#but only there everywhere else is horrid

[bloody-little-duckling]

[cloudzoro]

Forever | Roronoa Zoro ♡

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genre: smut (minors dni)

pairings: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

cw: unprotected sex, established relationship, size kink, marriage proposal, husband and wife are used multiple times, Zoro decides that maybe he does care about love, gross couple flirting, I'm british so I say sun cream instead of sunscreen x

masterlist

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“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper."

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Zoro isn't marriage material. At least, that's what he thinks. He's never been interested in marriage, and he was never interested in sex or relationships until he met you. The natural progression of your relationship from acquaintances to friends to lovers was slow and casual. There were no grand gestures, emotional confessions or anything else from those horrid romance books you read that make Zoro gag. He had never officially asked you out. One day, after months of flirting and sleeping together, Sanji was getting a little too close to you and Zoro barked at the cook to leave his girl alone. You never denied that you were his girl and later on that night, when he was fucking you into the mattress, you confirmed that you were his and only his.

It's a gorgeous day at sea, and you're out on the deck sunbathing with Nami. Zoro observes you as you lean back with your eyes closed. He tries to continue his daily workout but keeps getting distracted by your figure. Usually, he'd go elsewhere to work out, but with the horny cook hanging around the ship, he doesn't want to take any chances.

Not long into Zoro’s workout, he feels your eyes on him. He turns to meet your eyes, and the way you're hungrily watching him makes him flex his muscles a little harder. You watch him for a few minutes before softly calling his name.

“What is it?” he grunts, acting unbothered. You flash him a grin, holding a bottle of sun cream.

“I can't reach my back”, you pout, and He responds with an eyeroll. He walks over to your sun lounger and sits carefully on the edge. He takes the bottle from your hand and squeezes it.

“Turn over for me”, He instructs. Zoro squirts a generous amount of the cream on his hands. His large hands rub and trace everywhere they can over your back. Zoro uses sun cream as if it's lotion to massage you. As his hands work their magic on your tightly-wound back muscles, the cute noises falling from your lips make his cock twitch.

“Do you two mind not doing your awkward foreplay out here?” says Nami as she tries to ignore you and soak up the sun. “y'know I can't reach my back either”, her tone teasing, clearly mocking the two of you.

“What a shame”, Zoro deadpans. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade and gets back to his workout.

“Damn, I guess back rubs are wifey exclusives,” says Nami sarcastically. Neither you nor Zoro respond, but the word ‘wife’ rings in his head for the rest of the afternoon. Zoro's not one for marriage, but he thinks you'd look beautiful in a wedding dress.

A few days later, You're on a new island and pass a jewellery shop. You stop to look at the jewellery in the window, and Zoro stands behind you, eyeing the ring display. Thoughts of slipping a beautiful gold ring on your finger and claiming you as his forever taunt him. You're pirates. You could never have a legally recognised wedding. He makes a note of the ring that had caught your eye and thinks to himself that he must be crazy. If you had told Zoro from a few years ago that he'd be contemplating buying a ring for you and ‘marrying’ you, he'd laugh in your face and call you an idiot.

Once your short adventure on the new island is wrapped up, he tells you to go on back to the ship as he needs to take a detour. He instructs Chopper to take care of you, and the tiny reindeer gives a dramatic salute and promises the swordsman to get you home in one piece.

Zoro arrives home about twenty minutes after you and heads straight to your room, where you're already waiting for him. He thinks about dropping to his knees and asking you to marry him the traditional way, but nothing you've ever done has been traditional. You're literally pirates, after all. His heart squeezes when he sees you waiting for him, and it's almost painful. It passes him off how soft he is for you. You've tamed a demon; all it takes is a pretty smile from you, and he's ready to give up his entire life for you.

When you jump up from your shared bed - Franky had installed a couples suite not long after you'd started dating - to greet him, Zoro immediately backs you to the edge of the bed. He connects his lips to yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth as your hand slides into his hair. He lifts you so you wrap your legs around him, and then he sits on the edge of the bed so you can straddle him. His hands grip your ass and guide you over his hard cock. He groans at the pressure of you over his lap, and it seems you're getting impatient as you whine and rock your hips faster.

Zoro smiles into the messy kiss as he flips you so you're on your back, and he's hovering over you. Your legs are locked around his hips, keeping him pressed against you. He reaches to your lounge shorts and pulls them off with your assistance. He then moves to your top, groping your chest.

“Take this off for me, pretty girl”, he rasps, his voice making your pussy throb. You follow through with his request and remove your shirt alongside your bra. He leans down to kiss and lick over the skin of your chest. His thorough worship of your tits and lack of attention to your pussy have you growing desperate for him. He listens in amusement as you whine for him to touch you. Your voice is the prettiest thing he's ever heard. Your voice is as precious to him as the sound of a blade swinging through the air. His life was all swords, blood and guts until you showed up. Sometimes, he resents you and your determination because he's lost all credibility among the crew after being caught behaving softly with you. “Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you, I promise.”

“I just want you”, You whimper, using your legs to push him against your soaked panties.

“you've already got me. I'm right here” You should have known he'd want a more specific answer from you.

“I want your cock, Zoro. Please” He's almost flat against you at this point, body pressing you down into the mattress.

“You'll get my cock, I promise. Just answer something for me first.” He asks, and you try to clear your thoughts as you nod. “You're mine, right? forever?”

You are. In every sense of the word, you are his. He's yours, too. He has been since you flashed your pretty smile at him. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, Zoro feels nervous. You nod, telling him that you'll always be his. He digs around in his pocket, and at first, you don't have time to process what he has in his hands because he kisses you aggressively. You feel cold metal press against your ring finger, and your eyes snap open, pushing Zpro back slightly to talk to him.

“Is that a ring?” you ask, and he sheepishly nods. You've never seen Zoro this shy as he attempts to explain himself.

“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper. You don't have to consider this a marriage proposal. You can call it a promise ring or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I just wanted something to symbolise that you're mine and no one else. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you” You're stunned into silence by his heartfelt words; he's never been this open and vulnerable with anyone. Part of him thinks you've broken him.

“Are you asking me to be your wife?” you ask, finally getting a look at the ring. Zoro nods, dropping his head to your neck. He reminds you it doesn't have to be a marriage thing. You're constantly out getting into fights and life-threatening situations, so he feels a tangible symbol of your relationship might help keep peace of mind. A small thing to ground you when the world around you gets too hectic. You pull Zoro's head from the crook of your neck so you can look him in the eyes. He's embarrassed about his secret sappiness, but he's secure in his feelings about you.

“I'd love that”, You breathe, leaning up to kiss him, and he's slipping the ring onto your finger within seconds. That's it. He's your husband now. When he's done exploring your mouth with his tongue, he moves his wet kisses down to your neck. He leaves a smattering of purple and red marks over your beautiful tits and traces his tongue down your body. During his descent down your body, he whispers. When he kisses your neck, he tells you that he's a lucky man to have someone like you. He tells you you're beautiful and intelligent as he kisses your tummy. When he kisses your thighs, he tells you how much he admires your strength.

His hand grips your underwear, and he tears it from your body. He adjusts so he's lying on his front between your legs. He leans down to lick at your pussy. His mouth feels so good. You try to lift your hips to grind into his mouth, but one of his large hands holds your hips down. He brings his other hand to your mouth and presses two fingers against your lips. You greedily accept his fingers into your mouth, getting them all nice and slick for him. He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them into your hole as he suctions his mouth onto your clit. The combination of his fingers and tongue makes you cum embarrassingly fast, and your legs squeeze his head as the pleasure takes over. Your husband stays in place, licking and fingering you through your high, prepping you for his huge cock. Zoro sits on his knees and admires you when your deep breaths begin to subside. His beautiful wife, laid out in the sheets, looking up at him with a dazed expression. You look satisfied, and that makes pride bloom in Zoro's chest. He removes his trousers to join you in your nakedness and taps the head of his fat cock against your sensitive clit.

“You ready for my cock, baby?” he asks, teasingly rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Please, Zoro” you whine. “Please fuck me.” He'd never say no to you, and as long as he's aboard this ship, no one else is going to either. He pushes his cock, now slick with your juices, into your hole. You both moan at the way your walls have to stretch to accommodate his size. He's no stranger to teasing you, but now that your warm wet cunt is wrapped around his cock, all he can think about is fucking you open. He starts with a brutal pace; he can't help it, your pussy is addicting. He's convinced you have him under some kind of spell.

“Perfect fucking pussy was made for me,” he punctuates each word with a harsh thrust. “This is mine. All mine,” he says.

You try to respond, but you're constantly interrupted by your own moans. Zoro has you whining and gripping the bedsheets beneath you. You feel how deep he is, and the way his hand presses onto your tummy over where his cock is inside you makes your legs tremble. You're close already, and you're rapidly approaching delirium. You're mindlessly babbling about how much you love him and how big his cock is. Zoro may be busy thoroughly fucking your sweet pussy, but he's still listening intently to every slurred word that leaves your mouth.

“I love you too, baby,” he says, responding to your shaky rambling. “You ready to cum for me? he asks with a hungry smile on his face. It always shocks you how Zoro went from someone who couldn't care less about sex to someone who can't go a day without seeing you cream on his cock. You're dangerously close, and Zoro can feel it, too. The way your pussy pulses around his cock. The perfect vice grip of your pussy has him just as desperate. He leans down so your foreheads are touching and rocks his hips harder. You hold on to his biceps as he drills into you, trying to pour all his feelings about you into every thrust.

Your orgasm starts small in your lower stomach, and the satisfying tingly feeling spreads outwards till your hands and feet are numb. You cum hard, gushing around his cock while the squeezing of your walls drags Zoro over the edge with you. He cums inside you, filling up with every last drop of cum. After one last heavy thrust from the large man, he slowly pulls out and lies next to you.

“Y/n,” he says, voice raspy from the moaning and exhaustion. You hum in response to show him you're listening. “if you want, in the next place we dock, we can look for a proper registry office”, he says.

“Yeah, because they're gonna see two pirates with high bounties and scary nicknames and let us in,” you say sarcastically, covering the fact that you really would like that.

“I'm sure we can find at least one,” he says. You hold up your left hand, showing off your ring.

“This is enough for me, though”, you muse, admiring the jewellery.

“Agreed” Zoro lifts his left hand, and a gold wedding band sits on his finger. You hadn't even noticed because you were so busy getting ravaged by him.

“I love you,” he says. He didn't care much for love until he met you. “You're mine, forever.”

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thank you so much for reading and enjoying!!!

slip me a comment, dm or ask if you want to be added to the taglist! (specify fandom!)

likes, comments and reblogs are all greatly appreciated. I read every comment and tag and they mean a lot ♡

taglist: @priv-rose

[darknights-beloved]

in love with him

to hold, for warmth, for you . . .

wc ⸺ 950+

cw; diluc cuddling his pillow imagining its you, lots of pining, blood mentioned, he gets injured, all the fluffy yearning, insecurity synopsis; how can a man yearn for something he doesnt deserve? how can a man long to touch a white rose with bloodied hands? diluc wants you, once. and he'll let himself dream, just once to content himself

It’s not okay. This was not proper. How could this ever be okay?

The day Diluc Ragnvindr was graced with your presence in life, his heart had never felt more alive. A breath of fresh air, truly, in the midst of all the darkness and smoky toxicity that plagued his life. It was the way your eyes gazed at him, the way you smiled at him. His breath was taken away every time without fail. How could it not? You felt like the only real thing in his life, even sharing a kindred spirit with him…only gentler. And Diluc craved that gentleness. Oh so much.

 He tried. He really tried lying to himself, even justifying the friendship you two shared. Alas, it was a futile endeavor. It was as though his eyes belonged to you and his gaze would rather not look at anything else.

He was a man simply longing to cherish you as a lover.

Is it really ok? Just this once, for a man like him to love you?

He could never indulge in such a dream. A dream so far out of his reach or perhaps that was the way he saw it, no matter how much reassurance and gentle chiding he got on your end. He could almost huff a humorless chuckle at the thought.

His feelings were all too well tangled in his heart and only you could undo the knots. Can he plead for gentleness, for relief? His head hurt, warring with his heart. A battle neither losing nor winning.

Is all of this okay if being the most precious thing in his life also meant putting you in danger? That simply went against his code. A code bound to him the day he lost his father, the night of grief and gloom.

He groaned quietly in frustration, the sound cutting through the deep silence in the room.

His body was sore everywhere. But the ache mainly persisted in his heart, an obnoxious reminder of the emotions that swirled through him like a sea storm.

Midnight. The night sky was a deep, void-like black, swallowing up the faraway scenery in its voidness. The only light that lit in the room, glowing in orange, yellowy hues against the walls was from the candelabra. Tonight, Diluc was disappointed in himself.

Threatening the quiet peace of the city was an average group of Hilichurls, merely a couple measly small-timers. He should’ve been able to eradicate them, his usual strength easily overpowering what little power the monsters had. Nothing he shouldn’t have been able to handle. And he did, he did handle it quite well, ensuring the safety of the city without fail.

And yet, he was lost, how did he manage to injure himself so gravely? His cloak stained with horrid red putridness which he then subjected to the floor the moment he entered his chambers with an afterthought. Seeping through the bandages tightly wrapped around his stomach, where the gash had been dire. He lost his composure for a split second and in a flash, he was wounded. Despite his victory in defeating those mobs, he felt defeated. He was tired and breathless.

Was that what it was?

The sheer exhaustion? The sleep deprivation? Every bone in his flesh felt heavy, every thought in his mind weighing him. There was nothing more he wanted to do that run to you and plead for your solace. What a selfish thought, Diluc. Purge it. Immediately.

He tightened the bandages around his torso once more. The cut was deep but in the very least, he didn’t get injured anyway else. It was hard to…walk is all. And sit. And bend. And move, or even…breathe. He shook his head.

His shirt was long discarded to the floor, along with the cloak. He’ll just wash it himself tomorrow. He didn’t want to hear another one of Adelinde’s lectures, or worse, make her worry for his careless mistake.

His thumb and index pinched the end of the wick where the fame flickered and dance, the other little flames dying out in synchronization and exhausting into a thin trail of smoke. The soft glow of the moon seeping through the curtains is a little more apparent now.

Maybe it was okay, for a man to dream. A man like him. To forget about the never-ending stack of paperwork that sits on his desk or work on the finances of the Winery. To close the curtains of his window, shut everything out so maybe, this once, he’ll seize his chance in his hands and dream about you – tonight.

Diluc reached for the largest pillow in his room, fluffing it up enough until it was pliant. The size was just about a third of his own frame but it would suffice. He pressed his palm onto the plump surface of the pillow, using the jeweled pyro orb that rested against the cool surface of the wooden night stand to emanate its elemental heat into the fabric, the warmth seeping through the white cover, absorbing. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he propped himself on one elbow, bringing the pillow closer to him, letting that heat soothe the wound on his stomach. He squirmed a little, adjusting himself until the pillow molded perfectly against his body.

It was nothing compared to your body heat, to the feel of your soft skin. However, it would to do for the time being. His head hurt less.

Then he laid down against his bed. It didn’t feel too cold as normal.

He held the pillow, resting his weary eyes for once.

Tonight, he’ll dream of you. Tomorrow, he’ll pursue you in hopes you’ll let him hold you just as you hold his heart in your beloved hands – more gently, more sweetly.

a/n : gen hope this brought you whatever comfort you needed / was satisfactory . . . 🥹♥️ i feel like writing block is destroying me from the inside out

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Tergrid, God of Fright

"Terror is the natural state of a child, they know they are small, vunrable, glass fragile. It is only once we grow that we delude ourselves into thinking we are safe, that we are strong, that we have control over the world we live in. Show a grown man how little control he really has, and you will see the child he always was: pissreeking, repentant, and pleading for his mother. " - Gerheart, village executioner

A goddess for those who hold close to the light dreading the unknown or those who wander gleefully into the dark seeking it, Tergrid is a deity of imagined horrors and terrible omens.

Depicted as a young woman always bearing a lantern, myths speak of Tergrid's shadow as a monstrous, murderous thing with a will of its own. Unable to kill the goddess due to the light she carries, it vents it's directionless wrath on those who linger beyond the lantern's glow. This duality, as both as the victim of fear and the source of it defines the brightmaiden's worship; as she is both threat and saviour to those who draw her attention.

Adventure Hooks:

The party arrive at a country roadhouse at dusk, only to find the inhabitants have nailed shut every door and shutter as if preparing for a siege. They say some horrid murderous things are lurking just off the road, and as the light wanes they refuse to let the heroes inside. The roadhouse's residents are terrified and are willing to fight to keep the party out, half convinced the party are themselves the things they should be afraid of... which isn't to say there ISN'T anything else waiting for that door to open. After negoitating their way inside (or forcing the issue) the heroes discover the roadhouse residents were warned of the danger by a mysterious woman who passed through earlier, though none can remember exactly what she looked like.

A knight renowned for his fearless deeds wanders the street in a waking nightmare, seeing threats everywhere and lashing out at phantoms and passersby. Even after being subdued it’s clear he won’t awake, and many suspect interference from jealous rivals in the upcoming tourney. The knight’s meek squire asks the party to help investigate the causes and possible cures of her master’s madness, never suspecting that her suppressed resentment at his recklessness might’ve manifested as a curse.

In desperate need of answers, the party consults an oracle dedicated to Tergrid who has them undergo trials of fear and phantasm so that they might know the truth. Chiefest among these is battling in a dark cave full of shadow monsters, while flickering visions of the future are cast on the wall by the guttering lantern light. The longer they can endure, the more they will know, but that isn't likely to be long unless they fight harder than they ever have before.

Inspiration: Tergrid is a shameless lift from Magic the Gathering's Kaldheim setting, which I've never played but apparently keep returning to as a consistent well of inspiration.

Fear both as a mechanic and motif is something I think is underutilized in D&D which is odd considering it's a game about venturing out into the unknown to face potentially deadly challenges. Fear and risk are what our heroes must endure to experience the wonder and rewards on the other side of their journey. As such it makes sense for a goddess of fear to play a role in the thematic weave of the stories we end up telling.

Speaking in less lofty terms, I also think using the lantern as a symbol for being frightened fucks hard. It's a tiny, fragile, and temporary respite from an ocean of darkness and the threats it contains.

Worshippers: The lost and abandoned, Unseele Fey, Shadowcasters and other denizens of the shadowfell. There is also heavy overlap with the worship of the night goddess Nyx.

Signs: Nightmares, unnatural or living shadows,

Symbols: A Lantern, often surrounded by a circle of darkness.

Artsource

[christinesficrecs]

I had a request for newer fics, so here you go! Also, some other recent fics were posted here.

They’re all together ooky, the Hale family… (Snap, Snap) by DropsOfAddiction | 12.4K | Explicit

Derek realises that he’s probably squashing Stiles a little bit, right at the same moment that Stiles apparently realises that he’s still holding onto Derek’s face.

They both definitely acknowledge Derek’s nakedness at the same exact time, judging by the alarmed look on Stiles’ face.

“So, you have no clothes on,” Stiles removes his hands and holds them above his head in surrender, cheeks a muddy red.

“In my defence, I was covered in fur less than two minutes ago,” Derek rolls his eyes and he pushes himself up and off him, hands covering his junk for Stiles’ sake.

“You’re still kind of furry now…” Stiles sits up, blinking rapidly, clearly just as weirded out as Derek. “Oh my god, pretend I didn’t say that. I’m not looking or anything.”

Derek smirks, because that… that was a lie and he cocks an eyebrow at him.

as dear as a brother by endversed | 10.3K | Explicit

“You are not allowed to sleep with him,” Scott says.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Stiles scoffs.

Stiles and Scott become best friends at college. Derek is Scott's hot older brother.

Take Me Away From Here by Hedwig221b | 33.5K | Explicit

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf.

The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable.

If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him.

He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

Messily Ever After by KaliopeShipsIt | 20.3K

When Stiles and his blue slushie have a literal and quite splashy run-in with an adorable five-year old flower girl and her panicking daddy in the middle of the mall, the last thing he expects is to get a date to a stranger's wedding out of it.

Let alone, a boyfriend and a kid.

His Accidental Touch by Hidden_Orchard | 12.8K | Explicit

It happened accidentally, the first time. All the many and varied times afterwards, Stiles would hold his hands up and admit full responsibility for. But that first time – pure chance.

Derek needs a cuddle. Stiles - generous man that he is - would never deny Derek something he needs.

An Alpha's Misunderstandings by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 48.5K | Mature

And Derek was there, as if it was a simple twist of fate.

There were so many ways Stiles wanted to forgive Derek, but then he came to his senses.

He wouldn’t risk Charlotte’s safety for that hope–never again. ~*~ Stiles and Derek are parted by war and misunderstandings, only to find each other again.

Red, Red, Red by loserchildhotpants | 9.4K | Explicit

“Just… it’s weird, I’ve been - uh. You ever, like, dream of something? Something you’ve never seen before, but then you see it out in the world?”

everywhere, everything (every day) by nerdy-stilinski (Captain_Ameriyeah), S3anchaidh | 14.3K

Derek’s never been the best at making decisions. That’s how he keeps waking up with Stiles in his arms, but never under the right circumstances.

Or: Derek agrees to a pack vacation and instantly regrets it.

Matchmaking in Fandom by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 13K

It wasn’t like it was a secret that the showrunners made terrible decisions when it came to their own show, so why he’d had actual faith in them not fucking the movie up, he had no idea. Really, it was his own fault.

He hadn’t even set the bar high for the movie! The bar was so incredibly low, like mid-shin height, and they somehow managed to get it subterranean. That was talent. A bad talent, but still a talent.

if i'm not made for you, then why does my heart tell me that i am? by EvanesDust | 13K

When Derek’s kids write out their Christmas lists, they insist he writes one too. Not long after it's deposited in Santa's mailbox, he's reunited with the man of his dreams.

Stiles.

Derek can't help but fall for him again. It's really too bad Stiles is so obviously taken.

...or the one where Derek’s a grump who makes assumptions about his pregnant omega neighbor.

[vinylfoxbooks]

June 7 - Welcome | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 994 This is part 1 of a five part series Part 2

“I’m going on break, Reg.” Remus calls after he finishes wiping down the counter, “I’ll be out back.”

“Yeah, go smoke. You’ve been grumpy all day.” Regulus hums, putting the box that he was just sorting through on the ground by his feet so he remembers to shelf them later. Remus flips him off as he’s walking by to get to the back room, which makes Regulus roll his eyes, “You’re just proving my point.” And with that, the door to the back room closes and Regulus is left alone in the shop. 

It’s been a slow day so far -- what else would you expect from a small shop like theirs on a Wednesday of all days, especially since school is in session now so most of their regulars are going to be busier -- so Regulus isn’t shocked when only one person comes in seven minutes into Remus’ break. 

So Regulus takes this as ample time to grab the box he placed by his feet and start shelving the books inside. And just his luck, as he’s doing that, the bell over the door rings.

Regulus groans, picks up the box from where he’s got it on the floor after putting the last book in his hands on the shelf, and walks out of the shelves and towards the front desk, “Welcome.” He says to the patron that had just walked in, “What can I do for yo-” 

Holy shit.

Who is this man?

Tan skin with dorky glasses sitting over wide eyes. Tousled dark brown, almost black, hair that is falling absolutely everywhere in messy curls. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a physique that is badly hidden by his satin red button up and a kind smile graces his face when he turns his warm gaze on Regulus.

“Hi, is Remus in right now?” The man asks, walking towards his desk, “I told him that I would run his cane.” He holds up his hand holding a cane -- Remus’ cane, “But I don’t see him.” “He’s on his break right now.” Regulus informs him, deciding that it’s his best option to turn his gaze onto something else before he says something he shouldn’t and setting the box on the counter in front of him, sorting the books inside into stacks, “Do you want me to give it to him for you so you can be on your way?”

The man shakes his head, “Nah, I don’t have anywhere to be today, so I’ll wait for him.” Then he leans forward, resting an elbow on the counter and his smile turns into something more of a smirk, “But I wanna know more about you? I didn’t know that Remus worked with such a beauty.”

“Well I’m glad Remus isn’t going around talking about my looks since he has a boyfriend.”

“I guess.” The man shrugs with one shoulder, “But I’ve been in here several times and I’ve never seen you here before, I’m James by the way.”

“Regulus.” Is all that Regulus feels like he can say. He was expecting someone that looks like that to be in a full-fledged relationship. But here this man is, leaning over a counter and flirting with Regulus. Then Regulus clears his throat and, still avoiding James’ eyes, “I don’t like to interact with people so I’m not usually at the counter.”

“Well you should be here more. I think everyone seeing your face when they walk in would really make their day.”

“You’re horrid at flirting.”

“And yet you’re blushing.” James remarks, smirking just a bit more and tilting his head. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but before he gets the chance, Remus walks out of the back room, “James, stop harassing Regulus.” 

James laughs and stands up properly, meeting Remus in the middle and handing him his cane, to which Remus looks at him with pure gratefulness, “If you had told me about him earlier, maybe I wouldn’t be coming on as strong.”

“I’m ninety percent sure that I’ve told you about him before. And so has Sirius, because that’s his brother.” 

James’ eyes go wide and he whips his head to Regulus, looking him up and down before humming, “I do see it. Well, either way.” Then he turns to Remus, checking his watch, “I should go. Lily asked me to pick up Harry for her.”

“Alright,” Remus shakes his head, “Stop flirting with my coworker and go get your son.” James laughs at him, swats his friend on the shoulder, and walks out of the shop with a called goodbye. 

As soon as Regulus can no longer see James through any of the glass in their store front, he leans towards his coworker in a way that’s almost conspiratorial, “Who was that?”

Remus laughs, “That’s Sirius’ best friend James. The person he moved in with when he moved out.”

Regulus balks, “That was James Potter? The guy that I’ve hated for years? Why didn’t you tell me he was exactly my type?” At that, Remus’ laughter turns into a full belly laugh and he leans against the counter, “Why would I know your type? I was specifically avoiding talking to you about him because I knew that you hated him.”

“Also, did you say that he has a son?”

“Yeah,” Remus says through his dying laughter. Eventually, he’s able to calm down enough to walk back over to the cafe counter, “He found this girl he really liked in school, married her almost as soon as they graduated, had a child with her, then they learned that both of them are gay so they split ways and now they co parent.”

“So I wouldn’t be breaking up a family if I started flirting with him?”

Remus snorts, “You might break up your family. I don’t imagine Sirius would be happy if you two started dating.”

“I don’t give a shit what Sirius thinks of my dating life.” Regulus rolls his eyes.

[itsabouttimex2]

Y’know how reader is stuck as a monkey in the Yan monkiefam posts, what if reader somehow sneaks off the mountain and stumbles upon macaque. Macaque gets a specific vibe from the mysterious monkey, so he takes it as his own. Monkey reader is trying to communicate to macaque on how to transform back, but either due to lack of understanding or macaque not wanting reader to turn back, reader is still a monkey much to their dismay. Meanwhile Monkiefam is panicking and looking everywhere for reader. This could be seen as a part 3 to the Yan monkiefam posts with an added platonic Yan macaque.

How would you write this scenario? Sorry if it’s long, I started rambling a bit lol. I really like your writing and was hoping you would write something similar to this, I love platonic Yan and you stuff really caters to me. Thank you🩷🩷

Monkiefam: Part Three

Sable Savior

(Part Zero) (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

(💜💜Post one-hundred, huh? Feels good to have gotten here! My ask box has been wiped, and is open again! Character x character requests are now allowed! 💜💜)

Monkeys don’t make for good pets. They’re cute, sure. They’re funny and interesting creatures that are worthy of study. But it’s impossible to raise them properly.

And it’s impossible to obtain one ethically.

Either the mothers are shot to death in the wild and the babies are ripped from their still bodies, or they’re kept in horrid conditions and forcibly bred again and again, having their babies torn from them after only a few days or weeks.

All for a cute pet that will be dumped in a few years. Monkeys don’t stay cute, after all. They grow out of the clothes you put them in, grow out of the training you put them through, grow from cute “living dolls” and into wild, fanged animals all their own.

Once they’ve shed their youthful looks and compliant behaviors, the fate of every ‘pet’ monkey is the same- death.

Whether shot or euthanized or dumped far from home and left to starve, monkeys kept in captivity almost always have unhappy endings.

You could be easily mistaken for one of those unfortunate creatures, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Even after two full weeks, the transformation you had accidentally locked yourself into remained strong, showing no signs of faltering.

What at first seemed like a potential method of escape had quickly because the thickest chain in your shackle.

Not only was your newfound ‘family’ thrilled to have you as a cuddly little monkey, they seemed even more intent on coddling you.

MK especially adored having a ‘little sibling’ who couldn’t escape his grip. Day in and day out, every minute spent by your side, tending to your needs as a form of stress relief. Whether it was wrestling you into the bathtub or carving up fruit to spoon-feed you, the hero had quickly become a constant smothering presence. He was a fine caretaker, but you would much prefer that he used those skills on anyone else but yourself.

Just barely had he talked himself out of dressing you up, reasoning that you might find fabric uncomfortable over your fluffy white fur.

Not that he allowed you to remove the silk ribbons that his mentor had tied. Those were staying, and MK made sure of it. Every single time you had managed to squirm one free from your body, he just snatched it off the ground and tied it back on.

And, speaking of his mentor-

For all the doting you faced at the hands of MK, Sun Wukong was twice as bad.

Having been the caretaker for thousands of monkeys through the passing of centuries, it seemed that the Great Sage had a knack for pampering the furry darlings- and that translated quite easily to a human being who had accidentally trapped themselves in the form of a cub.

Already you had spent hours upon hours upon his lap, feeling Wukong’s deft fingers comb through your fur in search of debris to remove. Given that you weren’t allowed outside, he rarely found anything more than dust. Still, his intention was more to bond than it was to clean.

For him, the best part was when you'd get so bored that you'd start stroking his fur in turn, picking through it just to pass the time. Even though your heart wasn't really in the action, he was absolutely thrilled to have you acting like a real monkey in some small manner.

The Great Sage was so thrilled, in fact, that he'd barely allow you even a minute alone. And though some of this was justified by your inability to properly function in this new form, it went far beyond the realm of understandable when the king started taking you to bed with him- all under the guise of 'keeping you safe'. You'd rest all through the night tucked into his arms, listening to a powerful beating within the Monkey King’s muscular chest.

Against MK, you were lulled to sleep by a slow throb, finding some gentleness in the steady and low thrum.

Against Wukong, you were cascaded by the furious white-hot pounding of a heart blessed by power almost beyond comprehension.

You’d be lying if you said neither was at least a little comforting to hear as you drifted to a deep, dreamless sleep.

But here and now, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth to be found.

You had finally managed to slip from the clutches of your ‘family’, mustering just enough motor control to clamber up the couch and jump to a window left cracked, slipping under the peering pane and crawling to ‘freedom’.

On unfamiliar and furry legs you had fled, away from a gilded cage and into the beckoning wilderness. Maybe a part of you now longed for the forests, driving you to escape and run free. Perhaps some newfound simian instinct craved a life free from unchanging scenery and sturdy walls.

So away you went, chirping and chittering and calling out to the rising moon as the night grew darker and darker.

And as you raced into those darkening woods, throwing caution to the wind, you also drew further and further away from any semblance of safety.

It hadn’t taken you even twenty minutes to find trouble on the supposedly idyllic mountain.

And now you were here, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Not alone, of course.

A troop of monkeys surrounds your quivering form, hissing and snarling at such a strange outsider. The count is easily fifteen to twenty, each one bearing sharp fangs and hunched down in aggressive stances.

You hunker away, pressed to the cold bark with eyes pointed downwards. You don’t dare move or make a sound.

It’s not enough to save you.

The largest member of the pack snarls for just a second, rearing back with his teeth bared. Before you can even flinch, the simian lurches towards you with a splitting howl, powerful jaws snagging the skin of your neck.

The scent of blood fills the air.

As it shrieks through a mouthful of your flesh, the monkey violently slings you back and forth. It beats at your face and neck, hammering your diminutive form with all the strength it can muster. When you dare to try and strike back it throws you to the ground, beating ruthlessly down on your stomach.

It hollers.

The rest of the pack jump into the fray, beating and biting and tearing at fur. Where one shoves, another pulls. Any spot left untouched by one is promptly assaulted by another. Not an inch of you is spared the violent assault, nor is mercy given in regards to your youthful form.

And right as darkness swells in the corners of your vision, the troop freezes.

A barbed lash of black strikes the alpha across the face, leaving a deep and stinging cut where it lands. He howls and shrieks and falls back, shooting off into the jungle and disappearing from sight. From only the trail of blood left in his wake, his troop follows, fearful but still loyal.

“Someone’s had a rough go of it,” says a voice that would be insufferably smug if it hadn’t just saved you from probable death.

Two cold hands wrap around your prone form, prying you from the ground.

The white of your fur has almost entirely disappeared behind a mixture of wet soil and stinking blood, filthy and pungent. The ribbon around your neck has been torn free and left on the ground, lying in tatters.

“You‘re still a little too young to be without your mother, fuzzball. She’s the one who’s supposed to teach you ‘the ways of the wild’, yeah? Where’d she get off to?”

Macaque cradles you close in one of his arms, lightly stroking the underside of your chin with a sharp nail. His touch is surprisingly gentle, far more than you’d expect for a demon. His voice takes a turn for the soft.

“Nah, that’s not it. If you’re this close to another pack without her, then she’s… not around anymore. You probably weren’t raised by her at all, actually.”

His thumb presses against your ragged silk ribbon, toying with the red fabric.

“Must’ve been dumped by some mortal who got sick of taking care of you, huh? Bastards.”

You chitter desperately for his help, hoping that this one might understand even a word you say. But he only gives you a pitying smile, untying the ribbon from your tail and letting it flutter slowly to the ground.

“You never even learned to speak, furball? They must’ve taken you young. Humans always do. Keep you for a few years and dress you up like babies, then throw you out once you’re not cute enough for them anymore.”

Your vocalizations grow more desperate and wild, becoming outright hysterical.

“I know, I know. Hungry, right? Never learned to forage for yourself, or pick for bugs. C’mon, let’s find something to eat- bet I can scrounge us up some peaches, at least. After all…”

Macaque pulls free his tattered scarf, then holds one end of it against your stomach. You can’t so much as chitter before he wraps you head to toe, swaddling your fluffy form tightly. It’s warm, at least, if a bit restrictive.

“Shouldn’t we outcasts stick together?”

And off he goes into the night, far from home and far from safety.

It’s not quite freedom, but you’ll take it.

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter six: I think he knows

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER FIVE: FUCKING SITUATIONS, CIRCUMSTANCES, MISCOMMUNICATIONS

warnings: language, alcohol consumption, self-deprecation, angst

word count: 1.8k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter  @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: YAY! first chapter of phase two -- and guys, let me tell you she's juicy. much drama and angst to come! the next part may be super duper short, so the chapter after will come sooner than you think :)

It’s not as painful as you first imagined. The first week was hard, obviously. But when you never heard any of Bucky’s escapades through the wall — you assume he just waits until you fall asleep. Or maybe you’ve just been more tired recently, taking on as much work as you possibly can all to outrun your intense feelings, sprinting like it’s a fucking marathon.

At least he hasn’t caught on. He visits you, after workouts and spar sessions, holding treats and drinks, and even keeps you company when the system is down and you have to file everything by hand. Everything is good, and you’ve managed to dissuade everyone who knows the two of you that you like him. But you do, desperately. Pathetically.

Right now, you’re not focused on all of that. Wanda and Nat have roped you into a girls’ night. And surprisingly, Sharon is there. When Nat disappears to get her favourite bottle of white wine, an awkward silence descends upon the three of you, as even Wanda politely excuses herself to get some snacks. You look everywhere but at Sharon, afraid she’ll say something horrid about you. You pull at your dress and fiddle with your hair, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“I’m so sorry.” Are the words you didn’t expect to hear, at all. Your head shoots up, only to find her staring at you with a truly apologetic look all over her face, red lips pursed in more words still unspoken.

“W—What?” You hate the small stutter in your voice.

“I’ve been a downright bitch to you the entire time you’ve been here. I’ve been unfair. I’m sorry. When you got here, all I saw was that Steve wanted you, and I thought you wanted him too, so I lashed out. But I know now that that’s not the case. And even if you were interested, that gave me no right to take it out on you. If I’m feeling insecure, I should keep it to myself.”

Immediately, your nurturing sense of nature kicks in, ready to reassure her. “Well, no Sharon, you shouldn’t keep insecurities to yourself. There’s definitely healthier ways to go about it…and I’m not excusing you, but I understand it. When you like someone and they seem to have something with someone else…it’s quite crushing. Sometimes you do anything to fill that void, regardless of consequences. I understand.” She smiles at you.

“Thank you. But still, that doesn’t make what I did to you okay, by any standards. I was…I was hoping maybe we could start over? And maybe try to eventually be friends?” Her shy hopefulness gets the best of you. You nod. “Yeah. Of course.” 

This is definitely gonna come back to bite you in the ass.

“Plus, you’re into Bucky now, aren’t you?” She asks, and you’re taken aback. It feels like the narrative you’ve been cultivating for the past month or so has come shattering down. Have you been that obvious? “I can tell by the way you look at him. It’s cute, honestly.” 

You deflect. “Um, I suppose we’re close.” You wring your hands under the table where she can’t see and just like that Nat and Wanda both come barreling back in.

“Oh come on, don’t lie. You’re completely smitten by him.” Nat grins, holding up six bottles of wine. Six? How the hell are we gonna get through that?

“Okay and?” You ditch any pretense, knowing that if Sharon’s figured it out, then there is no point in wearing a mask when everyone knows of the hideous face underneath. “It’s not like he likes me back, so—.”

“So can I ask him out?” Sharon asks, her demeanour entirely changing. Then you realise what she was doing, she was trying to covertly figure out if you and Bucky are actually together, because she wants him.

Of course she does. And even though your heart splinters into a million pieces in your chest, you smile. “Yeah, go for it. Just because I have a tiny crush on him, doesn’t mean others can’t. Go ahead.”

“Do you know where he is now?” You feel the lump in your throat hardening, and refusing to dissolve even though you know you should answer her question, should speak.

“Yeah, he’s sparring with Steve.”

“Oh, I’ll go find him now then. Thank you so much!” She walks around the table and hugs you, and you don’t have it in you to pull away like you so desperately want. 

You don’t say another word until she leaves, then bow your head and let the tears fall. 

Dear God, what chance do you stand now? Sharon is prettier, skinnier than you. How could you even think to compete with her? Her hair is perfect, her body is perfect, her face is perfect. It makes sense. She’s the kind of woman Bucky should go for, who he makes the most sense with. Not you.

Once again, you are close to him, but you’ll never be the one he wants. You don’t register your shoulders shaking until you feel yourself wrapped in a hug. It’s stupidly childish, to be crying like this.

It’s not like she’s trying to steal your boyfriend — she just happens to have a crush on the same man as you. So why are you so distraught?

Because deep down you haven’t let go of hope. That maybe, if you’re nice enough, then Bucky will like you. For your heart. For your soul, for your mind. Maybe, he’ll be drawn to your kindness and generosity, and it’ll win him over. 

He’ll have to compromise with your looks, but…if he liked you enough, wouldn’t it be worth it?

But you forget that someone else who looks like Sharon can also do the exact same. And then, there will be no compromise. He’ll be happier. 

He’ll be happier.

“God, she’s such a bitch.” Wanda says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You lift your head, drying your tears.

“Wanda…you can’t just call women bitches. And she’s not that horrible, she apologised for the stuff she’s done before. She’s braver than me, she can actually ask out the man she likes. Don’t blame her.”

Natasha pulls away, glaring daggers at you. “Girl, you know I love you, but are you fucking blind? She got your guard down, to talk about if you and Bucky are a thing, and then pounced when you said you weren’t. She wanted to see if the rumours were true.” 

Both women pull away from you, sitting down as you wipe your cheeks clean. “What rumours?” Wanda uses her powers to pour you a glass which you down almost immediately, and then Wanda pours you another.

“Haven’t you heard? Word on the block is that you and Bucky are dating.” You sink into yourself, knowing what people must be saying.

“What? Well, we definitely are not, unfortunately for me. We’re just friends—well, I guess everyone’s gonna find out when she asks him out and he says yes.”

“He’s not gonna say yes,” Wanda breathes, laying a gentle hand on your arm.

“You guys don’t know that for sure.”

“We do.” They both chime in unison.

“How?”

“He looks at you like he’d rather gouge his eyes out than not. Plus, he’s well up to date with what Sharon’s done to you. He’s not saying yes. Trust us.”

You nod, deciding to divert the topic. “What about you guys, what’s new with you?”

Natasha tells you about the hot girl she saw at the gym, and Wanda recounts her latest escapade with Vision. The three of you gossip and talk for hours and hours, getting louder and louder as more alcohol enters your systems. 

You’re incredibly drunk as you head back to your room, stumbling in the elevator and giggling over Nat calling Thor’s new long hair “horse-shaped”. To sober you, it makes no sense. But to the inebriated version of you, nothing’s ever been funnier. 

Bucky’s standing outside your door, waiting for you to emerge. “Bucky!” You exclaim, voice full of love and adoration as you fall into his strong arms and warm chest, pressing a noisy kiss to the closest part of him which happens to be his neck. He blushes.

“Dear God, doll. You’ve had a lot to drink haven’t you?” He chuckles, amused. 

“Uh huh. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be off giving Sharon the pounding of her life or something?” You gaze up at him through your lashes, and this is the precise moment Bucky realises he’s falling in love with you. Flushed, round cheeks, sparkling eyes, and a fondness in your face that nobody else could ever replicate. And that dirty fucking mouth. You’re going to be the death of him.

“What? No. Absolutely not. After what she did to you?” You frown, and fuck he just wants to kiss you so bad. “But why would you let that stop you? She’s so pretty, and she’s so interested. She told me a few hours ago.” You open the door to your room, and he carries you bridal style. You snuggle into him, even as he sets you down. 

You thank your lucky stars you’re not wearing any makeup, so you can bury your face in the pillow all you want. But all you want is Bucky. So beautiful, how can you resist? He watches you, snuggling into the covers. He wants you so bad, it’s ruining his life. 

That’s what it feels like.

You reach for him, just as he plucks up the courage to offer you a half-truth. “Why would I want someone that cruel? And you’re a heck of a lot prettier, doll. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He moves closer to you, to tuck you in up to your chin in this freezing cold night, when your eyes crack open and you latch onto his arm.

“Please don’t go, Buck. Don’t leave me. I love you.” You pout, and tears escape you, disappearing into your hairline. He brushes them away, and the contrast of his hot and cold hands has your eyes flutter.

“You love me?” He chuckles again, because you’re just too damn cute. He quickly takes a picture and sets it as his lock screen, too enamoured by you to resist.

“Of course. You’re my best friend, and I love all my friends. Just—Will you please get over here? It’s fucking freezing.” Bucky quickly jumps under the covers, facing towards you and pulls you in. Your shivering subsides immediately, wrapped in his warm chest and his metal arm.

“I love you too.” He whispers, and you hum in agreement, not knowing the double meaning those four simple words carry.

You drift off peacefully, dreaming once again of desire-filled blue eyes, and a smile graces your face.

NEXT PART

[doe-eyed-fool]

Prey | Chapter Twenty |

A horribly uncomfortable heat was the first thing you felt. You could hear the sounds of what you recognized as the hustle and bustle of city life. People talking, car horns beeping, music playing, so on and so forth. Were you outside? Out in the city? But how?

The last thing you remembered was dragging yourself upstairs after...

Your eyes shot wide open as you gasp loudly. You sat upright, and that's when your surroundings made itself clear to you. All around you, were monstrous creatures.

You scream and crawl away backwards, accidently bumping into another one of those horrid things.

"Hey! Watch it!"

You yell again and scramble to stand up and run as far away from those things as fast as you could. But everywhere you turned was another monster, every one of them looking at you like you were fresh from the nuthouse.

What is happening? We're you dreaming? You had to be. You must be having some sort of terrible nightmare. Why else were you seeing these things?

Finally you reached an empty alleyway and hid yourself in it. You panted hard, trying to catch your breath. "Wake up! Please wake up!" You cried, moving your hand to pinch yourself. As your hand came into view, another scream left you.

Claws. You had claws! And was that...fur!?

You look down at your hands and arms, more fur could be seen. You look around frantically for a mirror or anything that could show your reflection. Finally you came across a puddle of water. You hesitated for a moment, afraid that if you looked, you'd be just like one of those creatures.

But you did look.

And your fears were confirmed. You were indeed a monster. Your face was similar, aside from it and your whole body being covered in fur. Even your hair was similar. But atop of your head, were two fluffy ears that resembled a deer's. You looked over your shoulder, you even had a tail to match. To top it all off, you even had a few spots here and there.

You slowly turn your head towards the entrance of the alleyway. Reluctantly, you started your way out of it. And it was then you took the time to fully take in just where you were. A warped and demonic take on a city, to the buildings and right down to the "people" who walked the streets.

You looked up, and there was the bright glow of a pentagram that stared back at you. That was the final nail on the coffin. You finally understood what was really happening. You were not dreaming. This was not a nightmare. Everything you saw, everything you felt, everything that was happening all around you, was real.

You had died, and awoken in the pits of Hell.

Hell had been entirely different than you thought it would be. For instance, there was far less fire than one would imagine. Unless it was made from one of the many pyromaniacs and arsonists around here, of course.

And thought you've never met him in person, and hopefully you won't ever, the devil himself was far different than everyone had depicted him. He wasn't a little red man who carried a pitchfork. Though, the horns and tail were a very real thing.

And the suffering, that was of course always to be expected. Rarely had you seen a genuinely happy person down here. Everywhere you turned, there was someone miserable. A frown, a scowl. It was Hell after all, why wouldn't that be the normal?

You yourself, were amongst the unhappy crowd. Even more so, once he made himself known to all of the Pride Ring.

Even in death, you were haunted by him. His voice only aided in your eternal ache and yearning. But truthfully, you could not say you didn't think you'd ever see him again. After everything he's done during his living days, Hell was fated to be his final destination.

You only wished you could ignore his voice. And sure, you could keep away from radios. But his...special broadcasts were hard to ignore.

It disgusted you. He disgusted you. Even in death, he continued his heinous ways. Reveling in the suffering and agony of those around him, and displaying such wickedness for all to hear. But honestly, what would you expect? He said it himself after all.

'I was sure there was no sanity left in me. And maybe there isn't. I have no intentions on stopping.'

You could hear it in his voice anytime those broadcasts start. How utterly twisted his mind has become, worse, far worse than before.

Alastor, The Radio Demon.

There wasn't a sinner around who didn't know that name. And God have mercy on the soul who had the misfortune of crossing his path. You swore you'd never be in the place of those who've ever met him. But not out of fear.

And you've done everything in your power to keep it that way. It's been well over eight whole decades since you've arrived here, and you've yet to catch Alastor's eye.

However, luck seemed to be in your favor. For the last seven years, Alastor had seemingly disappeared. Many suspected he were dead. You should have been relived, but you felt that same sting you felt from so long ago.

You hated yourself for feeling this way. After everything he's done, and how he's lied to you for so long, you should be over the moon that he's gone.

But you weren't...

You lived out your life down here with that feeling for so long. Though you've tried to distract yourself with whatever you could, and make the best out of your afterlife.

You've managed to get by on small jobs here and there, keeping food on your table and a roof over your head. During your time here, you were offered the same job you had when you were alive. Singing. Offered that job by Mimzy.

That was quite the shock to you, seeing Mimzy down here when her time came. And her did time came fast. Couldn't have been more than a few months after you died, when she arrived.

You didn't want to know, and Mimzy would not say just exactly what got her a ticket down here. But you refused her offer anyhow. You just couldn't find any point in singing. Singing once brought you joy, it reminded you of such good times.

But now? Now it was just depressing. It brought you no joy, so why bother?

After that day, you kept in very little touch with Mimzy. She was doing just fine without you. She started up another lounge, and as far as you know, it was doing fairly well. Good for her, you suppose.

Today, you would be looking for a new job. The last one didn't work out too well. Your boss was rather, sleezy. Reminded you of the very first boss you had. And because of that, you quickly became irritable and impatient.

One too many perverted comments, and the next thing you know, you're stabbing him in the eye with a ball point pen.

Needless to say, you were fired and rent was coming up soon. So, you needed to find a job fast.

You grab your hooded overcoat and hurried out of the door of your apartment. You lift the hood up over your head, ignoring how uncomfortable your ears felt being pressed against your head, and start down the street.

So far you had little to no luck finding somewhere decent hiring. You've looked for hours and still nothing. You began to fear you'd have to resort to placing your body on display for the sickos who frequent brothels and strip clubs.

While dreading the thought, you accidently bump into someone. Your hood falling back in the process. "Oh, I'm sor-" Your breath caught in your throat as you realize just who it was you ran into.

Of all the Overlords you could have crossed paths with it just had to be him.

His screen buzzed in annoyance before suddenly calming. His irritation now replaced with a casual grin. "Well, hello there." When you didn't respond right away, he took hold of your hand and raised it to his lips. "Has anyone told you, you have the perfect face for television?"

You clear your throat and offer as genuine a smile as you could. "Is that right? Well, thank you very much." You say, not wanting to piss off the Overlord before you. "Again, I am very sorry for bumping to you like that. Excuse me." You try and move past, however, he wouldn't let you get far.

"Hey, what's the rush?" He asks smoothly. "Somewhere to be?" You nod. "Yes, I'm trying to apply for a job."

"Is that right? Well, look no further, my dear. The name's Vox, though I'm sure you already knew that." You were handed a card with a number on it. "As I said, you have a face that just screams 'stardom'. Why don't you come work for me?" Vox says with a smirk.

No way in literal Hell were you going to do that. This had to be some sort of trick, just a way for him to take your soul.

"I'm sorry." You say hesitantly. "But I don't think I'm television material. I'm not very tech savvy as it is so..." You trailed off. It was true. You had only just recently gotten a cellphone, though you rarely use it. Your lifestyle had only made a few changes since the modern era of technology blossomed within Hell.

It was just too much for you to keep up with, it all happened so quickly. Especially when Vox came around.

"I'm not much of an actor either. So I'll have to decline." You tell him, handing the card back to him. Vox only chuckles. "Jobs don't come very easy around here. And you seem like a decent woman, I'm sure you prefer to stay away from the more...lustful crowd." Vox turns away from you. "My offer still stands. Not everyone gets opportunities like this, my dear. Give it some thought, at least. See you around." He says before walking off.

'Hopefully not.' You think to yourself. You then look at the card and sigh before pocketing it. You knew you couldn't afford to be picky, but there had to be some better options.

You just have to keep looking. That's all.

After a long day of searching, you returned home empty handed. And for days after that, you still looked and failed to find much of anything. Either no one was hiring, the pay was too little, or the job itself demanded skills you couldn't give.

Rent was due two days ago, and you were still jobless. Eventually your landlord had threatened to kick you out if you didn't cough up some money within the next twenty four hours. It seemed all was hopeless, it was either being homeless or selling your body.

Right now, you couldn't decide what was worse...

And that damn card you left sitting on your nightstand, mocking you anytime you saw it. You did have a third option. Work for a untrustworthy Overlord who most likely wants nothing from you other than your soul.

But you'd have money, you'd have a place to sleep.

You groan and lay flat on your back on the bed, hands covering your face. Your eyes glance at your wedding ring. Yes, even now after so many years, you still kept it on.

You sigh heavily before reaching for the card on your nightstand and dialing the number. You knew you were going to regret this, but what other choice did you have?

The Vee's territory was filled to the brim with demons of all kinds of depravity. You kept your gaze focused on nothing in particular, taking great care to not look at anyone directly. As in the past, you've been approached by...less desirable folk.

But you suppose should get use to walking these streets on the way to your new job from now on. Speaking of your new job, Vox never specified exactly what you'd be doing. But he did make two promises. One, you wouldn't be working in the same field as his business partner.

That was actually one of your biggest conditions. You knew how Valentino was, it'd be in your absolute best interest to stray as far away from that path as you possibly could.

And two, you'd be making quite a bit of money. And really, you needed money more than anything else at the moment. You just hoped whatever it was that Vox would have you be doing was fairly tolerable.

You walked inside of the Vee Tower and approach the receptionist desk. Not bothering to look up at you, she spoke. "Name and business." She says with a less than interested tone.

"Y/n, I'm here to see Vox, please." You tell her. She sighed. "Do you have an appointment? If not I can't let you in, ma'am. Mr. Vox is a very busy man." Your ear twitched, biting back your irritation you speak as civil as you could.

"I do ma'am." You say before setting the card Vox had given you on the desk. The woman rolled her eyes before pressing one of the buttons on the telephone. "Mr. Vox, a 'Y/n' is here to see you."

'Great! Send her up!' Came Vox's voice from the other line. The woman motioned her hand towards the elevator. You gave her a insincere smile before walking past her. "Bitch..." You say under your breath once you were out of ear shot.

Once inside the elevator you pressed the top button on the panel. As the elevator went higher, so did your nerves. You fiddled with your fingers as you watched each button light up as you went past each floor.

Finally, the elevator came to a stop, the doors opened with a 'ding!'. You took a few steps out and looked around. Vox's office was not the typical one. Looking down made you a bit uneasy, as there was a huge drop beneath the floor into what looked like a shark pit.

You snap your head back up an took slow steps along the floor. When you were close enough, Vox spun around in his chair and greeted you with a smile. "There she is! My future star!"

You smiled weakly. "Right about that. What exactly am I going to be doing?" You ask. "Well, you've got the looks that for sure. I'd definitely have you in a setting where plenty of people can see you. But looks can only get you so far." Vox explains. "Tell me, is there anything you're specifically good at?"

You hesitated to say this, but it could make the difference of being homeless or not. "Um, well...I use to perform when I was alive."

"Oh?" Vox smirks. "Singing." You tell him.

"Perfect!" Vox stood. "Now do forgive me if this comes off as offensive to you, dear. But based on how you dress and act, I assume you're from an older generation? Right?"

In all your time in Hell, you stuck to the fashion of your era. And surprisingly, there were a few stores that actually carried said fashion. It didn't take a genius to guess what time period you came from.

"Yes, that's right." You nod. "Even better!" Vox clasps his hands together. "Ok, listen. I'm going to level with you. My company has pretty much made it's way into every soul in the city's life somehow. But there are a select few who refuse to even look our way, so, I figured there had to be some way to reach them as well. Then it hit me, what better way to reach the older generation, than with one of their own?"

"I'm not sure I follow..." You mutter. Vox places a hand on your shoulder. "How would feel about performing again? What, you sang in lounges right? I can have one of those made in no time." Your eyes stray away from him. "Well..." You knew it could be better for you in the long run. No more worrying about paying rent, or when your next meal would be.

"I can tell you're a little unsure about this. But..." Vox stepped away from you and picked up a tablet from his desk, on the screen was a contract. "Trust me. I can make all your troubles disappear. Working for me, will be the best thing that's ever happened to you."

"Can I read it first?" You ask hesitantly, not wanting to upset him. Vox shrugs and hands you the tablet. You took great care to read through the contract, looking for anything that could mean giving away your soul. When you found nothing, you glance up at Vox.

"You're not doing this to get my soul?" You asked. Vox smirked. "My dear, I'm not hurting for souls. With that prick gone, I currently hold top spot within the Overlords." You knew who he was talking about, but you chose not to dwell on it.

You stare at the screen for a moment before exhaling. You rose your finger and sign your name along the line at the bottom.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Y/n."

Tags-

@martinys-world

@sirens-and-moonflowers

@catticora

@millie-the-goth

[bellysoupset]

Long requested Bella in her period again + Vince caretaker!

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

"Looking good, Bells," Vince teased her, as Bella stumbled into the kitchen of the cabin, with her hair sticking out everywhere and more than a little pale.

He was making pancakes, while Wendy was sitting on the counter, sipping on her coffee. The other woman opened a sympathetic smile, "hungover?" she guessed and Bella only groaned in return.

In truth, it was not hangover, but her period. Her period was never regular, sometimes coming early, sometimes skipping a month, so Bella had been praying it wouldn't land smack in the middle of their getaway weekend. No such luck and Bella had been woken up in the middle of the night by it.

She felt horrid.

Like there was someone squeezing her lower belly, the waves of pain running down her legs and punching her lower back. Her stomach felt off as well and the smell of Vince's blueberry pancakes made it churn uneasily.

"Bacon or pancakes?" He asked, feeding Wendy a raspberry that was sticking out his pinky. Bella stared at them, unimpressed by the display of affection and wanting nothing more than to crawl back to bed. It was pointless, lying in bed only made her focus more on the pain.

"Nothing, my stomach is iffy," she shook her head and groaned loudly as she heard Vince chuckle at her expense.

"That's what you get for trying to keep up with me, Bell."

"Fuck off," Bella groaned, her cheeks heating up at the friendly teasing. She knew she could shut it down by simply explaining she wasn't hungover, but just the thought was embarrassing enough.

Instead, she lowered her head to the main dining room table and wrapped her arms around her tummy, silently praying Luke would be up soon and go get her some meds, because of course she had packed tampons but not medicine. Of course.

Currently her husband was starfished on the bed, snoring, completely passed out after recklessly mixing wine and his meds.

"Morning," Jonah said, walking into the kitchen. Unlike everyone else, he was dressed for the day, not a curl out of place and Bella all but groaned at the sight. Couldn't he be in pajamas and with morning breath like everyone else?

"Hi," Wendy perked up at his sight, "you just missed Leo, he went for a run."

"Oh no, I didn't miss Leo," Jonah said in a cheeky voice, causing Vince to let out an scandalize shriek at the implication and Wendy to cackle.

"Oh shut up!" She laughed and Bella groaned at the loud noise, feeling overwhelmed by it all. She had an annoying headache, but nothing big. Not as bad as the fact she was starting to feel soul crushing sad and ready to cry for no reason whatsoever.

"You're all bark and no bite," Vince scoffed, his voice coming closer and then he said, "here, get some carbs in you," and planted a plate of plain pancakes in front of Bella, a couple inches away from where she was resting her cheek on the table, breathing through her mouth and trying to ignore them.

The smell immediately hit her and Bella let out a groan as her stomach revolted. She sat up straight and pushed the plate away, but now that she had smelled it, she couldn't get rid of it.

Her stomach gurgled, unhappy, and so did her intestines and Bella pushed against the table, darting up as she could feel her body crossing the threshold of "queasiness" and going straight to "gonna barf" territory.

Darting up was a choice, because she got lightheaded at moving so fast, feeling all the blood rush down as if she had wet herself, which obviously she hadn't because she had just checked her tampon...

Bella fell back down against the wooden bench and dizzily grabbed the front of Vince's ratty pj shirt, squeezing it with all her force.

"Hey-" Vince's gigantic hands came to cup her cheek, the other one brushing the hair away from her face, "hangover's kicking your ass, uh?" he tilted her head back, "just give it a second, Bells."

"No-" Bella grabbed his wrist, pushing his hand away from her face, feeling her mouth all sticky, "gonna hurl."

"Ah, for fuck's sake, Bella," Jonah groaned, "I'm eating-"

Her body gave a grand total of zero fucks about Jon's breakfast. The thought of what he was eating - bacon and eggs - had Bella's stomach squeezing once more and she gagged fruitlessly, planting a hand over her lips and grabbing on Vince's shoulder to push herself up once more.

"I got you, c'mere-" Vince wrapped an arm around her waist and then her feet were off the floor, as he manhandled her like a ragdoll. Bella gagged once more and missed the toilet entirely, going for the sink of the small bathroom Vin pushed her inside of.

Her legs felt weak and she let out a whimper as bitter bile and thick wine splashed in the sink's basin. Bella hung over it, whining as she felt Vince hold her hair back and pat her arm, "do you have a scrunchie?"

Bell shook her head and he sighed, wrapping the hair around itself and tying it in a loose knot on the base of her neck, "this will do for now- Feeling better?" he was whispering, but there was really no concern in his voice, all amusement, "how's the head?"

"I'm not-" Bella groaned, then opened the register and washed the sink and her mouth, "not hungover..." she took a gulp of water and regretted it immediately, as the sip landed like a brick in her belly, bringing up an acidic, airy burp that tickled her nose.

Her intestines let out an upset noise and Bell squeezed her eyes in sheer humiliation as Vince said, "was that your belly?"

"God- Get out of here," the urgency made her feel all clammy, head woozy still, "go- get out, Vince-" she shoved him by the arm and barely caught sight as Vince's amused smile slipped and turned into a worried frown, before she slammed the bathroom door on his face and rushed for the toilet.

Having the runs made her stomach turn once more and Bella lunged for the trashcan, planting it on her lap and coughing over it, biting back the urge to cry. She wanted her house.

Her old, bleach stained sweatpants that didn't squeeze her tummy, her heating pad. Maybe Lucas too.

Once she was done and cleared up, Bella sluggishly walked to the door, the fierce cramps making everything so much worse. She was trembling.

She had hoped they had all left for the trail, but instead Vince was leaning on the wall right next to the bathroom door, like a bodyguard. Just the humiliating thought he had probably overheard all of her body noises made Bella's eyes tear up and he promptly misinterpreted it, walking forward to wrap her in a hug.

"Hey... What's wrong? Bell, why are you crying?"

"Leave me'alone-" she whined, but despite her words, Bella clung to him. He was so soft and warm, practically a human heating pad. Vince scoffed, walking backwards into the living room, not daring to break the hug either.

"Do you want me to get Luke? Can you tell me what's wrong?" all worried, sitting down on the couch and pulling her with him.

Bella sniffled, curling up on his side and angrily wiping the tears that hadn't fallen, but were clinging to her lashes, "I'm fine-"

"They left, Bell," Vince rolled his eye, reading right through her, "talk with me, what's wrong?"

She freaking loved this guy, Bella thought, relief washing over her and causing new stubborn tears, "itsjustmyperiod," she mumbled and Vince frowned, trying to understand, before it cleared up.

"Oh- Why didn't you say anything sooner?" he scoffed, pulling back enough to glare at her, "do you have meds? Tampon, pads?"

Bella's whole face caught on fire and she covered with her hands, "shut uuup, Vin."

"It's not a big deal, I buy tampons for my mom and sisters since I'm a kid," she could almost hear him rolling his eyes, "Bella. Quit this, it's not a big deal."

It was a big deal to her. It was conflicting, to start with. In one part she was a big girl, all self sufficient and a strong believer periods should be normalized and men should just grow the fuck up about it. In the other hand she was an only child of a single mom, who had witnessed boys act like periods were yucky from a young age. Especially back in public school, she had seen some truly horrible shit.

Lucas being so cool with it, albeit a little misguided since he was also an only son, had been a shock. Vince dealing perfectly was almost like a slap.

"I didn't bring my meds," she explained in a small voice, lowering her hands from her eyes, but not removing them from her face, so embarrassed she could die.

Vince winced in sympathy, "that's fine, I'll run into town to get you some then."

"Really?" her voice came out all squeezed and Bella cleared her throat, "you don't have to, just wake up Luke-"

"Nah, it's cool," Vince shrugged, "I don't think you brought a heating pad either, uh?"

Bella shook her head, unable to speak, and he scoffed, "rice in a socked will have to do then."

"What if I divorce my husband and just marry you, uh?" Bella sighed, curling up on her side and causing Vince to let out a startled, loud chuckle, his cheeks turning pink.

"Yeah, keep saying that. Wendy's gonna scratch your face off," he messed up Bella's hair, getting up from the couch.

"I can take her, she's tiny," Bella smiled, much more at ease, "bring me chocolate?"

"She's vicious like a kitten, my money is on my girl," Vince winked at her, walking off to retrieve his wallet and motorcycle keys.

[hana-no-seiiki]

A Quick question My beloved god~!

How do you feel about pathetic yanderes? Like pathetic yanderes that has power (wealth, influence and all that shit) but acts pathetically towards their darling?

Cuz even tho I'm a bottom (obviously cuz i can't pull off being a top ;-;) pathetic yanderes just bring out a different side of me

I would love to see them beg and cry and it's just so adorable??? Cuz pathetic yanderes are oddly endearing even tho they're fucking pathetic and disgusting

UGH I EAT THAT SHIT UP THEY'RE SO SO SO CUTE THAT I WANNA MAKE THEM CRY EVEN MORE!!

(You can ignore this if you feel like it's kinda too much lol and apologies for being kinda redundant)

also no not cute but

Breathtakingly Adorable~ <3

- Your Junie~

PATHETIC/RICH YANDERE SCENARIO (GENDER NEUTRAL READER & YANDERE)

“PRETTY PINK PRINCESS : GOOD FOR YOU”

���️ By pressing the Keep Reading button you’re confirming that you’re above 18 and consent to reading dark content.

A pathetic, rich yandere? Isn’t that just me— (also im just gonna ignore that last part for my wellbeing-)

Pathetic Yanderes can be a top. Usually if you’re from a rich (asian) family there’s just a lot of drama. Like you’d think everyone loves eachother so much and everything is peaceful but once the family dinner ends the treachery begins. So they’d have to be confident, assertive and sociable to survive that kind of environment.

You know the kind that’s super headstrong whenever they’re with anyone else but you.

Your ask kinda reminds me of my ocs Crisanto Salvador and Isabel Labrador (the dors really do be the biggest masochists of Midnight Darling). While Isabel is a hard sub that’s a brat, Crisanto doesn’t even hide how down horrid he is for MC. He fell in love with her because she threw away a Birkin Bag he used to court her.

Boy has got connections 💅🏻 ✨

He can get you anywhere and everywhere. He can also get you out from any and every situation you might not want to find yourself in.

But yes back to Pathetic + Rich Yandere! I can see them ordering all manners or surveillance. They’ll take the time to survey your routine (or have someone else do it) and plan out what to do from then on. If you go outside regularly then they’ll have “bodyguards” set, if you’re more of a homebody then they’ll have cameras installed in every corner of your house whenever no one’s at home.

They’re your biggest career hyper. They will get you to whatever position you want in life. While Pathetic Yan will be practicing their at home spouse skills just for you.

(Ignore this if you’re ace) The biggest challenge however is practicing how they’re supposed to satisfy you in bed. Making do with someone else is an absolute no no. Besides, you might have a different preference entirely.

So oh well, what else could they do but kidnap you?

What do you mean they could have courted you first? They couldn’t even fathom breathing the same air as you for too long in fear that they may have a heartattack. This was the only way, you see!

But don’t worry, they’ll be the best partner you could ever look for. They just have practice not getting so aroused when you look straight at them all the time. It’s hard to focus on feeding you like that after all!

Pathetic Yandere loves to wear pink fight me. Pastels everywhere. They’re massive Rococo/Baroque interior design fanatics. Stickers are everywhere. They have a whole ass bookshelf dedicated to their sticker collection.

In bed they have cute ribbons for bondage prepared. It doesn’t do much by way of keeping you still, but boy does it look so adorable on you!

At least one person is gonna be full to the brim by the end of this, might as well make the act aesthetic.

Noisy as hell when having sex, they just have to voice how they feel about you, yknow? Shutting them up is close to impossible. And of course, tears! Lots of it. One might say they kinda look like they’re in pain sometimes from how much they mewl.

Their bed is the softest one you’ve ever been on. You find out that it’s from one of those high end Swedish brands that make em out of horse hair.

You’re tempted to stay just for that reason.

“ Never leave me okay? I promise I’ll be good for you ♡ ”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[captain-mj]

Dragon 2/3

There is going to be a third part

Ghost felt so heavy. His limbs were weighed down by the heavy chains. They chose to use iron and it burned his skin. It didn’t feel like his flames. The flames he loved. More like chemical burns. They wrapped around his wrists, ankles and his wings. He didn’t raise his head when someone came in. He stayed as a deadweight as he was dragged forward. 

Roba stepped in front of him, his shoes in his line of sight. “A young King just turned 25. How exciting, yes?” 

Ghost stared at him. Silent. Annoying. 

“I apologize, dear friend. I searched everywhere, but it seems you’re alone. No more dragons anywhere.” 

Ghost stared at him. Impassive. Horrid. 

“Which means you’re going to be my gift to him. I’ve heard he doesn’t find comfort in women, so I can’t give him that. Giving him a few men would be seen as shameful, understand? It’s best to give him you. A dragon. They consider you religious. Do you think yourself divine?”

Ghost did not. He felt painfully solid. His wings were thin from disuse, though his body still had plenty of muscle. 

Roba dug his heel into a weak point of his wing and Ghost bit his tongue. “Words, Ghost.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Good. Get him cleaned up.”

They used cold water. It tingled. So cold against his already cold body. Dragons were not supposed to be this cold. But the burning feeling in Ghost’s chest had faded to an ember. Only kept up by a stubborn need to live even when Ghost was accepting he’d much rather die. 

Alone. The word rattled in his brain. No one else? No others? How unfortunate. How sad. Ghost certainly felt alone here. But that was not a new feeling. 

They scrubbed his skin, blood dripping from wounds they opened with how careless they were. It felt good. In a weird way. Finally being clean was a huge plus too. They took his chains off carefully. Always keeping just enough on that he couldn’t escape. As if he would.

One of the servants kissed his cheek. Gently. A mockery of love. “Good luck.”

How would they deliver him? Whole? In pieces? Maybe they were cleaning him so they could dismember him and deliver him on a platter?

Ghost wouldn’t mind. Dying. He only hoped when the King was done, he’d get rid of his body. Burn it. Most likely, he’d be hung up like a trophy. At least, his wings would. 

Ghost fell asleep in the carriage. They had been keeping him awake lately and now he knew why. No matter how hard he tried, he just passed right out. 

Until his head was being dunked in ice water. How Roba even managed that was beyond him. He had been dressed while asleep. Simple loose pants. His chest was bare. More iron around his wrists and along his throat. 

“Don’t embarrass me. You understand. You’re a gift. Act like it.”

Ghost nodded absentmindedly. His eyes already glazing over. He had gotten used to the patterns in Roba’s cruelty. How would this new king be?

“His name is Soap. It’s his coronation and 25th birthday. They did a joint celebration.”

Soap. 

Soap….

What a weird name.

Ghost had his hair cut slightly, just enough to make it look nice again. It curled and kinked up and the person trying to make it stay down was getting upset. He ignored them and they gave up eventually. 

When Roba had taken him from the farm house, he had yelled for Johnny. No one had known who that was. He had screamed until his voice went hoarse. They said no prince in the area had the name Johnny. Did the human lie to him? Why? Being royalty meant nothing to Ghost. Him being a prince meant nothing. 

“Put your wings up. Need him to know you’re a dragon.” One of them hit him lightly and made him hold his wings up. 

They were heavy. They had never been heavy before. But right now, they just ached something fierce. Ghost felt them start to drag and one of them quickly corrected them. 

“Either hold them up or we cut parts of them off.” 

Ghost found the least uncomfortable way to hold up his wings. He tried not to let his eyelids droop. Exhaustion was getting to him. 

Then, he was marched into a room. Full of people. All of who looked at… at him. 

Why were they looking at him?

“King MacTavish! I hope I’m not late.” Roba walked forward and Ghost trailed behind him, feeling like he was being set on fire and not in a good way. “I brought you something?”

Ghost felt like the room was spinning. Was it spinning?

A thick accent. One he swore he heard before. It was talking but the room was spinning too had. His wings were drooping. They hurt. He was heavy. 

Someone was screaming. It was loud. High pitched. Maybe it was him. 

Roba’s voice. Full of pride. 

“The Last Dragon.” 

Ghost knew he wasn’t the one screaming. He was on the floor. A blade. There was a blade. 

More screaming. It was so loud. 

Ghost fell asleep. 

He missed Soap’s hate filled berating of Roba. The way he pulled out a weapon and threatened to cut him from throat to belly button. If he saw it, he’d be proud. 

Ghost only knew that when he woke up, there was not a single chain on him. That the ground beneath him felt soft. A blanket draped over his body. And he had been scrubbed clean in his sleep. He could tell because his skin tingled and smelled floral. 

Soap, his King, paced at the foot of the bed. Angry, violent footsteps.

Ghost had displeased him. Most likely by passing out. 

He didn’t move an inch. Simply waited. Maybe he’d calm down. 

Soap stopped moving. The deafening silence followed. 

Ghost bit his tongue as he felt him approach. Felt soft fingertips along his back. Along the bulk of his wings. 

“Simon.” 

Ghost felt him saying that name like a stab wound. “Ghost.”

“Ghost.” 

Hands through his hair. Gentle. A mockery of love. 

“Oh, Ghost. What did they do to you?” Soap asked him softly. 

Ghost’s eyes fluttered. “Johnny?”

“Hi.” 

Oh. He was a Prince. 

Ghost didn’t want to move. He felt tight. Like he’d break open if he moved too fast. 

Soap gently brushed his hair out of his face. “Look at you. Still so bonnie.”

His accent had gotten thicker. Ghost still flinched when he came too close to his face. 

He moved to instead stroke Ghost’s hair. He scratched his scalp gently and it felt so nice Ghost almost moaned. Instead, he went slack, letting Soap manipulate him how he wanted. 

Incredibly careful hands touched his body. Inspecting the cuts. The bruises. The now harsh scars that would never leave. 

Then came the kisses. A simple press of the lips over every one. Until Ghost felt so wound up, he was afraid he’d break apart. Shatter into a thousand tiny little pieces. A sob passed his lips and Soap pressed into him. 

“You’re okay. You’re alright.”

It was too much. 

“Please.” 

Soap pressed closer. His skin impossibly too hot and too cold. “What do you need? How can I help?”

“Stop touching me.” It was a risky move. 

Soap yanked back. “O-of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean.”

Ghost pressed his face into the pillows. “If you want something from me, just take it and go.”

“No. I’ll do nothing of the sort.” Soap said quickly. Ghost shuddered, wondering what he was planning. 

Was he still mad Ghost left all those years ago? Yes, it wasn’t on purpose, but that meant nothing to human. Or maybe he wanted to finish what he started all those years ago. 

The idea of Soap, or Johnny he supposed, pinning him down. Taking advantage of his weakness to fulfill his human desires. 

Wouldn’t be the first time. Soap was softer though. Weaker than your average human. Maybe he’d at least take it slow. That would drag it out though. 

“Are you hungry? You’ve been asleep a long time.”

Ghost tried to piece together how long exactly he had been asleep. He was hungry. So fucking hungry. 

“I’ll take that as a yes you are.” Soap rang a bell and someone brought them food. He started to situate the pillows, making them into a weird pile. 

Ghost watched him pat the pile multiple times before realizing he was supposed to sit there. He slowly moved and sat in front of him. Soap pushed him into it and… it was comfy. Really comfy. 

Ghost slowly melted into it, head tilting back. Soft underbelly exposed. 

Stab him. Cut him open. Bleed him dry. 

Soap did no such thing. He took the plate from them and knelt in front of him on the bed. “Just eat, yes?” There wasn’t much room for arguing. His hand was cupping Ghost’s jaw with the other holding bread, making it impossible to escape. 

Ghost opened his mouth slowly and he could see Soap counting his teeth. Some had been filed or broken, but his body would just make more. He’d have to remove some of them before he could replace them, but it would be fine. Ghost ate from his hand slowly, feeling intense shame from the act but an understanding that he wouldn’t be fed otherwise. It wasn’t the most degrading thing he had to do for food. 

Soap kept stroking his face. His chin, his cheeks, under his eyes. 

“Beautiful.”

Ghost was confused what he found attractive about his scar riddled body, but if he had his fetishes, he had them. He finished eating, starting to feel sick despite only getting a few mouthfuls down. 

Soap cupped his face fully, taking him in. 

“I missed you.”

Ghost didn’t look at him. 

“That’s okay. I’m so glad you’re alive. That I can see you again.” 

Ghost closed his eyes slowly.

Soap was feral. A bit like a puppy. He kept touching Ghost. His fingertips running over his wings. Presence all around him. He smelled so strongly of different things. Nice things, don’t get him wrong. Just overwhelming. 

Ghost opened his mouth but before he could even get words out, Soap was jumping up and down. 

“Need a drink? You must be thirsty.” Soap fixed him a glass of tea and brought it to him. He still had his crown on. And his coronation outfit. It was funny, seeing someone that looked so royal care for him. 

Soap’s red coat hit the ground, gorgeous against his white shirt. Ghost could see the intricate gold coloring and it took him a minute, but he realized it emulated his own gold scarring. The designs on the coat jumbled on the back, giving the appearance of wings. 

Did Johnny miss him that much?

Ghost hated himself for leaving. 

Soap hesitated. There were mere inches between them. It felt like nothing to Ghost and too far to Soap. Ghost felt smothered. Unused to such affections. 

Soap wanted to swallow him whole. 

[angelicvigilante]

A short and bad, not proofread drabble I wrote for an scp au I've been thinking of. I may not finish it, but it's inspired largely by this; Mc called Zephyr, because while there isn't really a defined personality or thoughts, I felt it fit more than doing stuff from an Mc's perspective where it should fit anyone.

Zephyr swallows nervously, wide eyes gazing up at the door– It looks like claw marks have indented into the metal, yet, here they are. Lamb to the slaughter, unwillingly presented to some keter class that’d have them dead in mere seconds, if the recent declining number of D classes and scientists have meant anything. They were at least thankful with the fact they weren’t told anything– Not.

Blood seeps out the metallic entrance as their led closer, some of it old, muddied, the others a bright, vibrant scarlet that stares back. As sickening as it is, they stay still as the door starts to open, loud and scratchy on the ears as the metal collides with the wall and the floors– Barely able to ponder it more as their shoved in, Zephyr’s heart pounding in their own ears without even seeing anything.

The doors already fucking closed, a death sentence laughing at them, it’s mocking, even more so with the fact that they know the scientists must be watching; Watching as they look around the dark room, stepping over mauled flesh, tattered like clawed clothing. Zephyr can only swallow again, breathing picking up as they hear something, someone move–

It’s inhuman, terribly so, but Zephyr can’t make it out.

So– Despite all odds, it’s already ending, right? They step closer, something ruffles, upon closer inspection, not close enough to disturb though, it’s wings. Feathers stained a deep, dark color, they can only guess one of the original colors– Most likely before the slaughter around, black. The creature doesn’t seem awake, but in its rest, it seems more human than any of the scientists they’ve come face to face with.

Zephyr’s breath dares to hitch, and it all goes to hell, wings fanning out, glowing golden-yellow eyes staring back at them, as wide as Zephyr’s own.

They stumble out as the creature lets out a horrid, screeching sound; breathing so fast they can’t even hear their own thoughts, chest heaving up and down– Just for it to get worse, the creature standing up, far, far taller than them, white claws– Almost like long nails, stained the same red everywhere else, everything is stained– Their going to be stained as well.

Zephyr’s back hits wall, a sob shaking their frame, the claws of the beast reach out and– And they– 

Hold their cheek, wiping away salty tears as they fall.

No pain comes to them, the creature must just love playing with their victims, doesn’t it? Up so close, Zephyr can notice the beast has feathers, scattered throughout their body, peppering their skin like freckles, for some reason– The front of their chest lays barren, tanned skin clean save for blood splatters and white lines, curling up and down in a pattern they can’t quite place. The creature has pants, same as Zephyr themself, but it doesn’t make them believe this thing is human in the slightest, despite the way their form might fool others– Zephyr knows this is a beast.

It croons, a sickeningly saccharine sound; Something they can’t decipher,  chirped out high pitched and needy. Almost greedy in the way it pulls them close, cradled right against the monster's chest.  They don’t kick, don’t scream, soaking up the little kindness they are allowed from it before it will, surely– All go to hell once more, when claws finally dig in.

But they never do.

Even as they shake and tremble, nothing happens– The greedy monster doesn’t do a thing, favoring the lamb it’s been sent like a treasure, for some weird, unknown reason. It sniffs at their hair, nuzzling into it like a starved man, and Zephyr can only think about how it could unhinge its jaw and swallow them whole. They don’t know how long they sit there, don’t know anything, until they cough, their tears stopped some time ago, eyes red and angry, fighting to keep open.

Zephyr wished it was earlier, with a nicer scientist, one only using them to stare into a tank– Even if something doused them in water, leaving them smelling exactly like whatever beast inhabited that tank.

They might have preferred that beast over one who can breathe oxygen– Though they don’t know if the one from earlier was a sea monster, or what; But now isn’t the time for thoughts, not when the beasts shifts Zephyr in its arms, head against its chest– Able to hear the beating heart, just like their own.

That doesn’t make it human, it’s not human in the slightest; A monster with no empathy waiting to attack. Even as that starts to feel farther and farther from the truth.

[pupintransit]

ᵃʳᵗ ᵇʸ ˢⁱˡᵛᵉʳᶠᵒˣ⁵²¹³ ᵒⁿ ᵈᵉᵛⁱᵃⁿᵗᵃʳᵗ

Dragoneer is dead and I'm a little fucked up about it.

When I was a kid and thumbing my way through the furry community in the early-mid 2000s, I genuinely thought his fursona was public domain. I'd see it everywhere I went and drawn by so many different people. I suppose that goes to show how important of a figure he was.

We didn't know each other and never interacted personally, and I'm not writing this to be a eulogy. It would be wildly inappropriate to write such a document. What I can write about is that I'm part of the furry community because of FurAffinity. From when I was I kid absent mindedly browsing the site, to being a closeted teenage furry peeking in on it like it was a precious secret, to now as a out and proud queer adult and regular user of the site, it has been my omnipresent connection to the furry community.

I say furry community instead of furry fandom because I think the word fandom undersells what it means to us as a collective. I stopped lurking in the community maybe a year and a half ago, and in that time I have made lord only knows how many genuine friendships in that short span of time. When I had my bottom surgery and was in horrid pain during recovery, my furry friends were my most reliable support network outside of my husband, my doctors and my therapist. Heck, a friendship I've already had for a decade now is becoming stronger in part because we have this community in common.

You don't get this from other "fandoms." Sneakerheads aren't this overwhelming queer, weebs don't have community leaders the same way we do, and Star Wars nerds are more likely to question if you're a "true fan" than they are to celebrate with you. Furries are unique in how they build space for each other, and how they make time to listen to and support each other. I challenge you to find a self-described Jedi forum that treats its members with this level of dignity

Furries spaces are overwhelming kind and patient. Proclaiming yourself to be a proud furry gets you a predictable amount of cringing stares from folks outside of our spaces, but what other language is there is to sum up how we feel about ourselves? I scarcely feel more welcomed and included in this community than I do anywhere else, and for this era of our community we have Dragoneer to thank for giving us perhaps the most recognizable and accessible space for furries to connect with each other that we've ever had.

This community has warmth and kindness and empathy worth celebrating, and in all the words I've used in this mini-essay I still don't think I've properly expressed what it means to me that I've found a home here. Truthfully, I don't know that I can. I'm just happy to have a place here with all of you.

Anyway. Rest in peace Dragoneer. You deserved better than what you got. I hope to see you again in better times.

[vera-deville]

Going through a pretty horrid breakup atm, let's just say the guy I was with for six weeks left me then got with another immediately a week after. With me finding out through an outside source as he blocked me everywhere. So I was wondering if uhh, I could get sum fluff with Malleus and GN reader. Just need smth w one of my favs to add to my 'Gettin over this bitch' Playlist LMAO. Just something light-hearted and fun after gettin'over some kinda hardship. Like smth happened that has the reader in an upset mood and Mal gives some ✨sage advice✨ in his own way (we know how he is) or sum shi. Preferably romantic but platonic works too

Gahhh, not sure I did this right, I'm requesting this whilst half asleep lmao.

-🐅

The Sagely Advice of a Dragon Fae

05/31/2024 - 07/09/2024

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x Reader (you can think of the interactions as romantic or platonic) Word Count: 1,045 Warnings: Reader's just having a bad day, lowkey a crack fic- Gender: Gender Neutral Tags: @rose-the-witch1, @viviennevermillion (let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist, and which characters you'd like to be added for)! Notes: I'm really sorry to hear about what you're going through 🐅 anon! I wrote this in such a way that it could be read as platonic or romantic. I wasn't sure if you wanted the hardship in the story to be a breakup or not, but I ended up making it a break up. I also apologize so much for taking so long to complete your request! And don't worry, you requested perfectly!

In which you are dealing with a break up and a particular dragon fae has words of wisdom for you.

Sometimes, you just wanted to hurl an asteroid at life.

Not that it would cause much damage (if at all any), but it's the thought that counts, right?

Brooding over your life seemed to be something you were doing more often now, and frankly speaking, it was getting on your nerves. Everything around you seemed to either contribute to your irritation or remind you of something - contributing to your irritation nonetheless.

Another overblot had passed over, not unlike a raging storm, and by this point, you were so used to them that you were simply biding your time for the next one. Crowley seemed more annoying than ever, what with his near constant spur of the moment vacations, and who else better than the magicless Prefect of Ramshackle to clean up after his messes? Oh and you got dumped. The best part of it? You only found out through Cater since you had been blocked by the guy you were with.

With everything just piling up on top of each other, you could feel yourself gradually losing your sanity and right about now, you could use one of Crowley's vacations for yourself.

Your friends were helpful, but it didn't change the humiliation you felt when they found out - and that too, before you. You knew they didn't think anything less of you. If anything, they were worried and constantly wary of your feelings, waiting as though you were a ticking time bomb. And yet, you couldn't help but continue to feel the humiliation. Except now, it was coupled with the pitying looks and actions of those around you.

And that's how you ended up at the rundown gardens of Ramshackle. Truly, the place lived up to its name. The marble benches had clearly seen better days, but in a way, there was a decrepit beauty to your dorm. Vines grew like curly hair, tangling and winding and unravelling a certain way.

You had been following up with Crowley regarding funds to renovate Ramshackle. Of course, he originally had told you to pay out of your pocket. And of course, you'd successfully presented (and won) your claim that Ramshackle is a Night Raven College dorm - meaning the money had to come out of his.

The actual renovation plans were still being...well, planned.

But in the quiet of your beloved Ramshackle, accompanied by no other than your thoughts, you could imagine the transformations the dorm could go through.

"Ahem."

So much for not being accompanied by anyone else but your thoughts.

You turn, a sinewy shadow stepping clear into your vision.

"Hello Tsunotarou."

"Hello Child of Man."

Malleus looked dapper as ever. Standing tall and proud, shoulders rolled back, hair framing his face ever so perfectly, you couldn't help but wonder if this fae ever had a bad day in his life. Surely he had his own fair share of woes?

"What are you doing here tonight? If you're free, you should reflect on things with me." He asks in that curious manner of his.

"It seems all I've been doing as of late is reflect Tsunotarou." You chide, knowing that Malleus knew nothing about your latest predicaments. "Allow me to ask you a question."

"A question for me? Alright, ask me anything."

"Why is life so unfair?"

Malleus expected this question. He had heard...whispers around the campus and it seemed that Lilia of the ailments that plagued the Ramshackle Prefect's mind (though of course he wouldn't tell him exactly what exactly pervaded over your psyche).

"Human lives are already so minute, so why waste time contemplating things of insignificance?"

You take a moment to ponder his words. Insignificant? Was the love you felt truly insignificant? Or is it the time you spent yearning over someone who couldn't even tell you to your face that they didn't feel the same? Or perhaps it's the fact that you have spent all this time moping around instead of doing something else with all that time and energy?

Malleus was right.

It really was insignificant.

"I know not of what matters plague your mind, but I know that humankind are vastly different from fae. I merely said to not waste your time on matters of insignificance. That does not include matters of the heart."

You scrunch your nose at that.

Malleus was starting to sound like all your other friends, and regardless of whether they were correct or not, the rut you found yourself in made you numb to his words. "How would you know about the ways I find to waste my time?" You ask bitterly.

"Then don't waste it."

Well that was blunt.

You didn't really know how to respond to that.

"If you believe that you are wasting your time, then simply turn your focus to something else. From my perspective, human life seems far too short to accomplish anything. On the surface, you waste your life as is, so why not waste your time doing something you love?"

You didn't really know whether to be offended or grateful for the advice.

It made sense though. You were wasting your time brooding over someone, so why not do something else with the limited time you had?

"You know what Malleus? I think you're right. What do you suggest I waste my time on then?" You see the smirk that adorns his face after you ask this and immediately realize what was about to suggest to you. "No gargoyles right now, please."

All of a sudden the smirk vanished into a pout - one you were keen on not falling for.

"Very well then Child of Man. Perhaps you would be inclined to learning archery?"

You look at him befuddled. "Archery!? I don't even know how to shoot an arrow Malleus!"

"Hence why I said learn."

He had you there.

"Even so, where would we even get bows and arrows from-"

"Right here." Malleus said as he magicked two pairs of bows and a bunch of arrows out of nowhere. "You now live in a world of magic, remember?"

He had you there too.

"And before you ask what we will use as our targets..."

You watch as he magicked boards. A whole bunch of them, all around the two of you.

"Very well then Tsunotarou. Lead the way!"

Author's Note: Again, I am really sorry about how long this took to finish. Unfortunately, I got swamped with stuff, and there just doesn't seem to be an end to it all. I wanted to make this fic a lot longer, but then decided on something a little more quaint. I also included some of Malleus' voice lines from the game throughout the fic as fun little Easter eggs. Masterlist

[general-kalani]

{ @kaiju-crimson-storyandask sent in; If ever there was a good time for Pagan Min to visit Hope County, this definitely wasn’t one of those. In the middle of a war, with two new threats causing a change in the already unbound chaos of this isolated land.

But, there were small pockets with relative peace. Even if that peace only existed thanks to traps set up by a child in one of them. Said child was already working on fixing one of them. Being watched carefully from a distance by her current caretaker.

Mama’s not here. Not yet. And “mom” looks like she’s already about to fall asleep thanks to said peace in the small area. }

There's an odd, bizarre peace to this place despite the war.

It was Kyrat all over again, if he wanted to compare. Fighting everywhere in the area, yet there were places you could sit and just enjoy.

He was getting used to talking to people again without the need to have such a horrid persona again. Used to talking and chatting about something as mundane as the sun and time of day it was.

He'd expected it to be easy, yet found himself struggling over it.

A challenge for sure, yet he was enjoying it.

Until he'd spotted the child, the potential mother nearby.

He couldn't just approach the child that was seen in such a negative light! So to the mother he went instead, making sure he made his presence known and giving a friendly little wave- he was picking up some habits from these people- "lovely morning to you madam! Lazy day is it?"

Might as well try an attempt at a joke, so far his different attire being so different from everyone elses has kept him alive... But a joke always helped break the ice even just a fraction.