#and this was a means they had to keep their visage around at least

[zanmor]

Skull portraiture is amazing and it's a real shame that hasn't stuck around as a wide cultural practice.

Check out this amazing art from 9000 years ago:

More than 4000 years before the dynasties of Egypt, people were treating the dead in truly reverent and beautiful ways. It leaves me with little wonder that so many religious beliefs professed life's creation from clay. A skilled neolithic artist could keep a loved one with them for years after death by use of clay.

Would that your face looked that good 9000 years after death.

[auragasmics]

HE LOVES IT WHEN I...

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ synopsis! sugar daddies have a sweet tooth for all their sugar babies. but for you, these rich dilfs are ready to spoil you rotten for all your cute quirks!

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂° ˚ ₒ pairings! sugar daddy bokuto koutarou, ushijima waktoshi, and akaashi keiji x fem! reader

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂° ˚ ₒ cw! 1.7k, drabble + headcannon format, age gap (hq men are early 40s, reader is late 20s), car sex, oral ( m -> f), daddy kink, backshots, fingering, mirror sex, teasing, slight degrading, use of petnames

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂° ˚ ₒ xoxo, chris! sigh...i love bokuto sm! he can eat me 25/8. ushi can too!

pt.1

Sugardaddy!Bokuto loves it when you say thank you.

It turns him on to unbelievable lengths. It follows the same old routine, one he doesn’t plan to change anytime soon. Each time you accepted yet another bag filled with your latest hauls, you turned to the doting man, his hand eagerly waiting to catch your own. 

With a faint smile present on your lips, the soft coos of your voice rose to Bokuto’s ear, coaxing for his copal hues to widen. The pair of words were simple mannerisms, instilled from a young age for all. But whenever it rolled off your tongue, the porcelain shades of Bokuto’s skin couldn’t hold back the innocent hues of red from surfacing. 

All he needed to hear was your pretty mouth say it one more time that day, just once more. 

“Aht, don’t push my head away. That’s just mean,” Bokuto pouted, the pads of his fingers digging into the limp plush of your calves. He’s got all his weigh on you, pushing you down onto the backseat of his car. You winced mindlessly, your hazy eyes flickering among the space Bokuto occupied between your legs. Your fingers lazily carded through his locks, strength dwindling by the second.

 “B-Bo…I can’t take anymore,” you slurred, resting your head along the sleek platinum headboard. You couldn’t begin to comprehend what snapped inside Bokuto, his insistence leading to you gasping for a lick of air. He didn’t give you time to slip from the citrine dress you wore, only to be bunched around your bucking hips. 

“‘M so sorry, Princess. You just looked so good today, I wanted a piece of you,” he mumbled incoherently, his busy lips latching onto the twitching bud of your clit. He's relentless, working the slicked muscles to paint sticky strokes along the bud.  

He’d been tucked away in his own heaven, relishing in every drop of your essence that spilled into his mouth. He pulled at least three orgasms from you this way, each one slower than the last. 

“Wait–I can’t cum again, Bokuto please!” you sobbed, your back forcing out a harsh arch. You frantically nudged yourself deeper into Bokuto’s hold, your hips swiping at whatever could be caught. 

Sharing in your urgency, Bokuto kept his tongue pressed into your folds, the voids of his eyes taking in the sight before him. He always did love when you chased after your own high, using him however you saw fit. 

He pulled his hindering grip from your legs, allowing for your thighs to smother him in a swift close. Not another syllable had to be uttered as you approached your high, both hands grasping handfuls of Bokuto’s hair. 

A bubbling fit of words fled from your lips, Bokuto giggling at the view. He drew himself from your cunt, placing a final kiss onto the exposed bundle of nerves. He rested back onto his haunches, keeping his hunkering figure hovered above your own. 

As he swiped the pad of his thumb along the spit-ridden mess of your lips, he whispered to your dazed visage gently. “Be nice and use your words. Now, what do you say fr’ me, Baby?”

Through your heavy lashes, you mustered the bits of energy to respond, granting a satisfied smirk to creep onto Bokuto’s face.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Sugardaddy!Ushijima loves it when you spend his money.

God, does he love it? The swipes of his card, the sifting through the thick bills tucked away in his wallet, Ushijima was addicted to it all. He didn’t even have to say a word, your hand already reaching for whatever mode of payment he had for the day. 

You weren’t aware of it, but there was a special glint that illuminated the olive hues of his eyes. Maybe it was how you twirled the thin sheet of plastic between your fingers, whistling some tune to pass the moments of processing. 

He was obsessed with the fact that every heel beneath the soles of your feet, every ring that hugged your finger, and every dress that clung to your body was all his doing, all stemming from the fruits of his labor. 

When that gratifying giggle rang from your throat, it was enough to fuel a flame within Ushijima’s belly—something he knew would be extinguished soon.

“I can’t hear you, Sweetheart,” Ushijima groaned, his hand prying from your stuttering hips. You lifted your head from the tear-stained pillow, pulling the swell of your lip through your teeth. “It’s so fucking good, Toshi! I w-want more,” you keened, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

Ushijima returned to the sight laid before him, the plump curves of your ass pressed against his tensed abdomen. Tracing down the arch of your spine, he was met with the glassy voids of your lidded eyes, spools of drool decorating your lips. 

Taking a provoking turn, he drew his hips from their post, dragging his length from your walls. He chuckled at the sound of your cries, the sadist whims surfacing to the forefront of Ushijima’s mind.

“C’mon Baby, you gotta work for all those bags you got today,” he surmised, landing a playful smack on your ass. The mewling whimpers from your lungs came to a sudden halt once you noticed what Ushijima held in the palm of his hand.

The hefty stack of blue bills sat snug in his hand, waving them to your gawking glance. “If you can make me cum just like this, I’ll add everything in my hand to your allowance,” Ushijima wagered snarkily. “Deal?”

With a sheepish nod, you agreed to take on Ushijima’s bet, planting your weakened knees into the mattress. A heavy breath brewed inside your lungs, acting as encouragement for your newly placed endeavors. Ushijima knew all too well how big he was, considering he was always so insistent on taking charge. 

Yet watching his pretty girl struggle to take him was just one of his favorite pastimes as of late.

With the single dive of your hips, your walls enveloped Ushijima’s cock in the viscid warmth once more. A stout arch coaxed itself into your spine as a keening sob sang from your lips. An overwhelming euphoria was placed upon your weary body, stemming from fullness residing within your cunt. Your digits dug into the cotton plush of the pillow, barely grounding your mind.

“Fuck–you must really want it, don’t you Baby?” Ushijima chuckled raggedly, the faint patterns of stars clouding his vision. He hadn’t anticipated your eagerness, the swift drops of your hips resting against his flexed abdomen. He felt everything, every twitch of your walls, every roll of your hips, even every kiss the head of his cock pressed into your cervix. 

The explicit clash of skin began the soft comforting tunes to Ushijima’s ears, hiding his blissful whimpers behind the music. His eyes were trained to the unfolding scene, from tracing the slick sheen of sweat dusting the curve of your back to catching each wave that passed through the supple skin of your ass. Reminding of something that of a fever dream, Ushijima melded into the amorous aura, quickly forgetting the bet he’d made with you. 

Giving in to his fading sense of self, Ushijima drizzled the stack of bills along your body, each one drifting to cover the sheets beneath you both. With his hand now free, Ushijima reached out to you, cupping your chin as he presented you with a single rhetorical question. 

“Who’s my rich little slut?”

Sugardaddy! Akaashi loves it when you flaunt your new clothes.

He finds it to be the highlight of his day. It’s even become his sense of downtime from the frantic day, hopping from shop to shop all across the city. He’ll sit in his favorite leather armchair with a cup of the richest brandy in hand, watching your giddy reflection paraded about through the mirror. 

“Don’t you look pretty? Told you this color suits you best, Sweetheart,” Akaashi cooed, his chin nuzzled within the crook of your neck. You couldn’t bother to respond to his compliment, not with his thick digits drawing relaxed circles along the supple bud of your clit. You clawed at his forearm in protest, the silk fabric of his dress shirt catching each scratch of your nails.

Perched atop his lap, Akaashi kept your thighs parted for his entertainment, his eyes pinned to the mirror’s reflection. He admired it all, the staggering rises and falls of your chest, your trembling lips, and the spilling streams of spit lining your chin. He only wished you could revel in the same vision he bore witness to. 

At his tender handling, your body melted into Akaashi’s hold. From the frantic beats of your heart, the nerves beneath your skin prickling with need, and the hot pants warming the air, it was all for him. Your back arched against his chest, squirming amidst the mind-numbing solace Akaashi delivered. 

“Look at that, making such a mess on my fingers,” he hummed, the tips of his digits ghosting the fluttering slit of your cunt. He allowed for a single finger to graze past your entrance, the lewd squelching spurring you on. “P-Please Keiji…don’t tease me like that. Just–” you sobbed, your hips bucking to meet his fleeting touch. 

“Sorry, baby. Not until you tell me how pretty you are,” he whispered, painting your limped jaw with lingering pecks. Drifting down to the pulse of your throat, Akaashi nipped at the skin, leaving the slightest hints of marks in his stead. 

His calming tone flew to your ear, earning your hazed attention. “Look in the mirror and repeat after me,” he instructed softly. You nodded concurringly, the lids of your eyes prying from their screwed hold. 

You were met with Akaashi’s narrowed glare, the darkened hues of his eyes pinned on you. Embarrassment rang through you, eyes glazing over your pitiful state. What caught your immediate attention was the ruby dress he’d just purchased sitting around your waist. 

Not to mention the pornographic sight of your cunt on full display for him, inducing for a merciful whimper to creep out your lungs. 

Yet for Akaashi, his own concern was hearing that voice of your repeat every word that soon left from his mouth. “I’m Akaashi’s…” he began, waiting for your frail reply.

“I’m Akaashi’s…” you uttered shyly, the inescapable heat swarming beneath your cheeks. He noticed your resistance, matching it with lingering swipes of his digits between your glossed folds. 

“Pretty Girl. I’m Akaashi’s pretty girl,” he compiled together, shifting back into his seat patiently. You swallowed the lump sitting in your throat, bundling the bits of energy to comply with his wishes. 

“I-I’m Akaashi’s pretty girl,” you whimpered out at last, granting a smile to spread along his lips.

“That’s my good girl. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

[bagel-bird-ainsor]

Ghost trick spoiler thoughts I had while working on my most recent drawing

GT:PD SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

Thinking about the process of Yomiel learning how to control his body again. I mean, when he took his body back from the morgue in-game, he got up and walked out pretty naturally. But what if it didn’t go so smoothly? He’s spiritually puppeting his own corpse around, and it’s probably a very different experience.

There’s a lot of bodily functions that we don’t necessarily *think* about; blinking, breathing, walking, etc.

So essentially what I’m picturing is Yomiel’s detachment from his body resulting in him being really uncanny (at least at first)

He zombie-walks at first, having to remember to keep his torso upright while manually moving one foot in front of the other. Even as he gets better at it, there’s still a stilted nature to his steps; never able to keep a steady walking rhythm.

Regaining his voice was the trickiest part. He had to learn what shapes to manipulate his throat and larynx into to formulate each sound. I feel like he’d sound like something out of the Mandela Catalogue, or similar horror content where an inhuman thing tries to mimic human voices. Once again, he gets better with practice, but there’s still something…off about him.

He never blinks, and why would he? He’s got the sunglasses on, so there’s no need to put in the effort. He never breathes, which most people don’t really notice unless they’re paying attention.

There’s a video game called Who’s Lila? that I heard about recently from a Jacob Geller video. In that game, you physically click and drag your characters facial features to form expressions, often to unsettling effect. I imagine it’s a similar process for Yomiel’s face. And without the ability to feel pain or damage his body, I can only imagine what expressions he could contort his face into without those limitations.

I like Yomiel as the cool, calculated, menacing presence that he is, but I also think the concept of what he is lends itself to the potential for uncanny imagery.

ANYHOOT; I just think it’s a cool concept to think about. Plus, there’s the added tragedy of his own body becoming such a foreign object to him, having to relearn things that were once second nature, and still not quite attaining a convincing visage of humanity. More traumatic experiences for Yomiel, why not.

If you read all that, thanks! And I’d love to hear any thoughts y’all have on the concept.

[orqheuss]

In the pursuit of knowledge

(Ominis/F!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

“Have you ever been kissed, Ominis?”

***

It's after curfew, and you and Ominis are tipsy on firewhiskey in the Undercroft. The sexual tension is heavy in the air-- what are two teenagers secretly in love to do?

Ao3 link here

Smut based on a drawing by @gangstagandalf​

“Have you ever been kissed, Ominis?”

You were lying on the floor of the Undercroft, your legs crossed in front of you and your hands resting on your abdomen as you gazed upwards. A small smile creased your face as you asked the blond next to you the question that had been on your mind since the firewhiskey entered your system a few hours ago, your foot lightly tapping his where they touched. Ominis was leaning against one of the many columns in the space, his head resting heavily against the stone and his legs stretched as well, forming an L shape with your bodies. You both were pleasantly tipsy by this point, a soft warmth filling your bodies and a lovely little fog swirling through your minds. Sebastian had left not long ago, claiming that he was off to his bedchambers to sleep off his inevitable hangover; you had a sneaking suspicion that he was actually going to go bother a particular brunette Hufflepuff with a soft spot for beasts, though.

The boy pondered this for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing at his brow. He swirled the bottle of whiskey in his hand around, tapping the base of it against his thigh. A hum left his closed lips before he spoke. “No, never really had the inclination to.” He leaned forward slightly, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a small drag of the amber liquid before letting gravity pull him back towards the pillar with a thump. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. “Many have tried, but it didn’t feel right.”

A look of confusion passed over your face, your lips tweaking into a small frown as you raised up to your elbows. “What do you mean?”

He lazed his head towards your direction, eyes still closed but a close-lipped smile creeping up his cheeks. “I always thought my first kiss should be with someone I cared deeply for— maybe even loved, if it came to that. My parents have tried to set me up a numerous amount of times, but I didn’t feel anything for the girls they introduced me to.” He turned away from you again, his eyes opening and staring unseeing at the arched ceiling. “I want all the feelings people talk about— the butterflies, the fireworks, the encompassing warmth, not just my name signed next to some random woman that my mother deemed ‘appropriate’ for me so we can keep the bloodline strong.” He cleared his throat, swallowing around the sudden nervousness that rested there. “What about you? Has there been anyone?”

You hummed in thought, nodding along with his words. “I’ve been waiting for the same, though I can’t say I’ve had many strong contenders.”

You watched as a chuckle took over his visage, his perfect teeth glowing in the candlelight and his shoulders lightly shaking with mirth. “Yes, I imagine there aren’t many good choices in our current pool of suitors.”

A snort blew out of your nose against your consent, your expression twisting into one that said “no shit.” “Agreed. Most only want one thing anyway, and if I haven’t kissed anyone yet I’m certainly not doing that. At least, not with just anyone.”  

Ominis made a sound of annoyance in the back of his throat, the smile falling from his face as fast as it appeared and his eyebrows pinching downwards. “If those neanderthals only care about getting their dick wet, they don’t deserve your time.”

You laughed loudly, the crassness of his words startling you. After a few moments, he joined you with his own sounds of joy, ending with both of you breathing heavily and a rosy flush across your cheeks. Your hazy, intoxicated eyes floated over to his form, taking a moment in the calm to drink him in entirely. Nearly everyone knew that you liked the blond boy— everyone except him, of course. No matter how many times you’ve tried to hint at your feelings, each one completely went over his head. Some had told you to just give up, that he was never going to get it or he was just trying to spare your feelings by ignoring your advances, but you truly couldn’t help it; the boy was beautiful inside and out. It certainly didn’t help your hunger for him that he had decided it was too hot earlier and undone the first few buttons of his shirt, unknotting his tie in the process and leaving it loose around his neck. You took in his birth marks first, tracing each and every little dot from the corner of his eye, down the tops of his collarbones, all the way to his long, lithe fingers still wrapped around the neck of the square shaped bottle. Merlin, even his fingernails were lovely; you had never admired the small details of someone before him— how his elbows sat outside of his rolled up sleeves, the length of his golden eyelashes, the curve and pale pink color of his cupids brow. Your eyes danced over the curve of his mouth, wishing desperately to know what he tasted like. Would he be sweet, like the candies he loved so much? Would he be bitter like the firewhiskey on his breath? Or would he be something entirely new, something you had never tasted before? Your cheeks burned at the thought. Moving slowly upwards his face, you got caught on the sharpness of his cheekbones next. One wrong move and you could cut yourself on those ridges. You thought that would be a beautiful reason to bleed. Trailing up the soft curve of his ear, you admired his flaxen hair under the low lighting. The tiny blazes of the floating wicks caught each strand growing from his scalp and transformed them into spools of pure golden silk. You wondered if it was as soft as it looked— if it would look as pretty grasped between your fingers, if the light would catch it the same from between your thighs—

Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest, a familiar warmth growing in your lower stomach.

Cutting off your lewd thoughts, you snapped your eyes to his, watching the pale blue irises dance in the firelight. They were almost ethereal— otherworldly, you would say. There was something about the color that drew you in like a moth to a flame. Or maybe it was the sparkle that resided inside, the hidden spark of mischief that rarely saw the light of day? Either way, you could stare into those eyes all day if he would let you. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system or something about the intimacy of the situation at hand, but you wanted to swim in that blue. You wanted to jump in and dive all the way to the bottom of his mini-oceans. Drowning in his eyes would be your favorite way to go.

Your eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, your tongue poking out to wet yours as you pondered your next move. Crawling up to your knees, you shuffled towards the boy, reaching your hand out for the whiskey in his grasp. You gently unwound his fingers from the neck, minutely shuddering from the dizzying spark that passed between your hands touching, and took a long drag. Ominis laughed at the little cough that escaped from you, his hand reaching up and smoothing his hair before flopping downwards and landing right on your thigh. His fingers slid dangerously under the hem of your skirt, smoothing against the tops of your thigh-high socks. Color spread across your face and down your neck at the pure heat that radiated from his palm— a matching blush stretching across the boys cheeks just the same. Even still, he made no move to change his grip, going as far as to squeeze the skin between his fingers unconsciously.

You swallowed roughly, your gulp near audible as you lifted your own hand into the air, letting it hover for a moment with nerves before steeling yourself and letting it fall atop of his. Pure  need  burned under your skin. Perhaps it was time to be more direct in your approach.

Clearing your throat, you leaned slightly closer to the very handsome Slytherin. “Ominis, you’d say we’re friends, correct?”

Confusion creased his face, a question dangling at the tip of his tongue. “Yes, you know you’re my closest friend besides Sebastian. Why?”

You shift closer, causing the both of your hands to slip further up your skin. The blond swallowed thickly, shifting slightly to alleviate the pressure building in his pants.

“Would you say you care for me?”

Ominis can smell the tension in the air around the both of you. He inhales it deeply, his eyes fluttering closed at the enticingness of it. His voice comes out as a stuttering breath. “Y-yes, you could say that.” Care was definitely putting it lightly— he had been smitten with you for Merlin knows how long.

In a bold movement, you shifted your weight and threw one of your legs to the other side of his, straddling his hips and pressing your heat against his thigh. His other hand shot up to hold you still at the waist. Both of you were panting, heaving breaths mingling in the space between your faces. Your hands came up to drape around his shoulders, one of your thumbs smoothing back and forth on the skin creeping out from under his starched collar. Leaning forward a bit more, your nose brushed against his, igniting the fireworks in your chest and sending your eyes fluttering shut. There were mere inches between the two of you— one move and you would fall into the sweet oblivion of his kiss.

The boy could hear your heart pounding in your chest; It was a comfort to know that you were just as nervous as he was. His grip tightened at your waist as his thumb mimicked the motions on his neck at the center of your thigh. He could feel himself getting excited where the both of you were connected, and his heart skipped a beat when your lips very lightly brushed against his— barely a touch but still so very tantalizing.

Your words were nothing more than a breath. “Can I kiss you, Ominis?”

He loved how his name sounded on your lips.

A low groan came from his chest, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”  

And then there was no more space between the both of you. The kiss was gentle— lips carefully caressing against lips like two fragile pieces of glass. It felt like you were made to kiss him. Neither of you moved in fear of scaring the other away, your bodies stiff and hands trembling where they rested. After a moment you separated, breathing shakily against the other while your foreheads rested together. Ominis’ hands squeezed you harder, pressing his fingerprints into your skin and accidentally dragging his still moving thumb to your inner thigh. You sighed, a small moan humming in the back of your throat.

It was like a switch flipped in the blond at the sound— a primal hunger waking up inside of him at the sound of your pleasure. His lips surged forwards again, capturing yours in a searing kiss for the second time. He pressed you tightly to him, the hand on your thigh moving even farther up your skirt, passing over your bottom and pressing at your lower back. The other moved from your waist up to your head, weaving his fingers through your hair and gripping at your roots. You keened against him at the sudden pain, rolling your hips in search of a delicious friction you’d never known before. The blond’s tongue ran along your bottom lip, drawing a gasp from your throat and opening you up to his invasion. The absolutely sinful sounds of your tongues pressing together sent a shiver of arousal down your spine. Your hand snaked up the side of his neck, slithering into his golden locks and harshly tugging his head back so you could get to the supple skin at his collar. He hissed, mouth falling open in pleasure as you attacked the skin where his shoulder connected to his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses in the wake of each of your love bites. The hand at your back slid down and grabbed hold of your ass, grinding you down on his hard length and sending a tumbling moan from the both of your mouths.

The fingers tangled in your hair tugged you back lightly, dragging your face from his flesh and forcing you to meet his eyes. His pupils were blown out to their full size, the cicle of black nearly taking over the entirety of the soft blue pools in lust. His chest was heaving as he struggled to push air into his lungs and speak at the same time. “Wait— I need to know that you actually want to do this.” It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of your chest at the vulnerable look in his eyes. He was bearing his whole soul to you. “Call me selfish if you wish, but if we continue down this path I do not think I will be able to stop myself. Please tell me you want this as much as I do— that you burn for me as much as I burn for you.”

You breathed a laugh against his open lips, grabbing at the ends of his tie and pulling him closer once again. “I crave you more than I have ever craved anything else in this world.”

You cut off his sigh of relief with your mouth, teeth clashing together from the velocity. You use your hips to slightly rotate the both of you, pushing Ominis’ body backwards with your chest until you were lying back on the cold stone ground. He chuckled against you, biting your lip and pulling gently.

“Eager little minx, aren’t you?” You wanted to kiss that smug look from his face.

Your hands began to unbutton the rest of his shirt, leaning close and just teasing your lips on his neck. You felt wonderful against him. “May as well move to the next step— the pursuit of knowledge awaits no man.”

His barking laugh filled the chasmous space around you, ricocheting off the walls and echoing back to you before it was swallowed by a surprised moan from your teeth digging sharply into his collarbone, your hips rolling downwards in tandem. His large hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs, trembling in hesitation and restraint; he wanted nothing more than to grab you by the hips and drag you down across his throbbing length. You had similar plans it seemed as you pulled back and began unbuttoning your shirt. Ominis quickly captured your lips again, replacing your hands with his and all but ripping the fabric from your form, leaning upwards slightly on his elbows and shucking his own shirt from his body. You undid the button of your skirt as well, leaving you in just your underclothes. You moved to pull the long socks from your feet but a hand stopped you, a growl filled with pure, unfiltered want sending a pulse directly to your already dripping core.

“Leave them on.”

You frantically nodded, dropping your weight back onto his lap and grinding against him again. The sweet, sanguine sounds of each moan you dragged from his bruised throat furthered your movements. Incredibly annoyed at the fact that he still has trousers on, you reached your hands down and began to undo his belt, threading the leather through the buckle and tossing it in the direction of the rest of your clothes. You wanted to lick, to taste every single inch of his skin. Your fingers ghosted at the area where you connected, dragging your fingertips along his hard member and drawing an absolutely lewd whimper from his kiss-bruised mouth.

You whispered against the skin of his chest, taking one of nipples between your teeth and lightly biting. “May I?”

Ominis didn’t care what you were asking for, as long as you didn’t stop. “Fuck— yes, stars, please.”

Him begging for your touch was doing something to you.

You smiled against his ribs, pressing kisses to every freckle and mole you could find as you drifted downwards to his needy manhood. If someone were to tell Ominis that he died and had gone to heaven, he would have believed them— there was no way this was actually happening. A rouged blush dressed his entire body when he felt your fingers drag along the waistband of his trousers, your nails kissing his skin before popping open the button and dragging down the zipper. He lifted his hips to help you, hissing as you pulled his trousers and pants down to his knees and letting the cold air of his secret hideaway brush against his smoldering skin. His cock stood at attention in front of your eyes, the tip a brilliant pink and precum leaking from his slit. Your hot and heavy makeout session really got him going.

You licked your lips, your eyes trailing a particularly prominent vein along the underside. “Merlin, you’re beautiful.”  

The praise drew another whine from his throat, and he threw one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound in embarrassment. You must have put some sort of spell on him, there was no way these sounds were voluntarily leaving him. You nipped at his hipbone in a warning, trailing your finger along the vein that was currently fascinating you.

“No muffling yourself, my love. Let me hear you— I love your voice so much.”

He hesitantly removed his hand from his mouth, choosing instead to run it through his hair and mess it up even more while his other hand reached down and threaded in your own locks.

You smiled wryly against the skin of his thigh. “Good boy.”

You punctuated your words with your tongue, dragging the appendage along the length of his twitching cock and drawing a long, thunderous moan from the boy below you. My, what lovely sounds he made. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his weeping tip before opening your mouth and taking him into your throat one inch at a time.

He made a choking sound in the back of his throat, pleasure flooding his system.  “Fuuuck, you’re lips feel so good around me, darling.”

Darling. The pet name only spurred you along even more, your eyebrows knitting together as you fought against your gag reflex to fit even more of him into your awaiting throat. You were going to take him all the way to the hilt.

A stream of moans and grunts fell from Ominis’ throat as you bobbed your head up and down, finding a rhythm that works for the both of you. His fingers tightened in your hair, struggling against his need to grab your head and fuck into your throat. It wasn’t like he hadn’t experimented sexually before, he was a teenage boy after all. Masturbation was normal at this point in his life, but his hand never felt this good. Each bob of your head, each twist of your tongue along his length, sent a bolt of electricity down his spine and directly to the spot in his lower stomach where a knot of pleasure was forming. You lifted off of him with a pop, heaving air into your lungs and tonguing at his slit, and the blond saw  stars. He wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate; his orgasm was fast approaching with every flick of your heavenly muscle. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for something as you inhaled and exhaled headily from your nose. He was about to ask what you were doing when you took him back into your mouth in his entirety, sliding his cock down your throat and letting your nose rest against the curls at the base. He couldn’t stop the sounds that came from him, each one higher pitched and more needy than the last. Ominis tugged at your hair, trying to pull you off before he finished.

“W-wait— Shit, I’m so close. Please, fuck, I’m gonna cum, wait—”  

You didn’t listen, digging your nails into his hips and holding on for dear life. Your throat pulsated around him as you struggled to not gag, drawing a particularly loud and high pitch whimper from the blond. You reached down and thumbed at his taut sack, and he was a goner. A hiss that sounded distinctly like your name flew from his open mouth as he shot down your throat. You swallowed around him, licking at his slit for every last drop and pulling overstimulated keens from your lover’s throat. He yanked you off of him, an absolutely glorious blush covering the entirety of his body. You watched his chest heave up and down for a moment before you made your way back up to his face, smoothing your hand over his cheek and pushing the sweaty hair off of his temple before capturing his lips into a kiss. Ominis squeezed you as tight as he possibly could to his chest. You couldn’t help grinding against his softening dick, coating it with the slick that had begun to seep through the crotch of your panties and run down your leg. The Slytherin hissed between his teeth, grabbing your neck lightly and pulling you away. You chased his mouth and he chuckled.

“I can’t decide if you were sent here to save me, or kill me.”

He could feel your chuckle against his palm. “Why can’t I do both?”

He hooked one of his legs around yours, using the leverage to flip you over and press your back against the floor. Your mouth dropped open in pleasure from the feeling of his fingers tightening around your larynx. Ominis chuckled again, feeling your heartbeat pick up against where his thumb was on your pulse point.

“Oh, you like that? We’ll explore that more text time, I think.”

Next time. You liked the sound of a next time.

He ghosted his hand down your chest, grabbing at your still clothed breast and kneading the flesh, and it was your turn to whimper. Ominis wasted no time reaching behind you and struggling with the clasp of your bra, curses falling from his lips in annoyed desperation. Just as you were about to help him, he retracted his hands and instead wrapped his hands around the band, growling in frustration.

“Blasted thing—”

With a hard yank, he ripped the fabric of your bra and tossed it across the room into some unknown corner. You opened your mouth to protest when he crashed his lips to yours, pawing at your now free breasts and drawing little whines from your chest.

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

The pretty blond kissed down your neck, leaving a scattering of bruises like you did to him before making his way to your heaving chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and tweaking it with the tip of his tongue. You ran your hands through his hair in utter bliss, soft hums breaching the space around you. He let go of your peak with a sinful pop, drawing your attention to him as his other hand slid down to the waistband of your panties. Ominis pressed a kiss above your heart, letting his finger run along the underside of your final piece of clothing and listening to your breath hitch. That vulnerable look was back in his eyes.

“I want to return the favor. Please, please let me taste you.”

His sweet words were making your head spin more than the firewhiskey ever could. You made a noise of affirmative, not trusting your voice at the moment, and thread your fingers through his hair again. It truly was as soft as it looked. The blond smiled, his grin full of teeth and like he had just won the lottery, before he kissed his way down your stomach, stopping at your underwear and mouthing hotly at your hipbones. You whined in impatience, and he laughed against your skin before taking the hem of your panties and pulling them down your legs, kicking off the rest of his clothes in the process. Your breathing got increasingly shallow as he threw your legs over his shoulders, his lips pressing against the skin of your inner thighs and biting darker hickies in a spot no one else would see. He got closer and closer to your throbbing center, inhaling your heady scent and nearly losing his last little bit of composure. He looked up at you though his eyelashes, gazing at you like he could actually see how disheveled you were.

“I need you to tell me what to do, can you do that?”

You nodded, pulling lightly at his roots. He bit the mound of skin above where you wanted him.

“Words please, dove.”

You swallowed thickly. “Y-yes, I can do that.”

He smiled, turning your words from earlier back on you. “Good girl.”

A loud mewl spilled from you as he licked a hot stripe along your folds, the tip of his tongue catching on your clit and painting your vision white. He pulled back with an agonized groan.

“You’re so wet, my darling. Did I do this? Merlin, help me.”

He dove back into your sacred place, lapping at you like a man in a drought. You directed him to the best of your ability, telling him what spots made you see stars and the perfect rhythm to make you come undone. He was a quick learner, and soon you were writhing under him in the throes of pleasure. He had his lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves atop your privates, flicking his tongue every so often and sucking as his fingers teased your entrance. Whimpers of curses and his name streamed from your chest like a waterfall. Ominis carefully pressed one of his fingers into you, giving it an experimental thrust in and out, and your back arched off the ground in a desperate attempt to get closer as your thighs clamped tightly against his ears, suffocating him in your sweet center. You were a siren, and he was but a simple sailor entrapped by your hypnotizing song. What a lovely way to die.  

Groans of satisfaction sent vibrations through your entire body, dragging you closer and closer to your release.

You keened feebly, begging the boy making you feel this good— for what, you weren’t sure. “Please, Ominis—”

He groaned again, and the knot in your lower stomach got impossibly tighter as he pressed a second finger into you and curled, pressing his fingertips into that delicious place that you had never been able to reach when you were alone in your dorm room. Incoherent whimpers screamed from your throat at the sheer bliss that flowed through your body, your hips wiggling sporadically as he scissored his fingers and prepared you for his length. One particularly hard bit of suction on your clit had you tumbling, your orgasm rocking through you like a speeding bullet and sending blinding fireworks through your brain. Ominis smiled as he worked you through your finish, proud of himself for making you cum on the first try. You tugged at his hair, pulling him up from between your legs and crashing your lips together in need. You could taste the saltiness of your slick on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, slipping through your folds and sliding slightly inside. You both groaned at the feeling, your fingernails digging into the blond’s shoulders at the minute sting. Ominis pressed his forehead to yours, trying to steady his breathing and heartbeat and whispered against your lips.

“Are you sure you want this, my love?”

You nodded your head, a plea slipping out. “Yes.”  

He moaned at how needy you sounded— needy and cock-drunk for him. He kissed you, spilling all of the love he felt for you into it.

“Please tell me if you want to stop; I don’t want to hurt you.”

You huffed, “Why would I ever want to stop?”

You both moaned loudly as he breached your walls, pushing his hot member into your equally sweltering core inch by inch. Your eyebrows scrunched together at the pressure, and Ominis kissed the pain away as he got deeper and deeper. Finally he bottomed out inside of you, and you both stilled for a moment to get used to the feeling. You had never felt so full before, it was like he was touching every part of your body at once. Everything was simultaneously overwhelming and not enough. The blond dug his fingers into your hips as he warded away his encroaching orgasm; he didn’t want to finish before he could even savor the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. You squeezed his shoulders, giving him the signal that he can start moving, and he began thrusting in and out of you at a carefully slow pace. It was like nothing you had ever felt before— the pleasure was immeasurable. How people weren't doing this every second of the day, you weren't sure. You craned your neck down to were you both were connected and you couldn't help the harlequin moan that ripped from your throat. Whatever you were doing before this moment in your life was a waste— every moment not connected to Ominis Gaunt was an absolute waste. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pressing him deeper inside of you and drawing a growl from Ominis’ very soul. He picked his speed up as his orgasm crept up on him again, needing to feel you finish around him more than anything.

"Merlin, you feel so good around me— like you were made to take my cock."

His uncouth words went straight to your core.

Your mewls and moans filled the room; he was glad the Undercroft was so far under the school, lest someone would have definitely heard your screams of ecstasy. His fingers dug deeper into your flesh, definitely leaving bruises that will only get darker the next day, and slammed his hips against yours. His own wanton moans sang along with yours as the knot in his stomach tightened. You could feel how close he was from the stutter in his rhythm, and you reached your hand between the both of you and rubbed at your clit, pushing your own finish closer to the surface. In a rush of animalistic desire, Ominis leaned forwards and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, giving you the last push you needed to spill over the side of the precipice. Your orgasm crested over the edge, dyeing your vision a stark black as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You squeezed impossibly tighter around the blond’s thrusting cock, sending stars to the forefront of his mind for the second time that night and causing him to speed up his thrusts even more, chasing his own orgasm as you milked the life from him. His hips grew sporadic at the feeling of your tight cunt swallowing him whole, bringing his finish just out of reach. He panted against your shoulder, holding you against his chest as he whimpered.

“W-where do you want me t-to—”

You cut off his sentence, the throes of your orgasm still shocking through your system. “Inside me. Please, Ominis, I want to feel you fill me— I’m on the potion— Fuck, please!”

That was enough to send him over, his orgasm crashing over him like a tsunami as he spilled his life force deep inside of you. He thrust a few more times inside of you, prolonging his bliss before he stilled, both of you heaving air into your lungs like you would never breathe it again. He rolled off of you, dropping his whole exhausted body weight to the floor and pulling you against his chest. You rested there for a moment, basking in the glow of your first time and listening to the rapid pulse of the blond’s heartbeat. It sang to you a sweet lullaby, lulling you to sleep in the comfort of your lover’s arms. Ominis sighed, completely content for once in his life.

“I have wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea.”

Your head shot up in shock, your jaw dropping nearly down to your chest. “You mean we could have been doing that this whole time?!”

His eyes widened at your shout, processing your words for a moment before a blush spread down his neck again. He brought his hand up to his face, covering it in embarrassment as he laughed at how stupid the both of you were. You joined him after a moment, your head bouncing up and down against his vibrating chest. Once your cackles pittered off to soft chuckles, he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple and running his fingers through your hair.

“I guess we need to make up for lost time, wouldn’t you agree?”

You shuffled your body upwards, dangling your face over his and bringing your lips close for another sugary kiss. “Indeed we do.”

***

like what you read? here's more!

[thegoldencontracts]

I can make a request for Azul x Reader who confesses to him, but asks him to reject their feelings because they thinks he doesn't return their feelings and thinks he wouldn't date someone like them? Make it have a fluffy ending please!!!

Of course! Thank you for requestingg <3

Irrationality, Love

Summary: Azul never could help the irrational way he acted around you. An unexpected confession helps him sort himself out.

Notes: A dash of angst(?), I'm soo sorry to you anon I think I got a bit too self-indulgent with the prompt

You were an odd person. You weren't meant to be, that was the problem. You were average. No particularly remarkable talents or privileges to set you apart- at least, not when compared to the highly eccentric students of Night Raven.

And yet, you made Azul act in an infuriatingly irrational way. His heart raced, his face flushed, his head rushed. Seeing you in the hallways, he couldn't help but stare.

Your eyes, your hair, your lips- they were all tantalizing. Were they really, though? Or was that merely a part of the odd curse you'd set upon him, for him to be doomed to admire you no matter what?

It was an odd, addicting feeling. Why was it addicting? Why did he so crave the sight of your visage? He didn't even know.

He still remembered the first time he'd met you. Well, 'met' was a generous way to put it.

You'd been dining at the Lounge one day, and he'd been observing to make sure things were running smoothly.

But the moment he saw you, that turned into observing your face.

For quite a while. You seemed to sparkle, to shine. He couldn't look away.

Then, you met his gaze.

"Uh- is something the matter?" You asked, tilting your head in a confused manner that looked positively adorable. Wait, no, he wasn't supposed to think that.

"I don't understand what you're asking," Azul said, plastering his face with a condescending grin, before feigning a look of shock. "Oh, did you believe I was looking at you? Odd. I assure you, that wasn't the case. Apologies for souring your experience."

He had to save face. He was Azul Ashengrotto, the mercantile housewarden of Octavinelle. His ruthless yet elegant demeanor had garnered him fear and reverence alike throughout the school. He couldn't just throw that away over- this!

You seemed to accept that answer. Azul hastily left, only letting himself let out his long suppressed sigh of frustration after entering his room.

From next to him, Jade grinned.

"You seem out of sorts," he said, with the look of a predator analysing every weakness in their prey. Azul loathed having that look directed at him; he'd much rather Jade save it fort the clients.

"Shut it."

Jade merely laughed.

"I'm going to handle this- illness of mine, I assure you," Azul said, and Jade actually seemed confused at that. No matter. Azul wouldn't let himself be made a fool of. He couldn't.

Since then, he'd attempted to avoid you, though he'd failed quite a few times. More than quite a few times, in fact. Against his wishes and yet in compliance with them at the same time, you two'd grown closer, and the pounding of his heart around you only seemed to increase.

"Can't believe you're doing this for free, Azul," you said during one of your joint study-sessions, an impish grin on your face. "Is big bad Azul trying to make friends with someone? How shocking!"

Azul didn't know why, but the thought of you two being friends made him upset in a way that signalled that he wanted something more. What more could he possibly want? And why were you implying he was acting out of sentiment?

"P-Preposterous," he said, though his face was flushed. "I don't have friends, only business partners. A-and this is a mutually beneficial business exchange."

You just laughed.

"I never knew you could be so cute, Azul."

What was that supposed to mean? He wasn't cute, he was a businessman! A highly intimidating, refined businessman!

"F-Focus," he said. Why did he keep stuttering? This was all so odd. He only did this around you. He'd tried to get away, and yet he couldn't bring himself to? Why?

"Of course," you said, and that was it for your teasing. Well, for that study session, at least. It seemed like you'd never stop teasing him.

One day, however, you approached him in private, an uncharacteristically somber expression on your face. He wanted to wipe it off, to bring that impish grin back.

"I, uh, have something to tell you," you said, gaze downcast.

"What is it?"

"I love you," you said, as if it was nothing, as if you hadn't just brought a thousand questions to the forefront of his mind. You spoke once more after a few seconds. "...You can reject me now."

You'd been expecting rejection? Could he even reject you, when your confession had brought an answer to the question he'd had for ages?

Love. Was that the odd emotion you'd made him feel all along? It made sense.

"I assure you, you mustn't -"

"Don't try that customer service crap on me. I know you too well." A laugh and a choked sob, all at once. "I know that you're smart, hard-working, adorable and handsome at the same time, ambitious, strong, and just about a hundred other positive adjectives. And look-"

A tear fell from your right eye. It wasn't dramatic or even noticeable at a glance, but it was more heartbreaking than any cinematic breakdown.

"Look at me." Your words were naught but a cracked whisper. "I never stood a chance."

You'd expected rejection, but that wasn't what he was going to give. Azul had repressed his emotions, and that had hurt you. He couldn't let that happen. Not anymore.

Azul steeled himself.

"You're being much too hard on yourself," he chided. "And much too kind about me. If you think I don't return your feelings, then you're mistaken."

You looked at him, eyes wide with shock.

"You're joking, you've gotta be-"

In a fit of what he could only give the shameful label of primal instinct, Azul pulled you in by the tie of your uniform for a kiss.

Long, passionate, and greedy - though he was disappointed at the lack of internal fireworks that Idia's visual novels had promised him, it was lovely.

Azul pulled back after a while, leaving both of you breathless.

"Does that make my stance on the matter clear?" He said, and you nodded shakily. He was thankful for that, because he couldn't imagine having to say the words 'I love you' aloud.

"We're dating, then?" You said, a hopeful shine in your eyes.

He grinned.

"I'd love that."

Bonus:

"You've finally managed to overcome your emotional waterlogging, Azul? I couldn't be more proud."

"Yeah, little Azul's all~ grown up!"

"Hush, you," Azul said, before he realized.

"How long have you known?"

"Since you two first met," Jade said as if they were nothing.

Eh?

They'd known for- for that long? He'd been that obvious? How had he not noticed earlier? This was insane! He was slipping, and-

"Is something the matter, Azul?"

"I think you broke him."

[withered-tears]

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the autobots aren't human.

Well, not in the literal sense. Of course they aren't human. They are giant alien robots that turn into cars, for goodness sake.

But they talk like humans. They walk like humans. Even the way they think sometimes feels extremely human-like.

So sometimes, yes, it is easy to forget they are not human.

This had the unfortunate side effect of, unintentionally, see more than one situation through a human filter, so to speak.

Such as, for example, their durability.

Because when Bulkead ran through the groundbridge carrying Bee's body, with Arcee running next to him carrying Bee's head, every human present in the base froze.

Jack's eyes were wide open, face growing pale.

Miko, in contrast, was looking almost green. Hands clasping her mouth, either to stop herself from sobbing or puking. Tears were streaming down her face.

June, although horrified, was focusing solely on keeping Raf in place.

Raf was the worst. As soon as he saw Bee, he started screaming.

June was doing her best to try and comfort the kid while keeping him from running to his friend's body. Hugging him against her chest to keep him from looking at the horrible visage.

Agent Fowler was grim, fists and teeth clenched. When Cliffjumper died, he was the one who dealt with the horrible bureaucracy of asking the bots about proper protocol. About post-mortem condecoration, about burial rites, about tradition and wishes.

Now, at least he knew the proper way to proceed, which boils down to let the bots do as they please with their dead and keep any nosy superior out of their business.

Then Ratchet spoke.

"Finally. Bulkhead, drop him in a berth, and bring me the second crate of spares. Arcee, bring the head here. I want to start running diagnostics before- Bulkhead! The second crate! I'll have to repair most ports on Bumblebee's neck, f not replace them outright."

June was the first human to speak.

"What do you mean 'repair' his ports?"

Bumblebee's head had been cut off. Surely there's no repairing that, right?

Ratchet rolled his optics (once again, such human-like gestures) at the question, barely paying any mind to the humans as he worked on Bumblebee's head.

"What, you expected me to just shove his head in place and wrape tape around it? Sorry to disappoint, but reattaching a head is a bit more complicated than-"

"Bee's alive?"

Raf's voice was awful. Voice cracking and filled with such fragile, fragile hope.

Ratchet's eyes widened (so human-like) in surprise before his entire demeanor changed.

He carefully and gently picked up Raf to bring him closer to his workstation.

"Of course he's alive. Here, look. Although his neck was severely damaged, his processors, his brain module, are unscathed. The sudden lost of power caused them to crash, which is why I'm running diagnostics through his software."

Raf, small, young, terrified, and brilliant Raf, was quickly putting the information together.

"So it's like, it's like a computer that got unplugged without being properly turned off first?"

It was obvious Ratchet was not happy being compared to such inferior, human technology. But he held any complaints to himself.

"Yeah, something like that, kid. As I said, I have to check every port in his neck to make sure they won't overload his processors once I reconnect them. Not to mention, all vital components on a cybertronian body not only receive power from the spark and energon processing, but they also store a small portion of it. Like an internal battery. Bumblebee's brain could be kept powered off for years without any side effects, other than some minor lag once reactivated. Not that his repairs will take nearly that long. I'll have Bumblebee back online in a couple of days, a week at most."

Raf was sniffing, wiping his face with his sleeves. "Can, can I help?" His voice was still scratchy.

Ratchet huffed, trying really hard to sound annoyed.

"Why not. Might as well have a second pair of optics double-checking the code. Maybe you'll even learn something."

Yeah, the Autobots were not human.

But they sure acted human-like often enough.

[yandere-sins]

A yandere that, because you look awfully gloomy and lonely, decides to gift you a huge plush of themself.

You, who absolutely hates that plush (for obvious reasons) until you... don't.

Don't get me wrong, that plush is hideous. It's one of those human torso-sized, huge, huggable, soft plushes that come out for famous anime these days. It's so frustrating that when you poked it with your finger, it was really damn soft and would make a great cushion. However, the annoying, cutesy visage of your captor made in a toy style and the horrendous odor of their scent, which the plush seemed to have bathed in, are appalling enough not to care.

Although you turn it around towards a wall, so it's not staring at you, it's now a constant presence in your life even when you try to hide it upstairs when you get free access to all of the house. Your yan merely puts it back into your basement room, latest by the following day.

It's not a secret that you are really fucking lonely in your basement prison, waiting all day for your captor to come back home so you can play happy family upstairs. It's super depressing that you rarely catch enough sunlight to sustain yourself. Your whole life simply has no meaning other than being a captive, locked up, and forgotten in god-knows-where. But you warn yourself repeatedly that you haven't sunk this low as to need a cuddly plush of your captor to keep you company. Even when it's soft and huggable and at least doesn't annoy you (because it can't talk and can't threaten you), you don't. Need. It.

You know what it's good for, though? Punching. You thought you got rid of your anger a long time ago, but it turns out punching and wrestling with the thing like a rabid dog is pretty good for your mental health. There are a lot of unreleased feelings stuck inside you, so... it takes a good beating for sure.

At least until your knuckles hurt and you finally feel the tears dripping down your cheeks.

You really tried to hate this plush—at least as much or even more than your captor. And it's so fucking ugly, it still makes you want to puke. But when you finally give in and wrap your arms around it, it almost, really closely feels like a hug. It doesn't suffocate you, but it is soft and understanding in your arms even though you just beat it into the ground, and it doesn't blabber love confessions into your ear while it presses the air out of your lungs. When you hold it long enough, it almost has the faintest warmth to it, too, and damn. You did kind of need that, didn't you? After so long, this is exactly what you need.

Of course, after that brief display of unintended affection towards that damn toy, you throw it into a corner and go hide away for a while to compose yourself, hating that you sunk so low. It makes you feel really fucking pathetic, and yet... well, it doesn't have to lay face down on the cold ground. The plush can at least rest against a wall or something. It's ugly, but it's not the plush's fault that it was created that way.

The timid glances you give it throughout the day until your captor comes home, demanding attention from you that you provide reluctantly to avoid the drama, are nothing but curious looks... you think. Even when you are hugged by a real person—too tight, too needy, too hard—you look over to your plush which was so different from what you have to endure just for the sake of peace. And at night, you undoubtedly wish to have no one bother you like your captor does... but the plush would probably be more comfortable if you had to choose.

Gradually, and as insane as it sounds, you begin to hang out more with the plush. Maybe you are losing your mind, but it doesn't feel so weird anymore the more you do it. Let it sit next to you on a chair as you eat your snacks provided, or allow it to watch a movie with you (but only with an arm's length distance between you two). It's not the same as a real person, and it will hardly ever be able to replace that, but it grows on you in terms of companionship. It's even a little bit of relief to talk to it about your worries and complaints, despite the plush not being able to change anything about what plagues you.

Nonetheless, it's almost as if the plush makes living with the yandere a bit more endurable and easier. Perhaps your mood changed enough to soothe your captor; thus, they are much nicer and more attentive to what you want and need. It's far away from perfect, but it's not as hard as it has been before. Now, being alone, only with your plush companion, is much more of a relief rather than a punishment you have to sit out.

You even find some relaxation, cuddling, and using the plush as a pillow while doing anything really. With its softness, an afternoon nap now seems all the more enticing. Of course, you still refuse to admit all of this to your captor, but by the smug grin on their face, they already know that you've grown fond of the plush version of themself. The only time you get skeptical of the two is when the yandere decides to take the plush away for some time. "To check the stitches," they say, but for some reason, you don't believe them.

It makes sense that you wouldn't know about the... devices they put into them. A bit of a camera behind the cartoonish eyes and an audio device in the ears. You came close to destroying them when you had your rage fit, but not enough for the yandere not to see your first time hugging the plush. Or the first time you let it sit on the couch with you. Or when you let it—and thus the yandere—watch you eat. It's lovely to see you more relaxed and calm for once, with no arguing or complaining. No stiffness in your body and no forced agreeing like you do with the yan. Not even the yandere gets to see you eat without trying to hide or refusing in front of them, so this is a very special sight for them.

But what made them even happier was how openly you disclosed all those information about yourself. Suddenly you were talking about what you wanted and how to make you happy with the simplest things, like cooking dishes you craved or getting you new movies that you wanted to see. And what made it even more worth it was the smiles the yan now had on video and occasionally received in person after fulfilling your wishes, even though you were still shy about that. The plush helps feed their obsession, making it the best decision the yan ever made after kidnapping you.

Because fulfilling these wishes and pleasing you is almost as good as affection from you, a gentle moment worth a thousand words the yandere wants to hear from your precious lips, but you’ll never give them. Give them a smile, and you have them, once again, wrapped around your little finger, playing their heart like a fiddle. They don't even have to be jealous since fulfilling wishes is the one thing the plush will never be able to do—but the yan can. So they feast on the little achievements, the little less wariness whenever the yandere does anything and the bit more leniency with how far you let your captor go before bringing out your claws.

And then, after you became comfortable with their replacement, the yan simply took some time off work so they could sneak into the basement and throw the plush out of your bed before slipping into your sweet embrace themself, experiencing for the first time ever what it was like to truly be loved and cherished by you, gently held in your arms.

!! Sexual Content below !!

Gosh, all these premium videos of you getting off by grinding against the plush. Your moans and whimpers on repeat on your yandere's headphones on the way to work. Loads of fapping material and them sneaking into the basement just to masturbate while watching you, knowing you'd never allow them to join, but at least, they can cum with you.

The yan implementing genitals on the plush for you to use, and you find out, being so fucking ashamed, but eventually, curiosity wins. An overjoyed yandere licking and using them when they take the plush to inspect the seams, knowing you used them before the yan, so they feel much closer to you through them. Even better: You (accidentally or not) catch them in the act, and the yan finally lets go of all the restraints.

Them asking you to show them exactly how you use the toy, touching themself as they force you to give them a show. Your yan being unable to resist anymore, pushing themself on you and discarding the toy in favor of their real thing, growing increasingly desperate for you if you don't respond as they want you to.

"Aren't I so much better?" "Watch how good I am at this." "From now on, only let me make you cum, okay?" "Tell me it's good for you, too." "You may say you like them better than me, but can they do this?" "Do you want us both? Can you take us both, Darling?"

The yan making this a more common occurrence in your bedroom from then on, whether it be just watching or joining the fun. Setting up new cameras so they'll never run out of things to watch, even when they can't be with you. And thinking of how to upgrade your plush yandere to provide even more excellent services to you when the yan isn't there to do it, deciding it's a fun bonding activity to all try out the new things they come up with together.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Wishing On Golden Stars [FINAL]

Kamisato Ayato

k.ayato/fem!reader

genre: isekai, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor(?), series

chapter warning(s)!!!: ayato scolds you but thats really it!

chapter w.count: 3.7k

a/n: its finally here! the finale! let's give these fools a happy end, shall we?

When you wake up, it’s properly dark out. There's a cooling sensation on your forehead and you’re snug in a futon. A sense of deja vu washes over you as you hiss at the pounding in your head. At least whatever was on your head tried its best to stave off the headache. Not that its really working all that well.

There’s rustling to your side before the presence of something settles next to your laying form. You crack your eyes open and even though there’s only a few candles lit for visibility in the dark room, the light still makes you suck in a short breath. Electro currents really aren’t to be underestimated it would seem. The deja vu remains stuck to your mind as the cloudy visage of Ayato knelt in front of you clears up in your haze. 

“Do you always make it a habit to stick around when I’m sleeping,” you slur, your voice coming back to you in groggy waves as you try and lighten the frown on his face. He sighs, his shoulders dropping as he places his head on top of the cool cloth on your forehead. Some of the water drips out of the edges of the fabric as he applies pressure. 

He's changed into his night robes and he looks comfortable without all his layers and armored pieces on.

“Only when you make it a habit to worry me,” he counters with a bitter, unamused scoff. You let out a huff as you avert your eyes to the ceiling. 

“It’s not like I try to.” 

“Your track record of staying out of trouble fails to support your claim.” The rag of now lukewarm water that had been heated by both your skin and Ayato’s palm is lifted from your head. The remaining dampness feels sticky on your forehead as the air quickly begins to dry it. “Do you realize how reckless you can be?” His voice has a bite to it that you knew was coming. “Thoma sends you out on a brief errand and you do not return back home all day. Naturally, I would worry.” You don't watch him, but you can hear him dunk the rag back into water and wring the cloth out. “I go to retrieve you from whatever it was that was keeping you, and through various people’s testimonies, I found you outside Konda Village. That itself is not the issue, however.” The rag is placed gently back on your head, the action kind and delicate despite Ayato’s bitter tone. He was clearly upset. “Can you begin to understand the depths of my stomach when I saw you in the middle of a battle on the verge of unconsciousness because you were subjected to injuries?” 

You finally turn your head and look at him. The look on his face is soaked deep in so many emotions. His eyes were scared, his lips snared in a frown, cheeks flushed in anger at the memory. Even his posture was rigid. 

“That was you who showed up?” You knew it wasn’t Aether at the end of it all. Part of you was glad it was Ayato. 

“It was,” he sighs. “Luckily for us both, Aether is more familiar with the Priestess of Sangonomiya Shrine than I. He was able to transport you to her for healing swiftly.” You open your mouth in awe. That would explain that even after being shocked with so much energy, all that ails you was a headache and minor pains. “I shall be in her debt for some time for her service.” 

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to place you into any difficult situations that could strain the Tri-commission and the previous rebellion leader.” Ayato says nothing and you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not. “I’ll be sure to pay my respects and gratitude to Sangonomiya as soon as I can.” Still, he says nothing in return to your words. He must be angrier than you thought. 

Silence swallows the dim room in a gloomy air. Ayato remains beside you, just staring out of the room’s window while you continue to stare at the ceiling between prolonged blinking. This was the last thing you needed to happen. Talking to Aether gave you the advice, courage and push you needed to come up with an answer to the one thing that had been plaguing you- that being Ayato’s feelings. Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at him. 

Sitting there, he still looks so stupidly beautiful it was envy inducing. How this man saw anything desirable in you when he looks like he could sweep even a God off their feet with a single smile, you’re not sure. In the same breath though, it does inflate your ego to know one of the most powerful men in Inazuma has the hots for you. Then, you frown. 

“Ayato,” you whisper, foregoing his title that has him humming towards your call without looking down at you. “I’m sorry.” His shoulders almost slump. “For worrying you.” 

“Indeed. As you should be.” You almost pout. He could at least try and accept your apology. Still, you’re understanding and know where his emotions are coming from. 

“You must’ve been scared,” you whisper. Afraid that you might be crossing a line in assuming his feelings. The man who had his childhood ripped away from him when his parents passed. The boy who had to grow up in the span of hours to even begin to know how to protect and raise his little sister. The boy who grew up into a man who was probably more lonely than he lets others know. Losing someone he’s confessed love to right in front of him? It must’ve been awful. 

Ayato’s fists clench in his lap. You can see the tensing of his muscles going up his forearm in the corner of your eye. He takes a deep breath in, before holding it and letting it out harshly. 

“Petrified.” His admittance was so quiet you could’ve confused it with the passing wind outside. It’s like your hazy vision clears perfectly when you see the way his face twitches. The Commissioner disappears, even if just for a moment, and all that you see before you is the man, Kamisato Ayato. Fitful, fearful, and so stupidly scared in love. 

You spring up with strength you didn’t know you had in your limbs. The rag on your head flying off towards the foot of your futon. Ayato’s body jolts, shifting back away from your sudden movement. You ignore the dizziness in your head that threatens to push you back into the mattress as you swivel your body towards the pale haired man. Still, your brow twitched at the pang of pain that shoots through you like a current. 

“Do not move like that!” Ayato scolds. 

The Commissioner’s hands move from his lap to grasp onto your shoulders. Whether to steady you or push you back down to rest, you weren’t sure. Maybe both, maybe none; maybe it was just instinctual. Still, it was a chance.

Your hands shoot up, palms latching around his wrists to keep him anchored to you and once again Ayato is faced with your brute strength when he feels shackled onto your body. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. 

“Ayato!” You raise your voice firmly, once again dismissing his pedigree and refusing to collect it from the floor on which you throw the title. “I love you,” you boldly declare. You swear he blue screens. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me on the night of the meteor shower; like thinking about it a lot. I wanted to properly answer you, but you’re such an important person in Inazuma- I just needed a lot of time. Time and advice. Thoma and Ayaka were encouraging, but I needed someone like me to talk to. Someone not from Teyvat. Someone like Aether.” 

Ayato watches as you talk and talk and pour your words out like some sort of unclogged drain. Words washing over him like a silken blanket that fell from Celestia, coating him in warmth. 

You feel his arms twitch in your grasp, lifting from your shoulders and you panic. What if he’s changed his mind? What if you had caused him trouble enough times that he was over it?

“Wait-” you scramble when he manages to peel his wrists from your grip. Instead of standing up and leaving you alone on the floor, Ayato’s wrists twist so that he was the one now holding your hands.

His palms were warm. You could fully feel the difference of skin between the heel of his hand that was calloused from swordplay and the deep softness of the dip in his palm. His thumbs run across your knuckles as his hands encase yours. 

“Relax,” he instructs and to your credit, you do try. Ayato can feel the slight tremor in your hands as he holds them. Feel the cool sensation of your nervous skin under his. See the stiff stature of your shoulders and the way your eyes panic at being left. The Yashiro Commissioner is the pro at reading facial and body ques, but even if your squirming is adorable, he won’t let you steep in disconcerting emotions right in front of him. Not right now. “I understand” -he brings your hands up to his chin, clutched fingers resting just under his bottom lip- “you don’t need to worry.” 

“Do you really?” You press, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

“I do.” 

“Ayato-” you’re sure you’re about to start rambling again, words so desperate crawling their way up your throat to explain yourself. Your actions. Your avoidance. And your feelings. All so he could understand crystal clear that how you feel isn’t just because he confessed to you. Or because he was a powerful figure.

These feelings aren’t being coerced out of you or being fabricated because he’s a man of power. You need to tell him that you’ve had these stupid feelings for him for so long- even before he was flesh in blood in front of you and just data inside a computer screen. 

Ayato is a smart man. He knows. He knows what actions, feelings and emotions being pulled out of someone by force looks like. It looks nothing like your flustered expression and shaky hands and glassy eyes. You're being so genuinely cute he wants to combust. 

Chuckling to himself, he sees your jaw drop again. Before anything comes out, he leans forward to place a kiss to your cheek, just below your eye on the apple of your face. He’s sure if you were to smile, he’d feel the skin push up against his lips.

Oh, he hopes he can experience that soon. 

Backing away from your skin, Ayato stays within your breath. Hands still clasped gently- so delicately in his own- between you both. 

“Calm down,” he almost teases you. He watches you take deep, unsteady breathes, and finds your obedience endearing. “Good,” he praises. His suave nature of the situation cracks after you collect yourself from word vomit central as he lets out a deep breath of his own. Letting his head slump down, he rests it on your shoulder. Face turned so his nose was ghosting against your neck. His fingers start tinkering and toying with yours like some sort of fidget toy. 

Nothing else is said for the remainder of the night. Ayato ends up falling asleep on your shoulder and you take it upon yourself to lay your employer and potential lover down to avoid any neck strain. Taking your place back in your futon next to him, you make sure to keep a space between you both. When the sun rises and the air is new, you’d be able to talk things through properly. 

When Ayato opens his eyes the next morning, the sun isn’t the golden color of dawn he’s used to seeing. It’s warm and yellow and from the ruckus outside the door sounds like late morning activities and chores being done. He’s on his back and he knows the ceiling he’s staring at, knowing the futon he’s half on and knows the warmth of the body next to him. Turning his head, he’s convinced that waking up to you is the only thing that he wants for the rest of his time on Teyvat. He’s seen you sleep and rest plenty of times, between being ill and being caught in the middle of battle (albeit the latter is a new experience he strongly dislikes), but this is different. It’s intimate. 

Sitting up, he places one of his hands on your head, careful not to stir you and wake you from the rest he’s sure you need. Even if you didn’t need rest and were completely healthy, he’d be more than accepting if you wanted to spend all day in bed and forget your job completely. Of course, you’d probably just freak out realizing you slept in and hadn’t been earning your keep as part of the Kamisato staff.  

Ayato wonders if you’d still want to be under his payroll if he’s to properly court you? Would that be too risqué? Pursuing a member of his own staff… or perhaps thrilling? 

There's a soft knock on the door you both occupy and he knows that it could only be Thoma or his sister since this was his room after all.  Ayato doesn’t let just anyone interrupt his business in his own personal quarters. 

With his hand still gently playing with your head and twisting your hair around his fingers, he speaks quietly and allows the person entry. Thoma’s head popping in was no shock to the Commissioner. Walking fully past the threshold and into the room, Thoma shuts the door behind him. Giddy and pleased as punch, he sits himself down near his boss and friend. 

“Thoma,” Ayato starts, forgoing any good morning pleasantries. “Would it be considered distasteful to announce y/n as my lover while also keeping them on staff?” 

Instead of acting shocked or repulsed or even confused, the housekeeper cups his chin and closes his eyes as if in deep thought. He hums even, adding to Ayato’s glee. 

“While I personally see no issues with it, others- especially outside of the Yashiro Commission and Kamisato Clan- could potentially see it as something… tacky.” Ayato joins in on Thoma’s air of serious thought. 

“Yes, I could see how that could be taken by others. They could even try and slander y/n’s good name and hard work should I let my guard down.” Then, he scoffs; promptly dismissing the outside opinion entirely. “Pity I care not for public opinion on such important personal matters.” Ayato twists his torso so that he’s looking back down to your sleeping form. His hand moves from your head to your forehead. Finger tracing down the slope of your nose to push against your lips and trail from the corner of your mouth to your cheek and up and around your ear. If he was a blind man, he could still easily see your beauty this way. 

Thoma clears his throat with a flushed face, feeling like he was suddenly intruding. “I’ll go and prepare something easy on the stomach for y/n to eat when she wakes up. Surely she’ll be hungry.” 

“Yes,” Ayato nods, “see to it. After her situation yesterday, we’re not sure how well her stomach will be, so please be mindful with the selection. I shall also eat with her.” Thoma nods, already to standing back up and excusing himself. 

Once alone again, Ayato lays himself back down on his side to just look at you. He’s not sure how much time passes or when your eyes open. Perhaps he zoned out, and just didn’t realize you were now awake looking back at him. 

“You have a staring problem?” You ask him, groggy and cranky just as you always are when you first wake up. He chuckles, bringing a hand up to pinch at your cheek. 

“Don’t be cheeky now,” he hums and you groan, swatting away his hand. He catches your assault and brings your knuckles to his lips, kissing each one delicately and individually. “Good morning.” 

“Who’s being cheeky now,” you mutter but don’t move to pull away from him. Ayato’s exceptionally pleased as he sits up, pulling your arm so you join him. You slip your hand from his and stretch, looking outside and realize that you should probably get up. It hasn’t been that long since you recovered from being sick and now you’re back in bed? That can’t look good to the other staff members.

If you had said that out loud, Ayato would have snickered a cheeky ‘I knew it’ in your face at his initial assumption to the current time and your work.

“Thoma will be back shortly with something for us to eat,” Ayato tells you, seeing you start kicking the covers off your legs. “Stay until then.” 

“I’m kind of sick of eating in bed like a patient. If I have to eat, I’d rather do so at a proper table.” You sigh. While what you say isn’t untrue, the real reason for you wanting to get up was to maybe get out of the futon and get some air. Ayato nods. 

“I see.” He stands to his feet, his clothes that had been well slept in from the night well beyond wrinkled. “Just a moment,” he walks away from you and heads to a pair of sliding doors that reveal more clothes. During the moments he spends rummaging around, you finally realize where you were. Fanning your face, you look away as soon as he starts undressing into something not wrinkled and meant for sleeping. Maybe you could sneak out as he changed- so blatantly- in your presence with his back turned. Being in Ayato’s room made you feel woozy on top of everything else. 

“I’m just going to-” You mutter to yourself, pushing the futon cover off your legs fully. Before you could even get into a position to get up, Ayato’s voice stops you. 

“Stay put.” Looking over your shoulder, he’s not even looking towards you. A new shirt on his torso and fussing with the tassels that hang over his shoulders. You conceded almost immediately, deflating back onto the futon. He struts over once presentable, bends to grab your arm and trail his hand down it to grab your hand before lifting you to your feet. “Now, we can leave.” Ayato leaves his room with you tethered and pulled along by him. 

You pass Thoma with a tray of food set for two and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh at your expense. Everyone who’s within the path is obviously staring at the Kamisato Clan head guiding you through the halls by your hand and the attention makes you squirm and heat up. Clearly, it must be entertaining.

“Thoma, we’ve decided to eat in a proper setting.” 

“Of course!” He’s well ahead of the game and shifts gears to lead you both to the dining room. Ayaka hears rumor of Ayato’s hand holding scene and rushes- as dignified as possible- to join the fun. 

The day goes by in a blur. You’re returned to work, under the strict supervision of Thoma, while the two siblings huddled together in hushed giggles and schemes you were sure is just more trouble. Every time Ayato spied you in the halls or out in the yard, he would come trotting over unrestrained. Saying something quick to you before taking your hand, squeezing it and letting it go. Ayaka shot you giddy looks at any chance she got and Thoma... kept his mouth shut. Mostly because he was the only one who you would probably get away with smacking if it came down to it. 

When night falls, before turning in for bed, you had changed into your night clothes before deciding one more task needed to be done. It wasn’t for you, or maybe it wasn’t even that important, but for Ayato’s sake you wanted to try and ease his worries. You knocked on his door, cradling something in your hand when he slides his doors open to come face to face with you. 

“Y/n,” he smiles. “What brings you here?” 

“Hold out your hands,” your face was hot. Why was this so embarrassing? He does as you say, holding out a single, empty palm. You place what you had into his. 

“A handkerchief?” He questions. Was this a custom from your world maybe? He takes the folded cloth and starts unfolding it before his eyes widen at what was being held inside of it. 

“You can keep that. It’s” -you wring your hands- “It’s hard to explain, but I think this is part of the reason I found myself in Inazuma. Maybe if you keep it with you, you’ll feel better about things.” Ayato’s free hand comes to grab the small, circular piece of purple and blue twined bead-sized ball. It felt light like candy and reminded him of the stars the night before he met you.

It was the very same item he somehow knew you had in your pocket when he saw you in the Tenryou prison cell for the first time. “I don’t have all the answers on how I got here, or why. And I can’t make any promises that I won’t end up… leaving..?” You scrounge around for more reassuring words but fall short. “For what it’s worth though, I want to stay. Here. With you.” 

Ayato’s hand curls around the piece of fate and brings his fist up to his lips. Smiling with his eyes, crows feet crinkle his skin. He grabs your wrist and drags you into his room for the second night in a row, sliding the door shut at your back. The candle he has lit is soon extinguished afterwards and you don’t come back out. 

It took all of one, simple day for rumors to run around the estate, and even beyond its walls, that Kamisato Ayato had finally shown romantic interest in someone. Rumored still that the person he’s supposedly now courting is not only someone he picked up from a prison cell years ago and not from Inazuma, but is one kept on his payroll. 

None of that mattered though. Not when he’s able to look up and watch the next meteor shower with you, holding your hand instead of worrying you’d fly away with them at the end of it all. That’s all he wants; you, safe and happy with him in his home with his family.

And Kamisato Ayato usually gets what he wants. 

-END-

a/n pt.2: if you've decided to take the time to read through 9 parts of an insanely messy ayato fanfiction, words can't describe my appreciation! i worked pretty hard on this series and seeing it come to an end makes me feel satisfied. It's not the most popular by far, but its finished and for those who read it- i thank you from the bottom of my heart <3

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[pandoramyst]

dilf!jake taking care of his children (reader age gap)

dating jake came with the additional weight of parenting, something you weren’t familiar with. you had no trouble getting along with the baby of the family as you had met Tuk when she was just a newborn. all of jake’s children were conceived using his DNA and a formula provided by the RDA as jake swore he was too busy to find a mate.

he took Kiri under his wing a few months after lo’ak was born making their connection practically telepathic. spider came into the family just a few years later, completing their family. you and jake met when his oldest was still quite young so you were the first mother figure they had. they welcomed you as much as you welcomed them.

it didn’t take long for them to start calling you mom and although it seemed foreign at first considering how young you were yourself, you warmed up to it very quickly.

going from whining to you about the outfits you put them in or waking up to their intoxicating giggles, you enjoyed every moment of motherhood. especially those moments when they sought comfort in your embrace. it ensured you even more that they really did see you as a mother.

but the best part about raising children with jake was watching him grow as a father. watching him teach his boys how to fight but immediately holding them back when he senses any danger, afraid to lose them. or when he clenches his jaw when young boys approach his daughter and you have to hold him back and remind him that they are just kids.

your favorite view is from afar. watching him be vulnerable around his children when he doesn’t have to force a harsh visage. 

“Me next daddy!!” kiri exclaimed as jake finished marking lo’ak’s height on the bamboo trunk.

“Okay okay, line up behind neteyam,” the oldest stood in front of the tree, back against the rough bark. jake’s knife touched neteyam’s head as he forced the blade into the wood.

“how tall is he, dad, how tall is he?” lo’ak pulled on his father’s loincloth and the older man smiled at his eagerness.

“He’s that tall,” he pulled the knife from the tree, staring at the previous marks he had made. the children cheered but jake only pulled up the corners of his lips slightly, to conceal how emotional he got. he couldn’t cry in front of his kids, he wouldn’t let himself do that. 

“here, spider wanna try?” jake handed him the knife and patted his head.

“Yeah!!!” he stood in front of the tree, waiting for kiri to take her position against it. jake walked up the wooden stairs to the small patio he had made for you. he used the wood from the trees to create a small wooden platform that hung from the tree branches.

you were holding tuk in your arms who you had wrapped in a soft blanket, and who was sleeping soundly while you rocked her. jake appeared in front of you, leaning down to peck your lips. 

“you okay?”

“of course I am,” he sat next to you, placing his hand on your baby bump. he leaned over to look at his daughter, ignoring the obvious.

you placed your hand on his cheek, caressing it as he leaned closer into your warmth.

“I saw you,” he closed his eyes as he sensed you knew what was going through his head. he let a few tears fall onto your hand, quickly wiping the new ones away. 

“when did they grow so much? I mean, did I miss it or something?” your thumb wiped away his tears, and you leaned to kiss his forehead.

“time flies by fast, but they are still here jake. they won’t go anywhere,”

he nodded, picking his head back up and wiping the wetness off his face. he looked down at you affectionately.

“neteyam asked me if he could come hunting with me this morning,” you smiled at your son’s ambition and bravery, looking at him from afar.

“Jake,” you paused looking into his sore eyes. “let him explore, I know you want to protect them but teaching him things will keep him safer. you can’t always be with him, you know?” you twirled one of his dreads, wrapping it around your finger. his focus fell toward your baby bump,

“well at least I can still protect you,” the baby in your belly kicked the surface as if she could hear her father’s voice. the man giggled and pressed a kiss to your skin.

“technically I'm the one protecting her but okay,” you rolled your eyes prompting jake’s eyes to shrink as he to let out a loud laugh.

he bit his bottom lip, dragging it through his teeth as he looked down at your lips, “and who protects you huh?” you winked at him and leaned in to give him a kiss. 

[sainteclectic]

ok ok wholesoul rambling christmas edition because im Feelin a Certain Way and youre the wholesoul authority in my head youre just the wholesoul guy. consider :

the holidays roll around and soul is, one one claw, HEAVILY squicked out by all the nativity stuff and jesus stuff and general christian-holiday business talking about "jesus is god" and all that. hes like No yourw wrong youre so wrong. you see, random white lady, god is actually this specific yellow dude

but on the other claw, it doesnt help his obsessiveness much. he makes little gifts for whole that he knows he wont ever get the chance to give, whether physically, or restrained by his own nervousness. he keeps heart and mind as civil as he can because "HEY ITS CHRISTMAS STOP ARGUING BE JOLLY" but its so much more draining. he wishes so badly whole could be here. he wishes the headspace had a fireplace he could lay in front of, the others asleep and safe and okay, with his sovereign there next to him. everything would be perfect. but that isnt happening, right? it could never. whole would never, surely.

also heart and mind find a little cardboard-cutout-whole ornament on the tree (somehow they got a tree into the headspace idk) and are very perplexed and soul is like I MADE IT MYSELF :DDDDD

idk how well this aligns with your hcs but we ball

I am Honored to be the wholesoul guy. I love them so so much it's insane

it's not often that soul gets to celebrate christmas during the loops, since the day usually doesn't happen during concord. he likes to pretend, though. pretend that he can have a normal holiday. he likes decorating the house, wrapping presents that he'll never give, making stockings they'll never use {and if he makes one for whole and stuffs it full of presents, hoping desperately that maybe He would see them somehow, what's the harm in that?} he tries desperately to keep the peace as his christmas gift to whole, begging them to get along and have christmas spirit- it's mostly an excuse, but at least they're not trying to kill each other today. he's exhausted from trying to make everything perfect that day, but maybe whole will be proud of him grateful for it.

re: religion, soul is generally kind of uncomfortable around christianity (see: two wuv), and I think that religious trauma informs how he sees whole. after all, in christianity suffering is seen as just and holy, and soul definitely sees his suffering as a form of worship. he's the ultimate martyr, the sacrificial lamb, using his pain as devotion because otherwise it's just pain with no meaning. he desperately wants all this to mean something, to be appreciated and his god be proud of everything he's gone through. it's also a more comforting religious experience, one untainted by past experiences. he knows that the christian god would hate him, but he can at least pretend that whole would love him. and he revels in that. clings to the possibility like a drowning man clings to a life preserver.

fun fact about that last part! my upcoming work actually has a passage about soul drawing whole:

It's never seen Whole, not exactly. Not like this. It sees Him in brief flashes, more of an impression of a face than His true visage. It's a face he's tried to recreate, to draw over and over, every single loop, so he doesn't forget what it looks like. {He refuses to look at his own for a reference. It feels blasphemous, to imply he could ever be comparable to Harmonia.}

and in the beautiful world I've crafted in my brain where they can interact, I think soul would be so incredibly nervous getting anything for whole. after all, what do you possibly get a god? how could your gift possibly be enough for divinity? he tries dozens of ideas: a tacky gag gift to make him laugh {too disrespectful}, a handmade gift {his work could never be good enough}, a simple gift {too mundane for a god}, an over the top extravagant one {too flashy for someone like whole}...

eventualy whole finds him sitting in his room, half-finished and destroyed gifts strewn across the floor. he says it's okay if he doesn't give whole something perfect, that the fact someone cared about him enough to want to give him a gift is the perfect present :-)

[isolaradiale]

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“GOOD MORNING, FAIR RESIDENTS OF SPIRALE! DO YOU REMEMBER ME? OF COURSE YOU DO, HOW COULD YOU NOT!?” Regardless of what one was doing at the stroke of midnight, a booming voice echoed throughout the minds of every resident of Spirale in tandem. “IF YOU’D KINDLY TURN YOUR EYES TO THE NEAREST SCREEN, I HAVE AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!”

Every screen in the city - be it a television, a phone, the digital screen on the fridge - all tuned into the same image. Rudimentary camera work pointed at a barely-lit visage. A three-eyed beast, each eye sporting a gleam as its feline features became more apparent. For many this was a beast that had appeared once before, but for others? “I AM THE MAD MERRYMAKER, THE PRINCE OF– AH, I’VE DONE THIS BEFORE. SIMPLY CALL ME K’HORII.”

As the cat beast spoke, throughout the city those that came from other worlds began to feel peculiarly disoriented. They couldn’t tear their eyes away from the screens but neither did they feel rooted on the ground. Almost as if it were an out of body experience. “MY ATTENTION WAS CAUGHT BY THESE HOLIDAY FESTIVITIES OF YOURS! AREN’T THEY PECULIAR? YOU LOT SPEND THE OTHER 11 MONTHS OF THE YEAR ARGUING AND FIGHTING, BUT AROUND THE HOLIDAYS YOU PRETEND TO GET ALONG! DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND ONE ANOTHER? NO! BUT THAT IS THE POINT OF MY BUSINESS HERE.”

All three of K’horii’s eyes shone crimson, and the point of view of every outsider in the city changed. They were not merely in a different place, but a different body entirely. “THE GAME IS SIMPLE! EVERY SO OFTEN YOU’LL BE SHUFFLED AROUND INTO ANOTHER BODY! WELL, IT’S MORE OF A SWAP. BEFORE YOU’RE SENT TO ANOTHER FORM YOU’LL BE RETURNED TO YOUR OWN. TIMING? THERE IS NO RHYME OR REASON! BUT YOU’D BEST NOT THINK THIS IS AS STRAIGHTFORWARD AS MERE BODYSNATCHING! …ALTHOUGH I’LL LEAVE THAT FOR YOU LOT TO DISCOVER!”

The screens all flickered off in tandem, leaving the out-of-worlders in completely different forms. At least for now. But… what could he have possibly meant by the situation not being as straightforward as it seemed?

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

Welcome to our next rerun event, EMPATHEOREM!

As you’ve surely gleamed from the above text, this event is based around the idea of living in another’s skin and coming to better understand people in ways you might not have otherwise. Here’s a general overview of how things will work mechanically:

characters can only swap with one other character at a time. the duration of the swap is up to the muns involved, and it could last the entire event, a number of hours, or even less. do what you’re comfortable with!

the characters do not to be within close proximity of one another to swap nor does it have to be with someone they know. it could be with someone on the other side of the city, leaving them to try and figure out who they are.

swapping must be done with mun permission. please respect the boundaries of other muns!

you cannot swap with an animal / pokemon unless they are a character on the masterlist. if there’s a pikachu on the masterlist for example you could swap with them, but not the pokemon of a trainer on the masterlist.

powers remain bound to the body regardless of whether they are physical or mental along with the unlock limitations. so if muse a were to swap with muse b, they would be able to use all of muse b’s unlocked powers provided they could figure out how to use them.

it isn’t merely a physical swap however, and there are side effects to being in another’s body that become more and more prominent the more time they spend swapped.

swapped characters may be prone to acting more and more like the owner of the body they are in. so for example if muse a and muse b swap, the longer they remained swapped the more they may begin to act like one another.

swapped characters may also experience one another’s memories. with mun permission, feel free to have them remember experiences only the host body might have known. this is a great way for characters to learn things about one another that might otherwise have gone unsaid!

the former two points are optional. you do not need to utilize either if you are not comfortable with it.

if your character has any special biological traits to note, please make sure to include this information in an info post or on your ad! in cases where characters have a fatal weakness to something mundane (in cases like being weak to the sun), you can choose to have anyone in their body subconsciously realize this for example. please do not kill anyone else’s muse without permission!

a posted mini will not count as participation during this event unless it is replied to before the event period ends. likewise during this event, drabbles will not count. this is because the event is very dependent on bond building interactions and we would like you guys to reach out and write with each other.

if you are not comfortable swapping with another character you are free to avoid doing so for the event! however to earn participation you must interact with at least one character who has swapped with someone else!

in regards to icons: if you’d like to offer up icons for people to use you can, but it isn’t mandatory at all!

you can use an info post to list things like unique biological characteristics, unlocked powers, and what kind of things like memories or personality traits a character in their body may come to expect if you’re okay with them experiencing these things. you can also provide a sampling of usable icons if you’d like! we recommend you tag these info posts with ‘#iremp info’.

even if you have mun permission we will not allow nsfw to be written during the event (unless it takes place outside of the event of course!). we also ask that you do not write any content picking fun at your new body in any form, even lightheartedly, for the sake of member comfort (for instance, if your muse does not have breasts and ends up in a body that does, do not joke about “having boobies”, or if they are a different weight do not draw attention to and mock it). if you are at all unsure if something crosses this line, we ask that you refrain.

the event officially ends at 11:59:59PM EST on july 5th.

[evolutionsvoid]

For Vidalia, being alone in the kitchen felt like the only time she was happy. She was a shy one for sure, but life hadn't exactly granted her the confidence to be around others. It started when she was young, and it remained the same for many years. Her body was different from the others, and had its own strange conditions. Her skin was prone to drying out and peeling, causing her form to be a patchwork of flaking rind and sensitive flesh. She practically had to bathe in moisturizer every day to keep it at bay, but sooner or later it was bound to start peeling off again. Thankfully, it didn't hurt, but the flecks it left behind and the image it produced always made others look at her weird. Then of course there was the smell, as her body naturally released a rather pungent odor. It was a bit sweet, but rather sharp, and there was no way anyone wouldn't notice the moment she walked into the room. She did her best to cover it up, but no amount of bathing would stop it and fragrances would only last so long. And last but not least, she was prone to tearing up, eyes getting all watery. It often made her look like she was crying, which was fitting since with her condition she was often driven to tears.

She was an outcast in school and frequently teased by the other saplings when she was young. Her skin and smell made her an obvious target, and she could tell that even the adults shot unpleasant glances at her. People were uncomfortable around her, even if they didn't say it. The fact that the seating spaces around her would quickly become vacant said plenty, and seeing people silently steer away from her in public made the sentiment deafening. Things were only made worse with her constantly tearing up, which made folk assume she was crying. Which then of course got her labeled as a "crybaby," a "weeping willow" and comments about how she was "too sensitive." She didn't mean for this stuff to happen! She had no control over it! Yet, she was frequently seen as a gross, stinky whiner that folk kept their distance from. She hated it, but she couldn't do anything about it. She tried so many things to fix it, but they just wouldn't stick. And it also didn't feel great having to go through an arduous regiment of preparation and treatment just to be accepted by the public. Everyone else could stroll about without a care, but apparently she was the only who had to jump through hoops just to make sure no one was uncomfortable with her existence.

This was why she enjoyed the solitude of a kitchen, where she could lose herself in cooking and baking. There was no one around to give her dirty looks or make subtly rude comments. When the oven was going and the food was roasting, the smells blended in with her own, filling the whole place with a wonderful fragrance. And the completed dishes were like little pieces of art, which could be enjoyed by her and others. It felt good to make food that people loved, as it seemed like the only way she could get approval. That was why she got into cooking, and why she got a job working at a small eatery in town. Dryads were not fans of fire, but Vidalia learned to get used to it when she realized it was crucial to so many culinary wonders. At least its presence kept other dryads away! And so she worked that cramped little kitchen for years, whipping up dishes to be sent out to hungry customers. With her visage hidden, the folk had no idea who was behind their latest meal, and thus couldn't make the usual judgements. They would eat it and sing praises about her work, unknowing that the chef behind it all was someone they wouldn't normally give the time of day to. So she kept herself in this little sanctuary, receiving the "compliments to the chef" and relishing in them. These small praises combined with her love for cooking seemed like all she would ever need.

Her desires in life got a sudden change the day she saw Alicin. Another dryad that seemed just like her. Peeling rind, strong smell and constantly getting stares and nasty looks from others. But unlike Vidalia, Alicin didn't give the naysayers any mind, she went about her life as she saw fit. She was bold and brash, a flavor you couldn't hide. Sure didn't feel like someone who would want to deal with a sad sack like her. Vidalia wanted so badly to make a friend, but was terrified of the possibility of rejection. As the saying goes, "the worst they can say is no," which is correct because sometimes a strong "no" hurts really bad. It seemed like a lost cause, as who could enjoy being around someone like her? A crying coward! But as the weeks went by of watching and wishing, Vidalia eventually forced herself to get it together. There was more to her than the tears and fears! She had sweetness to her and a unique personality! She was complicated, she had layers! If she remained a mopey scared mess, then that was what she would forever be! So if you want a friend, Vidalia, you got to go out there and take a chance!

She had never been more happy in a decision before, as it didn't take long after finally mustering the courage to talk to Alicin that the two hit it off. There was bonding over their similarities and all the rubbish they had to deal with through their life, but even as conversation moved past that, there seemed to be a strong connection. Alicin's bold and blunt attitude hid a sweetness of its own once she warmed up, and Vidalia practically melted every time she offered a comforting hug. Their friendship grew strong, but things really started to heat up when Alicin took an interest in cooking. Vidalia nearly passed out from excitement when Alicin asked to learn her ways! There was also a boost of pride when Alicin said that Vidalia was brave for dealing with fire so much! Her! Brave! That praise gave her the confidence to readily accept the role of teacher and begin cooking lessons immediately. To both of their surprise, Alicin was a natural at it and soaked up all this knowledge like a sponge. As Alicin practiced and Vidalia taught, the two grew even closer together. Some would say that it was the benefit of a cramped kitchen, where the two were in close contact with each other. It certainly had its positives, but sometimes it would wind up in a few burned meals due to both of them getting distracted. As their usual excuse for these scorched foods would go, things got a little too hot in the kitchen.

When Vidalia started teaching Alicin the ropes of cooking, she thought she was getting an apprentice out of the deal. But when it was all done, what she wound up with was a wife. Alicin proposed one day, and it was pretty much an endless shower of joyous tears from then until the wedding. Thankfully, it is socially acceptable to cry during a wedding, but Vidalia was sure she really tested the limits of that that day. From then on, life had been a dream. The two would eventually open up their own restaurant together, and be the famed chef couple. Their recipes were adored and their reviews amongst the greats. Suddenly the two were very much accepted and invited to countless events. Their appearance that disgusted others was now iconic, and their aroma was practically a calling card. Vidalia never expected there to be a time in her life when she was seen as such a beloved icon. It felt good, but not nearly as good as whenever her and Alicin were together in the kitchen. Those lovely nights of them trying out new recipes, figuring out the theme for a catering job, or just quietly baking each other little treats. It was a flavor Vidalia never expected in her life, but once she got a taste, she couldn't get enough of it.

Of course, after being married for years and running a successful business, people wonder when the two are going to start a family. With plenty already on their plate, both are in agreement that they aren't ready for such a thing. They are perfectly happy with the way things are now. However, Vidalia can't help but think, that if they did have a sapling together, Shallette would be a wonderful name...

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

"Vidalia and Alicin"

You thought you could escape! Fools! Behold the ultimate flavor combination! In dryad form!

[howlingday]

Princess Nora's Arc AU, Nora was certainly a unique princess, she's not like princess Weiss who's a sticker for manners and rules, she couldn't care less if anything she just wanted to be herself and have fun. One day she sees a young squire jaune being picked on by the other squires so she scares them off and protects him. When their gone she asks if he's okay which he's not since he's supposed to grow up and defend her not the other way around which she refutes with how she can defend herself. They become friends, maybe noras first ever true friend outisde of politics and jaune promises to pay her back and defend her with his full might when he gets older

Princess & Squire

"And you say you beat them off with a stick?"

"A big one!" Nora said as she beamed at her neighbor princess, Weiss Schnee of the Ice Queendom. "And it was sharp, too."

"So it was a cudgel." Weiss said with a frown. Nora gave her an odd look. "A club." She tilted her head. Weiss, losing her patience, shouted. "A hitting stick!"

"Well, duh!" Nora giggled. "It's not like I had my heels for stabbing!"

"And where were your knights?" Weiss asked, her patience long since worn away. "Surely they would not leave their princess unprotected."

"Believe me, I don't need protecting." Nora chuckled, punching her open palm. "None of those punks will be bothering Jaune any time soon."

"Yes, and regarding Squire Arc-" Nora gave the odd look again, "Jaune. Was he not punished for his failure?"

"What failure?" Nora asked. "He got bullied by the other squires because they're a bunch of assholes."

"Princess Valkyrie!" Weiss stood and smashed her hands against the sitting table. "Your job as the Princess of the Jade Empire is to learn from your studies and become a proper leader for your people! How do you intend to become a respectable empress when you're sprinting through the muddied streets, swinging cudgel like a barbarian while you spout such profanities like a common wharf whore?!"

Nora blinked at the outburst, then proceeded to laugh at her friend. Weiss' face only grew more and more red as Nora continued her guffaw. It was at this point that Jaune poked his head in, only to then retreat back out the door when Weiss' snarling visage turned to his direction. As she calmed down, Nora did what she did best.

Be herself.

"It's easy, Weiss!" She stood up, then turned to the window. "I just have to keep being me. Ren is already the emperor, so all I have to do is just stay alive until he decides to give me the throne. Until then, I'll keep being the toughest princess out having fun. And Jaune'll be right there with me, looking out for me when I can't look out for myself."

"You really are a child." Weiss shook her head with a sigh before falling into her seat. "You're lucky your brother is the emperor, otherwise you and I wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Well, duh, the only reason we're talking anyways is 'cuz your dad wants us to be friends so he can have good relations with our empire." Weiss blinked. "What? Just because I like having fun doesn't mean I can't be aware of the political intricacies of the realms both inside and outside the empire."

"No, I... I guess not." Weiss flushed a bit at being so callously shown up. "Still, your knights should be doing the fighting for you. Squire Vasilias is already showing great promise as my personal guard!"

"I dunno," Nora swayed her lips side to side, "I'm pretty Jaune's already won against him at rock, paper, scissors."

"What?" Before she could answer, she watched Nora tip-toe to the door where their personal guards stood by. She pressed her ear to the door before flinging them wide open. Jaune had his palm flat while Neptune held a fist. Paper beats rock. "NEPTUNE!"

"Um..." Neptune gulped, the squire caught in his charges deadly, icy gaze. "I, uh, won at least two."

"Uh-huh, out of how many?" Nora asked, looking to her squire.

"Uh, I lost count at fifteen games, No- I mean, Princess Valkyrie."

[starburr]

Toxic sasharcy directed towards Anne but she's cool with it, maybe even down with it. She knows that they're together, and wouldn't want to become a wedge to drive them apart, but she still wants them both. She loves how horrible they can be to her. But of course she doesn't tell them that, otherwise they'd stop giving her attention. But she doesn't know that they know what her deal is and double down on their obsessiveness by constantly teasing that they'll marry her when they all grow up. Even before Amphibia it might have been a half-hearted promise, but even she couldn't deny she wanted it.

She adores how into each other they are, then the switch-up of how mean the looks they give her are. How she feels them staring daggers when she tries to act all nice around other people while they're watching, how them giving her the silent treatment awakened something in her that night. Even a 'Boonchuy don't be such a loser' sounded strangely appealing. So contrasted from even after saving two worlds together. Even as Marcy slaps her a bit too hard in a 'friendly' pat, she can't help but sink into her lap as the sun sets. Maybe it lingers on Anne's mind what Sasha said before they fell back down to Amphibia.

"You'd better come back alive, Boonchuy. I swear to frog, YOU'D BETTER!!!"

Even if it made its home in her thoughts from time to time, she would eventually think of it as nothing more than what might have been a sendoff then. Of course Anne's memory isn't perfect, she forgets as she grows older. Time goes by, and she falls out of touch. Busy with life and trying to keep up with the demands of downpayments and loans. Sasha moved out, God knows where. She never said where, Marcy claimed not to know either. Anne finds it weird, especially with how deadpan Marcy seemed on call, but chalked it up to her being tired.

Anne keeps on living her life. Maybe she's furnished up the family home, seeing new faces come and go. A pretty neighbor moves in nearby. Nothing out of the ordinary with their first meeting, a simple "Oh, hey! Didnt realize the new neighbor was so pretty!" Before scooping her grocery bags up to go inside. She instantly takes a liking to Anne. Maybe stopping by her house every so often, gossiping with her as 40 year old women with financially stable yet lonely households do. Of course, Anne instantly folds because she's so lonely. She subconsciously craves that attention and devotion she had then from the other two. She wonders how they're doing, always wishing them the best.

A full year goes by of them flirting and getting along, maybe even getting a little more handsy. She even stays over a few times, then suddenly, nothing. Her parents would have consoled her were they still there, she's all on her own with this conundrum.

The neighbor hasn't answered her calls, not even her texts. She flips on her phone to hopefully find some solace in mindless scrolling, she would have expected the neighbor to at least peruse a social media site even if she was ghosting Anne. So why was her last online status 3 days ago?

Then she sees it, not even 30 minutes of scrolling when a news flash article confirms why. She didnt even mean to scroll onto it when she sees a familiar name.

'Victim was stabbed to death on her way home from work.'

She's become another statistic. No evidence, no nothing, just another number as a grim reminder of how fragile human life is. Anne is admittedly horrified. She swears she just saw that pretty face yesterday, now mauled like a wild animal had gotten to her at the scene. And to think she was anticipating that her absence was due to a misunderstanding perhaps, that they would be snuggled up again tomorrow and holding hands as they mused on the future. She can't believe she kissed that mutilated visage barely a month ago. Anne is so caught in her grief in fact that she barely notices the two sets of eyes watching her from behind the counter, latching the door lock shut with a click as they move in closer.

"Hey Boonchuy."

She really was surprised that night on who made their way back to her.

[wentdownarabbithole]

Unearth without a name

Content: TXT x reader (separate)(hyung line)

Inspired by Dirty Grass by Heretic Parfums-  Sweet secrets in spring that the hyung line carry with them - treasures with no name. Or: Txt’s favorite moments in spring they've shared with you

Soobin 

Spring with Soobin is curling around each other in the quiet solitude of transitional skies. When the sun drips watercolor hues of pink and purple until dark blues and black color over it - is when Soobin favors taking you out to watch it all fade. The cusp of sunset so he can dedicate the night to you. 

The sun going down brings a glow to your skin he’s addicted to - the way light shines in your eyes and the way your lips stretch against your teeth as you smile. It's this sight he thinks is just for him to stow away - storing your visage into his chest where only he can covet it so preciously. He’d maybe consider taking a picture - one he's sure would land in museums - if only it didn’t mean the possibility of having to share you. 

As the night cools he favors wrapping around you to share warmth. He’d give everything that makes himself up to keep you smiling - so really sharing body heat is the least of his gifts. He takes this time to press into you - to soak up your scent, the pliancy of your body. He allows you to choose how you lay in the grass, watching the sun go down. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible - because it's here when he thinks you're the prettiest, with a smile. He allows his hands to smooth over your skin to steal away bits of you for his gallery, that only he can see. 

He finds his lips loose with you, as if you're a sweet liquor that's hidden in a drink that has lowered his inhibitions, only he just needs your presence. From praises to prophecies each word that drips from his mouth is a promise to you. A promise for a loving tomorrow, for a soft future, and for a warm night where you can exist together just as lovers on a hill, watching the sun go down but losing no heat. 

This is the picture he keeps to himself to gaze at through his memory. To him there's nothing that could come close to a masterpiece as long as he has this. The way the grass curls along your skin, the way twilight shines on your lips and the lazy love tying you together as a promise. Van Gogh has his starry night, Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, and Soobin has you - his darling draped in love. Just as any other piece of artwork. 

Soobin's head is buried into your neck, arms wrapped around your waist and legs tangled. You’d almost be able to assume he was asleep if you couldn't hear the small erratic breaths near your ear. This long into the relationship - yet Soobin is just as shy and obsessive as the first time he’s ever had you in his arms. In this moment Soobin almost could swear his brain melts in his skull - spewing out his ears all so he can think about you in totality. The way you feel in his arms, your weight pressing against him - it's euphoria. Just being able to be here - it's intoxicating. Like a sort of high, his brain ceases to function but to think of you - and the very thought of you further melts him into his madness. If he’d have to label the bone deep satisfactory pleasure seeing you smile gave him, he’d call it love. 

Yeonjun 

 Yeonjun thrives under your attention - like how a sunflower seeks the sun he’s always turned towards you, to see if your eyes are on him, if your lips speak of him, if you carry him with you the way he does. He wants everything you are to himself - because he’s already given everything he is to you - neatly wrapped in ribbons and a kiss. 

He favors golden hours in spring - a weak man for the way the sun seems to shine just for you. Like he’s living in a photo - everything is picturesque and you're the most beautiful picture in the world. Oftentimes he sets the scene fr you - a picnic under a flower tree is his favorite. Like how artists often paint stars and the moon as their muse - this is his art - framing you in everything beautiful. 

He could sit for hours - he has - listening to you talk - and even if you feel quiet for the day he's content soaking in your presence. He’ll steal a kiss of two occasionally - just to be able to keep your taste on his tongue. It often tastes of sweet fruits he cut for you, of your favorite food he’s brought so he could see you smile as you eat. If you’ll allow him, he’d be prone to keeping his lips on your skin - sometimes with the intention to kiss or suck, but mostly to just keep it there as an eternal imprint on your flesh - like a knight swearing faulty to his royalty. 

Yeonjun needs you to feel full in a way - and he makes these scenes to be able to ravish you until he can feel you on his skin even when you're miles away. He truly feels as if your very presence could nourish him, he swears does better in practice if you let him savor you to himself just before - as if on a sugar rush. He swears it's because he takes a bit of you with him in his chest. It's what gets him through the day - like how a morning coffee powers an office worker, all he needs is you. 

The sun allows an alluring glow to set your skin alight in a way that reminds Yeonjun of a bonfire. A honey color painting you in a way that leaves him insatiable for a taste - he presses in again just to leave a messy kiss near the back of your ear. Your responding laugh is just as addicting as he swallows it down as well. He doesn't know how he’s lived without you before but now with a belly full of warmth and love that practically drips from his teeth he'll never let you go. Soon the sun will fall but it will take none of your glory with it - Yeonjun could write pages on how it's you who allows the sun to glow instead. He doesn't need a time or place to fall into your arms - he just needs you. Now and forever - you and your Yeonjun. 

Beomgyu 

Beomgyu is a bit of a social chameleon - he knows how to read energy- how to make people laugh. Sometimes he thinks it's all he can do - butchering his own character into a jester's clothes just so he can entertain the court. Despite this, it's not as if he despises laughter itself - he loves it, especially in your voice - the way you shake with it when he tells a particularly good joke. But most of all Beomgyu loves laughing with you, sharing your joy - not because of something particularly funny - but rather because you're having fun.  A laugher of joy, of content and warmth and love -shared between you as you drag him off the lime lighted stage and into the crowd below. 

He loves stealing you away when the sun has long settled and given the sky to its moon. The world is under a curtain - a spell and here in this world it's just him and you -just partners under the sky. His heart walking around without him - gorgeously pliant in his arms. He loves making you laugh, it's practically his heart beat - what keeps him alive. His blood dances to your breath. 

His favorite activity while the world is still warm in season is to find fireflies on grassy plains - little will-o-wisp lanterns that punctuate the night. They are beautiful and familiar - like a guiding light in the dark - it's only fighting that you're surrounded by them in a scenery that matches you. Catching fireflies takes a bit of stealth and a gentle hand - he’ll walk you through it if you need it. But if you take a quick look during your chase you’ll see him giggling to himself - pink with love and rushing blood and eyes blind except for you. 

This is what he lives for, what's keeping him in his own skin. Because Beomgyu only knows one fact for sure that's etched in his bones, Beomgyu loves you - and the joy he feels bubbling from his chest can't be anything else. I love you, I love you, I love you - his existence is a confession. 

You tumble home with grass stains on your knees and stray pieces of plants tangled in your hair - remainders form the playful tumble down a hill. Beomgyu shields you on the way down - though he barely notices his body move - it's instinctual for him, like a rib cage protecting its heat. He was far too busy listening to your laugh - allowing his own to soar free from where it was caught in his through. A joint joy or orchestral content that colors the air. Hand in hand - occasionally twirling each other on the street just to watch you smile - Beomgyu walks with you forward into the future. 

He can hear it behind his eardrums, feel it hammering against his chest so violently he's surprised it hasn't burst out yet. His heart responded in boisterous beating to the joy that ricochets out of his chest in a laugh, trying to break free to be next to you. He’s sure you can feel his heartbeat from where he holds you, your head is close to his chest and Beomgyu is conveyed all his body serves to do is act as a speaker yelling on how it loves you. Each pump is another steady confession like the night he first asked you out - cheeks ruddy as he stuttered out a confession. There's nobody else on the street to see him pull you into a tacky dance lit only by the moon, no audience to your resounding laughters adding together as if built to be one. There's no one else to share the sight of Beomgyu holding two hearts - one in his chest and one he presses a kiss to in the secret of the night. 

Author's note: ACK. We are doing our best with questionable results. Anyways - sudden TXT brain rot hit at like 3 am. Also! Their recent comeback is based on the little prince and I was OBSESSED with that book. 

[muffinsin]

Can you please continue the Age regression fic and do Cassandra? Thank you.

Whew, this one slipped my mind XD Thanks for the reminder hon! And yes! A post along the anon texts! Sorry for the spam everyone😬🙇‍♀️

(The main request and Bela’s part of this can be found here: Dimitrescu Sisters introducing reader to age regression)

Masterlists

Cassandra

Cassandra Dimitrescu is incredibly protective of those she cares about

Her family- her sisters and mother- and you

Having discovered you as a staff member during a raid of the castle, Cassandra had jumped in front of you when one of the intruders aimed their gun at you

She didn’t know why, back then. It was almost pure instinct

The second she heard your innocent cry for help, she felt urged to answer and come to your aid even without knowing you

After, you are as if attached to her

And oddly enough; Cassandra doesn’t mind

In fact, she keeps up her protective nature

You’re- different. And she likes that

In no time the two of you grow incredibly close

You’re with her whenever you have the time. And Cassandra spends nearly all her free time playfully taunting you at work

From affection grows love

And yet, this protectiveness remains, and only grows stronger each and every day

In time, a relationship blooms between the two of you

However, as even more time passes, Cassandra realises:

Her possessiveness and protectiveness stem from a maternal front, too

She wants to pull you to her chest and carry you, to hold you tight and protect you from all harm

Cassandra wants nothing more than to cradle your small body in her arms, your adorable, human heartbeat slowing as you become comfortable

She can picture it perfectly; her index fingertip tracing along your soft cheek as she cradles you close to her. Your beautiful eyes meeting golden, loving ones

She can picture your lips wrapped around her nipple as you drink milk from her, your fingers holding onto her larger ones

For you, she is always willing to give up her visage of the rough and mean, sadistic and arrogant huntress

For you, she wants to be gentle. Sweet and caring, loving and protective

You’re her priority

She wants to be your mama, she realises ultimately

You’re her sweet baby, her little lamb

She kills for you, and she is more than willing to protect you with her life, even

Cassandra is incredibly protective of you. So much so that even her sisters know not to get too close to you, ever

All inhabitants of the castle, and especially her sisters know: you must smell of her at all times

The few times Daniela cuddles you enough for her scent to rub off on you, Cassandra nearly goes into a frenzy out of anger and possessiveness

How dare her sister even just lightly claim what is hers?!

Still, she always calms again when she has you in her arms

The feeling of you in her arms, close against her where nothing can possibly hurt you, is heaven to her

She wants to care for you and love you in such a pure, primal and sweet way

Not only does she love you as she does now. She wants to love you platonically, too. She knows she does

Cassandra can’t help but think, though: could you ever feel the same?

She has no idea how to even approach the subject, and quite frankly?

Despite being so bold most of the time, no matter what, Cassandra struggles with even the thought of opening up about this in particular

Still, she watches over you each day, smiling gently and reassuring you nothing is wrong when you notice the faraway, yearning look in her golden eyes

She just can’t bring herself to let you know of her urges. Of her raw need to take care of you like that

She wants you to be her little one so bad, and it feels like each passing day of shoving this thought down adds to her yearning for a future in which she has you as she does now, and is able to care for you platonically

Cassandra can’t help but dream at least, though

When you pick up the habit of sucking on her skin while you sleep, it makes her breath hitch and has her gasp in surprise and shock

Whatever is in your reach is sucked into your mouth, and as she comes to realise: you don’t sleep well if she removes it from you

Sometimes, this is her hand. Often Cassandra awakens to the odd feeling of your teeth grazing her hand as you suck on the side of her palm

You never awaken from it. If anything, you sleep better than you ever have before

At other times, she feels you nibbling on her neck while you sleep, as though using it as a pacifier

When she awakens, her neck feels sore with the amount of hickeys accidentally created on her pale skin

You immediately apologise, always, a blush on your cheeks as you help her cover up her bruised neck with make up

Cassandra assures you, she is neither upset nor annoyed at you. But, she is curious

How come you enjoy sucking on her so much recently?

You explain, shyly, that it serves a purpose to comfort you

Sensing your embarrassment as it comes to the topic, Cassandra doesn’t push it too far at a time

However, she works hard to hide her content smile when she cuddles you to her chest as the two of you sleep, your fingertip in your mouth as you suck like a little baby

She can’t help but feel so happy and content like this

At other times, you whine in your sleep at the uncomfortable feeling of your wet thumb. You dislike the feeling of your spit clinging to it, yet find so much comfort in the action

Avoiding a tantrum at 3am one night, Cassandra is quick to slip her own thumb in your mouth

And off to sleep you are again. She strokes your chin and cheeks softly for a few moments as you suck contentedly, before she too closes her eyes

From this day on, you never bother with your own fingers again

Instead, Cassandra makes sure she is squeaky clean before bed and allows you to suck on her instead

She doesn’t want to risk you getting sick from any blood sticking to her and- despite her dislike for baths- scrubs herself clean from head to toe multiple times before bedtime

This dynamic keeps up for a while, and both of you couldn’t be happier

Cassandra doesn’t share her platonic fantasies and urges with you, yet smiles happily each night

She looks forward to bedtime, for once, knowing she will have you curl up against her and suck her thumb like a baby would do with a pacifier

Then, one day, you ask her of something slightly different. Something to change it up and spare her the ache in her limbs from sleeping with her arm tucked in an odd position

With soft cheeks flaming pink in embarrassment and fear of being mocked, you ask her whether you can suck her nipple instead

Cassandra is over the moons!

She agrees, and from there on allows you to cuddle up to her chest and suck her soft nipple instead of her hands and fingers

And it works wonders

You don’t awaken even once at night, and any scary dreams repeatedly plaguing occur by far less often

You sleep happily, and feel well rested in the morning

This goes on for more than a month, and neither of you truly think too much of it. Or rather, neither of you want to put a term on it

Cassandra doesn’t dare utter the words “age regression”, even if that fits the situations the two of you face often quite well

However, she feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment when, one morning, she awakens to milk dripping from her nipples

A trip to the castle’s doctor confirms it; your daily sucking has stimulated her body enough to automatically create milk even when she is not pregnant

Of course, this catches her completely off guard

Yet, when she attempts to let you know, you hardly seem to be listening

Instead you only whine tiredly, your lips wrapping back around her nipple and sucking as though the milk you’re pulling from her doesn’t bother you

In any case, it’s making you fall asleep faster, so she isn’t about to complain or stop you

Still, her cheeks burn every night, the desire to pull you close and introduce herself as your mama nearly overwhelming

Alas, Cassandra holds back and waits. She doesn’t want to put a word to what you have, afraid it will make it disappear

Then, a particularly hard day comes around

A raid at the castle. An unsuccessful one, of course, for what fools they are to enter the castle in summer

Still, the intruders are vast in number and cause a decent amount of stress, trouble and worry. Some of this to her, and some of this to you

Upon hearing of the armed men attempting to storm the castle, she immediately locks you in her room for your own safety

You know, you are not to come out until she deems it safe and allows it, and you know not to open the door for anybody. All who could have any need to enter at all can swarm through the tiny gap under the wooden door

Still, you grow more and more stressed with each passing minute spent alone

You know, technically, not to fuss over Cassandra

Not only is she perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but also it is summer

Her weakness of the cold cannot be exploited at this time, and you doubt she will suddenly become too soaked to swarm

Still, you jump with every shot in the castle

Still, you worry for her. She’s so important to you. She’s your family, and your everything

Cassandra is your home. You couldn’t bear to lose her

Aside from all of this, you miss her terribly already. You’re so attached to her, and are used to spending nearly all your time together

You miss her, and yearn to cuddle back against her to reassure yourself all is okay

You can’t quite explain the feeling. It’s simply this overwhelming urge to be close to her like she is the one giving you the very air you need to survive

You curl up in her bed, her thick blanket over your head as though it could block out the many sounds from outside her room

The gunshots, the manic laughter, the screaming and yelling and smashing of vases

It works, a little, but there is no fully blocking it all out it seems

You’re shaking underneath her blanket, and can only calm down a little when you grab her pillow and hug it tightly against your front

It smells of her, of the subtle aroma of the forest and iron scent of blood that seems to follow her no matter where she goes and no matter how throughout she scrubs herself clean

The scent is oddly comforting to you

But perhaps it’s not odd at all, considering how very much she means to you

You close your eyes as you cuddle it close, your lips wrapping around the tip of the pillow automatically as you hug it to your chest

You don’t realise the tears forming in your eyes until you’re sobbing, more and more stressed with every bang from outside and missing her more with each passing second

Cassandra’s all that is on your mind

And you are all that is on hers

Her thoughts and worries linger on you as she slays one intruder after another

Normally, she would take her time

Not now. She itches to return to your side, to assure herself her little cub is alright

She knows, you’re as safe as you can be in her room. Still, she makes quick work of the intruders in order to return to you as swift as she can

And she does

When she returns, Cassandra’s heart aches at the heartbreaking view she receives upon entering her room

You’re hidden underneath her blanket, your tiny frame shaking with sobs and her pillow held tightly to your chest. You clutch it with all the strength your little body possesses, it seems, as though worried someone will take it from you

Cassandra frowns in concern

She picks you up without thinking and cradles you gently, cooing and shushing when you almost squeal in happiness upon seeing her again

You’re so stressed and fussy, she sets herself down on her bed and easily cradles you against her

As though having waited for this moment, the second she sits your hand comes up to tug down her dress and your lips immediately wrap around her sore nipple

She groans at the ache caused by the soreness, yet doesn’t at all make you stop

Your breathing calms a little as you suckle, your breath warm against her cool skin

Cassandra’s fingertips lightly scratch against your scalp, and she hums softly as you begin to relax little by little

After a few minutes, your death grip on the pillow eases. It slips from you, and instead you wrap your arms around her

She coos softly at you, and without realizing it, she strokes her fingertip along your soft skin, just as she has dreamt of doing so often ago

She doesn’t even realize that in this moment, her fantasy has become a reality

Her little cub nursing from her, your tiny frame tucked against her larger one and your arms tight around her as though to prevent her from leaving

Her heart aches at the mere thought that you could have such a fear

In a voice softer than you have ever heard from her, you hear her loving whisper:

“Mama will always be there for you, my little cub”

The moment the words leave her, she freezes

For a moment, time stands still as her golden eyes meet yours. Yet, she finds no hatred in them

If anything, they almost shine at her statement. You look, different, somehow

Softer

Your frame looks even tinier as you cuddle close to her, your gaze impossibly soft. Your lips are parted, with milk droplets dribbling down your lips and to your chin

She gently wipes them away, your big, adorable eyes following her hand as she moves it

Cassandra feels her heart ache with love as your smaller hand raises and your fingers wrap around three of hers

“Mama”, you merely whisper, your eyes wide and loving

She feels herself tearing up for a moment as emotions overwhelm her, and only giggles when you cuddle against her chest affectionately

Upon cupping your soft cheek and reassuring you, you’re all too eager to turn your attention to her second nipple

As before, you drink eagerly, your eyes closing and your body relaxing as your mama takes care of you

No loud noises, no stress can reach you now

Cassandra smiles warmly at you

Neither of you wish to use a term to describe what you have, and both of you are absolutely fine with that

With a loving smile, she pulls you closer

“Mama loves you so much, my little cub. Never forget that”, she promises