a few more indignant grumbles.

“Soooo? Haunted House first? Lines not long and we have a whole night!” Rad suggested, pointing at the open maw of the gate that served as the entrance.

“Sure. Not like it's gonna be actually scary.” Tera shrugged. Looking a bit aloof, owning her costume accidentally.

“Awesome! -Ah wait, Kiara?”

“Um… shouldn't we do that last? It's like, the best thing to do right? Like a uh- grand finale!” There was sweat on the inside of her visor, and her voice shook.

“You're not scared are you princess?” Tera teased, lifting an eyebrow.

“N-No! Of course not!” Kiara protested. “I just think it's a better thing to do last.”

Tera and Rad looked at each other with equal shit eating grins.

“Yeah. Were going.” They said in unison, all but dragging the eldest member of the group into the maw of the unknown.

Once they pass the blackout curtains, they arrive in a recreation of the Outpost-3’s bunker doors, wide open, snow blistering from the beyond and the howling of angry winds blasting against the mouth of the underground shelter.

“Holy hell! Your mom has got the atmosphere down! It almost feels like I'm really there!” Rad exclaimed taking in the painstakingly recreated environment.

“Yeah well… Halloween is her favorite holiday.” Tera replied, heading up to where the guides were… which was just her Dad. N.

“Hey kids! I just got done with the last group. You want to go through?” His head tilted to the side and his tail wagged, he wasn't dressed up as anything. Just himself, which was perfectly on theme.

“Yes please Mr. Doorman!” Rad exclaimed in excitement, and N laughed in response. “For this tour, call me by my name…” He said eerily, visor flickering into an X and his head beginning to twitch.

“Ooooh. Spooky.” Came from Rad. Tera just chuckled and Kiara just smiled warily, scooting a bit closer to Tera.

“Follow Me.” N hummed, disappearing behind a black curtain painted to look like a ventilation shaft, and the trio went along with him, Rad leading the charge.

N lead them through a dark corridor, His voice becoming echoed.

“Before we settled here… we lived on a planet called Copper-9-' The sound of wind blew more harshly, hail pattering against the walls… “Somewhere frozen, Inhospitable, a broken, forsaken place.”

“The worker drones were safe in the bunker… but outside?”

Three giant claws erupted through the ceiling next to Tera's head. Kiara jumped a foot in the air, and Rad yelped, Tera just ducked slightly with a laugh. “Hey V.” She hummed deadpan.

“Outside there were monsters… Angels of Death that swooped down in the night, stealing away anyone caught outside the safety of the walls.”

“Aren't you a Dissasembly Drone too?” Tera called out. Knowing every keyword the attraction had by heart.

N stopped in the middle of the hall at her words before suddenly whipping around, smiling maniacally, swiping his claws just shy of actually making contact with any of the group.

He growled before pulling back. “I have more… self control…”

Rad looked impressed, whistling at the showmanship. And Tera smirked, Kiara laughed but it sounded nervous, her eyes flickering to the hall they'd just went through.

“Come on, it's just my dad.” Tera hummed, just quiet enough for Rad not to hear. Kiara laughed a little.

“I-I know! I'm not scared!”

“As I was saying… there are monsters outside.”

The audio of utter carnage began to soak through the wall; gunfire, screams, the sounds of drones being ripped apart and eaten.

“But… they don't compare to the horrors beneath the planets crust.”

The hallway opened up the room swarmed by black tentacles, erupting from the ground crawling on walls… the red overhead light made it seem like they were moving…

“Up from the depths, all drones are consumed- no matter their make or model.”

Tera shuffles uncomfortably. She never liked this section even when she was activly working in it, it always made her feel uneasy.

Kiara screams. Activating all the alarms in Tera's head, Kiara grips onto her- something pulling her down into the floor. Rad yelps as something grabs his leg too.

Tera grabs them both, acting on instinct and lifting them both off the floor with one hand, Rad in in left hand, and Kiara in her right.

She hears giggling underneath the floor and sighs.

It's the twins.

“We shouldn't linger here.” N hums ominously, inviting them to follow. And Tera drops her freinds back onto the ground.

“Come on scardy cats.” She groans before moving on, ignoring the comment from Rad about her costume.

The next room is one the Doorman family likes to lovingly call, “The Chase”

There are multiple ‘infected’ drones clawing at a fence behind them, before them is a long dark hallway, only at the end is there light.

“This is what happens to drones caught by the infection.’ N utters, his voice seeming to spur on the excitement of the infected, they growl and hiss, tentacles incasing their arms or legs- even entire face.

And then one fucking screams. Beginning to climb the gate at an unnatural speed.

“RUN!” N shouts. As the rest of the infected scale the fence to reach them, Rads the first one off, half-yelling, half-laughing as the first one leaps over the fence and sprints towards them.

Kiara is frozen though. Standing shock still as two more hit the ground running.

“Kia! Move!” Tera shouts before, taking her onto her shoulders and sprinting down the hall, but there's one drone that can somehow keep pace with her, hot on her heels as she has to actually TRY to get away.

It was probably Bishop. But that revelation only came later.

The infected drone swipes at them, just barely missing as they fall into the next room, quite literally plummeting a few feet onto a pile of pillows.

N does not follow… they are on their own.

Tera maneuvers herself so that she breaks Kiara's fall. She knew there were pillows, but old habits don't die with that knowledge. And so the worker lands on top of her with a grunt.

They both pant breathlessly, Tera staring up at the worker that has her pinned to the ground, her arms either side of her head.

Then she starts laughing. “Dammit! I knew that was coming and I still got surprised!”

Kiara joins her a moment later, both flying into a fit of giggles. “You goob! And you called me scared!”

After a moment, they climb out of the pile, pulling back a curtain to reveal a room that's pitch black…

“Rad? Raaaaad?” Kiara calls out, and gets no response. Tera squints into the darkness, it's oppressive and even the eyes on her tail struggle to make out anything.

Then- feedback noise so loud it makes Kiara wince and Tera nearly double over, yellow light rises from the floor, the entire room spinning and spinning…

The walls are flesh, the floor is flesh… there's something moving on the ceiling, it curls and coils in strange patterns, lurching unnaturally, it's humanoid then it's not, dozens of eyes in the shape of camera lenses stare at them.

Tera freezes, she knows what this room is, she's been in this room, worked here, been the one controlling the thing on the ceiling and yet being down here brought a whole new feeling.

It was the thing from her nightmares- the creature she'd been fighting every other night in her sleep, it was here, staring, looking into her soul to try and seize it from her.

She's pulled out of the room by the wrist, ending up back in the beginning room. The bunker. Her core pounding out of her chest, she doesn't realize it. But she's trembling.

“Tera? You alright?” Kiara's voice brings her out of it, and she snaps back to reality. Her Dad is back behind the desk, and Rad was chatting with some random worker in their own group.

“Wh- Yeah! Totally!” She quickly recovers, shaking off the feeling of dread and finding herself grounded by Kiara holding her hand- when had that happened?

“Alright! Let's head to the rest of the festival!” Rad runs back over to them, giddy beyond reason. Kiara's hand is quickly no longer there.

“Thank god… no more haunted house.” Kiara laughs, seeming to relax a lot more after the ordeal was over.

Tera found herself agreeing…

“Yeah. Let's just head to the rest of the festival…”

[rockwgooglyeyes]

I babbled about it in the server earlier today but I might as well post something and attempt(?) to make it a little more articulate.

@bluemoonscape said that Till's cover of All-In is much more angsty than Hyuna's, and I'll admit, I went into listening with that in mind but it did prove to be true. Nonetheless, with the two of them being narrative foils, they are incredibly similar but set apart by certain fundamental differences and I think that might be shown pretty starkly in this cover. Of course, that's not necessarily true- Mizi and Ivan are foils and yet their covers only juxtaposed the circumstances of their love, both tragic in their own way, an effort in futility, ultimately pointless (as one of them was always going to die and Ivan believed wholeheartedly that Till would never love him).

To simplify it, Till's is far more anguished than Hyuna's, which is meant to be a celebration, something triumphant.

In and of itself, it feels like Till's version is more about ALNST than it is about anything else. "There's no point in fighting back, this is the march of the fools, endless cheers and applause" is reminiscent of their walk to the stadium at the very beginning, where Till flipped off the media. Not only that but the fact that now, Till is the only one left alive (that he knows of) they would truly be a march of the fools, cheered on as they walked into the gaping maw of death (some knowingly, some not). With Till's self deprecating nature and bravado, it doesn't feel too presumptuous to say that he is including himself in that "fools" because, despite how much he is going to fight to win, he may still believe that he's going to lose his round against Luka. After all, that's been the seygein's plan all along.

"Change the game with a single action, trust me and I'll show you" could be reframed to be about Till's round 2 where he smashes Freddie and barely gives Acorn a chance to sing or it could be about Ivan's sacrifice, in equal turn. "We only get one life so I'm living mine for me" is Till's resistance against oppression, his disobedience that ends with him locked up in a change but he still keeps doing it because he doesn't have any other option, not really. also the "I'll create a fantasy in this crazy world" very much feels like an echo of the fact that Till's rebellion becomes his persona as much as it is truly coming from the heart. He's creating a fantasy of the fight, of the resistance, and people like that- they like his anger, his fire, his fight, I mean, they wouldn't put it in the advertising otherwise, right?

Basically, almost all of the peppy, cheerful "hurrahs" in Hyuna's version of All-In, with Till seem self-deprecating or bitter/aggrieved. He is trying to prove a point, that he won't stop fighting, that despite the odds he'll stand up there on that stage and go all-in (but internally, he still believes that this is reckless, that this won't work, that there's no point).

[bettyfrommars]

Monster Eddie Jobs: haunted clown doll. Poltergeist. One of those paintings where the eyes follow you around. INCUBUS

haunted clown doll it is

hauntedClownDoll!Eddie x Reader

another blurb from The Nightmare Factory

Nightmare Factory Masterlist Clown!Eddie art

Another step in Eddie's journey to find the Nightmare Factory job that will entice you to want to get to know him. A lot of you darlings came through with a handful of fun, creative requests, and I'm excited to keep them going through spooky season! I will also be using others that were mentioned in this particular ask, and always happy to receive more! I stayed at the Clown Motel once and lived to tell. There really is a cemetery right next to it, no lie. wc: 1.5k

18+ONLY, mature themes, nightmares, clowns, longing

The Clown Motel in Tonopah, Nevada gave you the creeps, but all you needed was a quick bed for the night, and $65 was about all you could afford.  There was an old cemetery next to the property, and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed it was all a staged setup to add to the spooky appeal of the motel.  But, no—the headstones were all very real, dating back to the late 1800’s.

You saw him when you first came in—he was impossible to miss.  The life-sized clown doll dressed in colorful stripes with a wide mouth and round, rubber nose.  He sat in the middle of a square nook filled with clown dolls of all shapes and sizes.  Some were ceramic, some were cloth.  Some were wood, carved to look like a nutcracker.  The big clown had one hand in his lap and one hanging down his side, and his eager eyes sought you in a way that made you avert your attention until you were done checking in.  

Your room was on the second tier and you took some time to get cleaned up before calling over to the restaurant across the way to order some food.  On you way back across the street, clutching the styrofoam container in your hand, you caught a glimpse of something bright in the cemetery.

It was dusk, and you wondered if maybe it was someone visiting one of the burial sites.

But, with a muffled scream you noticed—for a split second—that it was the same clown doll from the lobby standing like a statue by one of the headstones.

It was watching you, leering at you, and it lifted its arm in a stiff wave as the wind blew back the silk of his costume.

You blinked and choked, and when you focused on the spot in the distance again—the clown was no longer there.  

Eddie materialized in the cemetery to get a better look at where you were, and then he tripped over his floppy shoes and almost impaled himself on a handmade, wooden cross.  

He cursed under his breath, wondering why he chose Haunted Clown Doll over some type of apparition so that he could be near you without making you uncomfortable.  First of all, he thought having a physical body would solve the communication problem, but of course—the clown’s face couldn’t move, and his voice came out as not much more than a mocking cackle.

Second, it was only a three day training, and most of it was just watching safety videos about how to walk in the shoes.  They also taught him to sit for a while, and then stand in the corner, and then hover near the bed when the person having the nightmare least expected it.  

They repeated a lot of the same shit at the training, and when he crossed his arms over his chest to sink back in his chair, he started to fall asleep.

He snorted awake with a start when the teacher—-a professional Nightmare Clown with a gaping maw of sharp teeth and a bright green wig—-barked his name.

“Sorry,” Eddie said groggily.  “I’m listening.”

“Is that right?” The teacher clown also had cat’s eyes for pupils and a polka dot jumper with ruffles at the wrists and blood stains across the front.  “Indulge the rest of the class and tell me what the last rule was I just went over.”

The “class” consisted of 3 unfortunate souls, including Eddie.  

Eddie could not contain the yawn that stretched his mouth, so he spoke while it was happening.  “Going under the covers,” he answered.  “When the person puts their head under the covers, they are safe, and we can’t touch them or scare them.”

“Exactly, now, how do we keep them from going under the covers?”

Eddie must’ve blanked out on that one.  “Um, we can’t?”

The teacher heaved a weary sigh, cocking their head.  “Distractions, Munson. Doors that fly open, a face in the window, whispers in their ear.”

This was all beginning to sound way above his pay grade, and he wasn’t interested in being the best student or the best employee—he just wanted to see you again.

He should’ve dematerialized before you caught a glimpse of him from across the street, but some insane part of him hoped you might recognize him—even though you’d never seen his actual form, and he was dressed like a literal clown this time.  

A car honked, jolting you from your reverie, and as you jogged the rest of the way into the parking lot, your eyes darted around, hoping to god that you would not see the clown again.

On your way to the stairs, you passed by the glass front to the lobby, and found yourself looking in to make eye contact with the clown doll again.  Its eyeballs were painted on, but somehow—you felt like they were watching you, as if someone were looking through from the other side.  Both of its hands were in its lap, now, and its shoulders were hunched; big, oversized red shoes planted on the floor; short, frizzy orange hair sticking out of a floppy sleeping cap.  

You went up and watched some lame sitcoms while you ate your dinner, and you tried to forget about the inanimate clown doll that was gnawing at your brain.

Eddie noticed how you took the time to check in on him on the way to your room, and his heart leapt.  And then, he thought he was the one dreaming when he watched you descend the stairs and return to the lobby a few hours later.

The night manager popped his head out to ask if you needed any help, but you confessed you were only there to look at the clowns.

One in particular.

You made your way over to stand at his side and covertly whispered in his ear.  “Was that you out in the cemetery today?”

Eddie’s clown hand fell from his lap to sway at his side, making you jump back, eyes widening at the coincidence.

When you found the nerve, you leaned closer, inspecting the wide, painted smile on his porcelain face, the brown of his irises.

You were so close, Eddie could smell you.  You radiated fresh lavender and coconut hand lotion and a tang of garlic from the dinner you just ate.  He watched your lips move as you whispered to yourself, something about, “where have I seen this clown before?”

Eddie couldn’t speak though, he could only chuckle, and he didn’t think it was the right time.

The body of the doll was so lifelike; you had to feel it for yourself.  With a shaky hand, you reached out to touch his shoulder—it wasn’t soft like stuffing, it was hard, like a store mannequin.  You bent down to squeeze the thigh, finding that it was made of the same solid material.

Eddie could feel everything, the way you were caressing him. On his plane of existence, he parted his lips and let his eyes roam over your face.  Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss you.

You bought some souvenirs—-a shot glass and a mug for your mom—and then returned to your room for the night.

It took you a while to get to sleep, but when you finally dozed off to the point that your body jerked from an imaginary fall, clown Eddie was sitting in the chair in the corner.  The maniacal smile stretched across his face was locked in place—his eyes unblinking as they stared across the room at you.  

You rolled over with a groan, pulling the covers closer to your chin as you went.  

Eddie materialized at the side of the bed, at your back, tilting his head, wishing he could crawl in and put his arms around you.  He’d take his big, stupid shoes off first.

The next morning, you woke up refreshed, and busied yourself around the motel room getting ready for the last leg of your road trip, oblivious to the way Eddie had been standing at the foot of your bed all night.  

After your suitcase was in the car, you went to drop the key off at the front desk, and noticed the life-sized clown was no longer therr.  You went over to inspect the area: its chair between the shelves of smaller clowns was gone too.  There was not a trace of it, as if it had vanished.

“Hey, so, where did you put the huge clown that was down here?” You asked politely as you passed the man your key.

He squinted at you, a bit confused.  “Huge clown, you mean the nutcracker ones?”

“No, the really big one,” you turned to point to the area where it had been.  “It was taller than me with enormous red shoes, a really creepy smile.  It was sitting right over there when I checked in yesterday.”

The man bent forward over the desk to see where you were pointing, even though he had no idea what  you were babbling about.  

“We’ve never had a clown that size,” he assured you. “But I wish we did. It sounds like something from a nightmare.”

[thecreaturecodex]

Slugspawn

Image © Paizo Publishing

[Sponsored by @coldbloodassassin, who asked for the slugspawn from Carrion Crown: Wake of the Watcher to be converted from a hazard to a full monster. It is a little weird in the adventure as published, and this art, which is from WotW, makes it look as if it was intended to be an independent creature originally. WotW has a very large Bestiary section (this is the PF1e module that introduced a ton of Cthulhu Mythos monsters), so it's entirely possible that this was its own stat block at one point in development before being changed for the finished product to save word count. Lucky for me, I don't have a word count.]

Slugspawn CR 5 CE Aberration This creature appears to be a greenish-black slug the size of a human arm. On its underside, it has a lamprey-like maw with layers of rasping teeth

Slugspawn are the juvenile stage of the moits of Shub-Nugganoth, grotesque creatures that use humanoids are hosts to create eruptions of parasitic plague. A slugspawn is barely sapient, existing only to lurk in a dark corner somewhere and wait for a passerby to infest. Slugspawn are slow but patient, and can eat insects, mold and other detritus if these are available, and survive for up to a year on reserves of fat if they are not. They require the thoughts of a host, preferably a humanoid, in order to molt and reach maturity and intelligence.

Slugspawn attack from hiding, attempting to ambush a victim and burrow inside of it without the victim noticing more than a faint twinge of pain. Although cold damage or surgical intervention can pull a slugspawn from its host, this must be done quickly before the aberration wraps around the host’s brain stem. There, it feeds on the thought energy of its host, but also provides blanket protection from mind-influencing effects. The infestation initially seems relatively benign, and the infested may go about their lives as normal until the moit suddenly and violently transforms into a spawning canker. This is universally fatal to the host, and the host’s corpse becomes little more than a puppet and layer of protection for a tentacled horror.

Slugspawn CR 5 XP 1,600 CN Tiny aberration Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., tremorsens 30 ft., Perception +5

Defense AC 20, touch 20, flat-footed 12 (+2 size, +7 Dex, +1 dodge) hp 51 (6d8+24) Fort +6, Ref +10, Will +4 Immune mind-influencing effects; Vulnerable cold, remove disease

Offense Speed 10 ft., climb 10 ft. Melee bite +13 (1d2+2 plus infestation) Space 2 ½ ft.; Reach 0 ft.

Statistics Str 14, Dex 25, Con 16, Int 3, Wis 8, Cha 9 Base Atk +4; CMB +9; CMD 21 (cannot be tripped) Feats Dodge, Mobility, Weapon Finesse Skills Climb +10, Perception +5, Stealth +21 Languages Aklo (cannot speak) SQ camouflage

Ecology Environment any land Organization solitary, clot (2-6) or infestation (7-12) Treasure none

Special Abilities Camouflage (Su) If a slugspawn is seen, a DC 20 Knowledge (dungeoneering) or DC 25 Knowledge (nature) check is required to tell that it is not a harmless, albeit oversized, slug. Infestation (Ex) A creature bitten by a slugspawn must succeed a DC 16 Reflex save, or the slugspawn burrows through the skin and begins to infest the creature. Any amount of damage reduction is enough to resist the initial infestation. The save DC is Constitution based. On the first round of infestation, dealing cold damage to the victim can eject the slugspawn and save the host—but only if the victim takes 10 or more points within 1 round of being infested. Cutting the slugspawn out also works, but the longer it remains in a host, the more damage this method does. Cutting it out requires a slashing weapon and a DC 25 Heal check, and deals 1d6 points of damage per round that the host has been infested. If the Heal check is successful, the slugspawn is removed. After 3 rounds, though, the slugspawn has reached the host’s brain and cannot be surgically removed without killing the host. Remove disease kills any slugspawn in a host. A slugspawn ejected through cold damage or a Heal check is stunned for 1 round after being ejected. A creature host to a slugspawn is immune to mind-influencing effects. 2d6 days after the initial infestation, a humanoid or native outsider host metamorphoses into a spawning canker, and cannot be returned to life with any means other than a true resurrection, miracle or wish spell. Hosts of other creature types have variable gestation periods, and may never metamorphose at all, subject to GM discretion. Vulnerable to Remove Disease (Su) If a slugspawn is targeted with a remove disease spell or similar effect, it must succeed a Fortitude save against the save DC of the spell or die instantly. If they succeed, the slugspawn still takes 1d4 points of damage per caster level.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Hi, i remeber you said that you liked the idea of doing genderbent concepts, but wasn't sure about them. Well, i think the best way to make up your mind is by doing one and see how you feel about it. What do you say? Willing to do a concept for male Juno from Beastars? The genderbent name could be Juro. Also, you said tagging could be a problem, but maybe if you add the tags #Genderbent, #Notfemale or #Maleversion, it might work.

Actually, I have now thought of a tagging convention and I also thought of ideas for the character soooo you win, enjoy!

J.uro pretends to sweep the floor, watching as the other drama club members leave one after another. His gaze lingers as he watches L.egoshi walk out, unable to look away from the fellow wolf. J.uro lets out a wistful sigh. Being gray wolves, he knows the two of them are destined to be together. He just has to get L.egoshi to see that. The only issue is…the distraction.

J.uro looks over to see L.ouis getting on stage. As expected, the deer is going to be practicing his part even while the others leave. L.egoshi spends so much time with L.ouis, he doesn’t even notice J.uro standing right there, waiting for him! A low growl emanates from the wolf’s stomach. Distractions deserve to be removed.

Once the last of the club members have left the room, J.uro sets the broom against the wall and makes his way to the stage. L.ouis is reciting some lines but J.uro isn’t listening. He slinks around the edge of the stage, keeping to the curtains to stay out of sight. He waits until L.ouis turns to face him…and pounces.

L.ouis grunts as he’s suddenly knocked to the floor and pinned. J.uro is on top of him, stranding his hips while his arms pin his wrists down. The deer squirms slightly, but he can’t get away. He does his best to keep his fear from showing. “J-J.uro? Just what do you think you’re doing?!”

J.uro leans in closer, his nose inches from L.ouis’s. “I’m just taking what’s mine,” he says calmly, staring down the deer. “L.egoshi and I are meant to be, and I’m not going to let you get in my way. He belongs to me. And you’re confusing him too much.”

L.ouis swallows nervously, trying to pull him from J.uro again. “What…What are you talking about? Have you gone mad?! Get off of me now or else—“ L.ouis’s cut off by a thick wolf tongue slurping over his face. He sputters and shakes his head around, trying and failing to get away from the assaulting muscle.

J.uro slurps over his lips, his stomach letting out a low gurgle. “You forget, L.ouis. I’m a wolf…you’re a deer. I’m doing what’s natural. It’s L.egoshi that’s acting strange. But once you’re gone…I know he’ll come to his senses.” J.uro leans in again, opening his drooling maw wide. “So just let it happen. You can’t resist anyway.”

L.ouis’s eyes widen, his brave face finally crumbling as he stares into the dark, drooling gullet of the wolf. His scream is muffled by his muzzle slotting perfectly into J.uro’s mouth, the wolf’s jaws closing between his antlers and under his jaw. J.uro holds onto L.ouis’s wrists with one hand, using the other to crack off the deer’s antlers one after the other. Once he’s tossed those aside, he gulps hard and sucks the rest of L.ouis’s head into his gullet.

A muffled scream escapes the bulge in J.uro’s gullet. L.ouis begins to struggle and thrash around on the floor, legs kicking and scraping against the ground while his arms jerk around. J.uro changes his grip, pinning the deer’s arms to his sides while holding his wrists. He gulps thickly, surging down past the deer’s shoulders and to his chest. The wolf’s tail is wagging behind him. This meat is delicious…

Another thick gulp rings out in the empty auditorium. J.uro is starting to sit up more, his jaws tensing around L.ouis’s stomach. It feels so delicate against his teeth and when he gives a slight chew, it makes L.ouis kick around even harder. It’s an exhilarating sensation. This is what wolves are meant to do. This is what prey are for.

J.uro gets to his feet now, holding onto L.ouis’s knees as he works with the unfamiliar weight. He’s slurping over the deer’s waist now, starting to work the man’s ass into his maw. By now, the wolf’s stomach is finally starting to fill, L.ouis’s head starting it out with a muffled shriek.

J.uro’s hands slide down L.ouis’s legs to grip his ankles. He tilts his head up, fighting against L.ouis’s kicking with little issue. He starts to slurp and push slowly, sending the deer’s legs down. Every inch he takes pushes another inch into his stomach. It’s a slow and steady fill, and J.uro is grinning wide around his catch. It feels amazing…

J.uro’s shirt begins to give out, though. It stretches and shifts, untucks itself from his pants, and the buttons begin to pop off as his furry belly swells out with the bulges of deer meat. Once J.uro’s up to L.ouis’s knees, his belly really starts to stretch and bulge. It makes him stumble across the stage slightly before getting his balance. The deer’s arms are finally crammed into his stomach and they’re shoving around in a panic.

L.ouis is experiencing the deepest panic he’s had in quite a while as he’s being shoveled into the tight and slick stomach. The smell is repulsive to his prey senses, but notably lacks the rotten smell of meat or blood he instinctively expected. He’s the first prey of this predator. His first hunt. First kill. The space gets tighter and tougher as he’s being crammed inside, his legs slowly disappearing down the hatch as he’s being sent into the deadly pit made just for animals like him.

At the end, J.uro hesitates slightly. Not because he’s suddenly having a change of heart, but because he’s trying to decide if he should leave anymore evidence behind or not. But he decides to peel off the deer’s shoes before snapping his jaws shut over L.ouis’s feet. Keeping his head tipped up, he gulps wetly and feels the last of his prey sink down his gullet. A deep, sated sigh escapes him after and he drops L.ouis’s shoes, letting them clap against the ground as they land by the broken antlers. “De…licious…” J.uro pants.

There’s a beat of silence as the last of L.ouis squeezes down into J.uro’s stomach. The organ lets out a warbling groan, bulging forward obscenely and hanging down to the wolf’s knees. Then the muffled screaming continues and L.ouis goes back to struggling in his full force. Kicking and shoving and writhing around, making J.uro’s gut bounce and slosh wildly in every direction. It makes a guttural “BWWWEEEEEELLLLLLLLLCCCH!!!!” puff out of the wolf’s maw, followed soon after by a lewd mix of a pleased moan and a whine of discomfort.

It takes J.uro a moment to get his balance again after L.ouis nearly knocked him over. His tail is wagging like crazy as he presses his hands into his stomach, mashing down on some of those bulges and forcing L.ouis tighter into place. He feels so powerful.

“Consider this your last performance,” J.uro says to his stomach. “Once you’re gone…L.egoshi will be so sad. And I can swoop him up in my arms to comfort him. A wolf should be with a wolf…” He presses down on his gut hard, making L.ouis scream inside. “…and a deer should be in a wolf.”

J.uro sits down on the stage, letting his gut sit in his lap as he slowly rubs the bulges. No one will bother them. He’ll leave the antlers and shoes somewhere else—somewhere they’ll be spotted—and slip back to his room once it’s late. By then, the deer should be on his way to living out his true purpose in life: fueling a carnivore.

And then…L.egoshi will be all his. No more distractions.

[gravphobia]

ahhhh decided to make a salmon run oc, just for my lil filth son Stir Fry :D

me rambling under the cut lmao

I think Shokumaw is pretty straightforward, she’s basically just a big maw with a few more stuff and HP

she has a lifesaver lure to bait players into getting close enough for her attacks

I imagine she has a bit more HP than the Cohozuna (like how maws have a lot of hp when you’re trying to kill em without using bombs)

Shokumaws attacks would probably be a bit similar to Shiver’s boss fight mixed with regular maws stuff

she can dash through the stage like a reefslider with her jaws open, you can throw bombs in her path to stop her dash early and do a pretty significant amount of damage

she also has the regular maws attack where she lunches upward to eat players from underneath when she’s close enough to a player, these attacks can also be triggered when she’s hiding if the player shoots/throws a bomb at her life saver

i imagine her Xtra Wave would be a lil bit extra, like at the end of wave 3, the animation of everyone jumping back plays, except a small cutscene animation plays where the copter just fucking crashes in this random ass island, like some kind of abandoned shifty station/small single player stage with ink rails and stuff

the island also has lil rivers and stuff dividing the dry land, i should probably draw this lmao

(also those grind rails arent entirely safe, Shokumaw can also still reach those)

oh also, alsode from the lesser salmonids, the only bosses that can spawn are stingers, maws and steel eels

because every other problem will be caused by fry with 6 special weapons he can spam (specifically reefslider, wail, zip, crab, big bubbler... and missiles)

fry targets the nearest player and will only change targets every 10 seconds or if the player gets splatted, aside from the specials, he can switch between grizzco splatana and charger, and if a player gets too close, he can switch to grizzco blaster (yk, just to not make things fair, best counter for this is to have a teammate splat him from behind or have a long range weapon)

[clownsnake]

guys. Astarion wasn’t literally considered a child when he was 30. Among elves he was clearly seen as Of Age to do adult things like drink and live independently and fuck and pay taxes. its just that elves have a stupid extra concept of adulthood that doesn’t MEAN adulthood in a literal sense. has nothing to do with physical or brain development. not even necessarily emotional development, but it kind of is depending on how u interpret it, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

basically elves in the forgotten realms trance instead of sleep (we know this) and until around age 110, during their trances they “dream” of their past lives (I’ve only seen a few ppl who know this, but idk if they also knew it stops at a certain age). They then stop dreaming of their past lives naturally, and it’s generally considered kinda traumatic to go through bc well. you’re losing what has been a fundamental part of yourself for so long.

I interpret that as being like a “shared trauma maturation stage” where instead of elves brains literally becoming more adult, losing the guidance of their past lives feels like more of a final step towards independence to them. and adulthood is just the closest social experience to this stage of being “truly on your own”

around 30-40 they get a “first reflection”, which is when their dreams start having experiences from their current life. (Makes sense for Astarion having a dream about Cazador in origin runs that prompts the biting scene) And then the loss of past life memories at 100-110 is called the drawing of the veil.

Tl;dr Astarion was a young adult by elf standards stop infantilizing him PLEASE

Getting into headcanon land now, feel free to draw your own conclusions from here.

i imagine older elves kind of have a sense of being more “mature” than under-110 elves in the way tht people comparing their trauma tend to do. Like “u think ur so smart and worldly but you haven’t even been through half the shit I’ve been through.” PATRONIZING that’s the word I’m looking for, it’s patronizing. And since every elf goes through this, they just kind of assume that yeah, going through this trauma/emotional loss IS a big step towards being a full adult. so it’s like if the concept of adult had a Pokémon evolution that didn’t involve getting wrinkly and hair loss and going through menopause or erectyle dysfunction. Adult 1.5 steam update.

I have no clue if Astarion would have the drawing of the veil as an undead elf. The fact that he even has dreams shows that being revived as a vampire keeps certain bodily functions running, mainly anything relating to the brain and consciousness, but idk if it would keep him physically at 30 or let his brain change.

Although hold on, in the epilogue where you’re a mind flayer and considering eating Astarions brain, you get narration that’s like “ooohh his brain part that handles senses must be sooo wrinkly” which would only be caused by the shit he went through post-vampirification. Meaning his brain Would be able to change and “mature”. But that’s also just an assumption that mindflayer!tav/durge is making.

k I looked it up. The exact quote is “Astarion’s sweet brain may be a bit less wrinkled than the rest, but you hunger for its teasing cells. His parietal lobe - which controls his sense of touch - will be an aphrodisiac in your maw.” Hilarious, he canonically gets called smooth brain. Anyway if u kill him I don’t think you get to eat his brain, withers just banishes you asap lmao. So we don’t actually know if his parietal lobe changed over his un-life! I’d wager it did though, based on his “don’t touch me” selection line (and probably some other lines hinting towards over-sensitivity tht im forgetting). And change caused by external trauma vs change caused by aging is different anyway.

no conclusion wrt to if he’d reach the drawing of the veil or not. Does it even matter? He’s still the same adult man, who’s gone through far worse hardships than losing memories of his past lives. If he lost his past life dreams too, well then I don’t think that’d make much of a difference for him.

[skullaton]

cold hands, warm hearts

Wally Darling / Gender Neutral Reader oneshot

Rating: G Genre: Fluff, friends to lovers Summary:

It's a chilly autumn evening and the neighbours are hosting their own fall festival! You decide to partake, enjoying the time with your friends. It just so happens that one of your friends is also your biggest crush.

Ao3 link: Here Welcome Home belongs to Clown a/n: It's autumn in the southern hemisphere, so I wanted to write a cute, fluffy one shot for the season! Enjoy!

Read Below ↓

Your boots crunch into the dry, crispy auburn leaves as you make your way through the small town of Home. It was this year's autumnal festival and you couldn’t wait to see what hijinks your friends planned!

The road was covered in an array of leaves, muting the already colour rich town in a blanket of yellows, reds, and browns. You marched up a hill, seeing the outline of the festival’s banners from a distance. You huffed, exerting yourself as you trekked, seeing your breath poof up in a cloud of smoke. The cold nipped at your bare fingertips, but you didn’t mind.

You can finally hear the commotion of your friends scrambling around and having fun. You tilt your head to read the banner - clearly in Howdy’s handwriting - ‘Home’s Fall Festival’. There were some elegantly painted designs, as well as some crudely decorated ones. It was definitely a whole town effort to make it.

“Don’t keep starin’! Come on in!”

You break out of your thoughts to look at the towering caterpillar who stood behind a food stall, beckoning you over with one of his long limbs. You happily skip over, grinning, “Hey, Howdy! Nice handwriting!”

“Oh, that thing?” He glanced up at the sign before waving dismissively, “Shucks, I write so often, it’s really nothin’.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “If you say so, Mr. Pillar.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, looking down at you with big eyes, “Say, you reckon you want some food? We got hot popcorn, hot chocolate, hot dogs, hot peppers, you name it!”

Being around him was so amusing. He always made such amazing pitches. How does he keep having endless stock? And hot peppers ? Who’s ordering that?

You could only assume Barnaby.

“Maybe later!” You waved him off as you started to hop away.

He simply waved back, “Alright, I’ll be here if you change your mind!”

You went to see what your other friends were up to.

A crackling bonfire lit up the centre of the festival, its fiery warmth emanating throughout the tiny faire.

You could see Sally atop of a makeshift stage, playing out a dramatic scene from a play. Her monologues were emotive, filled with passion and drive. In this scene she was holding a plastic… skull?

Wait, was this Hamlet?

You decide not to question.

Julie sat next to Frank in the audience, arms linked as they watched in awe of the brilliant star’s performance.

Looking on, you can see Eddie and Poppy sitting at the arts and crafts tent. Eddie was gently trying to instruct how to make the perfect leaf wreath. But… Poppy would often glue her fingers together and cuss a little ‘Oh, feathers me!’

Eddie, as sweet as honey, would insist she was doing amazing.

Finally, you see Barnaby next to a wide oak barrel. A crudely painted sign stuck next to it, saying ‘Bobbin’ fer Applez.’

Then you see him. The perfect deep navy blue hair, the lazy smile and half lidded eyes of the guy you’ve totally been crushing on since you moved here.

Wally Darling.

He was casually picking up the crimson apples from the chilly water, all while flatly remarking, “See, I’m bobbing.”

Barnaby released a booming laugh, practically barking, “I’m gonna bob you on the head in a second!”

Wally just tilted his head, offering a confused smile.

The giant canine cracked his neck, positioning his hands on either side of the barrel’s opening. “Watch the professional at work!”

Then he dunked his head down into the frigid liquid, splashing it like a tidal wave onto the unsuspecting Wally. When he finally emerged, two whole apples were in his toothed maw.

Smug, he looked over the shorter man. Then his expression immediately dropped.

Wally stood, blank faced, the front of his puffer jacket absolutely drenched.

Barnaby popped the apples out, “Oh, shoot, Walls! Didn’t mean for this to be a Wet n Wild ride! I’ll be back!” He hurried his way off to Howdy’s stall, probably in hopes for something to help.

You took the opportunity to duck closer to Wally. “Looks like you’re having a splashing good time.”

You internally cringed at yourself. Damn that Barnaby!

“Ha ha. Ain’t it so?” Wally held his kind smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You decided to unbutton your jean jacket.

“Tradesies!”

He gave a flat “Huh?”

You slid off the fabric, offering it to the shorter man. The chill bit at your skin, causing a ripple of goosebumps to run up and down your body.

He blinked slowly. “You’ll get cold.”

You shivered, offering a sweet smile, “So will you!”

He reluctantly unzipped his jacket, tugging it off to replace it with yours.

It practically engulfed him. His fingers barely peeked out from the sleeves. You wish you could take a picture of him. He looked absolutely adorable.

You held onto his puffer in the crook of your arm, feeling the wetness seep into your bones.

Another chill ran up your spine, causing you to exhale another puff of smoke.

Then in a split second, a giant wool mass would plop over you, encasing you in a tent of darkness. Wiggling out of your wool chamber, you peeked out to see Barnaby grinning above you.

“Didn’t expect ya to switch with Wallers! You can’t catch a cold now, ya hear?”

You fixed the oversized blanket so it was slung over your shoulders. You stuck a tongue out to the giant canine. “I’ll be fine! ”

“Just wait! Your tongue will be frozen like that!”

“Will not!”

“Will too!”

“Will not!”

Wally popped in, copying Barnaby, “Will too!”

“Hey, you’re not supposed to side with him!”

He gave his signature cat-like grin in response.

***

It wasn’t long until night cloaked the town in darkness. Stars twinkled and danced overhead, with the moon showing half of its beautiful glowing face.

Everyone was gathered around the bonfire, enjoying the crackling warmth on this brisk night. Julie and Sally were playing with rainbow sparklers, twirling out a magical light display. Frank and Eddie sat cuddled next to each other, staring dreamily into the snapping wooden flames. Howdy was passing out hot apple cider, while Poppy was instructing Barnaby how to make the perfect roasted marshmallow.

That only left you and Wally, sitting next to each other on a wooden bench.

You sipped on the hot cider, allowing the toasty beverage to heat you up.

You both let the snaps and crackles of the logs fill in the silence, simply enjoying the sweet moment with friends.

That is, until you could hear a soft mumble leave the puppet’s felt lips.

“I wish I could paint you right now.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You glanced over to Wally, watching as the flames danced shadows across his face. It casted an orange hue, accentuating his soft, plush features.

A pink blush tinted your cheeks. You definitely wanted to blame it on the bonfire for licking at your exposed skin.

But you knew it was because this silly little artist was staring at you with this most love drunk expression. His adoration filled gaze made your stomach twist in happy knots.

You found yourself inching closer to him, your spare hand just barely brushing against his fabric one.

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

A blissful sigh escaped the man. He reciprocated the gesture, scooting closer. You could feel his knee bump against yours playfully.

It wasn’t long before you both tentatively laced your chilly fingers together, basking in the heat of eachother’s flesh.

“Maybe we should schedule something?”

“That sounds wonderful, Wally.”

A quietness lulled between you as you enjoyed the moment. Despite the silence, you could feel your limbs tingle with exhilaration as your tummy burst with millions of fluttering butterflies.

You may have cold hands, but at least your heart is full and warm.

[box-architecture]

Ok sooo… for the Blob au do the like canon events still happen? Like does Dream go to prison? If so is Dream blob forced to go with him? Does Quackity get a blob?…

Yes! Canon events happen up to prison. This is sort of a little fun extra stuff tied to the communication knife au, so canon for blob au diverges where ckau does (aka when Sam and Dream have sex in prison, then continue to have a poly relationship with Punz post-prison.) This AU was largely because my friend (@corvesfelinesart) drew a lot of cute images of Sam as a blob, and I really wanted to write cute stuff about Blob Sam and awesamdrunz. It's not overly complex, just Fun Fluff, yknow?

Blob Dream doesn't accompany his admin to prison. Most of the time, the blobs Dream creates are meant to be running around checking for bugs or damage to the server. The ones Dream gives Imprints to, like Sap's blob or Techno's blob, tend to focus more their Imprints instincts rather than going around the server and doing their job, hence Blob Tech leaving Dreams side immeadietly to go find Technos dogs. They're still capable of damage control! They're just. Selective about which areas they prefer to be in.

Blob Dream, while Dream himself is in prison, continues to do his job around the server and often spies on other players to make sure they're healthy and safe. He doesn’t register any of the pain or suffering that Dream experiences while in prison, but it does experience a slight change in behavior, becoming more prone to hoarding and nervous around people.

Dream has to consciously make an effort to imprint a players soul onto a blob, and he has never had any intention of making an imprint of Quackity. Imprinted blobs are fun, but they're aren't very useful tools. He couldn't use it a Blob Quackity to his advantage when it only mimics a players base instincts, and it'd more likely than not be hostile to Blob Dream.

List of blobs Dream has made: Sapblob, Gogyblob, Tommyblob, Tubboblob, Fundyblob, Ranblob, Punzblob, Technoblob, Samblob, possibly more if I remember later.

Dream showed Tommy his ability to make blobs during exile as a sort of way to cheer him up during one of their good moments. Tommy was absolutely delighted, but then he got a little hesitant as he asked if Dream could make one of Tubbo. Dream didn't say anything. Tommy's blob eventually fucked off into the wilderness and made its own little nest in the ground. Dream made a Tubboblob to keep him company, and ignores them otherwise.

Ranblob, made alongside Punzblob while they were all planning Staged Finale, occasionally comes to visit them, but post-Ranboos death, Tubboblob has become hostile every time it shows up. Ranblob is usually found accompanying Ranboo at a distance otherwise.

Fundyblob was made during Dream and Fundys brief partnership, just a thing to make Fundy smile. Currently it's sleeping in a drawer in Fundys house. It plays with Yogurt sometimes, but doesn't really like leaving the house.

Sapblob and Gogyblob were made around the beginning of the server, also for pure fun. It was interesting watching the Dream Team's blobs play together, like watching a cat doing zoomies. Dreamblob hasn't approached either of them in ages, but if he did, Sapblob would maw on his head (supposedly in anger, but really he just missed him) and Gogyblob would likely attempt to sit on top of him to prevent it from leaving.

Technoblob was 100 percent just thinking Techno was Very Cool and wanting to make a little guy of him. He was very indignant when said blob bonked him with its head several times and then hopped away. What does that even mean!?

[ciel-phantomhiive]

I've developed a taste for you

Summary:

Some backstage fun after a show to help with Vessel’s pent up tension.

Rating: Mature

A/N:

Finally got to finish this one.

Honestly, I just didn't feel like writing any plot whatsoever.

Hope you enjoy the pure smut collected in a bit more than 2000 words.

Comments are always appreciated ❤

Could also be found on AO3

“Strip for me.” Vessel demanded. He sat on a couch just behind the stage, his head propped on his blackened hand on top of the armrest.

A naughty smirk coloured your lips and you obeyed. Your fingers hooked under the cropped top, sliding it above your head, your breasts now on full display. You could tell how Vessel’s whole body shifted where he was seated, you could see his eyes narrowing behind the mask, lustful. Without breaking eye contact with him, you turned around, and slid your jeans together with your underwear painfully slowly, bending forward.

You could feel his gaze lingering on your naked body, devouring the sweet sight before him once you turned around. He bit his lip, obvious impatience from his body language, hands desperate to explore, conquer.

His eyes met yours and you nodded in a wordless exchange of consent, slowly moving closer, a prey willingly going into the maw of its hunter.

Vessel followed your every move. You felt exposed under his keen eyes that burned a warm fire on your every curve. They traced the shape of your breasts, stopping a little while longer a bit below, on your toned stomach. And honestly, you could tell how hungry he was, ready to bite into that soft, pale skin and mark you his.

Needless to say, you were perfectly fine with that. Eager, even, to see that beastly side of his again.

He stood up, towering above your smaller frame, his painted hand tracing your jaw, until it finally stopped, gripping your chin harder. A soft moan escaped your lips, surprised at the sudden roughness.

You felt heat pooling in your stomach, aching almost. The wetness between your legs spoke enough of just how much you wanted him buried deep inside of you, hips rolling and skin slapping against skin, echoing in the venue.

You rubbed your thighs together, seeking a bit of that sweet release. Vessel smirked, his grip on your chin tightening.

He lowered his head, hot breath tickling your ear.

"Do you really want me to fuck you raw right here on that stage?" he asked in that sweet voice of his, low and seductive. You only nodded, too worked up to let anything else besides sweet moans escape your lips.

Vessel's long, delicate fingers glided below, tracing the line of your neck, wrapping around it, squeezing softly. You instinctively jerked your hips up, your body coming closer in proximity with the boy's. Your eyes teared from the pressure on your neck but oh, how much it turned you on.

His lips crashed with yours and you could feel a sweet taste lingering on them, making them even more addictive. His tongue slithered inside your mouth, dancing with your own, exploring. The hunger you had for each other was intense enough not to mind the clashing of teeth, a desperate fight for dominance, the lip biting, almost drawing blood.

A strong hand embraced you, your body finally meeting Vessel’s. His robe tickled on your naked skin and it was a bit unfair, you thought, how he was keeping his clothes on, unlike you. He let go of your neck, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss of touch. His index finger followed the curve of your body down to your thighs.

Vessel let out a satisfied moan at the touch, the sight of you before him, and you could feel his member straining against the fabric of his pants, impatient. He grabbed both of your legs, lifting you up and crashing your back against the nearest wall. The kiss was passionate, making your head spin from the intensity, Vessel only stopped to allow you a breath of air before diving in again. Your legs wrapped around his muscular back, he was eager to finally touch you as he pleased.

The heat in your core was growing unbearable now, begging to be tamed down. And Vessel was more than happy to oblige. His hand moved down, fingers teasing at your core, forcing an incoherent animalistic moan that it seems you have been keeping down for quite a while. He pulled back for a moment, biting his lips, smirking.

“Look how wet you are for me…” he moaned against your lips, as his fingers entered you.

You threw your head back, finally feeling that heat quieting down a bit. It was not nearly enough, though. Your arms wrapped around Vessel’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss again. With fingers buried in his soft hair, tugging a bit, a single thought crossed your mind:

I could never get enough of him.

The wet sounds echoed, filling the otherwise quiet, empty venue. It was all dirty, obscure, even, the bare thought of you coming undone at the same place you watched him perform just a few hours ago. And oh, the thought of someone walking in on you, it surely excited you.

Vessel quickened the pace, his thumb circling on your sensitive spot, intensifying the pleasure. You moaned against his lips, feeling his slim fingers hitting that one place inside that made your head go foggy with delight.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, praises, that scraped against the little sanity you had left, completely giving into him. Your eyes rolled in pleasure, wave after wave, it swallowed you until you were no more than a whimpering mess in his hands, trembling, riding out your release on his fingers.

Soft lips ghosted on the crook of your neck, teeth grazing the shivering skin beneath, sucking softly. Strong arms embraced you and soon after, your back hit the cushions of the sofa. It was not too uncomfortable, you didn’t mind. Hell, that whole place was not one you’d usually prefer to exchange intimacies in, but it got the job done.

Your legs trembled with the sensation of your release still high, but you managed to prop yourself on your elbows, watching the boy undress, with heavy-lidded eyes. Clumsy fingers managed the belt undone, continuing to the zipper of the elegant black pants, now not-so-sadly ruined with your excitement from earlier.

You wanted to help him, wanted to return the favor. Your hand traced his toned torso, following the contour of his body, wanting to explore each and every centimeter of him. Your fingers hooked the waistband of his boxers, pulling a bit and your eyes met his, him towering above you, dominating. He put his hand over yours, intertwining your fingers together and rewarded you with a soft smile.

“Let me take care of you.” he whispered, his knees already forcing your tired legs open for him.

Vessel hovered on top of you, plump lips leaving traces from your neck, down to your pelvis, with some special attention to your breasts that he seemed to worship.

He put one hand on your eyes, while his other traveled up and down your body. With your sight now taken from you, your other senses were alert. The matted touch from the body paint on his palm left a peculiar sensation on your skin, goosebumps, flesh craving to be touched again.

You heard Vessel strip out of his pants, the clothes falling on the floor, the thud echoing in the empty hall. There was a breath stuck in your throat, waiting eagerly to feel him whole inside of you, moaning your name, moving in sync with your rapid heartbeat.

But none of that followed.

Oh, he was a tease, a filthy tease, indeed.

Your lips gently parted, searching for that clash of wet tongues again, seeking that same passionate kiss, sadly, to no avail. Instead, you felt the hand on your eyes move slightly, straining, as if he was stretching his arm.

And then it took you by surprise, quivering lips kissing you down below, tongue rolling sweetly on that bundle of nerves. His free hand held your thigh, fingers leaving dents in your skin, that you were sure will bruise afterward. Not that you minded. In fact, to be branded in such ways by him was more than welcome.

Your voice filled the room, moan after moan bouncing between the walls, scattering and then colliding again, a repetitive pattern that Vessel was happy to join with his low whimpers against your slick entrance. The vibrations from his voice worked wonders while he was sucking on your clit, swollen and abused from earlier. It was almost like sparks exploding in your spine, arching your back, desperate to rub your thighs together, to seek release once again.

He gasped between your thighs, moving his attention to one of them, biting on the inside of it. His hand traced ghostly the path between your leg and stomach, stopping just above the hip, taking a strong hold of you. Vessel’s other hand moved and the dim lightning hurt your eyes, that have grown accustomed to the darkness. He caressed your face, eyes locked with yours, holding that adoring gaze of his.

His thumb caressed your lips, sliding a bit between them.

And then you felt him, taking position between your thighs, hand still holding onto you tightly. You instinctively raised your hips a bit, knees almost touching. His fingers left your mouth, traveling down and when both of his hands held your slim body, he slid inside of you.

You threw your head back, a filthy moan escaping your lips, one that you’ve waited to finally let go of. Vessel moved slowly at first, taking his time to stretch you, to make sure you were not hurting in any way. He lowered his head, kissing your abdomen, fastening the pace every time his lips touched your body.

Your fingers entangled in his hair, as if trying to ground yourself, holding onto something for dear sanity to get back to you. Oh, how good he felt inside of you, hips rolling into your wetness, that heat down below finally getting some proper attention. Skin slapping against skin filled the silence and it was all perfect.

Vessel moved up, now biting on your lower lip. He moaned into your mouth and you felt him tremble with delight. He positioned your legs on his shoulders, going even deeper inside of you. You gasped at the sudden wave of pleasure that came over you, eyes rolling back.

“Fuck.” Vessel cursed and his body moved back, straightening. He caressed your pretty, toned thighs, that so beautifully decorated his shoulders.

You melted into him, the way he moaned your name, hips rolling, wet cave meeting them halfway, hungry. Vessel was a drug that brought you closer to a state of pure bliss with every move and you were addicted. You watched him through lidded eyes, the smirk that painted his lips as he crashed into you. Your hips bucked forward, establishing a pace, an enchanting rhythm.

His length kissed your sweet spot over and over again and pressure was building in your abdomen quickly. Your moans grew louder, voice raspy, lips chanting incoherent pleads. You felt fingers wrap around your throat.

And before you could even warn the boy, a state of bliss shook your whole body. You chanted his name desperately, high on your own orgasm. Back arched, thighs squeezing together, you released on Vessel’s length. He growled, head thrown back, also close to his own release. His gaze turned darker, slim long fingers digging into your body, as his continued to move into you slowly driving you to overstimulation.

You felt his whole body twitch and he quickly pulled out, labored breaths overtaking his moans, trying not to finish just yet. Before you could say anything, Vessel’s strong arms flipped you on your stomach, both your wrists held hostage behind your back by the boy’s hand. Before you could protest, he was back at it again, buried even deeper inside you, the new position allowing him a better angle.

A loud whine escaped your lips. You were still riding out your previous orgasm, overstimulated to the brink of pain when he forced himself inside you. He balled your hair in his fist, pulling not too hard, but just enough to get you going again. Oh how picture-perfect you were for him right now, ass up, submissive and wanton.

You growled beneath him, fingers clawing at the stiff material of the couch. Your body was betraying you, moving instinctively into him, desperate for his touch. He was moving in an enchanting rhythm and you felt his hips starting to tremble against your skin. Your lips curled in a mischievous smile and you took control. You started building a rhythm of your own, quickening the pace as you rode him and you felt his grip on your hair tighten.

He was close, fighting not to finish but your teasing was driving him insane, fucking yourself so good on his length. His breathing became ragged, moans almost choking out of him as his other hand gripped your side. He threw his head back and with one last push, he came inside you, his whole body shuddering, collapsing on top of you.

You wriggled beneath him, moving on his side, his hand draped on your torso, lips leaving soft kisses on your goosebumps-covered skin.

As you lay naked, tangled in each other on the small sofa of the venue a single thought crossed your mind again:

I could never get enough of him.

[irkimatsu]

You Just made a hc about Husk after life wedding and no I can't get ebough of it. Could you write a hc about his wedding/married life when he was alive?

I've had plenty of thoughts of Husk's married life when he was alive... unfortunately, most of it isn't pretty. He wouldn't be in Hell if he was a perfect husband. It's not that he never tried, it's just...

(under the cut is a lot of angst. mentions of cheating, divorce, child death, addiction, thoughts of suicide - Husk's life on Earth was not a happy one in the long-term.)

Husk has always been a romantic, even as a teenager. He'd hang out in illegal speakeasies often, flirting and experimenting with his attractions. He figured out early on that he liked both men and women and had a particular preference for people who didn't fit gender stereotypes, and he developed himself a nice little group of fellow queer friends, some with benefits. He may not have had the world "pansexual" yet, but he knew that gender and its expectations were the last thing he cared about in romantic and sexual partners.

(These speakeasies are also where he discovered alcohol and gambling, unfortunately.)

But his romantic heart also wanted the American dream, the wife and kids and picket fence. He could have easily been happy spending his life with a man had he lived in a more forgiving time, but it's the early 1900's; if he wants that normal family life, it'll have to be with a woman.

He met that woman in a jazz bar in his early 20's. The instant she came out onto the stage and began to sing, Husk's heart was hooked. He introduced himself to her as a fellow musician, and a whirlwind romance began as he courted her with gifts and songs. The two quickly married and started a family, three daughters, the older two twins.

He tried his best to be a doting family man; god, he adored his family so much. He and his wife encouraged each other in their dreams of becoming famous performers someday, and he was always there for his daughters, eager to see what kinds of beautiful young women they'd grow up to be.

Unfortunately, there was strife behind that perfect picket fence from the start. He never wanted to hurt his family; was never abusive, would never lay an angry hand on them. But by the time he met his wife, he was already in the throes of addiction. He told himself it wasn't so bad, and even she tried to believe it; so he spends a few nights a week out with friends, drinking and playing the roulette, occasionally getting into fights with the wrong crowd and coming home battered. What's wrong with having a little fun, especially when you're living in Vegas? Besides, it's hard to protest when your husband is using his big casino winnings to buy his family lavish gifts and take you all on international trips...

But it just got worse as time went on. He'd go out more often, come home later than ever. Money that was necessary to keep the household running would disappear into his addictions' gaping maw. He was taking fewer and fewer gigs as a magician and saxophone player; work only took up time he could be spending hitting it big in blackjack. His fights with his wife became more frequent, more heated.

He told himself so many times that he needed to straighten himself out. Stop hitting the casinos, stop drinking, he needed to be there for the family he adored so much. Sometimes he'd even pull it off, at least for a little while. But the casino lights would entice him back in before long, and the cycle began anew.

Sometimes he would wake up in strangers' beds after a particularly indulgent bender. He never had the heart to admit it to his beloved wife, but deep down, he thinks she knew.

His youngest daughter died young, potentially under circumstances that Husk blamed himself for. He lost himself even further into the casino life; none of his problems felt real as long as he was within those walls, numbing his heart with alcohol and excess.

It wasn't long before his wife left with the twins, and his only surprise was that it took her so long to give up on him. He was beyond the point of begging her to stay; he knew she deserved so much better than this. I think he'd be in his early-to-mid-30's at this point? He tried for a short while to stay in his daughters' lives, but after one too many plans cancelled due to him being too drunk to function again, his ex-wife cut him out of their lives entirely. He never gets to know how their lives turned out, or even how they remember him...

He never dated seriously again after that. He played himself off as a tough heartbreaker, too determined to sample all that life has to offer to ever let himself be tied down again. He brushes his marriage off as a mistake, tries to tell everyone - and himself - that it never meant anything and he's glad it's over.

The heartbreaker act is a lot easier for him to take, than it is to admit to himself that he'll never be a good husband. As far as intimacy goes, one-night-stands are all he's good for.

He brings that attitude down into Hell, into his rise as an Overlord, and by the time he loses everything to Alastor, his self-hatred is at its peak. One-night-stands feel too hollow for him to continue with, and if he hasn't cleaned up his act enough to be a good husband after being dead for a few decades then he's a lost fucking cause. He's done looking for human connection. All he wants to do now is drink away his emotions until an Exorcist finally shows some mercy and shoves a spear through his brain. (Too bad for him, Alastor won't let him die until he's good and ready.)

Until his time in the Hotel reminds him of just how fulfilling human connection can be, how wonderful it is to care and to be cared about in return, of who he used to be and could maybe be again someday...

Until someone special walks through those hotel doors...